Nap time -

There’s nothing better than a good old fashion snooze. I really don’t get one that often but when I do it’s the greatest. I think we need to take a lesson from Mexico and have a siesta every afternoon. I believe the ultimate nap is about thirty minutes. I’ve had some that lasted a couple of hours and felt like I’ve been in a train wreck – not to mention I couldn’t go to sleep later that night. The only thing worse than a marathon nap is one that’s to short – your longing for more and just can’t get satisfied. Sundays are the most likely day for me to get a nap, maybe that’s because my wife doesn’t have a long list of chores I need to do. I’m not alone – if you go to an afternoon church service it’s not uncommon to see multiple individuals dousing off during some hell fire and damnation discourse. Occasionally it’s those sitting on the stand – I’ve never seen the speaker do it, but sadly I saw an elderly gentleman fall over during his talk. When they helped him up he kept going as if nothing happened. Many church leaders have early morning meetings and then an afternoon meeting and a soft chair is a lethal combination. Hopefully if someone does fall asleep it’s only one of them. A co-worker told me of a meeting he was at that all three of the people on the stand (except the speaker) fell asleep and when the speaker was done he sat down and no one got up to close the meeting. It didn’t last long but I’m sure it was an insult to the speaker – man this is boring, lets all take a nap. I wasn’t there so maybe its just folklore, but I’m sure it’s happened before. When I was a church leader I had a counselor that just couldn’t stay awake. He probably had a bruise on his right side from all the times I had to elbow him to wake him up. One Sunday it just wasn’t any use. After a couple of failed attempts to wake him up I decided it was just easier to let him go. He was shorter than I was and the congregation got a big kick when he laid his head on my shoulder – he must have needed that one because I couldn’t wake him up. Now I shouldn’t throw stones in a glass house – I’m fallen a sleep more than once on the stand. One time I was having a hard time staying awake so my good wife sent our two-year-old daughter up to keep me awake. She sat on my lap and everyone thought that was cute – but she found out it was pretty comfortable on daddys lap and it didn’t take long for both of us to fall a sleep. The bad part is that everyone was watching us and no one heard what the speaker was saying – I shouldn’t say no one, I’m sure their family was listening unless of course they were asleep in the audience.

Where you from -

The further we go away from home the more excited we are when we meet someone that comes from the same general area. If we're half the way around the world - we're just excited to see someone from the same country. Now when I make such a comment I don’t just mean our immediate family. I went to New York City on business for a couple of weeks, at a function I ran into a lady that nine years earlier we had graduated from high school together. During that time we hadn’t run in the same circles – as a matter of fact we wouldn’t even said hi unless we had accidentally run into each other in the hall. We never hung out, dated, of for that matter I had never called her or any of her close friends. Not that I wouldn’t have wanted to – she was very nice, it just didn’t happen. Unlike some of the people I graduated with, I at least knew her name and something about her. Despite this lack of history together you would have thought we were best buddies. She was so excited to see me. Her husband was doing his medical internship in New York City and in the midst of that rat race there was someone from home that knew her, her family and where she had become who and what she was. She asked me to sit by her and we talked about home, people and experiences we had in common. I’ve had a number of such experiences during my life – at Disneyland, in a bathroom in Las Vegas. That time it was a man and we didn’t sit by each other. Sometimes you didn’t have to know the other person very well to get excited. I went on a mission for the Mormon Church, one of the first things you do when you met another missionary is to ask them where they were from. Now if they were from a little town that didn’t appear on most maps they usually said the closest town or city that did, then they wouldn’t have to go into some massive discourse of where it was. After meeting one missionary I asked the usual question – he answered the same city I was from. Now being the same age I had no idea who he was, so I know instantly he was from some little farm community and that going to Logan was the highlight of the week. It was a small town a few miles south of town – which meant a different high school; group of friends and at that age a different world. No wonder I didn’t know this guy! Never-the-less when you’re away from home there is an instant bond and excitement. Next we had to play the do you know game – do you know this person or that person, this was to see what else we had in common. We weren’t having much luck – then we hit a the mother-load. He asked if I knew a certain young lady. Not only did I know her, I had been to her house and met her parents. I also knew something else about her. I asked how he knew her? Oh I dated her for a while – really? He quickly added that he had a picture of her in his wallet –Really!! He pulled out his wallet to show me the photo – that was definitely her. Do you have any other pictures in your wallet? No that’s the only one – why do you ask? Well normally missionaries don’t carry pictures of married woman in their wallet! Married - what do you mean she’s married? Are you sure? Well this was a question I knew the answer to. Yes I’m sure – she married my brother just a few months earlier. I guess that makes me pretty sure, I wasn't there but they sent me a bunch of pictures. I think he was more than embarrassed, more like humiliated. But he was still from the same area I was, so over the next few months we became great friends. Some time later, after we were home - and I was his best man at his wedding and after all these years I still consider him a great friend. But every once in a while I ask if he has any pictures of married women in his wallet.

Fire --

Maybe behavior has been instinctive from the beginning of time. I can just imagine a caveman’s excitement at the prospect of fire. Finally his wife could order meat well done; now they could have some late night entertainment – sitting around a fire telling scary stories and making shadow puppets. I don’t know if it’s instinctive or not but I love fire.

I think every kid loves to play with matches - probably because we know we aren’t suppose to. I don’t know how old I was when I found out I weren’t suppose to play with them, I was pretty young when I got hold of a pack and went to the middle of our block to play with them. There was an old barn there that had some hay or straw – but I don’t remember there ever being any animals. It was a great place to hide; I spent a lot of hours down there, as did a lot of kids in the neighborhood. I was hiding out that day because I didn’t want anyone to know I was playing with matches. Matches are pretty cool, you strike the side of the box, they smoke then a flame erupts. I just blew them out afterwards and throw the sticks away.

There were other times that I thought fire was cool – as a scout we use to go into the wilderness and we always had a campfire. Our scoutmaster was great, but he seemed to be mad at me all the time for burning all the firewood. I was constantly on wood detail – I guess it was only fair since I was the one always putting it on the fire, that he made me go find more. It was on one of these scouting trip that our scoutmasters made a huge mistake. One of the few givens of scout leadership is to never leave boy scouts unsupervised. We were camping on the foothills of the great Uinta Mountains about five miles for the nearest city. I guess we had left a few things home so our two scoutmasters decided to make a trip to town. Now if I were my scoutmaster I would have wanted to leave things home on purpose too, so i would have an excuse to get away for a while.

After they had gone we just were sitting around our small boring fire doing what twelve year old's do best – nothing. Well I wanted to make the fire bigger which was normal for me. We didn’t have a lot of wood so we spread out, now one scout had a great idea – sagebrush. There was tons of that stuff and man did it burn. As the fire got bigger and bigger the car on the highway a couple of miles down the road had a better view of what was going on. The fire had to be ten to fifteen feet high – and that was exactly what we wanted. This was way before everyone had cell phones, but I still think it didn’t take very long before the local fire department was called into action.

About this same time two scoutmasters had finished their shopping and started for camp – I can imagine their anxiety as two fire engines with sirens blaring passed them. I’m sure their anxiety increased the closer they came to camp and started to see what everyone else was concerned about. Thank goodness there wasn’t any wind, but we had no idea that we were stressing anyone else out – this was great. It wasn’t very great anymore when the fire trucks arrived with our scoutmasters right behind. There would be no entertainment and shadow puppets tonight – but the scary stories were still on.

After the fire was put out, the adults talked for quit a while. I don’t know what happened but I seemed to have a lot of duties for the next few days. This wasn’t the first time there were fire engines close to where I was. The same night I had been playing with matches in the barn in the middle of our block, we were all woken up by the sound of sirens. Man that great hiding place was going up in flame – good thing it didn’t happen earlier I could have been hurt. I wonder who was playing with matches so late?

Legal Pad –

Its hard to do something right if you don’t know what your doing. In October of 1995 I received a call for our stake presidency to be the Bishop of the Eastridge Ward. This ward was to be formed the same day that I was being sustained November 5^th of that same year. The forming of a new ward is a little more difficult than the normal changing of the guard – all of the members are coming from two other congregations and are officially released from their present calls. Because no one has a position it’s a daunting task to put all the pieces together. There are approximately fifteen major callings that need to be filled before the organizations can even start to be staffed. When my call came I was overwhelmed and humbled at the prospect of accomplishing what needed to be done. The next day I was sitting in my office at work contemplating who should be asked to fill each position. I took out a legal pad and listed all the major calls needing to be filled. I began to fill those spaces in with names of qualified individuals that I though would do a wonderful job. As I had finished the list a client walk into my office and I set the pad in one of the drawers of my desk. The stake presidency had given me permission to discuss who should be called as my counselors with my wife. As we discussed the matter and I began to pray, fast and attend the temple for inspiration. I received the answers that I needed. Lori was adament who should be my first counselor – the Lord confirmed that selection. One of the most difficult calls for me was who should be called as my second counselor; I couldn’t receive confirmation for the individuals I was considering. So I did what I feel most would have done, I skipped that call and started to look for the ward clerk and executive secretary. There was a new family that had just moved into the ward, I had know each of them almost twenty years before in high school. I asked my wife to bake some cookies so we could go welcome them to the neighborhood. Taking some type of food to a new move in is a Mormon tradition – it isn’t out of the ordinary to just show up unannounced if you being treats. They opened the door and asked us in, as soon as I entered their home the Lord told me I had found my second counselor. These two men were the greatest counselors in the history of the church. Together we received the inspiration necessary to staff the ward. After the next few weeks passed and the ward was fully organized I was going through my drawer at work and found the yellow pad that I filled out the day after my call. Out of the fifteen names I had written next to the respective calls – only one was in the correct location. This is the complete opposite of what most people think when I tell this story – but it is a great testimony to me. At first I was using my own feelings, knowledge and emotions. I hadn’t started to pray, fast or go to the temple to find out the Lords will in organizing this great ward. I didn’t have counselors to assist in receiving the required inspiration. The organization of this new ward was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life – as revelation was needed in large measure in a very short period of time. The Lord let us know what needed to be done to accomplish his will – which just happen to be different from my first impressions.

Callings –

The Lord sometimes gives us inspiration without asking for it and other times we have to work to receive it. I served on the High Council for a short period of time in our stake. One of the responsibilities of the High Council is to approve individuals being called to curtain positions. I didn’t know at the time I was called that the stake presidency talked with the high council about possible bishops in each ward as the present bishop is being released. At one of these occasions we talked about the changing of two different Bishoprics– the singles ward and my home ward. Technically I could have been on the list for both wards, but I wasn’t to worried. As a matter of fact it hadn’t even crossed my mind that it could have been a possibility. As we were discussing the individuals that could be considered –starting with the singles ward, we talked about an individual in the room that was sitting right next to me. I felt a wave of spiritual confirmation that covered my body from top to bottom that he should be the bishop of that ward. What a wonderful feeling, I started to wonder if everyone in the room had experienced the same sensation. We then began to talk about my home ward, we talked about another individual and the same experience took place – there was no doubt in my mind these two brethren were the individuals the Lord wanted called at this time. While still talking about the second ward the Stake President said “ we need to consider that in about six months this ward will be divided and a new one will be formed and a new bishop called.” Instantly the same feeling come over me with even greater force than the first two times, I knew I would be the bishop of the new ward. In hindsight it wasn’t a feeling that was being experienced by everyone in the room – but was a tender mercy given to me to help prepare for the upcoming call. As bishop I received inspiration as to whom should fill certain positions within the ward. At one point we needed a new relief society president. We had no idea who it should be and as we took a few days to think about it, it was at the same time Lori and I were going to a country western concert in Salt Lake City. There were close to fifteen thousand people in attendance. During the concern straight across the arena we saw some people waving in our direction. They were members of our ward that had noticed us in the crowd. We waved back and then I received this same wave of inspiration that I had received in the first part of this story telling me that one of these sisters was to be the new relief society president. This call came as a surprise to a number of people in the ward - she had been active only a short period of time. No one was more surprised than she was, I believe she thought I was kidding and looked at me with complete disbelief when I assured her I wasn’t and that it was coming from the Lord. Yes there were many sisters with more experience and knowledge of the gospel within our boundaries. During the next couple of years there were circumstances in the area that would have tried anyone – most of these challenges involved individuals that had special situations and many were within families that were less active. Not only was her personality perfect for those in need but her spiritual development grow almost on a daily basis. Which she needed more than any of us could have imagined as at the end of her service a tragic accident happen to her husband. He was in a coma for a number of weeks and we wondered if he would even be able to come home. Because of her dedicated service to so many and the love the ward had for their family, everyone was willing to do what ever was needed during this challenging time. But the greatest blessing came in the form of straight the Lord gave to this wonderful sister as she sat by her husband’s side and prayed for his recovery. There are a number of miracles associated with this event – and after these many years he still suffers from some of the effects of the accident. But she should know that Gods will has come to pass and she was one of the greatest Relief Society Presidents I have ever seen.

Miracle - 17 years in the making

Sometimes it's hard to explain the how’s, why’s and where’s in ours life’s. The next story took far longer to be completed than I would have ever imagined – for that matter I never even knew it was in the making until it was over. The first part of the story was an event that I didn’t completely understand at the time and tried to do the best I could to accomplish the challenges placed before me. I served as a missionary for the LDS Church from 1978 – 1980 in the New Mexico Albuquerque Mission. At the first of my mission I was stationed in the central New Mexico area of Belen and Los Lunas. I loved this area and had the opportunity to have a lot of success and personal growth. I thought I was doing a great job and was feeling that I could become a good missionary. But despite this, I was a little surprised to receive a phone call from my mission president in the middle of the month – transfers from one area to another normally only occurred at the beginning of each month. The President asked my to prepare to go to another area as soon as possible. The area I was being transferred too was more than 200 miles away. He wanted me to be there in two days if possible. When I reached the area - I needed to meet with the ward mission leader and to give the President a call for more details. He explained that there had been some problems and he had faith that I would be able to take care of the necessary clean-up and restore the confidence of those in the area and reputation of the church. That is all that he told me at the time. I remember thinking during my relocation why me? I hadn’t been in the mission field very long – nor had I had any experience in this kind of situation. There had to be dozens of missionaries more qualified than I was. Without going into much details I met with the mission leader and was informed of incidents that had happened over a twenty mile radius, most of which were of a financial nature and there had been some unique behavior from a couple of missionaries – one in particular was being sent home and others were sent to different parts of the mission because of some of their actions. It was a challenge, but one that I did the best that I could and felt confident I had done the job the way it should have been accomplished. Over the next few months I was able to have some success and to make some great friendships, I also found out a lot of information about the missionary that had been sent home and some of his inappropriate behavior. I really believe that I knew more about him and his actions than anyone else in the mission, with maybe the exception of the mission president. Seventeen years later I lived in another state hundreds of miles from the location that these events had taken place. Still actively engaged in the LDS Church, I was given the opportunity to serve as a Bishop. A bishop is the leader of a congregation or group of members, which in the church is called a ward. The formation of our ward took place the same day I was sustained as its Bishop. It was formed by taking parts of two existing congregations in order to form a third. The reason this is important is that half of the members of the new ward were individuals that I had never met before. For our first Sunday worship we had our sacrament meeting and then because there were no teachers called to teach Sunday School or in the other organizations - we had a social or what they called a linger-longer. This gathering allowed the members to meet and greet each other while having treats. During this time I tried to introduce myself to as many people as possible. I remember walking up to one small group of couples that were talking about where the men had served missions for the church. Politely they ask if I had gone on a mission and where I had been able to serve. I told them where I had the opportunity to go and when I as there. One young women in the group asked if I had served in a curtain area – which also happened to be the location I have discussed in this story. I told her that I had and loved it. She then took me by surprise and asked if I knew an Elder, calling him by name. I hadn’t heard that name for more than seventeen year – it was the Elder that had been sent home and I had followed into the area. With a surprised tone I told her I know more about that Elder than anyone in the world and that he was a piece of work. At that time someone called my name and I needed to go to another part of the church – I excused myself and went to where I was needed. Personal revelation is just that - personal and unique to each individual. Over the next week or so this young lady continued to receive manifestations from the spirit that she needed to come see me and talk about an event that happened in her life. Seventeen year earlier this woman then a little girl was living in part of the area this Elder was serving. An Elder is trusted because of his calling – he broke that trust by touching her inappropriately on more than one occasion. She was scared as any young girl would have been and tried to tell her parents – but sadly they didn’t believe her because he was a missionary. He was then sent home because of the other things that happened which I was given the responsibility to rectify. She decided at that time that she would never tell another soul about the things that had taken place during that time. Despite her silence, these events continued to haunt her for those many years. Until her new Bishop told her he knew what kind of missionary he was – and then the spirit told her that I would believe what she needed to tell me. After a couple of weeks she made an appointment to come and see me – the spirit was so strong and helped her to feel the love of the Lord and the power of the atonement. I assured her that not only did I believe her but also it was in complete character with the other thing I knew had happened at that time. It wasn’t her fault nor was she to blame herself anymore for the things that had taken place. We ended that appointment with a priesthood blessing. After she left my office I fell to my knees and thank my Father in Heaven for the marvelous miracle that had just taken place. I envisioned seventeen years earlier a faithful mission president on his knees in humble pray – asking which of his hundreds of missionaries he should sent to take care of the problems that had developed. I even think he would have been surprised at the answer he received, perhaps even asking again. Yes there were many missionaries that could have successfully taken care of these problems – but there was only one that would someday be the Bishop of this little girl. The Lord knows the beginning from the end He is and will continue to prepare each of us and those with whom we will come in contact with. It’s our opportunity and responsibility to be worthy enough to be used as a tool in his hands.

Mission Call -

I went on an LDS mission over thirty years ago. The cost of a mission has changed –but not as much as you would think. Now all missionaries pay the same amount no matter where they go. The receiving of the mission call is an exciting event. First there are interviews and medical examinations. This is to make sure you’re spiritually and physically able to serve. Different than when I got my call – the application and submitting of the appropriate paper work is submitted online. Once it is submitted you can follow it step by step on the Internet – or at least your church leader can. Where does it stand – with the Bishop, now with the Stake President, now with the Church – assigned and it’s been sent? But receiving the actual call hasn’t changed at all over the last thirty years, well almost not at all. The call comes through the mail. When it says on the computer that it has been sent – chances are you will get it the next Wednesday. The excitement of getting the call is tremendous, where are you going to spend the next two years? This summer my son put in his papers to go on a mission. When I got my mission call you could tell if you were staying in the U.S. or going foreign just by looking at the postage – if you were going foreign there were more papers in the packet for visa’s, passport, etc, thus more postage. When the call was sent, we knew that our son would not be in town – he was working at a youth camp in the mountains. We had decided to take the call to him to be opened. To get the scoop I goggled to find out if you could still tell where you were going by the postage, there was a number of entries, most of which said you could still tell. One of these entries said that if it was over $1.57 it’s foreign. My nephew had just gotten his call two weeks before to Iowa, so I called my sister and asked if she still had the envelop – great what was the postage, $1.57. It was a hour drive to the camp and we had to get all the family together for the trek – so when his call came it was going to be four or five hours before he could open it. Most people don’t say where they want to go so they don’t seem disappointed. I was disappointed when I got my call, after being in the mission field it was the greatest and I loved my location but when I opened the call and found out I was going to a bordering state it was a let down. Maybe I could come home on weekends. What was the use - most of my friends wouldn’t be there, they were going to New Zealand – South America – Iceland, all over the world, but not in the same time zone. Not only was it a bordering state but they also told me to bring a sleeping bag – what was I going to be do, sleep out on an Indian reservation? Our son had been vocal that he wanted to learn a foreign language and go to another country. I hoped he wasn’t going to be disappointed. So when it came and I was the one that got it out of the mailbox – what was the postage? Dang - $1.57. I know that it would be all right in the long run and would be a great experience. I just hope it wasn’t Pocatello Idaho. Opening the call is kind of like Christmas, I hope the kids like their presents. There are 344 different missions in the world, so we had a contest to see who could guess the closest – of course I had a clue and knew it was in the states. When we got there he was excited, but also a little nervous – which is understandable since it was telling him where he was spending the next couple of years. His mother just hoped it wasn’t some place that made him eat insects or has a rebellion every couple of months. Well here we go – Argentina, Buenos Aires South. Wow! That’s along ways away. He got what he wanted and our ten-year-old daughter actually picked the right country. I guess the postage thing doesn’t work – what a great experience for the family.

Hole-in-one,

An acquaintance of mine was listed in the paper for making a hole-in-one. When I saw him a short time later I asked him if it was his first – “no it was my fifth.” Now I knew he golf’s a lot – and if you throw six billion darts at the board your bound to hit the bulls eye once in a while. I know he golf’s a couple of times a week – at least that is what he tells his wife. Despite my friend - a hole in one is a rare event. Many years ago I was golfing in Alamosa Colorado, we were on a par three that was slightly up hill, we couldn’t see the green or the pin and had never golfed the course before so we just aimed straight ahead. My shot felt good, that means it went more than thirty yards and went past the woman’s tees – most of you know what happens if your tee shot doesn’t go past the woman’s tees. I learned this rule from a couple of co-worker that also thought you couldn’t golf without a beer in their hand - the longer we went the more sauced they became the more the rule come into effect. I just wished I were apart of another foursome. Back to Alamosa, when we got to the green we found out why we couldn’t see the pole – some loser not only didn't put it into the hole, but they also laid it in front of the hole. So here was my ball two inches in front of the hole on a perfect line to go in. Now it’s true that the pole could have stopped the ball and it could have gone way past the hole – but it sure looked like it would have gone in, we will never know. Maybe it was my sauced co-workers driving five hundred miles to raise havoc. I have witnessed a hole-in-one once, besides those on sports center, and it also took place with one of my co-workers –but this time it didn’t include alcohol. One afternoon we decided to play a little hooky from work, we were on commission so it really only was hurting ourselves. It seemed that I always did a little better when I would take a break once in a while. No one else was on the course as far as we could see, maybe because it looked like we could be hit by lighting, and no one else was stupid enough to be there. We were on the back nine when it started getting dark – I mean ghost buster dark. The wind started to come up and it started to sprinkle. The next hole was just a par three – lets play just one more, it should only take us five strokes each. It was the shortest hole on the course – less than a hundred yards. I went first and just before I hit the ball the wind decided to double it velocity – so instead of going the usual thirty feet to the right it went at least that far to the left. Man that was trouble – lets get out of here. My partner decided to go anyway – in order to keep the ball low he took out a three wood. A hundred yard with a three wood in the wind and rain good luck. The ball stayed low alright, it bouncer about three or four times on the fairway and then onto the green, it rolled to the left - wind assisted into the hole. Are you kidding me -this guy would have an 80 handy-cap if he had played enough to get a handy-cap. I can’t believe it – nor did anyone else. When we got to the clubhouse he reported the event, they asked which hole and what club he had used –right! It never appeared in the paper. I was his only proof that the amazing shot had taken place and I don't think he wants me to tell many of the details.

Hotels--

Over the past few months I’ve had the opportunity to stay in two different five star hotels. There is defiantly a difference on each star level. This wasn’t the first time I’ve stayed at such a place. Once I had to go to Boston on business and I decided to take my wife along. We stayed in an amazing place overlooking the harbor, the same area our forefathers decided to have a tea party. We wanted to extend out trip for a couple of days and make the drive north to Maine. So my wife would have someone to talk to we decided to invite another couple. After finding out how much it would cost them to get a room, either we needed to get new friends or sell one of our cars, I decided to call back and see if we could have a room with two queen beds so we could share. It worked out all right we just had to coordinate the bathroom schedule and I had to wear pajamas, which looked brand new because they were. It was like a big slumber party. Since I was in charge of the first two nights - our friends were in charge of finding us a couple of rooms for the nights that followed. Thus Lord Wakefield, now I recommend that if you go on vacation and have to spend time in more than one hotel – don’t stay in a five star hotel one night then go to a one star the next. If it has to happen do it the other way around, go to the one star first and then you will feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven the next night – except for the pajamas. The Lord Wakefield wasn’t just old, the king size bed sunk down in the middle. No matter where you started out you ended up in the middle on top of each other. Good thing there were only two of us in the bed. I was a little scared walking barefoot on the carpet or in the bathroom. But there were fewer diseases in the room than it looked like lived in the pool. Since I have made it clear I didn’t like the one star, I also have a couple of problems with the five stars. I guess I’m just a three star kind of guy at heart. At the five stars they didn’t have an ice machine on every floor – I had to call room service just to get a glass of ice. Forget trying to park your own car – at least I drove the one that didn’t have a dent in it. It still looks out of place next to the Spider – Ferrari – and Mercedes parked by the front door. After we took our car out later, I decided to park it myself in a lot behind the hotel that had cars that looked like mine. I found out later it was an employee lot. Neither the one or five star hotels had a complimentary breakfast, but if they did it would be something like the difference between a Twinkie and steak and eggs. If I recall we had a hard time finding someone at he front desk at Lord Wakefield - at the five star I was a little surprised there wasn’t someone out side my bathroom to ask if everything went OK. Hotel personal were everywhere, opening doors, getting a towel – please leave me alone. All right some of that is OK, but I felt like I was at an Amway convention and I was the only one that hadn’t signed up with a sponsor! The beds at the five stars were great – no they were wonderful. I had a hard time finding my wife because of all the pillows. The rooms were amazing – I guess I was just a little embarrassed giving them my bag – a gym bag in my case to take to my room. The main thing is that after I closed my eyes you really can’t tell the difference from a three star or five star hotels – now at the Wakefield I swear I saw glowing yellow eyes in the corner.

Chestnut Tree, ½ Bath –

I don’t know when they started giving special names to rooms or measured them by the number of tubs or showers. I guess it’s always been that way, the front room, dining room, family room, bedroom etc. When we were building our first house and looking at possible plans, I found out there were a lot of other names that I had never heard of, great room – just another excuse for two family rooms. Master bedroom and master bathroom – these are larger so the master of the house can relax. Guest room – well I guess you need space for those that come around once a year, not really an option for families with five kids that also need to have a study and laundry room. Pantry, this is a room to keep your food and goodies – I like having a space to have food large enough to have it’s own name. The mudroom is an interesting concept – I was taught not to bring mud into the house in the first place, now I have a room just for this purpose. With all of these extra rooms, it’s easy to see why everyone is building such big houses. The house I grew up in was half the size of the one we have now and we have half the people. Growing up we only had two bathrooms for twelve people. Well technically it was only one and half baths because the downstairs one didn’t have a tub, only a shower. When you sat on the toilet there wasn’t much more room, you could have washed your face at the same time. Our master bathroom is considered a one and a half bath because it has a separate tub and shower. Now no one uses them both at the same time, but I guess they could. The biggest problem about our house growing up was the bathroom space. I had six sisters – try finding an open bathroom in that house and then if you did get it, it wasn’t for long. Boys don’t need as long as girls, actually under the right circumstances we didn’t even need one at all. There was a chestnut tree in the back yard that occasionally came into play. It had a trunk big enough to hide behind, and take care of your business and since little boys hardly ever wash their hands in the first place we were ready to go. I guess you could have called it a half bath, bringing us back up to two. The next problem was the lack of bedrooms, forget about a guest room – don’t ever remember having a visitor overnight, if they showed up I guess we would have worried about it then. I was too young to remember my parent’s first house – two bedrooms and eight children, maybe that's when a relative showed up and said never again. They moved when I was one to a spacious mansion with five bedrooms and an additional sister on the way. This is the same house I said earlier that is half the size of my present home. There were four of us in the same room for a little while then there were three, my brother and I had bunk beds and then there was another one for our little sister on the other side of the room. Her bed was a perfect landing pad for little boys flying off the top bunk. When we got a little older and a couple of kids moved out of the house that bed was moved and we had the large room just for the two of us. The bunk beds didn’t change: they were army surplus, metal frames with wire supports under the mattress – they were never going to wear out. When you laid on them they would sag down at least a foot – which didn’t matter on the top, but on the bottom it was taking up presious space. People tell me I snore, I guess I do but I’ve never heard it. One night I went to sleep before my brother and apparently he was having a hard time getting to sleep because I was sawing logs. He got a brilliant idea, he put his feet on the sagging mattress to give me a little boost to wake me up long enough to go to sleep. Not a bad idea – except he pushed a little too hard, which I realized as I was fling thought the air on my way to the floor below. I woke up in mid flight realizing something was defiantly wrong. My brother was concerned until he realized I was Ok enough that he wouldn’t get into trouble – then he started laughing and thought it was pretty cool. I’m glad he got a kick out of it – and I’m such he fell asleep before I did

Dad-

This is the greatest title I have ever achieved. Father is close, but to become a father of a child is a little easier than becoming a Dad. My Dad’s story is amazing – his life was far harder than mine. I guess that is what every father would want, to make life a little better for his kids than he had himself. If that is a measuring stick – my Dad was a huge success. He was born in 1915 to Walter Gates Champlin and Nell Nunheimer Champlin. Nell had some difficulties giving birth to my Dad and passed away a few days later. This put my grandfather in a difficult situation; he was in the military and now a father of an infant son. He took Nell back to her family for the funeral – and that’s where he met his next wife, Nell’s niece. This didn’t go over very well with the family and caused difficulties for my father for years to come. Basically this is why my dad lived in foster homes most of his childhood. These foster homes were always a short distance from where ever his father was stationed. Dad didn’t talk about those years very much – but every once in a while he would give us a story or two. But I believe this was a building block of why he became such a great dad. He is my greatest hero! I think that at one time or another most fathers are heroes to their son’s. This usually doesn’t happen in the teenage years. My dad wasn’t a big man physically, but I remember he was strong as an ox. I have never wrestled an ox – but I’m sure dad had, he did everything else. He use to wrestle three or four of us at once, he would put a couple of us in what he called a bear trap with his legs and then keep wrestling the others with his arms. I guess all ten of us could have taken him down – but that wasn’t the goal. When it came to discipline he was a fair but hard taskmaster. He was a judge for the city we lived in, and I’ve heard the story often when my oldest brother had to appear before him on a traffic violation. According to some in the room he pulled my brothers case from the pile and put it on top, then he asked the dreaded question – how do you plead? After my brother said guilt, my father nailed him to the wall. Not literally, he gave his the greatest penalty possible. Those waiting their turn were scared to death, if that’s what he had done to his son what is he going to do to them. If you look at it logically, what else could he do? I must have been quite small, but I remember trying to walk in his footsteps one day in the snow, I had to almost jump from print to print. I have been trying to walk in his footsteps ever since. The other day, thirteen years after his death the former chief of police told one of my friends how much he respected my dad and how he was the fairest judge he ever knew. At our house dad was always our greatest supporter and fan, he came to all of our activities and sporting events. Dad loved sports, good thing since that’s all his four sons seemed to do. Dad’s favorite spectator sport was boxing, I remember while I was still at home and attending college, I came home and dad was watching boxing on ESPN. His whole body would move with every punch as if he was in the ring. A couple of days later I came home about the same time to find dad in front of the T.V. watching boxing again. I watched with him for a minute and realized it was the same bout he had watched before, as I pointed it out he didn’t believe me until I predicted a knock down a few seconds before it happened. We laughed; he had no idea that they had reruns of sporting events. He was a hard worker, but always had time to talk to me when he was home. There are a lot of people that blame their parents for their problems or shortcomings. If I don’t measure up in life, it’s not because of my parents but my own stupid choices.

Male sickness –-

There’s nothing that is the same for all people or genders, so if your the one that isn't the same as the majority, good or bad, it normally not a big deal but you may want to keep it to yourself. If you listen to my wife and her friends, men in general are bigger babies than women when they’re sick.

The percentage of our friends that have a stay at home mom is larger than the national average. Maybe that’s why we are friends, because we have more in common or just want to feel better about our choices. If you have a couple of kids a stay at home - mom is a challenging job. Over the past few years as the kids are in school a few of them have taken part-time jobs.

My wife works a couple of hours a day at the elementary school helping in the office and lunchroom. She enjoys it tremendously and would do it for free – if she didn’t have to go everyday. When she doesn’t feel well things slow down a little bit around the house.

Many times I will bring home dinner or need to do a few extra chores, but things seem to continue along without confusion. If I’m sick – it’s the end of the world as we know it. Not only do the things I normally do around the house not get done, which list is far shorter than my wife’s, but also I need constant attention. Honey will you bring me, honey could you please, the list is endless. The two things that work harder when I’m sick are my wife and the remote control.

I almost always take a bath and sleep until Sports Center or PTI comes on. In the case of Sports Center it seems to come on every other hour, it usually doesn’t have anything new from the hour before – but just in case! It’s not just when I’m sick that I’m a wimp, I remember the first time one of the kids threw up – not the little baby spit-up, but the up-chuck that’s got pieces of what ever, I proceeded to join in. I’m sure my wife doesn’t like it either – but who wants two peoples mess to clean up.

Too this day when something like that happens I have permission to leave the room as fast as possible. This same event happened when I went to check on the kids in the bathtub and there was something floating in the water resembling a small log. It didn’t help that kids like to make things bob up and down.

Most men not only can’t function when they’re sick but we won’t go to the doctor – there’s a slim possibility they’ll make us cough. Of course no woman on earth is sympathetic; I think the word they would use is pathetic – considering what poking and prodding they have to go though. I usually get sick once or twice a year and very seldom miss any work. I think I’ve only taken a couple of sick days in the past three years, good thing since it puts my wife back a couple of days each time it happens.

Lost at Sea -

When it comes to my family there's a few things that scare me to death. One of these is whom my four daughters marry. I don’t worry too much about my son, I know it happens both ways, but most of the time any type of abuse or neglect is from the husband to his wife or children. That’s a cheery way to start a story! Another thing is if my wife were to pass away and leave me taking care of my girls – she already says I treat them like truck drivers (I don’t know what that means). The last, for this story is if something were to happen to one of the kids. My wife is always telling me we need to do more big things as a family, what she means by big things usually means something that cost a lot of money. At least that is the first thing that comes to my cheap mind. Paul, I think we need too.. Ch’ing- $. Paul, I want us too.. Ch’ing- $. This isn’t fair because she is wonderful with finances and takes care of the house and our lives on less than we earn. The bigger problem is she is hardly ever wrong. On one such occasion I let my guard down, opened the bank and took our family on a cruise. Now if I was going to be miserable I needed company. So I convinced four of our closest friends to bring their family and come along. One of those families convinced some other people to come which we didn’t know. So because I had a week moment there were more than thirty people putting their financial futures at risk. The cruise ship that we went on was huge. They had a skating rink, miniature golf (I was the ships champion – not just our group the whole ship), rock climbing wall, full basketball court (I took second in lighting – the ship was swaying and some guy that normally couldn’t make a basket swayed the same way. I know he was part of our group.), and water volleyball (we took last in that contest). You can eat anytime you want, and you need to plan on gaining ten pound per cruise. If you only gain eight then the early morning walks around the deck paid off. The cruise we chose traveled to the Western Caribbean, which if you haven’t been is the first location to start cruising. In Grand Cayman we swam and held the sting rays, they’re huge and would suck squid out of your hands. My son scratched his back after having touched squid and a sting ray swam on his back and gave him a hicky. I don’t think he knew what a hicky was and if he did it wasn’t the way he wanted to get one. We climbed a waterfall in Jamaica – which we learned later was man made. Oh-well it was beautiful and great for the kids. In any long cruise there is at least a day that you’re only at sea. With so much to do on the boat it’s great to just hang-out and relax. On the 13^th deck – there was a kiddy pool and other attractions and that became our home base. As we were enjoying our time, it came to our attention that our five year old daughter was missing. At first we were slightly concerned, but there were a lot in our group and maybe she was playing with some of their kids. As we started to look, all were accounted for except our five year old. Our slight concern turned to mild as thirty people fanned the 13^th deck looking for a blond ponytail. I consider myself a very religious man as I also drew on a higher power to help in the search. What was just a few moments’ evolved into an extreme concern and what seemed like an eternity. Despite safety precautions there is only a rail that keeps an individual from falling thirteen floors to the ocean below, there is the possibility of a deranged individual taking a child or just the possibility of a lost child wondering in a panic looking for her parents. This search continued for appositely ten to fifteen minutes at the most. The usually mild mannered wreck that I am became a frenzied idiot running the decks of the ship. As I rounded a corner approximately fifty yards away was a child walking toward me eating a cookie twice the size of her hands. She had wondered down to the far end of the ship and taken the elevator to the fifth floor bakery to secure an afternoon treat. She was lost to everyone but herself. She knew exactly where and why she was going and how to get back when she was done. All of the sudden it didn’t matter how much the cruise had cost or what tropical locations we had seen; I embraced my little girl and told her how much I loved her. Then I gave her the business for going by her self. As I pick her up and to take her to her mom, I even considered taking back the fact that I had grounded her for the rest of her life.

The Three Musketeers – Or purple pansies.--

All of us have had times in our lives that we have looked up too or admired someone else. Our parents are always glad if those people don’t wear stripped clothes or bright orange one-piece suits. Besides my father and a few other family members most of these hero’s were school teachers, youth leaders or parents of one of my friends.

One friends Dad’s falls into this category. Most of the people that know him called him Doc. He had a private practice in a small town for a number of years and then decided to specialize as an anesthesiologist. I’ve told a number of stories about his son whom is one of my best friends. After we graduated from high school and I was ready to go away for a couple of years. Doc came up to me and thanked me for keeping his son out of prison! Now I don’t think he would have ended up in prison – but, if I recall his brother was in a Mexican prison while in medical school until this friends could raise enough money to get him out. Doc was the last of the old time classics, I remember going to their house and having a stuffy nose and a couple of other symptoms. He started to question what I felt like and then walk to the fridge and take out a syringe and a vile where the eggs should have been, then told me to pull down my pants to give me a shot. His kitchen was like a satellite office for wayward children. I never asked any questions and it didn’t happen very often.

There were three of us that use to always hang out – and Doc had two names for us, the three Musketeers and the Purple Pansies. The Three Musketeer was the least original but was a lot easier to accept than the Purple Pansies. No one wanted to be known as a pansy. Maybe that’s why his son was so tough – you know kind of like the Johnny Cash song a “Boy Named Sue.” Sue sure turned out tough as he got the business everyday at school from the other kids. Doc was one of the nicest and caring individuals I ever met, but he had the grip like a vice. He use to take my hand and pinch the back of my arm tell I was ready to cry, maybe that’s why he called me a pansy. He also knew that I came from a family with less money – so he would let us work on their ranch weeding Christmas Trees or haling hay. He always seemed to pay a bit more than the normal person. His brother would hire us to do his hay as well; he would compare us to some of his old workers like Merlin and Phil Olsen – both of which played for the Rams. Maybe that’s why they called us pansies, they were comparing us too part of the Fearsome Foursome.

After Doc retired he spent a lot of time in a free clinic for those that couldn’t afford medical attention, no it wasn’t in his kitchen. He always complimented me on my achievements and made me feel like I was important despite the cast on my hand after shaking his. Doc was in a rest home for a while and didn't always know what was going on. My father suffered from Alzheimer’s for more than seven years before he died – it doesn’t seem fair that someone that gave so much was totally assisted by others. Doc has since passed away, not only is he a great man but is one of my hero’s, despite his son almost getting me thrown into prison.

E-dawg? -

Occasionally something happens that triggers our recollection of the past or certain people or events. One such recollection happened to me the other night. My employer under the name of community service annually finds a house that need to be painted. The employees spend the week doing what ever needs to be done to prepare, paint and clean up the house and yard. It’s a great event and over the years has helped a lot of people. When it’s my turn to go I usually make it a family affair by taking the kids, the closer their ages to the teenage years the more distress it involves. Other employees also bring family members to participate. One employee’s spouse happens to be a teacher at the local High School where my two teenagers attend. Instantly upon their arrival my son, the most productive and less distressed about their service, yelled E-dawg what’s happening. E-dawg, that doesn’t seem to be a flattering thing to call your teacher. Now I already knew that this was one of my son’s favorite teachers. His last name started with an “E’ and it was said with excitement and an enduring tone. This helped me to understand it wasn’t showing disrespect or malice. This made me think of what we use to call our teachers or people of authority when I was his age. My second grade teacher was Mrs. Tout and we called her trout – pretty original for a bunch of seven year olds. But I don’t remember saying it too her face. She was ancient, about forty and would have had a coronary then I would have had some suppressed feeling because I killed my teacher. There was a police officer in town that had the most awesome flat-top and looked just like one of our favorite cartoon characters, the only difference is that his wife wasn’t named Wilma and I don’t think he had a daughter named Pebbles. That name was said out load all the time, but normally only after he turned his back and there were a lot of people so he didn’t know who said it. He hated to be called his nickname and every kid in town knew it. Some of these phrases or names make it easy to see why they were being used others are a little harder to understand. One of our teachers and coach was nicknamed sweat hog – I don’t know when it started and I know he didn’t like it. I’ve known him for more than thirty years and have never seen him sweat more than normal or smelled any kind of body odor. He’s a wonderful kind man and what ever started it probably wasn’t fair, but for some reason it stuck. Another was called “Wild Bill,” now deep down I think this one was all right and he seemed to not let it bug him. As a coach he got excited on occasions and earned the name, but I never saw him get out of control. One thing I knew about him that most didn’t was that he was a WWII hero and a College Football star. He always took time to pull me aside and help me when he thought I needed it. That friendship and respect continued every time I saw him for years to come. It seems that there are two reasons those in authority get nicknames or are called curtain things. First, they’ve rubbed people the wrong way or made a mistake. Second it is a term of endearment and shows that they think you’re all right. E-dawg, I don’t know how flattering that is, but you’re definitely in the latter category.

Community Service -

There are a number of reasons people volunteer for community service. Despite the reasons someone gets involved, one thing that you'll find out is that everyone has a different opinions or reasons to be there. Also those willing to be involved seem to have ample opportunities since the majority of people have no desire to serve or donate their time. I’ve never run for public office but Hitler did. The state of California had the Terminator and Dirty Harry in office. I’m sure other states and cities would say those names would describe some of their politicians as well. The greatest thing about our political system is also the possible problem. The majority of the citizens decide who will serve in certain positions - if you have a bunch of idiots that live in a certain area, is there any question why they have idiots serving in office? Now there are times when we don’t know they were idiots – well we got taken, but if we elect them a second time then chances are we need to check our IQ and those of our neighbors. A couple of years ago I was a volunteer on eleven committees or organizations at the same time. Some of them took very little time and preparation, others were more involved and I served as chairman of three of them. A couple of these were related - if you served on one you automatically needed to be on the others. The different areas of involvement were schools, scouting, soccer and church. None of these gave me any monetary reward – just the opposite, they needed me to give them money. Now lets check my IQ: spend hundreds of hours a year and then make them out a check. Only one of these organizations has ever given me a reward or some sort of recognition. The Boy Scouts of America – they gave me the District Award of Merit and the Twenty-five year service award. They had a nice dinner that my wife and I attended, guess who had to pay for the tickets? On some of the committees there are those that are more concerned with the agenda, usually their own, bylaws and prodigal. This motion – firsts and do we have a second, this seems a little stupid to the average blowk. What’s wrong with – Lester what do you think, or does anyone have a problem with this? I was the chairman of the local High Schools Community Counsel for two years and served on that committee four years total. Our main job was to decide how to spend special monies given to the school by the State Trust Land Fund. Some parents wanted to talk about what the cheerleaders where wearing or not wearing for that matter. I admit we met more often than we needed too for the responsibilities we were give, and some times the administration didn’t want to hear what we had to say. But it was a good experience and we tried to make a difference. It’s necessary to have a place for parents to voice their concerns and what goes on in their children’s education. The greatest reason to volunteer is to make a difference – to help improve society. Someone has to do it, and chances are if you don’t the person who will doesn’t think the same way you do. There is something everyone can do or be apart of. If you love animals; there’s a couple of organizations that need your help. The problem is that too many people are concerned with what’s in it for them more than what difference it will make for the whole. There is no question there are problems with the system – and that some people will take advantage of what ever they can get away with. But stop complaining unless you’re willing to help make a difference. That’s why more often than not the silent majority follows the directions of the vocal minority.

Oprah -

There’s something’s that a man just doesn’t admit. Occasionally it’s OK you did some of them because of special circumstances, which needs to be explained with a story of how it hardly ever happens. One of these is crying at the movies, I had something in my eye or my allergies are acting up. Watching the Oxygen Network, the remote battery gave out while I was surfing channels. Cross-stitching, I haven’t thought of a good reason for that one yet! Watching Oprah is another one of these. If you have ever watched her show you know that there are normally one or two men in the audience, if there are more then some of them are guests. I watch Oprah whenever the cable goes out and miraculously it’s the only station I can get. That occurs only a couple of times a month at the most. Everyone says getting tickets to Oprah is like winning the lottery – I wish, I only tried once and after a few calls I got through. I gave my ticket to one of my wife’s friends – the men went to Chicago with them and slept in during an early morning taping. One of the women in the group is so obsessed with Oprah, that after the show she stole a straw from a glass that she had used to get a drink of water. I don’t know what she did with it; it’s probably framed and hanging somewhere in her house. On one of these occasions that my cable went out I happened to see a show that Oprah and her guest were talking about how everyone has a story to tell. To prove their point they brought out a board with a map of the audience on it. A dart was thrown to choose an audience member to have a story done about them. Guess what, it was a man. That was their first mistake, most men don’t want their story told – especially on national TV with millions of woman watching. This is when I started to think what would my story be? I thought that I had more to tell than the one that was chosen - of course they only had a couple of minutes to give it. That is when I decided to write it down. It has taken a couple of years to start and get the courage to share it with other people. I have given hundreds of speeches during my life and on occasions someone asks if they can have a copy of my remarks. I usually don’t give it to them, because what are they going to use it for? There are a number of possibilities of what I could call my collection of stories; “Memoirs of an Ordinary Fat Guy,” “Life Stories from an Average Idiot,” “All of us have a story to tell” (that’s original), “What I have learned – Hurry up before I forget.” I agree with Oprah everyone has a story to tell, and if we could learn from others mistakes and successes in life wouldn’t it be a lot easier. Hopefully as you read mine you will remember your own. I don’t think I’m that much different that a normal guy and hopefully we can learn together. All of us make mistakes and need to understand that no one we meet is perfect. I don’t have any letters behind my name that should make me a credible psychoanalyst or stop you from going to therapy where they show you ink spots, or find some suppressed feelings or experience. But, I believe that no matter how bad or unfair your life experiences may have been, there is always a silver lining that can bring us hope, or a memory that can bring a smile to your face and a determination to learn from life’s joys and pains. I also think I have a different perspective because the last couple of years have been the hardest of my life. Maybe I should hurry-up and knock on wood – perhaps my head would work. Sometimes we think things are difficult, but just wait a couple of minutes and we may wish it would go back to where we had complained. Here we go – I hope you enjoy them as much as I have in writing them.

Funsuckers rule - letter to editor

Funsucker is a term used by my son to categorize those that suck the fun out of life because “what if” or because some idiots have shown their IQ’s and those actions have stopped the rest of the world from enjoying tradition or some types of recreational activities. Growing up in Logan I’ve had the opportunity to participate in many activities that are no longer allowed. I guess technically a couple of those were always illegal. One of these was putting soap in the City fountain – it so infuriated our City Leaders that now it’s a planter. This activity, I’m sure was the first act of heresy for many inmates at the point of the mountain. Another is the fact that I received a ticket in my own driveway because my back bumper was six inches on the sidewalk. This is of great concern for the three people that walk past my house on a weekly basis. There are others that wouldn’t be classified under heinous crimes. A tradition that was part of Logan High School’s Homecoming activities for as long as I can remember, was the annual Bonfire, a wonderful event that was well planned and supervised, until a couple of the above mentioned IQ’s decided to act like Jack-be-nimble. To be fair, Logan City and Logan School District aren’t the only ones eliminating such activities. The forest service sealed off the entrance to Logan Cave because those entering the cave were disturbing the mating habits of the bats living there. The hundreds years before, many people went into the cave and some how the bats seemed to survive. The final straw was the article in the Herald Journal reporting that the canal down Logan Canyon is now off limits – and those floating the canal would be charged with trespassing. Really – I understand after the disaster on Canyon Road everyone is running a little scared when it comes to the possible liability of when the “what if” happens. But, couldn’t a smart attorney come up with some sort of sign that says the canal is private property and those using it are doing so at their own risk, and accept the liability for their own actions. This is true at many locations that we have to pay for – we give them money and also keep the liability. Now the local law enforcement are going to patrol the canyon and first damn areas looking for the heinous criminals that can’t put soap in the city fountain, thus ending up at the canal.

Paul Champlin

1264 Orchard Heights Drive

Logan, UT 84321

(435) 750-0821

Fact vs, Folklore -

The older we get, the better we were! Many times if five people witnessed the same event there could be as many as five different versions of what happened and if it happened at church at least one of them would have brought treats, and that's before the improvement of time. I think it’s natural that we don’t remember all the details of our lives and occasionally those missing gaps are filled with spectacular details. We have sat around telling stories so many times that once in a while someone adds a little twist or detail that never happened. In most cases these details aren’t added on purpose but just because we forget many of the facts and inadvertently they are filled in with our best recollections. In my case the same member of the family usually adds these changes. I really believe it' how he remembers what took place. There have been occasions where he has combined two stories together making one amazing event. Then there’s the times people think they remember something that just isn’t true. A great example of this is the time my oldest brothers family was going to his wife’s family reunion, each family was asked to tell a story from their childhood. His wife was having a hard time thinking of a good story, so someone suggested that they make one up. As they drove to their location the story evolved. When it was her turn, she got up and told about the time the cat got stuck in the tree in the front yard and how the local volunteer fire department came to the rescue, fire engine and all. As she presented her concoction and filled in the detail – her younger sister stated: “I remember that.” That was hard to do when it had never happened. I once had a co-worker that always had a greater story than the one just told. We use to make up stories to see if he would take the bait and one-up the teller with a whooper of his own. He had been recruited by USC, could shingle a house with hammer in both hands and had managed a disco while in high school. Years later, after I had moved to another state, my wife and I were watching the local news when they were doing a story about aids in the state prison system. They interviewed a few inmates about their thoughts, there was my co-worker giving his option. It’s probably good that we don’t remember all the detail of what has happened to us. I wish I could forget the time a wet my paints at recess – I was having way to much fun to worry about going to the restroom. I’ve tried to have as many people as possible to read my stories to see if they are the way they remember them. There has been very little difference – except the brother that thinks they all happened to him. He has some great stories of his own, leave mine alone. We have a lot of stories together and many of my stories happened because he and his friends had done something we thought sounded fun and wanted to give it a try. This one-upmanship isn’t the same as my co-workers, but we did try to improve the event just because it was a great idea. This is the brother that taught me how to have “Fun with fishing Line,” another story. As a matter of fact, someone else made up most of our pranks. Who knows it could have been Eve that first short-sheeted Adams bed, if so I’m sure Cain took credit. Now I’m not insinuating that whom take credit is a bad person – just that it’s hard to remember what led up to a spontaneous or even choreographed act of torment on a family member or friend. The point is that it really doesn’t matter all that much about the little facts or details or who deserves credit. As a matter of fact we should share credit as much as possible, if it works out the other person feels pretty cool, if not we have someone else to take the heat.

Insanity -

For a woman to have ten children she would have to be very special or insane. Insanity is a relative term. I thought the person that invented “Pet Rocks” was insane – all he did was wash them up, put them in a box, and put a few creative words of instruction. Billy Carter seemed a couple of bubbles off center. But if an opportunity presents its self, can you blame him for taking advantage of it. My mother was not insane. Shortly after WWII, she moved away from home to go to school and become a school teacher. During her schooling experience she had the opportunity to do her student teaching. My experience with student teachers was that it was our jobs as students to help them rethink their career decisions, do you really want to do this for the rest of your life? According to my mother she had always liked the name of Paul for one of her children. During her student teaching assignment, wouldn’t you know that she had a child that had the same opinion of student teachers as I did, guess what his name was? Apparently this young man was so bad that not only did my mother never teach school but also it took her ten years of having children and her fourth son before she got up the courage to finally take the plunge. I believe that after she married my dad she just wanted to be a stay at home mom more. Despite not getting paid she was teaching all the time. I must not have kept up with the expectations of my name, as a little while ago one of my elementary school teachers were talking to a couple of my friends about when she was their teacher and she not no idea who I was. But this story is about my Mom. I had a Dr. Jeckel and Mr. Hyde personality when it came to sports. My mom loved basketball and was at all of our games - I loved pie. One day she made me a deal, if I would keep my cool and just play the game she would make me an apple pie. As often happened the refs were terrible and as the games progressed, I began to get fired up. Among all the voices I heard from the bleachers – I heard my mothers voice yelling at the top of her lungs Pie – Pie – Pie. Now this could be one of those times that those people that thought my mom was crazy might have had some ammunition. But I knew exactly what she was saying. Not only did I get my personality from my mother, but also she taught me thousand of lives lessons that have made me whom I am today.

Pick your friends wisely -

If you have a weakness or shortcoming it’s nice to find a partner or friend that makes up the difference. This is what everyone should look for in a spouse. With this complimenting strength there still needs to be a lot in common. This isn’t only true for spouses, but friends as well. The first time I met one of my best friends was in the fourth grade. I player 1^st base for the Adams Dodgers and he played for the Edith Bowen Cardinals. Everyone hated Edith Bowen, they were a private school that was associated with the local university and most students had parents at the university or were a rich doctors kid. Boy did this kid take the cake, he was their best player and he knew it. For a ten year old he had learned all the tricks – and he could trash talk with the best of them. The best of them – me. That’s what a first baseman does, that’s their job. The only player that has a better opportunity to give the other team the business is the catcher, but he was the nicest guy on earth and the umpire wouldn’t let him get away with to much if he wanted too. Before a group of psychologists decided that it wasn’t beneficial for kid’s self-esteem to lose or have anyone say anything negative, there were some great sayings in baseball. Hey batter – batter swing, pitchers got a rubber arm were two of my favorites. The real personal stuff didn’t start until you got to first base. There it’s not yelled out load for all to hear and there wasn’t an adult standing a foot away like at home plate. That’s the place for the biggest talker on any team, and on our team that was me. Not only did I lead the team in trash, but also in a number of other categories, I led the team in homeruns and strikeouts, being bigger than the other kids there wasn’t much in between. If I hit the ball it usually went a long way, the problem was that I didn’t hit it that often. I also lead the team in hitting batters as a pitcher that was another advantage of being a little bigger; I threw harder than most so when they tried to let me pitch the other team was scared to death. The only question is would I hit more than I struck out, if it was the same then we were Ok, three walks and three strikeouts meant no one scored. Most of these categories won’t get you in the hall of fame, but luckily in those days all you had to do to play was signup. While on first base is when our friendship blossomed – he had a comeback for all of my comment, he also gave me some others that I could use on the other teams for the weeks to come. Most surprisingly both of our moms wore army boots. He did say a couple of word I hadn’t heard before, that must have been his Edith Bowen Education. I look back now and relies because of his language that there must have been some farmers kids at that school as well. It took a few years and a couple of bars of soap before we started defending each other rather than giving our opinions on each other’s heritage.

In-Law Golf

I’m not a great golfer, nor do I like it that much. That’s why I hadn’t gone in almost four years. When my daughter got married, we had family come from out of town for the special occasion. Most of them came from the Las Vegas area, where my wife grew up and the majority of her family still lives. I guess it cost a lot more to play golf in Las Vegas, thus the reason they wanted to get some bargain rounds in while they were here. It was my brother-in-laws idea, which normally wouldn’t appeal to me but with so many women in the house a man could get high on hair spray or be told what to do so much tell he'd think he's in the army. When we announced our intentions it was easy to find two more takers, our wives were happy to see us go, it was easier than having a bunch of pouting men in their way. This is where the in-law connection takes place. Joining myself was my father, brother and son in-laws. The greatest things about in-laws is that you normally have some-things in common, but when they act like idiots you can take solace that you have no blood relationship to any of them. Because we are all hackers and don’t have much intent to get better, we decided to play a two man best ball format. Now this is perfect for the guy that looses a ball about every six or seven shots. Both player on your team tee-off, then you go to the best shot – where you hit again from the same location, you just hope both of you don’t go into the lake at the same time. For some reason the two old guys were put on the same team – we held our own most of the time. Then came hole number four. My son-in-law proclaimed that this was his favorite hole in the whole wide world. That’s quit the claim – since he hasn’t been everywhere in the wide whole world. This hole is a par four, in an L shape surrounding a lake. If you hit down the fairway and then take the turn to the green it is 375 yards hole, but if your willing you can cut across the lake and with the shot of a lifetime make it to the green. Now my son-in-law can hit a golf ball a country mile, for that matter he can hit anything a country mile. He played minor league baseball for about five years and in High School he lead the state in homeruns. Knowing that such a feat was beyond our capacity, we shot down to the turn which give us a clear shot at the green. Then it was my son-in-laws turn, now I know why this was his favorite hole in the whole wide world. Not only did he clear the lake – and hit the green twenty yards further, his ball rolled past the hole more than thirty feet. Wow, next time he’s on my team. Our second shot didn’t even hit the green, leaving us a short chip up hill to the hole. Once on the green we one putted for a respectable par. This is when the younger team showed their true colors, a thirty-foot down hill putt for an eagle – oh sorry both players didn’t even come close. Now a fifteen-foot putt for birdie – oh sorry, what about a one foot putt for par. The old saying “drive for show and putt for dough” was defiantly in place this time. On to the fifth still tied. The only thing that had changed was the lack of trash talk that filled the air on the previous tee-box.

Dog Magnet

The other day my son read a refrigerator magnet that said, “I’m trying to be the kind of person my dog thinks I am.” This is kind of hard for me because I don’t have a dog. I have had one a couple of times in my life but they didn’t turn out so good. I have association with a couple of dogs on a regular basis – every day at work I try to take a break and go for a short walk. Round trip it a little over a mile in length and takes about twenty minutes. I usually always go the same direction and pass by the same houses along the way. At one of these houses I pass a dog each day. Now I don’t want to be the kind of person that this dog thinks that I am! He acts like I’m the scum of the earth; he almost knocks down the fence trying to get me, I’ve wondered on more than one occasion what each of us would do if the wooden fence really did fall over. Is he just a lot of talk or would I be in trouble? Pixar Pictures can out with a new movie called “Up”, it very entertaining and you need to see it in 3D. The main reason to see it in 3D is the cool glasses that they give you. There not the normal papers one – but are made out of plastic and make you look like Men in Black. In the movie the owner of the dogs has invented a collar that allows them to speak in a number of languages. At this house I think the dog would say words that I don’t want my kids to hear. The only good thing that the movie brings out is that the dogs have a very short attention span – this is usually true with my kids but I don’t know if it is with a dog. With a short attention span would he still want to attack me when he realized he was free? Most of us know what a good dog thinks of its owner – there’s a reason they call it mans best friend. They always want to play with you and don’t care what you do for a living, or for that matter what you look like. They do want you to feed them and show affection, this also could be apply to my kids, just show a liitle appreciation once in a while. My wife and I had a dog when we were first married, it was a puppy. After a couple of weeks it got off its leach and ran away and never came back. Maybe it was because of its name, but most likely Zero had no idea what it meant. I had a dog when I was a kid, but with so many of us I didn’t spend a whole lot of time with him. I remember when he died and surprisingly how hard it was on me. Maybe I don’t have a dog because I don’t think I could be the type of person it would deserve. I just hope that my children can look up to me with love and respect and show physical signs of excitement when I come home -even without a tail.

Is it approved?--

The problem with being a pro-bono writer is that you don’t get paid, what - doing something for nothing, that's a novel idea. Usually people want to get paid for doing nothing – there is less work and the reward is greater. That’s why the lottery system is so successful. Also if the topic you are writing about is you, your experiences and views, it’s kind of like bearing your soul to the masses, which is always met with mixed result.

Another problem is that most people want me to continue to pay my bills and have money to do things – especially my family. So I still have to have a full time job. In my chosen profession I hold a number of licenses - unlike James Bond none of them is a license to kill. Part of my employment agreement is that I have all extra business and special ventures approved in advance. I don't even know what clothes I'm going to wear tomorrow let alone what I'm going to be putting on paper. This rule includes a lot of the things I don’t even get paid for.

I've been told that this is to make sure there isn't any conflict of interest. I’m just surprised there is any interest in the first place. I have a lot of experience in the area of conflict, I come from a family of ten kids and I have seventy nieces and nephews – but the fact that I played twenty years of church basketball takes the cake and makes me an instant expert.

The conflict with my employer is that sometime I may say something that could influence someone’s decision making without the proper information and alternatives being presented. As you can tell they haven’t read my stories. I never give to much information - that would only get me in trouble. Now because I represent other organizations as well I need to make sure I don’t embarrass them or say something wrong.

One such organizations is my family, if I try not to embarrass them or to say something they think is wrong – I would never leave the house. If I needed their approval first there wouldn't be any stories in the first place. I’m also a member of a religious organization, maybe I will embarrass them – so I need their approval. I wonder how high I need to go – I guess it depends on how many people read my stories, early indications are not to many. That brings us back to my family and friends and you know what they think. I guess the old adage - it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than approval rings true in this case. Ultimately the greatest approval comes from within, I'm the only person putting my neck on the line, but I guess the others have to live with the consequences.

Favorite Child

I come from a large family, three brother and six sisters. Try finding a bathroom in that house, I’ve joked for years that’s why the tree in the back yard grew so big - think of all the fertilizer. Despite the competition I was by far my mothers favorite child. My family isn’t as large, but on a national average basis it’s still quit big. We have four daughters and one son. The other day our son heard his little sister telling her friends that she as the least favorite child in the family. I guess if someone's the favorite there has to be a least. This isn’t true, but she is a teenager and tries pushing the envelope as much as possible. She has a curfew earlier than all of her friends, and taste in clothes that is more expensive than she or I can afford. I guess it because she is always hearing no that she thinks we don't like her as much as the other children. She is quit talented; in her first year in high school she got a 3.9 grade point average. According to her, she didn't have a 4.0 because her science teacher hates her, and she defiantly didn’t like him. There’s probably a good reason, as sometimes she doesn’t show the respect she should. But the couple of time I’ve met with this teacher at parent teacher conferences I can honestly say I don’t like him either. How can you get mad at your child when you think they’re right? It give me a teaching moment to talk about life and how it’s not always fair. The sad part is that she really wanted to finish high school with a 4.0. She’s very motivated when it is her idea. I had to bribe her to try harder during the track season. She went out for track to get a tan and meet boys, how can anyone argue with that logic? She had never come out of the blocks or participated in an organized race. I told her if she qualified for state I would give her a hundred dollars – she qualified in two events. Now I never said I would give her a hundred dollars per event, but that’s how she took it. Her 4 x 100 relay team took second in state losing only by a tenth of a second. Another problem – at least for me, is that in the last year and a half she has gone from a little girl to a beautiful woman. She is very cute and the older boys know it. That’s part of her curfew problem, she’s hanging out with kids older than she is. We don’t allow the kids to date until their sixteen, but that’s alright since no one dates anymore anyway, they just hangout. As far as we know she is making good choices and the kids she hangs out with are good kids as well. I think the teenage years are hard on anyone, but harder for the girls in general, and of course their dads. I don’t understand how much hormones have to do with this whole thing. Despite what our kids think on occasions, we don’t have a favorite child (unlike my parents). We sometimes don’t like what they are doing or thinking, and some ages are funnier than others – but each child goes through the same stages just at different times. So we hope they each knows we love them to death and would do anything for them, but sometimes what is best for them isn’t what they want to hear.

Football Career -

Before I toot my own horn and talk about my illustrious football career. You must know I had a full ride athletic scholarship during college, it wasn't because I was a great athlete - it was given to me by the Sport Information Department. Basically we were in charge of the press boxes and the official stats for the NCAA. We also helped the media covering the games, to make sure they had everything they needed. So in college I watched a lot of players far better than I ever thought of being. My football career started in the schoolyard across the street from our house. We would watch a game at the university or on T.V. and then all the kids in the neighborhood would congregate at the Whittier School for a full contact scrimmage. I was a little clumsy but was always big for my age making this football quite easy - just run over the guy next to you. There was another kid in the neighborhood that just out right had moves, but he had to run further then I did - going back and forth like that. I guess if I think about it I played basketball the same way. I remember going to some high school games that my brother played in - he played wide receiver. He wasn't that big and was as slow as cold tar, but man did he have great hands. I remember him catching the ball once and getting killed by the defensive back - but he held onto the ball. That's when I knew I wanted to play football. We didn't have any little league or Pop Warner until a couple of years before I went to high school, that's just the year it started in our community. Myself and one of my best friends (every one had best friends at that age, girls seemed to continue the practice even into adulthood), played both ways. We started at running backs and defensive ends while our other friend was quarterback. It was always good to be friends with the quarterback because he decided whom to give the ball too. I usually played the blocking back because I still played the same way I did at the Whittier School, running over the guy next too me. Our lineman use to get mad because I would run into their backs. Well if they would make a hole for me I wouldn't have to run through them. This is when my confidence began to increase - a sport I could clammily run over people and it was legal, that's why defense was by far my favorite. My friend ultimately was a better athlete than I was but I held my own. The best part of being a defensive end is that you get to mess up the running backs and quarterbacks in their own backfield, I remember one little league game that I block two of our opponents punts in the same half. In both cases after I blocked the punts I ran to get the ball and my "friend" scooped them up first and scored touchdowns. I mean he was on the same team and the object was for us to score, but come on those were my blocks keep away. When we went into high school the coaches moved both of us too linebacker, which I really enjoyed until the varsity defensive end got hurt and they moved the kid who took our place up to varsity. Shortly after that is when I got hurt in practice - the smallest guy on the field did a great job of filling the lane and took out my knee. That season was over but I still was able to play a couple of more years. During my high school career our team played against two players that would eventually become All-American and then All-Pro in the NFL. One was Rulon Jones who played for the Denver Broncos - he was a man among men even in high school, or should I say he was a beast. Basically it looked like he would crab five people and then throw them out one at a time until he found the one with the ball. Luckily I was already hurt before we played him, so I could sit that game out. The other one was Jim McMann who led the Chicago Bears to a Super Bowl victory. When we played their team they were the best in the state. It was toward the end of the season and no one had scored on them first. I remember I got a sack that day - but after I did, Jim's line was so mad they beat the crap out of me for what seemed like the a week. We scored first and thought we would be all right until we kicked off and they ran it all the way back for a score. They proceeded to score thirty some odd unanswered points to keep their record in tact. At one point in my junior year I led the team in tackles, interceptions and even had a college recruiter contact me about playing football at the next level. Of course I would have had to gain a thousand pounds and lift weights ten times a day so I wouldn't get beat up. That didn't really matter as I had to have another knee operation and knew that a college career was out of the question. But I did play again my senior year with no injuries and a brace the size of the Golden Gate Bridge. That year was the first since - I don't know Merlin Olsen and his brother Phil played at our high school, that we had a winning record. We must have trained the under class man pretty good because the next year they went 13-0 and took the state championship for the first time ever. I remember scoring a number of touchdowns, catching some passes, making some great hits on some guys that didn't know I were there. But what I remember the most is the association with the other guys and the friendships that I still have today.