Fishing in Alaska
A few years ago, Marsha and I went to Alaska. It was a great two-week vacation. I especially enjoyed fishing there. The first fishing experience was on the Kenai. It was a dreary cold and rainy day. We chartered a boat for a half a day and went out with four other people and the guide. After about an hour, I caught a nice 45 pound King Salmon that now lives on our library wall. As soon as I caught it, the guide made me put my fishing pole down - even though Marsha had not caught anything (and wanted to trade her turn over to me so I could continue fishing). I could not touch the pole the rest of the day. No one else in the boat even got a bite the entire time. It was quite disappointing not to be able to fish anymore. I just had to sit their miserably, in the cold drizzling rain.
A few days later we drove to an area a few hundred miles farther northeast that had a river called the Klutina. As we were driving by a convenience store, I saw a pick-up truck with a sign on it about fishing tours. It so happened that the driver of the truck was in the store. I asked him about the fishing, and he told me it was much better than the fishing on the Kenai. I wanted to fish again, so I made a fishing date for a few days later when we would be back through the area. Well, the day arrived and it was only the guide and me that went out in his boat. The river was much more beautiful than the Kenai. I caught fish after fish until he said, “that one is a nice big one, you should keep it.” We had only been fishing for a couple of hours and I was disappointed. But it was big and I kept it. I sat my pole down and he asked if I did not want to fish anymore. I told him about my experience on the Kenai. He grinned and said that all of the fish police were all on the Kenai and that none ever came over where we were and that I could fish until I wore out. Well, I was really excited and I did fish until my arms wore out. I caught about 18 huge King Salmon and lost about that many more that I had hooked because they were tougher than I was. What a great fishing trip. We then traveled to a beautiful town and got a motel room. It was about 11PM after I put Marsha to bed, and since it was still light, I decided to go fishing for pinks (A different type of salmon) from the bank of Valdez bay. Guys were lined up along the bank shoulder to shoulder fishing for the pinks. For some reason I was catching a lot. They were each from five to ten pounds and were great fighters. I caught one nearly every cast. I caught over 30 of them and gave them all away except for the limit which was five. I remember that I was fishing next to a retired M.D. who wasn’t catching any. He was retired because he said that he’d heard of Viagra early on and borrowed $100,000.00 and invested it in the company that put it on the market and made a fortune. So he quit medicine and started to play. He couldn’t fish very well, though, so I gave him some of my pink salmon. I brought my five fish back to the motel room and proceeded to clean them on a few newspapers right there on the carpet. Marsha woke up at 3AM to the smell of fish guts and my big bright grin and was eager to listen to my fishing adventure.
Another of the fun fishing experiences happened a little south of Anchorage. We were driving down the road and I looked over and saw a bunch of people fishing along a river. So I pulled over and jumped out to see what they were catching. I took Marsha to Anchorage and then came back to the river (in the middle of the night again) to fish. I started fishing but no one (including me) was having any luck except one little round faced, short guy a little up the river from me. He caught a few and then started home. As he was walking past me, I asked him what his secret was. He grinned and held up a beat-up old strange-looking lure and said, “you gotta have this.” I said do you want to sell it to me? He said, “no, but I’ll give it to you.” I said, “no, I don’t want you to do that, let me give you $3.00 for it.” He said, “no, $6.00”. “Nah,” I said, $3.50. He said, “okay”. I gave him the money and he gave me the old beat up lure. He grinned again and then said, “but it won’t do you any good unless you know how to use it.” He then proceeded to show me exactly where to throw the lure and exactly how to retrieve it. It was a little different and tricky. He told me that he was a full blooded Alaskan Eskimo and that he could fish anywhere anytime and catch as many as he wanted without a license. That made me jealous. He definitely looked like an Eskimo. He walked off and said, “good luck”. I cast out just like he told me to as best I could, and caught three nice big silvers one right after the other. That was the kind of salmon that these were - in three casts. Three was the limit and I left. No one else caught had caught a fish. That’s it, dad.
Showing posts with label 2003. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2003. Show all posts
Thursday, October 23, 2003
The Sacred Grove
The Sacred Grove
Over the summer I had the opportunity to visit the historic Palmyra, New York,. When I was there I was able to visit the smith homes and the hill Comorah. The best sight that I was able to visit was the sacred grove. I will first start with Wendy’s and my trip. We spent 2 hours searching for the sustenance that would aid us on our 2 hour journey to Palmyra to the hill Comorah Pageant. We were miserably unsuccessful.
After the long and strenuous journey to Palmyra, we found the food that is worth more that food itself! Peas. We bought the farmer out.
Later Wendy thought that she would give me a treat. She took me to the location where the Book of Mormon was originally printed. The old Book of Mormon was so beautiful and the printing press was awesome.
Wendy and I had realized that we needed something to do in the three hours before the pageant, so, she took me to the smith houses. They were beautiful. The were rebuilt to look as they did when the Smiths lived in them. Wendy took me to their cooper shed and their hay barn. Last of all was the sacred grove.
The name The sacred grove absolutely fills the heart with peace. Even hearing it throws my heart into an ecstasy of pure joy. The Sacred grove was my favorite sight. There aren’t words to describe the feeling that came over me. It was as if all the troubles and torments in the world couldn’t reach me, even though I knew that Satan did try to posses Joseph here. God had appeared in this grove, and he had left his mark. Wendy realized that it was time to leave, so I asked here to go ahead of me. When se was out of sight, I kneeled down and prayed. I will not tell you the word that I said in my heart, for I don’t remember them. I only remember the feeling that I had. After I had finished praying, I got up off of the soaking ground, brushed the dew drops off of my sweater, and with tears in my eyes, headed for the car. I will remember that experience until the day I die, and many years afterward. I, like Joseph Smith and probably like many others before me, had kneeled down in prayer to our lord and Savior. I never thought that dream of seeing the sacred grove would happen. I will forever remember that experience, and forever is a long time.
Over the summer I had the opportunity to visit the historic Palmyra, New York,. When I was there I was able to visit the smith homes and the hill Comorah. The best sight that I was able to visit was the sacred grove. I will first start with Wendy’s and my trip. We spent 2 hours searching for the sustenance that would aid us on our 2 hour journey to Palmyra to the hill Comorah Pageant. We were miserably unsuccessful.
After the long and strenuous journey to Palmyra, we found the food that is worth more that food itself! Peas. We bought the farmer out.
Later Wendy thought that she would give me a treat. She took me to the location where the Book of Mormon was originally printed. The old Book of Mormon was so beautiful and the printing press was awesome.
Wendy and I had realized that we needed something to do in the three hours before the pageant, so, she took me to the smith houses. They were beautiful. The were rebuilt to look as they did when the Smiths lived in them. Wendy took me to their cooper shed and their hay barn. Last of all was the sacred grove.
The name The sacred grove absolutely fills the heart with peace. Even hearing it throws my heart into an ecstasy of pure joy. The Sacred grove was my favorite sight. There aren’t words to describe the feeling that came over me. It was as if all the troubles and torments in the world couldn’t reach me, even though I knew that Satan did try to posses Joseph here. God had appeared in this grove, and he had left his mark. Wendy realized that it was time to leave, so I asked here to go ahead of me. When se was out of sight, I kneeled down and prayed. I will not tell you the word that I said in my heart, for I don’t remember them. I only remember the feeling that I had. After I had finished praying, I got up off of the soaking ground, brushed the dew drops off of my sweater, and with tears in my eyes, headed for the car. I will remember that experience until the day I die, and many years afterward. I, like Joseph Smith and probably like many others before me, had kneeled down in prayer to our lord and Savior. I never thought that dream of seeing the sacred grove would happen. I will forever remember that experience, and forever is a long time.
I think we should build a hole
“Scott, I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup.”
“I think we should build a hole.”
“A hole? Why a hole?”
“Why, you ask?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, why not?”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Every kids done it. You know you have. I'm not quite sure why. A hole? What's so exciting about a hole? I think some kids do it with the intent to dig to China (What always got me about that one is where do the kids in China dig holes to?) Some probably do it bury hidden treasure. Maybe if I had any treasure growing up I would have been tempted to bury it. (I lost all my treasure about three minutes after I got it.) Some kids might do it with the intention of building a bomb shelter. You never know when it might come in handy. (I personally was never too worried about bombs and dying, but I'm sure some weird kids do.) Whatever your reason, you had fun. It was a good time.
When we moved into our new house I was eight and Scott was five. (Kelly must have been about two. I think we were just trying to wean her from a pacifier at the time.) We had a big back yard. Scott got a swing set for his birthday from our Skinny Grandma. (You see, we had a Skinny Grandma and a Fat Grandma. That's what we called them-- till Fat Grandma went off and got skinny on us this past year. Crazy.) There was a big spot that had rocks and bushes--landscaping of some sort I'm sure. Then there was the sand pit. I wouldn't exactly call it a sand box. The wood that enclosed the sand (not really even sand at all, but dirt) was uneven and poorly laid around the area. It was not smooth, but full of hills. When Scott and I looked at, we saw potential.
Every Saturday, Scott and I had to get out the shovels and clean up the yard full of dog poop. We sure did love our dog, Duke, but honestly, he was a big dog. Was it really worth having this dog after we saw how much he pooped? I guess so cause we were out there every Saturday shoveling up the poo. I got the big nice shovel because I was older. (Duh.) Poor Scott got the lame little shovel that just got stuck in the grass and dirt better than it did at picking up after the dog.
After a long (probably about 30 minutes) day of shoveling up after the dog, we decided to dig our hole. It was surprisingly hard. (Remember, we were just two little kids.) After digging most of the day we were dismayed to see that our hole was more like a little divot of dirt missing from the spot we had picked. Though discouraged, we dug that hole whenever we had time (and weren't grounded from beating each other) and when we were done with all our other chores.
One day, many months after we had started (okay, probably more like weeks) we were satisfied with our hole. It was big enough to fit Scott and I in it up to about our necks. We got the bright idea to fill that hole with water. It took a long time to fill. We couldn't shut the water off because the dirt would suck all the moisture up. (We lived in a desert you know.) We ran in the house and threw our bathing suits on and decided to go swimming in our new swimming pool. It sure was cold and muddy, but man even those kids in California would have been jealous of our swimming pool! While splashing around and throwing mud at each other, I noticed something. There, hooked to the side of our house was this pipe thing. (You know--a drainage tube from the gutters.) I didn't know what it was but I just knew it would make a perfect water slide. (Not for us, crazies, but for the G.I. Joes!!) We ran to the garage and got some of our dads tools and more less tore that pipe off the house. We ran down to the basement (isn't it sad that houses don't have basements anymore) and grabbed our handfuls of little military men. We stuck the hose in the top of the pipe and turned the water on. It was perfect!! We'd stick those little camouflaged guys in the top and out they'd shoot. It was great fun. (Barbies were too big to fit down the hole, but matchbox cars worked well.) The only bummer about our whole plan was finding those little guys. Not only did the dirt suck up the water, but it sucked up those poor little men too. (I'm sure many an honorable G.I. Joe is buried there to this day.)
One Saturday, after cleaning up after the dog, we set off to play with the ultimate water slide. We didn't have any men left so we grabbed our shovels and started hunting. Our little sister was out there with us that day, probably mostly watching. (I do remember she brought out when of her My Little Ponies--you know, the one I gave her for her birthday that I bought with my own money--and chucked it in the hole. She didn't really like her Pony, the punk.) After digging a bit, I felt a plastic like clink against my shovel I reached my hand down and out came a pacifier. (We called them jo jo's--I think cause my dad called it that as a kid.) Kelly yelled, "Jo Jo!!!" and grabbed it. Who knows how it got there, but remember we were trying to wean her of it. She hadn't had one it weeks. It must have been fate or something cause my mom was looking out the window to check on Kell or something and saw her with the pacifier in her mouth. She rushed out to snatch it. As she was reaching to grab it, she looked our at the hole. Her eyes got kind of big and she got this look in her eye. Great. We knew that look. We were in trouble. Apparently our cool sand box wasn't a sand box, but a garden. Opps. How were we to know. My mom freaked out and made us grab the shovels and start filling up our great hold. We were so upset. We loved that hole. Amazingly enough we didn't fight with each other when we were working on the hole. (I partly blame my mom for the fact that Scott and I never really got along for years after we had to get rid of the hole.) It was a tragic day for the two of us.
I never ever dug another hole after that. I was too traumatized I think. But digging that hole sure was fun. (I'm sure Scott would agree with me there.) Just remember when your kids dig a hole in your garden or something that you probably did that when you were a kid too. Don't get too mad at them. They're just kids you know.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup.”
“I think we should build a hole.”
“A hole? Why a hole?”
“Why, you ask?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, why not?”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Every kids done it. You know you have. I'm not quite sure why. A hole? What's so exciting about a hole? I think some kids do it with the intent to dig to China (What always got me about that one is where do the kids in China dig holes to?) Some probably do it bury hidden treasure. Maybe if I had any treasure growing up I would have been tempted to bury it. (I lost all my treasure about three minutes after I got it.) Some kids might do it with the intention of building a bomb shelter. You never know when it might come in handy. (I personally was never too worried about bombs and dying, but I'm sure some weird kids do.) Whatever your reason, you had fun. It was a good time.
When we moved into our new house I was eight and Scott was five. (Kelly must have been about two. I think we were just trying to wean her from a pacifier at the time.) We had a big back yard. Scott got a swing set for his birthday from our Skinny Grandma. (You see, we had a Skinny Grandma and a Fat Grandma. That's what we called them-- till Fat Grandma went off and got skinny on us this past year. Crazy.) There was a big spot that had rocks and bushes--landscaping of some sort I'm sure. Then there was the sand pit. I wouldn't exactly call it a sand box. The wood that enclosed the sand (not really even sand at all, but dirt) was uneven and poorly laid around the area. It was not smooth, but full of hills. When Scott and I looked at, we saw potential.
Every Saturday, Scott and I had to get out the shovels and clean up the yard full of dog poop. We sure did love our dog, Duke, but honestly, he was a big dog. Was it really worth having this dog after we saw how much he pooped? I guess so cause we were out there every Saturday shoveling up the poo. I got the big nice shovel because I was older. (Duh.) Poor Scott got the lame little shovel that just got stuck in the grass and dirt better than it did at picking up after the dog.
After a long (probably about 30 minutes) day of shoveling up after the dog, we decided to dig our hole. It was surprisingly hard. (Remember, we were just two little kids.) After digging most of the day we were dismayed to see that our hole was more like a little divot of dirt missing from the spot we had picked. Though discouraged, we dug that hole whenever we had time (and weren't grounded from beating each other) and when we were done with all our other chores.
One day, many months after we had started (okay, probably more like weeks) we were satisfied with our hole. It was big enough to fit Scott and I in it up to about our necks. We got the bright idea to fill that hole with water. It took a long time to fill. We couldn't shut the water off because the dirt would suck all the moisture up. (We lived in a desert you know.) We ran in the house and threw our bathing suits on and decided to go swimming in our new swimming pool. It sure was cold and muddy, but man even those kids in California would have been jealous of our swimming pool! While splashing around and throwing mud at each other, I noticed something. There, hooked to the side of our house was this pipe thing. (You know--a drainage tube from the gutters.) I didn't know what it was but I just knew it would make a perfect water slide. (Not for us, crazies, but for the G.I. Joes!!) We ran to the garage and got some of our dads tools and more less tore that pipe off the house. We ran down to the basement (isn't it sad that houses don't have basements anymore) and grabbed our handfuls of little military men. We stuck the hose in the top of the pipe and turned the water on. It was perfect!! We'd stick those little camouflaged guys in the top and out they'd shoot. It was great fun. (Barbies were too big to fit down the hole, but matchbox cars worked well.) The only bummer about our whole plan was finding those little guys. Not only did the dirt suck up the water, but it sucked up those poor little men too. (I'm sure many an honorable G.I. Joe is buried there to this day.)
One Saturday, after cleaning up after the dog, we set off to play with the ultimate water slide. We didn't have any men left so we grabbed our shovels and started hunting. Our little sister was out there with us that day, probably mostly watching. (I do remember she brought out when of her My Little Ponies--you know, the one I gave her for her birthday that I bought with my own money--and chucked it in the hole. She didn't really like her Pony, the punk.) After digging a bit, I felt a plastic like clink against my shovel I reached my hand down and out came a pacifier. (We called them jo jo's--I think cause my dad called it that as a kid.) Kelly yelled, "Jo Jo!!!" and grabbed it. Who knows how it got there, but remember we were trying to wean her of it. She hadn't had one it weeks. It must have been fate or something cause my mom was looking out the window to check on Kell or something and saw her with the pacifier in her mouth. She rushed out to snatch it. As she was reaching to grab it, she looked our at the hole. Her eyes got kind of big and she got this look in her eye. Great. We knew that look. We were in trouble. Apparently our cool sand box wasn't a sand box, but a garden. Opps. How were we to know. My mom freaked out and made us grab the shovels and start filling up our great hold. We were so upset. We loved that hole. Amazingly enough we didn't fight with each other when we were working on the hole. (I partly blame my mom for the fact that Scott and I never really got along for years after we had to get rid of the hole.) It was a tragic day for the two of us.
I never ever dug another hole after that. I was too traumatized I think. But digging that hole sure was fun. (I'm sure Scott would agree with me there.) Just remember when your kids dig a hole in your garden or something that you probably did that when you were a kid too. Don't get too mad at them. They're just kids you know.
1 credit too short
1 credit too short
This story begins at Cal Poly on a warm afternoon. I was sitting at my computer on the phone talking with Amy. I had 11 units, and in order to be a full time student, I needed one more credit. She suggested I take bowling, it sounded good to me so I added it to my schedule taking the last spot. The class was Monday and Wednesday from 2 to 3. The first day I showed up I walked unsurely around the lanes until some boys asked if I was on a team. I said I didn’t have one and they insisted I join theirs. I bowled a 57 my first game, I bet they were pretty upset having asked me to be on their team, but it was already settled ?.
So yeah, I went to the class and after a while it dawned on us that we were in first place. Crazy huh? So then we actually started getting competitive with out bowling. We’d get into the games and try and psych other people out, it was really funny. I did get better, I started bowling 80’s and 90’s, and the first time I broke 100 I decided to go all out and get a 133. The high score for girls at that time. Then, the last Wednesday of class, I bowled a 161, which is a 264 with my handicap. I got a turkey plus one, so four in a row! I bowled 5 strikes total! It was a cosmic bowling day, meaning they turn on funky lights and play music. There were certain awards you could win candy for. We cleaned house! We had the number one girl bowler with and without handicap, yours truly, the number one guy bowler with and without handicap, and the number one team.
Since we were the number one team ( I love saying that he he) we got the privilege of playing in a tournament the coming up Friday. In this tournament, you have the chance of winning four custom fit bowling balls for your team, but only if you come in first place! Friday I woke up to go bowling, yeah, I was super excited! The reason we were number one in our class was because Phil (guy on my team) and I were terrible bowlers for the most part…so since we're not that great compared to all the other number one teams, we think we don't have a chance in heck, but its great to dream, you know. We all show up feeling really nervous, and we just keep saying, we’re not going to win, so lets just have fun. Yeah right, each one of us was eyeing those beautiful gleaming bowling balls. I even went up to them and lovingly gazed at my reflection in them.
So any who, we're bowling, I’m actually getting some spares, its nice, we're doing good. Then we start to realized we're doing better than good, we're doing great. So we actually start to think that winning is a possibility, well, low and behold we find out that most of the teams are done and the leading score is 858. Well when we found that out we figure, no way we're going to get there, we were over 100 points behind in the tenth frame, or something crazy like that…! Well, so my pal Eric goes up to bowl, he got 8, only 8! So its alright though, he bowled a 143, he did his part. Then Craig goes up, oh yeah, its a strike, we've started to gather a crowd. Then he bowls again, we can't believe it, another strike! There are muffled cheers from behind us. Then he goes again, its crazy, he gets a turkey in the third frame. This brings us to 41 points away from winning. But come on, me who averages a 85 and Phil who averages a 90 getting 41 pins combined? Its not going to happen.
Well, I got up with shaky limbs and sweaty palms terrified of letting the team down. I hope for a good one, do my superstitious ritual of rolling the ball against my stomach, and throw my ball, dun dun dun, its a strike I can't believe it, the crowd goes wild, we've now accumulated about 200 people watching us. I go again, come on Meghan we need this, and YES, ITS ANOTHER STRIKE! Then the crowd is just insane, cheering me on, its a great feeling. So I bowl again, its a strike, the pin is going to fall, but it doesn't!!! So only nine go down, but hey, I did my part, it was amazing. So its up to Phil, all he needs to win is 8 pins, just eight! So he bowls, and he hits seven, we are so scared, we are two pins away from victory. He bowls again for the spare, he nicks one, everyone screams, it falls, it falls! And as it falls it dominos the one next to it, then that one falls knocking the last pin down too! He has it, he has the spare, he bowls again insuring our win and the crowd starts rioting and looting the place. People are running out of the place with bowling balls and shoes. Someone punches the teacher and screams out something about the injustice of it all and then…Okay, everything but that last part was true, but you get the picture.
Okay, so you think the bowling balls are ours now right? WRONG! There is another division that is bowling after us. Luckily there are only four teams in it compared to the 12 in ours. So we still have a good chance of winning those beautiful pear-like purple, green, white, and blue bowling balls. So I wait nervously in my room for an hour and then run down there with my roommate. We get in the bowling alley and we don’t see anyone. I then hear a drill. I run down the side lane into the back room to see all my teammates arguing over which ball they get. It was hilarious. WE WON! So awesome. They measured my hand and fingers and now I have a perfect fit bowling ball all my own. It is so pretty, its sitting under my bed waiting to be played with. Love Meghan Merry Christmas All!
This story begins at Cal Poly on a warm afternoon. I was sitting at my computer on the phone talking with Amy. I had 11 units, and in order to be a full time student, I needed one more credit. She suggested I take bowling, it sounded good to me so I added it to my schedule taking the last spot. The class was Monday and Wednesday from 2 to 3. The first day I showed up I walked unsurely around the lanes until some boys asked if I was on a team. I said I didn’t have one and they insisted I join theirs. I bowled a 57 my first game, I bet they were pretty upset having asked me to be on their team, but it was already settled ?.
So yeah, I went to the class and after a while it dawned on us that we were in first place. Crazy huh? So then we actually started getting competitive with out bowling. We’d get into the games and try and psych other people out, it was really funny. I did get better, I started bowling 80’s and 90’s, and the first time I broke 100 I decided to go all out and get a 133. The high score for girls at that time. Then, the last Wednesday of class, I bowled a 161, which is a 264 with my handicap. I got a turkey plus one, so four in a row! I bowled 5 strikes total! It was a cosmic bowling day, meaning they turn on funky lights and play music. There were certain awards you could win candy for. We cleaned house! We had the number one girl bowler with and without handicap, yours truly, the number one guy bowler with and without handicap, and the number one team.
Since we were the number one team ( I love saying that he he) we got the privilege of playing in a tournament the coming up Friday. In this tournament, you have the chance of winning four custom fit bowling balls for your team, but only if you come in first place! Friday I woke up to go bowling, yeah, I was super excited! The reason we were number one in our class was because Phil (guy on my team) and I were terrible bowlers for the most part…so since we're not that great compared to all the other number one teams, we think we don't have a chance in heck, but its great to dream, you know. We all show up feeling really nervous, and we just keep saying, we’re not going to win, so lets just have fun. Yeah right, each one of us was eyeing those beautiful gleaming bowling balls. I even went up to them and lovingly gazed at my reflection in them.
So any who, we're bowling, I’m actually getting some spares, its nice, we're doing good. Then we start to realized we're doing better than good, we're doing great. So we actually start to think that winning is a possibility, well, low and behold we find out that most of the teams are done and the leading score is 858. Well when we found that out we figure, no way we're going to get there, we were over 100 points behind in the tenth frame, or something crazy like that…! Well, so my pal Eric goes up to bowl, he got 8, only 8! So its alright though, he bowled a 143, he did his part. Then Craig goes up, oh yeah, its a strike, we've started to gather a crowd. Then he bowls again, we can't believe it, another strike! There are muffled cheers from behind us. Then he goes again, its crazy, he gets a turkey in the third frame. This brings us to 41 points away from winning. But come on, me who averages a 85 and Phil who averages a 90 getting 41 pins combined? Its not going to happen.
Well, I got up with shaky limbs and sweaty palms terrified of letting the team down. I hope for a good one, do my superstitious ritual of rolling the ball against my stomach, and throw my ball, dun dun dun, its a strike I can't believe it, the crowd goes wild, we've now accumulated about 200 people watching us. I go again, come on Meghan we need this, and YES, ITS ANOTHER STRIKE! Then the crowd is just insane, cheering me on, its a great feeling. So I bowl again, its a strike, the pin is going to fall, but it doesn't!!! So only nine go down, but hey, I did my part, it was amazing. So its up to Phil, all he needs to win is 8 pins, just eight! So he bowls, and he hits seven, we are so scared, we are two pins away from victory. He bowls again for the spare, he nicks one, everyone screams, it falls, it falls! And as it falls it dominos the one next to it, then that one falls knocking the last pin down too! He has it, he has the spare, he bowls again insuring our win and the crowd starts rioting and looting the place. People are running out of the place with bowling balls and shoes. Someone punches the teacher and screams out something about the injustice of it all and then…Okay, everything but that last part was true, but you get the picture.
Okay, so you think the bowling balls are ours now right? WRONG! There is another division that is bowling after us. Luckily there are only four teams in it compared to the 12 in ours. So we still have a good chance of winning those beautiful pear-like purple, green, white, and blue bowling balls. So I wait nervously in my room for an hour and then run down there with my roommate. We get in the bowling alley and we don’t see anyone. I then hear a drill. I run down the side lane into the back room to see all my teammates arguing over which ball they get. It was hilarious. WE WON! So awesome. They measured my hand and fingers and now I have a perfect fit bowling ball all my own. It is so pretty, its sitting under my bed waiting to be played with. Love Meghan Merry Christmas All!
Attack of the Crohn's
Attack of the Crohn's
(well at least something similar)
Or
Mosquito bait--ooh ha ha!
(well at least something similar)
Or
Mosquito bait--ooh ha ha!
Ah, the mission. What a wonderful time of learning and growth, serving and love, and, (if you are lucky enough to go to a third world country), interesting parasites and other various and sundry diseases. My mission had all of these and more, so much so that at times I was brought to ponder how much my cup was really running over, especially with those last two items. This story is about one such occasion. My companion and I were spending most of our time in an out of the way area filled with mud holes and shacks. The area we were working in was about fifty minutes walking from our apartment and in order to get there we needed to climb up and over a pretty large hill. Going to our area the hill sloped up and up, while on the back side it dropped precipitously into what is known in Brazil as a “favela” and would be best described here as a very poor neighborhood. (see diagram 1 below) 
Well one day we were hard at work and we walked through an area with a bunch of mosquitoes. At this point in the story we need a little background information. We lived on the fourth floor of an apartment building and right next to a river. (See diagram 2)
Diagram 2 
Another diagram I had an odd thought as we were walking through a fairly dense cloud of the little buggers. It went like this. “Man that would suck if I got Dengue.” I know pretty profound huh. Well it was odd seeing as how I slept in a veritable cloud of the winged beasts every night.
Fast forward to the next day. We were back in our area and another grueling day was about to come to a close. So we started back up the monster hill to go back to our house. When we were about half way up the hill I noticed that I was getting tired climbing it. Which was odd seeing as how I had been in the area for a while and the hill never gave me any problems before. We continued on. On the other side I noticed that my eyes hurt pretty bad. Further on I started needing to go to the bathroom pretty bad. Taken altogether these symptoms were adding up to something and when I got home that something hit me… (see diagram 4)
Diagram 4 Let me describe to you the details. My eyes felt like they were going to explode out of my head. My back hurt so bad that I (honestly) thought that I had brwould never be over the pain. I had no strength and threw up quite often. (See Diagram 5)
Diagram 5 IT was nothing but mucous. Seriously what was left over in the bowl looked like an elephant had blown its nose. Just like snot or the stuff in the back or your throat when you are sick. For seven days it was like that and I had to take a shower every time I went to the bathroom cause it was so raw after a while and toilet paper had really met its match with this stuff. One touch and it was totally saturated! Good thing was that it didn’t really hurt. Till about day 8. Then it turned hard again and bloody. Never has a bowel movement been so much torture. This was more of an infection after the fact though and only partly related to the dengue.
Ok it’s over. Anyway you get the idea.
All of these symptoms could have been alleviated to some degree if my retarded district leader had gotten the details right from our mission presidents wife (who was an RN). He, however, sadly did not do so. You see the mixup came when he told me that I wasn’t supposed to use Tylenol. This mixup could have occurred for one of two reasons. First, perhaps he is simply an idiot, and got the message wrong. Second, he was jealous of all Americans. I’d like to think it was the first one myself (note: I said I’d like to). Needless to say I was very perturbed to find out that I had suffered more than I needed to. He did however get a part of the message right and told me that I needed to drink water with salt and sugar in multiple times a day to keep some minerals and food in me. And I tried to do just that, it was so nasty though, that I simply couldn’t.
Speaking of food, I had no appetite for about a week and really wasted away quite a bit during this ordeal. So there I was for a week straight tossing and turning, moaning and whimpering, taking my companions pillow to put under my back and taking showers ten times a day or more. My companion probably loved the first few days cause he got to say with me all day but soon they put me with another Elder that couldn’t work due to his foot. You see the day he got into Brazil, or shortly thereafter, he got bit by a bug and his foot and it had swollen up to become an elephantine monstrosity. I’ll spare you all the diagram.
Nevertheless, all things must come to an end sooner or later in this life and so too did my fever. So it was that 8 days of bedridden torture and 20 or so pounds later, I was feeling better. The mission president’s wife told me that I’d better not eat anything greasy or heavy at first so I went out and got a hamburger and fries. Hey, it was the first time that I’d had an appetite in 8 days and it sounded oh so yummy. It was. So ends the story of my near death experience from my mission. It is a pretty good story looking back at it now. Although, I’d never want to do it again.
Antelope Island
Well, this year I will write about our summer vacation to take Emily back to EFY at BYU. It was an especially enjoyable vacation for me. Dad, Amy, Joshua and I went to Antelope Island one day. We decided to “swim” in the Great Salt Lake. Well, it was quite the walk out to the lake and the day was very hot. It was a totally desolate place. We finally arrived at the water and started walking out into the lake. The water was filled with brine shrimp. It was more like a “soup” than a lake. I remember I just kept walking & walking out into the lake. I walked maybe half a mile into the water. I just kept waiting for the soup to clear up a bit but it never did. Finally when I was about chest deep I decided it was about time to try and float. Za za zing my tennis shoes shot up out of the water like an air balloon. I almost panicked because I felt like I was losing my balance. But soon I got the knack of it all and I laid my head back and totally relaxed. We floated and floated and floated for an hour or more until we noticed that we’d floated all the way back to shore and were floating in about 12 inches of water. The water was filthy. I went “swimming” in all my clothes which include my garments. It was so funny when we got back to Grandma’s house and I took my clothes off to get a shower. Many many brine shrimp fell all over Grandma’s bathroom floor. They were stuck all over me. Yuck. We forgot the camera and decided that we’d go back to Antelope island and hike back out and swim so we could take some pictures. But each day that came & went - well we just couldn’t muster up the courage to get into that brine shrimp infested “soup” again. One more addition to the story that was really funny. Amy and I walked back up from the lake to get into the car. The car was gone. Now Krista, Amy and I already had that experience once before at StoneRidge mall. We went into the mall via a Macy’s store. We exited the mall via Macy’s as well. Well we hunted for the car for over 40 minutes. We finally went back inside the store and asked someone to help us. I told them I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. They asked me WHICH Macy’s store we came into the mall through. That was the first time we realized that there were two Macy’s stores. Case solved - car found. Well back at the Great Salt Lake, Amy and I were going through it all again. No car! Well there weren’t two Macy’s stores this time and then when I was pretty convinced that someone had stolen our car & remembering the two Macy’s stores we realized that there were two different bath houses and parking lots. We had drifted almost half a mile to the other bath house. So we trudged down to the other house and there was our car right where we left it. That’s twice!
Well, still on the same vacation, we drove up to Bear Lake. It was a real hot day (again). We got out of the car (at a rest area) and rested in the shade - just laying in the shade and snoozing. Well Joshua and I left Bill and Amy sleeping and we walked to the lake. The very shallow water was (unlike the Great Salt Lake) crystal clear! And I mean CRYSTAL! But… the water was about 110 degrees warm! 98 degrees is luke warm and this was way above luke. It felt so warm and yet it was so clear. Finally we talked Bill into coming down. He and I walked out (again) about chest deep. Again we were in our clothes - no swim suits. We had so much fun playing in the amazingly warm clear water. It was an especially nice day. Joshua thoroughly enjoyed playing in the warm water - so much so that I was tempted not to drive back to Kaysville but to get a motel room up there so we could swim and play some more the next day. We did buy three raspberry shakes from 3 different establishments, though. Bear Lake area is known for their wonderful raspberries (we were there too early in the year to experience fresh ones - dang) but we did enjoy their raspberry shakes. I don’t recall now which one I liked best - I think it was the first one that we tried. But since I’m not sure, I’ll just have to try one from all three places again the next time I visit Bear Lake. .
Mom’s 2003
Christmas story
Well, still on the same vacation, we drove up to Bear Lake. It was a real hot day (again). We got out of the car (at a rest area) and rested in the shade - just laying in the shade and snoozing. Well Joshua and I left Bill and Amy sleeping and we walked to the lake. The very shallow water was (unlike the Great Salt Lake) crystal clear! And I mean CRYSTAL! But… the water was about 110 degrees warm! 98 degrees is luke warm and this was way above luke. It felt so warm and yet it was so clear. Finally we talked Bill into coming down. He and I walked out (again) about chest deep. Again we were in our clothes - no swim suits. We had so much fun playing in the amazingly warm clear water. It was an especially nice day. Joshua thoroughly enjoyed playing in the warm water - so much so that I was tempted not to drive back to Kaysville but to get a motel room up there so we could swim and play some more the next day. We did buy three raspberry shakes from 3 different establishments, though. Bear Lake area is known for their wonderful raspberries (we were there too early in the year to experience fresh ones - dang) but we did enjoy their raspberry shakes. I don’t recall now which one I liked best - I think it was the first one that we tried. But since I’m not sure, I’ll just have to try one from all three places again the next time I visit Bear Lake. .
Mom’s 2003
Christmas story
Antelope Island
This summer when I was on vacation with mom and dad and Amy, we went to Antelope Island. It was a very hot day. We started hiking up a hill when I noticed a bunch of sticky cobwebs. I didn't want to hike any farther because I really don't like spiders. Then I noticed one or two spiders. We kept walking. But then we couldn't walk any farther without running into their big sticky webs. Their webs were strung right across the trail where we were walking. A few times we didn't see their silk and walked right through it. The web was really tough and strong and made us feel icky when we ran into it. The strings were really really strong. Then we looked around and saw thousands and thousands of spiders - maybe millions and I'm not exaggerating. The spiders were called Orb Weaver spiders. Every now and then there is an outbreak of them and last summer was one of the biggest outbreaks anyone ever remembered. I didn't want to go back to the car. I didn't want to even move when I realized how many spiders there were and how they were all around us. Well, I was really glad to get out of there and back into the car because as we were walking back we started to realize how many spiders there were and we got really scared. Mom and dad and Amy started throwing rocks at the big huge spiders to see what the spiders would do when we hit them but our aim wasn't very good. When we got to the visitor's center, there were even orb weaver spiders outside of the windows there. We got a close up look at their stomachs because they were right on the outside of the window.
Joshua's 2003 Christmas story:
Joshua's 2003 Christmas story:
Meat Eater
Meat Eater
While I was going to BYU for undergrad I would come home each summer and work at Discovery Joe's as a waiter. I saw many weird things but here's one of the weirdest.
It was a sunny day and most of the customers were sitting out on the porch, including her. She was a little old lady, covered head to foot in old lady gear in the middle of the summer. She looked like she would melt but she seemed to be just fine. I went up to her to take her order. She'd like a hamburger and make it rare she said, not all that politely. I wasn't sure I heard her correctly so I repeated, rare? She affirmed and so I went back to the cook and told him personally so he wouldn't think it was a mistake. I waited on some other customers and then saw the chef waving to me. Your burgers ready. It was quick since it was rare. I looked it as it oozed juice from all over. It was definitely red inside. The bun was soggy from all the juice. I brought it down to her and stood nearby, sure that she would complain about the burger being too rare. I'd told the chef make it nice and rare just to show her since she'd been rude. Sure enough she signaled over to me and began to complain about the burger. To my surprise, however, she stated that it was not rare enough. In her best impersonation of a cackling hen, she said, she wanted it put on the grill immediately flipped over and put on a bun.
I went to the chef, Too rare huh he said. Nope, she wants it flopped on the grill flipped and put on a bun. He looked at me like I was joking. Then he realized I wasn't joking and so as not to be shown up he said, fine but she's not getting another one. I watched as he flipped it as quick as he could and flopped the piece of meat on a bun. We both looked at each other, here goes nothing. I brought the burger to her and this time watched from a ways back in morbid fascination as this lady picked up the dead animal and began to gnaw on it. Raw hamburger sliding down her chin. The bun more of just something to hold it with to not get her hands dirty. Juice mounting on her old woman beard. I looked over to the chef. He stood there as slack jawed as I was looking on in disbelief as this wildebeest brought down her prey. Good thing it was dead cause she didn't move all that fast. She finished and without ceremony paid her bill, left a cheap tip, and flew on her broomstick back to her coffin till she could stalk her next burger.
Again one of the weirder things I've seen food wise.
Joseph
While I was going to BYU for undergrad I would come home each summer and work at Discovery Joe's as a waiter. I saw many weird things but here's one of the weirdest.
It was a sunny day and most of the customers were sitting out on the porch, including her. She was a little old lady, covered head to foot in old lady gear in the middle of the summer. She looked like she would melt but she seemed to be just fine. I went up to her to take her order. She'd like a hamburger and make it rare she said, not all that politely. I wasn't sure I heard her correctly so I repeated, rare? She affirmed and so I went back to the cook and told him personally so he wouldn't think it was a mistake. I waited on some other customers and then saw the chef waving to me. Your burgers ready. It was quick since it was rare. I looked it as it oozed juice from all over. It was definitely red inside. The bun was soggy from all the juice. I brought it down to her and stood nearby, sure that she would complain about the burger being too rare. I'd told the chef make it nice and rare just to show her since she'd been rude. Sure enough she signaled over to me and began to complain about the burger. To my surprise, however, she stated that it was not rare enough. In her best impersonation of a cackling hen, she said, she wanted it put on the grill immediately flipped over and put on a bun.
I went to the chef, Too rare huh he said. Nope, she wants it flopped on the grill flipped and put on a bun. He looked at me like I was joking. Then he realized I wasn't joking and so as not to be shown up he said, fine but she's not getting another one. I watched as he flipped it as quick as he could and flopped the piece of meat on a bun. We both looked at each other, here goes nothing. I brought the burger to her and this time watched from a ways back in morbid fascination as this lady picked up the dead animal and began to gnaw on it. Raw hamburger sliding down her chin. The bun more of just something to hold it with to not get her hands dirty. Juice mounting on her old woman beard. I looked over to the chef. He stood there as slack jawed as I was looking on in disbelief as this wildebeest brought down her prey. Good thing it was dead cause she didn't move all that fast. She finished and without ceremony paid her bill, left a cheap tip, and flew on her broomstick back to her coffin till she could stalk her next burger.
Again one of the weirder things I've seen food wise.
Joseph
TROOP TRAIN
TROOP TRAIN
Long lines of odd train cars slowly roll by
Clicking and clacking, grimy and taint.
We think we can read the names of their lines,
Dirty old logos, under fresh white paint.
Coming from somewhere and going some place
Pulled by an engine where diesel smoke flared.
The old cars, rolling coffins, were packed full
Of young soldiers who had not, as yet, been scared.
Their beardless young faces,
Some with grins, some with tears,
Hung far out the windows,
Giving many loud cheers.
We jumped off our porches
And ran apace of their whoops.
We waved and saluted
Heroes-to-be in tan suits.
And then something happened
That hadn’t happened before.
They crowded the platforms where car linked to car,
Every window was open, their arms reaching out.
Throwing papers weighted with pennies,
“Write me, write me! Tell your sisters to write me!”
they would shout.
We scooped up their papers and ran close beside,
Begging for bullets or insignias or hats.
They laughed as they told us
They could spare none of that.
We ran and ran, until shaking and winded,
We stopped, only to wave and give a salute
As their faces grew small and then faded,
Those heroes-to-be in tan Army suits.
My pockets were scrammed full and so was my hands.
But the cars kept on coming, so steady and slow,
Like slow running rivers
Where their blood would soon flow.
Mumbling, “Loose lips sink ships,”
The crossing guard came out of his shack,
He took the notes from our pockets
And never gave them back.
That was fifty-six years ago now
When with wide eyes and spent limbs,
I watched them pass, thinking somehow
After the war, I would see them again.
Long lines of odd train cars slowly roll by
Clicking and clacking, grimy and taint.
We think we can read the names of their lines,
Dirty old logos, under fresh white paint.
Coming from somewhere and going some place
Pulled by an engine where diesel smoke flared.
The old cars, rolling coffins, were packed full
Of young soldiers who had not, as yet, been scared.
Their beardless young faces,
Some with grins, some with tears,
Hung far out the windows,
Giving many loud cheers.
We jumped off our porches
And ran apace of their whoops.
We waved and saluted
Heroes-to-be in tan suits.
And then something happened
That hadn’t happened before.
They crowded the platforms where car linked to car,
Every window was open, their arms reaching out.
Throwing papers weighted with pennies,
“Write me, write me! Tell your sisters to write me!”
they would shout.
We scooped up their papers and ran close beside,
Begging for bullets or insignias or hats.
They laughed as they told us
They could spare none of that.
We ran and ran, until shaking and winded,
We stopped, only to wave and give a salute
As their faces grew small and then faded,
Those heroes-to-be in tan Army suits.
My pockets were scrammed full and so was my hands.
But the cars kept on coming, so steady and slow,
Like slow running rivers
Where their blood would soon flow.
Mumbling, “Loose lips sink ships,”
The crossing guard came out of his shack,
He took the notes from our pockets
And never gave them back.
That was fifty-six years ago now
When with wide eyes and spent limbs,
I watched them pass, thinking somehow
After the war, I would see them again.
By: James Carl Collins (James' father)
It was a hot summer day in LA
My brothers and our neighbors sure got into a lot of trouble when they were kids, but no one imagined it would go far enough to put their mom and little sister’s lives at risk. It was a hot summer day in LA, and my brothers and their neighbor friends were selling lemonade on the corner of our street. I was probably three or four at the time and had been out with my mom. As we drove around the corner, our neighbor ran up to our van and frantically told my mom that the lemonade stand had been robbed. My mom was furious that someone would rob some little boys’ lemonade stand, and being the determined women that she is, quickly drove after the thieves in the direction our neighbor pointed us.
My mom caught up with the thieves and pulled up behind their stopped car. She planned on quickly giving them a lecture, confiscating the stolen goods, and returning to the lemonade stand to close it up for the day. So, she jumped out of the car and left me in my car seat directly behind the driver’s seat. I watched my mom begin talking with the teenage boys as one ran behind her and hopped into the car. Since she thought it would be a quick stop, she had left the keys in the car. Not very smart thinking on her part. So, the boy easily drove away with our car, and me in the back seat.
While we were cruising around the neighborhood, this boy’s friends were pointing guns at my mom as she laughed at them, insisting they were BB guns. Again, not very smart thinking on her part. Luckily the boys didn’t want as much trouble as they realized they were in when my mom informed them her little girl was in the stolen car. So, they lowered their guns and hopped in their cars to find their buddy.
Meanwhile, I was remaining perfectly quiet in the backseat of my van. I can’t really remember what I was thinking about the whole situation. Eventually, the driver saw his friends, parked the car, and jumped in with them, leaving me all alone and with a very full bladder. Being the smart 4 year old that I was, I got myself out of the car seat and the car. Then I began running up and down the street yelling, “They’ve got my mommy, they’ve got my mommy.” My neighbor was out looking for me by then and found me a few blocks away from home. Unfortunately for her, my bladder was still full and I wet on her front seat.
A telephone man who had seen everything called the police and then drove my mom home. My mom was horrified when the police told her that they weren’t just teenage boys, but members of a very serious gang. And even better—they weren’t just BB guns.
My mom caught up with the thieves and pulled up behind their stopped car. She planned on quickly giving them a lecture, confiscating the stolen goods, and returning to the lemonade stand to close it up for the day. So, she jumped out of the car and left me in my car seat directly behind the driver’s seat. I watched my mom begin talking with the teenage boys as one ran behind her and hopped into the car. Since she thought it would be a quick stop, she had left the keys in the car. Not very smart thinking on her part. So, the boy easily drove away with our car, and me in the back seat.
While we were cruising around the neighborhood, this boy’s friends were pointing guns at my mom as she laughed at them, insisting they were BB guns. Again, not very smart thinking on her part. Luckily the boys didn’t want as much trouble as they realized they were in when my mom informed them her little girl was in the stolen car. So, they lowered their guns and hopped in their cars to find their buddy.
Meanwhile, I was remaining perfectly quiet in the backseat of my van. I can’t really remember what I was thinking about the whole situation. Eventually, the driver saw his friends, parked the car, and jumped in with them, leaving me all alone and with a very full bladder. Being the smart 4 year old that I was, I got myself out of the car seat and the car. Then I began running up and down the street yelling, “They’ve got my mommy, they’ve got my mommy.” My neighbor was out looking for me by then and found me a few blocks away from home. Unfortunately for her, my bladder was still full and I wet on her front seat.
A telephone man who had seen everything called the police and then drove my mom home. My mom was horrified when the police told her that they weren’t just teenage boys, but members of a very serious gang. And even better—they weren’t just BB guns.
Right on Time
Right on Time
This is my story. . .
In case you’ve forgotten, before we come to this place we call Earth we existed as spirits in a place we call the Spirit world. It was beautiful and perfect and you could say that it is a million times happier than Disneyland (the happiest place on Earth). Well actually the spirit world is on this Earth but you just can’t see it. I still can and I bet Arwen might too but the veil is closing on her just like it has on all of you and like it will on me. Kind of depressing I know but this is the plan we chose. At least we get to end up back in that beautiful, perfect and happy place as long as we live the way we promised to.
Back to me and my story. . .
I was hanging out in the Spirit World and keeping and eye on my mom & dad. They were both going to BYU. My mom was a very energetic and carefree freshman. Dad was a fresh RM and ready and willing to take on the world. After an entire semester it was about time for them to meet and that they did. They found love on DT field and I couldn’t be happier. Of course things did not exactly go the way they were suppose to. . .or did they. Let’s just say I was a little frustrated that my father felt it necessary to take his time and be extremely stubborn about the fact that the most incredible woman he would ever meet was within his grasp. Mom was at fault as well. She is pretty dramatic and irrational at times, and because of it ended up losing the greatest guy to ever come into her life. Well, as you can imagine I was pretty busy the next couple of years trying to get these two back together. I was not about to let my chance to come Earth delay much longer than needed. Being the very intelligent and witty boy that I am I finally succeeded. From there I then had to wait even longer for my dad to get it together and ask my mom. I’m just glad that she finally was able to convince him that they needed to get married, and that they did on September 28, 2002. That was the happiest day of my life until I realized that I would still have to wait at least 9 more months. I was really starting to lose my patience. They finished up at BYU and moved to California to start their lives together. Things may have not gone exactly as they hoped but they did make one good decision. They decided to let the Lord send them a child when he felt it necessary. That was my cue and so I cut to the front of the line. I couldn’t wait a second longer and down I came.
Now life in the belly isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be. Sure it was warm and relaxing, but I was so small. Mom didn’t even know I was there for almost 2 months. All this waiting was really getting to me. Oh, I tried so hard to be good but it got to a point where I just couldn’t take it anymore, and that’s when it happened. Heavenly Father told me it was time and he told me exactly what I needed to do. Boy was I excited! Well, at least until I heard my mom crying. It was then that I realized that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea but when has Heavenly Father ever been wrong. I tried to tell her that everything was okay but she was too scared and so she couldn’t hear me. I felt even worse when dad came home and I could just tell that he was worried sick about mom and me. He hurried us off to some place called St. Luke’s and from there I just remember being poked and prodded a lot and getting my picture taken all the time. I kept trying to tell everyone that this was the way things were supposed to go, but nobody would listen. Finally the time had come and I was ready, or so I thought. It was pretty quick and painless but I was not ready for what happened on the other end. I remember my dad being right there and holding my hands but I also remember a lot of other people that I didn’t recognize. When I finally got to see my mom she kissed me and then she was gone again. I kept waiting for her to just hold me in her arms but it didn’t take me long to realize that things were not going to be easy. I remembered then that Heavenly Father had warned me about this but that he also told me that I would not be alone. From then on, even to this day, I have never been alone. There has always been an angel right by my side. Sometimes Great Grandpa Bushman or Great Grandpa Nielsen comes around to tell me funny jokes and stories. At night Great Grandma Nielsen would often hold me and sing me to sleep. One of my mom’s cousins and couple of her aunts and uncles would often stop by to visit. They were so good to me and I was never lonely. I don’t remember much from those first 2 months except those angels and my mom & dad holding me, singing me songs and reading stories to me. I mostly remember feeling loved.
Things are a little different now. There are a lot of people to play with me now and I know there are a lot more who can’t be around me all the time. My mom & dad tell me about them all the time. They also tell me about Heavenly Father and Jesus and about his gospel. I don’t tell them that I know more than them about it but I know that I will soon forget it all and then I might have to start paying attention to them. One thing that I don’t want to forget is the angels. They are everywhere and they are taking care of us. I know that they will stay with me as I grow older and go about my Lord’s work. There is a lot here for me to do and that is why I was in such a hurry. I wasn’t early at all. I was right on time!
This is my story. . .
In case you’ve forgotten, before we come to this place we call Earth we existed as spirits in a place we call the Spirit world. It was beautiful and perfect and you could say that it is a million times happier than Disneyland (the happiest place on Earth). Well actually the spirit world is on this Earth but you just can’t see it. I still can and I bet Arwen might too but the veil is closing on her just like it has on all of you and like it will on me. Kind of depressing I know but this is the plan we chose. At least we get to end up back in that beautiful, perfect and happy place as long as we live the way we promised to.
Back to me and my story. . .
I was hanging out in the Spirit World and keeping and eye on my mom & dad. They were both going to BYU. My mom was a very energetic and carefree freshman. Dad was a fresh RM and ready and willing to take on the world. After an entire semester it was about time for them to meet and that they did. They found love on DT field and I couldn’t be happier. Of course things did not exactly go the way they were suppose to. . .or did they. Let’s just say I was a little frustrated that my father felt it necessary to take his time and be extremely stubborn about the fact that the most incredible woman he would ever meet was within his grasp. Mom was at fault as well. She is pretty dramatic and irrational at times, and because of it ended up losing the greatest guy to ever come into her life. Well, as you can imagine I was pretty busy the next couple of years trying to get these two back together. I was not about to let my chance to come Earth delay much longer than needed. Being the very intelligent and witty boy that I am I finally succeeded. From there I then had to wait even longer for my dad to get it together and ask my mom. I’m just glad that she finally was able to convince him that they needed to get married, and that they did on September 28, 2002. That was the happiest day of my life until I realized that I would still have to wait at least 9 more months. I was really starting to lose my patience. They finished up at BYU and moved to California to start their lives together. Things may have not gone exactly as they hoped but they did make one good decision. They decided to let the Lord send them a child when he felt it necessary. That was my cue and so I cut to the front of the line. I couldn’t wait a second longer and down I came.
Now life in the belly isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be. Sure it was warm and relaxing, but I was so small. Mom didn’t even know I was there for almost 2 months. All this waiting was really getting to me. Oh, I tried so hard to be good but it got to a point where I just couldn’t take it anymore, and that’s when it happened. Heavenly Father told me it was time and he told me exactly what I needed to do. Boy was I excited! Well, at least until I heard my mom crying. It was then that I realized that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea but when has Heavenly Father ever been wrong. I tried to tell her that everything was okay but she was too scared and so she couldn’t hear me. I felt even worse when dad came home and I could just tell that he was worried sick about mom and me. He hurried us off to some place called St. Luke’s and from there I just remember being poked and prodded a lot and getting my picture taken all the time. I kept trying to tell everyone that this was the way things were supposed to go, but nobody would listen. Finally the time had come and I was ready, or so I thought. It was pretty quick and painless but I was not ready for what happened on the other end. I remember my dad being right there and holding my hands but I also remember a lot of other people that I didn’t recognize. When I finally got to see my mom she kissed me and then she was gone again. I kept waiting for her to just hold me in her arms but it didn’t take me long to realize that things were not going to be easy. I remembered then that Heavenly Father had warned me about this but that he also told me that I would not be alone. From then on, even to this day, I have never been alone. There has always been an angel right by my side. Sometimes Great Grandpa Bushman or Great Grandpa Nielsen comes around to tell me funny jokes and stories. At night Great Grandma Nielsen would often hold me and sing me to sleep. One of my mom’s cousins and couple of her aunts and uncles would often stop by to visit. They were so good to me and I was never lonely. I don’t remember much from those first 2 months except those angels and my mom & dad holding me, singing me songs and reading stories to me. I mostly remember feeling loved.
Things are a little different now. There are a lot of people to play with me now and I know there are a lot more who can’t be around me all the time. My mom & dad tell me about them all the time. They also tell me about Heavenly Father and Jesus and about his gospel. I don’t tell them that I know more than them about it but I know that I will soon forget it all and then I might have to start paying attention to them. One thing that I don’t want to forget is the angels. They are everywhere and they are taking care of us. I know that they will stay with me as I grow older and go about my Lord’s work. There is a lot here for me to do and that is why I was in such a hurry. I wasn’t early at all. I was right on time!
I had a spoon full of honey
When I was nine years old back in 1979, I sat next to the bee hives and I had a spoon full of honey and I enjoyed watching the bees eat the honey & go after the honey. I enjoyed seeing a bunch of bees going after the honey. But then a bee stung me on my back, I don’t remember exactly what part of my body got stung. It hurt pretty bad. And from 1979 on I was so scared to even go close to the bees since the time I got stung in 1979. I’d keep say, at least 20 feet away from the bee hives. I was so afraid when I was mowing the lawn I was too afraid to go by the bee hives to get the lawn mower into the front yard at Marble Drive. I was afraid to go close to the bee hives until the time we moved out to Concord Ave. And after the time we moved out I was still afraid to go close to the bee hives. And even today I’m still a little afraid to go near the bee hives. Whenever I get close to a bee hive I get really scared. I just didn’t even want to go even close to the bee hives when we lived at Marble Drive. And that’s my story.
Just Like the Big Kids
Just Like the Big Kids
The warm air wraps around my bare shoulders causing beads of sweat to trickle down my tan arms as I stand in the backyard of my home. Rays beating down from the sun reflect off the dark metal of the barrel and it calls to me. My older brother Bruce had been shooting old soda pop cans earlier and had forgotten to hide his pride and joy. Now I can prove to the big kids that I can play with them too, I think to myself. My chubby little fingers stretch out and wrap around the butt of the gun. The wood feels like silk just waiting to caressed again and so I resist no longer. Seven's old enough to be using this gun. I've seen my brothers shoot it so many times before that I know the routine by heart.
I set the tip of the barrel onto the ground so that I can pull the lever. I grip the warm steel, heated by the sun, and use all of my weight to push it down until I hear the click. The sound seems to echo off the fence and ring in my ears. I glance over my right shoulder towards the garden where my little sister Becky Ann is playing, to make sure she is not watching. I can only see the back of her pink tank top and her soft blond curls. She is too focused on something in the raspberry bushes to notice me and so I continue.
Slowly I raise the gun to my dirty face and place the butt against the apple of my cheek. My scrawny arms struggle, under the weight of the gun, to keep it steady. I peer down the long barrel with my right eye at the taunting red dot on the 7-up can.
"Steady Bethany, steady," I whisper to myself. I yank on the trigger and send a whistling B.B. towards my target. The force of the gun sends me stumbling back into the woodpile. Becky Ann jumps from the sudden noise and quickly turns to face me.
"I think I hit it! Hurry, come look Becky Ann," I say as I sprint towards the can. To my surprise I find a small hole within the taunting red dot.
"Wow, you're good," Becky Ann says as her jaw drops open and a look of astonishment fills her innocent blue eyes. "Do it again.
" I love showing off for my five-year-old sister because to her I am a big kid too. As I bend down to pick the gun up from the freshly cutgrass my ears prick at the song of a bird. Like a bold of lightning the thought sears my mind. If I shoot the bird the boys will think I am so cool! I lift my face towards the tree just behind the fence to examine the green foliage for my prey.
"Don't do it Bethany. Don't shoot the pretty bird," Becky Ann says softly with a hurt look in her eyes. "I'll tell." She turns around and marches her little legs back to the garden with her curls bouncing behind her. I watch her pick up an old, plastic, ice cream bucket and begin to search the plants for bugs. I don't care what she thinks. She's just jealous that I can shoot the gun and she can't. My thoughts immediately return to the shiny black gun in my hands. I pull the lever, aim, and then pull the trigger again. This time I was prepared for the kick and managed to remain standing. The soft clank of metal on metal means another hit. A rush of exhilaration starts in my tiny barefeet and moves up filling my entire body. Bethany what happens when you shoot a person?
I recock and aim at another can. The thought flashes in my mind again. What happens when you shoot a person?
"Hey Becky Ann will you come here for a minute? I want you to stand over by the fence. I'm gonna try something," I tell her as a motion towards the cans. She skips to where my chubby finger is pointing and turns to face me with the ice cream bucket still in her hands. The sun catches on her hair turning it to gold. Her blue eyes light up her dirty face and her smile is nothing but white teeth.
I lift the gun to my face like a hunter and stare down the barrel of the gun at this sweet and innocent face. I aim at the center of her head and before I realize what I'm doing I pull on the trigger. Almost instantly the shrills of pain and terror escape the plump lips of that little mouth. I drop the gun and stare in horror at the stream of crimson that is cascading down her forehead and into her eyes, making it difficult to see where I had actually hit her. I just killed my little sister!
Behind me, I hear the sound of the screen door sliding open faster than usual and I am afraid to turn and see who will be the first to arrive at the murder scene. I hear the footsteps rushing down the stairs from the deck and in the corner of my eye I see flaming red hair coming straight for me. Just as Bridgette, my older sister, latches onto my arm I watch my mother fly across the lawn and snatch up her screaming baby. My sister's fingernails push into my flesh as she drags me across the grass and up the stairs. My knees hit the ground as she yanks me into the house, through the kitchen, down the hall, and into my room where she hurls me onto my bed. Her beady eyes peer into mine and singe my weeping heart. She turns on her heels and her flames follow her out of the room as she slams the door, shaking the pictures on the wall.
The piercing screams of my hysterical sister echoes in my ears as I try to bury myself under a pillow. Each scream forces another tear to slide down my dirty face leaving streaks of pink skin. At least I know she's alive, I think to myself, hoping to ease the knots that are growing tighter in my stomach.
At last the crying subsides and an eerie silence fills my room. From under the soft feathers of my pillow I hear my bedroom door creak open. The presence of my stern father surrounds my body as the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I prepare myself for the punishment that I am about to receive and slowly lift the pillow from my tear-stained cheeks. Immediately he recognizes the look of fear on my young face and offers a heartfelt smile as he saunters toward me. With his thick hands he carefully picks up my shaking body and sets me on his lap so that he can look into my eyes.
"Do you know what you did wrong," he asked. "I shouldn't have shot Becky Ann with the gun. Daddy is she okay?"
"Yes, Becky Ann is going to be just fine. She was more scared than anything."
"I didn't mean to hurt her."
"It's okay. We all make mistakes. That's why Heavenly Father sent us down here on Earth. By making mistakes we learn what is right so we can make it back to Him someday." He continued, "Guns are very dangerous and we must be careful with them."
"Daddy, I will never touch a gun again," I vow and fling my hand into the air.
"How about we just work on thinking about the consequences before we make a choice. Now, there is someone who would like to see you out in the living room." Afraid of whom I will find, I carefully walk down the hall and into the living room rubbing my bare feet through the carpet. To my surprise I see Becky Ann lying on the couch with a tiny, pink Band-Aid on her forehead. Her puffy, red eyes squint as her face turns up into a beautiful smile. I sprint across the room and fall next to her placing my head on her small chest. I repeat over and over, "I'm so sorry Becky Ann, I'm so sorry."
She runs her little fingers through my dark hair and with her sweet voices she says the most wonderful words. "It's okay Bethany I still love you!"
The warm air wraps around my bare shoulders causing beads of sweat to trickle down my tan arms as I stand in the backyard of my home. Rays beating down from the sun reflect off the dark metal of the barrel and it calls to me. My older brother Bruce had been shooting old soda pop cans earlier and had forgotten to hide his pride and joy. Now I can prove to the big kids that I can play with them too, I think to myself. My chubby little fingers stretch out and wrap around the butt of the gun. The wood feels like silk just waiting to caressed again and so I resist no longer. Seven's old enough to be using this gun. I've seen my brothers shoot it so many times before that I know the routine by heart.
I set the tip of the barrel onto the ground so that I can pull the lever. I grip the warm steel, heated by the sun, and use all of my weight to push it down until I hear the click. The sound seems to echo off the fence and ring in my ears. I glance over my right shoulder towards the garden where my little sister Becky Ann is playing, to make sure she is not watching. I can only see the back of her pink tank top and her soft blond curls. She is too focused on something in the raspberry bushes to notice me and so I continue.
Slowly I raise the gun to my dirty face and place the butt against the apple of my cheek. My scrawny arms struggle, under the weight of the gun, to keep it steady. I peer down the long barrel with my right eye at the taunting red dot on the 7-up can.
"Steady Bethany, steady," I whisper to myself. I yank on the trigger and send a whistling B.B. towards my target. The force of the gun sends me stumbling back into the woodpile. Becky Ann jumps from the sudden noise and quickly turns to face me.
"I think I hit it! Hurry, come look Becky Ann," I say as I sprint towards the can. To my surprise I find a small hole within the taunting red dot.
"Wow, you're good," Becky Ann says as her jaw drops open and a look of astonishment fills her innocent blue eyes. "Do it again.
" I love showing off for my five-year-old sister because to her I am a big kid too. As I bend down to pick the gun up from the freshly cutgrass my ears prick at the song of a bird. Like a bold of lightning the thought sears my mind. If I shoot the bird the boys will think I am so cool! I lift my face towards the tree just behind the fence to examine the green foliage for my prey.
"Don't do it Bethany. Don't shoot the pretty bird," Becky Ann says softly with a hurt look in her eyes. "I'll tell." She turns around and marches her little legs back to the garden with her curls bouncing behind her. I watch her pick up an old, plastic, ice cream bucket and begin to search the plants for bugs. I don't care what she thinks. She's just jealous that I can shoot the gun and she can't. My thoughts immediately return to the shiny black gun in my hands. I pull the lever, aim, and then pull the trigger again. This time I was prepared for the kick and managed to remain standing. The soft clank of metal on metal means another hit. A rush of exhilaration starts in my tiny barefeet and moves up filling my entire body. Bethany what happens when you shoot a person?
I recock and aim at another can. The thought flashes in my mind again. What happens when you shoot a person?
"Hey Becky Ann will you come here for a minute? I want you to stand over by the fence. I'm gonna try something," I tell her as a motion towards the cans. She skips to where my chubby finger is pointing and turns to face me with the ice cream bucket still in her hands. The sun catches on her hair turning it to gold. Her blue eyes light up her dirty face and her smile is nothing but white teeth.
I lift the gun to my face like a hunter and stare down the barrel of the gun at this sweet and innocent face. I aim at the center of her head and before I realize what I'm doing I pull on the trigger. Almost instantly the shrills of pain and terror escape the plump lips of that little mouth. I drop the gun and stare in horror at the stream of crimson that is cascading down her forehead and into her eyes, making it difficult to see where I had actually hit her. I just killed my little sister!
Behind me, I hear the sound of the screen door sliding open faster than usual and I am afraid to turn and see who will be the first to arrive at the murder scene. I hear the footsteps rushing down the stairs from the deck and in the corner of my eye I see flaming red hair coming straight for me. Just as Bridgette, my older sister, latches onto my arm I watch my mother fly across the lawn and snatch up her screaming baby. My sister's fingernails push into my flesh as she drags me across the grass and up the stairs. My knees hit the ground as she yanks me into the house, through the kitchen, down the hall, and into my room where she hurls me onto my bed. Her beady eyes peer into mine and singe my weeping heart. She turns on her heels and her flames follow her out of the room as she slams the door, shaking the pictures on the wall.
The piercing screams of my hysterical sister echoes in my ears as I try to bury myself under a pillow. Each scream forces another tear to slide down my dirty face leaving streaks of pink skin. At least I know she's alive, I think to myself, hoping to ease the knots that are growing tighter in my stomach.
At last the crying subsides and an eerie silence fills my room. From under the soft feathers of my pillow I hear my bedroom door creak open. The presence of my stern father surrounds my body as the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I prepare myself for the punishment that I am about to receive and slowly lift the pillow from my tear-stained cheeks. Immediately he recognizes the look of fear on my young face and offers a heartfelt smile as he saunters toward me. With his thick hands he carefully picks up my shaking body and sets me on his lap so that he can look into my eyes.
"Do you know what you did wrong," he asked. "I shouldn't have shot Becky Ann with the gun. Daddy is she okay?"
"Yes, Becky Ann is going to be just fine. She was more scared than anything."
"I didn't mean to hurt her."
"It's okay. We all make mistakes. That's why Heavenly Father sent us down here on Earth. By making mistakes we learn what is right so we can make it back to Him someday." He continued, "Guns are very dangerous and we must be careful with them."
"Daddy, I will never touch a gun again," I vow and fling my hand into the air.
"How about we just work on thinking about the consequences before we make a choice. Now, there is someone who would like to see you out in the living room." Afraid of whom I will find, I carefully walk down the hall and into the living room rubbing my bare feet through the carpet. To my surprise I see Becky Ann lying on the couch with a tiny, pink Band-Aid on her forehead. Her puffy, red eyes squint as her face turns up into a beautiful smile. I sprint across the room and fall next to her placing my head on her small chest. I repeat over and over, "I'm so sorry Becky Ann, I'm so sorry."
She runs her little fingers through my dark hair and with her sweet voices she says the most wonderful words. "It's okay Bethany I still love you!"
PASSING BACK PAPERS…
PASSING BACK PAPERS…
Remember when you used to want to volunteer to pass back papers
in school? When it used be a great honor if you were picked and you would
fight nail and tooth to keep your stack in its entirety? Well, I do. It was back
in first grade, even to this day I am amazed at myself by this story, and I was
called on to pass back papers. It was just the greatest job. Getting to move
around while everybody else had to sit in their chairs having nothing to do
but watch YOU getting to move around. Moving around at age 6 is very
important to a child. So anyway, here I am, and I am loving it. Well, a few
papers in , I felt the urge to go to the bathroom. NEVER. I couldn’t or I
would lose my stack to someone else! I kept passing back. The urge
again…once again, the force upon my little Amy bladder was ignored. Well,
I believe I have always been known to be somewhat stubborn, even in my
little days and there was absolutely NO way that I was going to give away
that stack! So I just stood in the corner there and let that urge fly with
papers in hand and pants on! After I had finished, I went right back to my
paper passing with a little yellow puddle over in the corner of the room. I
still don’t know to this day if anyone knew it was me. I can’t imagine how
they wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t I have a big wet stain on my backside? I
mean, I was standing in the lines they make us stand in before lunch and all
of that and somebody in my class even asked me if I knew who did it. Kids
don’t beat around the bush at that age do they? I mean, wouldn’t they just
say “Ewww, it was YOU!?” I replied that I had been passing back papers…☺
“Oh,” said the little girl… Triumphant, they had no idea…I was victorious. I
would wet my pants in the class and still remain the class favorite. Whoa ha
haha. And don’t pretend YOU wouldn’t have done the same thing…☺
Amy’s Christmas Story (2003)
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
I wanna be a nurse
I wanna be a nurse
The farthest back that I can remember wanting to be a nurse was when I was looking at my grandmother Nielsen’s beautiful young face topped with a nursing hat. I was always in awe of her. This stranger that I resembled but didn’t know. Great grandmother Green was a nurse as well. When I looked at her picture, it’s wasn’t seen with the same beauty but with just as much awe. This amazing woman that I never knew that was one of mom’s best friends as a girl.
Oh, I knew that I wasn’t going to work. I was going to marry young, be a mother and raise my children at home like my mother and her mother before her. I merely wanted a career for the just-in-cases and what-ifs in life. Well…just in case turned into four failed tries at 3 different nursing schools, not to be outdone by four painfully restricting stress ulcers, three refused proposals, and one engagement ditch. But, I was, oddly enough, determined. I excelled at anything that I put my mind to. Problem was, the only thing that meant anything to me was just too darn stressful to get thru. So, since I couldn’t push myself thru the tears and pain, maybe someone else could? With a cumulative year of college, at 24 I joined the Army.
Where to start? Hmmmmm. Well, I guess I’ll start with dead rabbits and fish guts. Yes, you got it right, entrails and pre-dinner Peter. See, once upon a time I was dad’s little fishin’ buddy. I loved fishing, running a muck and bothering the other fishermen, but mostly I really enjoyed the smile on my dad’s face when I cleaned the fish, guts and all. I was probably a really smelly kid. J Anyway, back to the rabbits. Back to when you older kids can remember, we used to raise (successfully) rabbits and eat them. YUM! I remember dad cleaning one of the rabbits on the drain by the swimming pool and I was just fascinated by all the innards, especially the yellow round one that dad said not to touch. Course tell me not to and I will so like I said, I was a stinky kid. Ok, now down to the point. Even thru all the scrapes, gashes, and at-home stitches, blood never bothered me in the slightest. It actually really fascinated me. I always had my own little first aid kit in my room and I LOVED making any ouch all better. So as time went on and decisions had to be made, I decided that I wanted to be a nurse. Problem was, I hated school and tests petrified me. So after starting a full-time semester of nursing pre-requisites at least 4 times in Utah, Northern AND Southern California, I joined the Army to better pursue my life’s career launch. Now, it seemed like a good idea to me. No sleeping thru classes, no dropping out because of ulcers, plus a promise of a steady (though meager) paycheck. Well…frostbite, hypothermia, bronchitis, strep throat, a two week hospital stay w/pneumonia, lots-o-ulcers, hypertension, 1 husband, 2 recycles (starting the nursing course over), and 3 states later, I graduated from nursing school and passed the national nursing boards with honors. So after all the pre-test crying, post-test panic, now I was a nurse.
I did my internship in the Neo-natal intensive care unit and fell in love with my job all over again. My first patient was a tube-fed 1 pounder and all attitude. I became very good friends with all my little guys and still hope to get back to NICU one of these days.
My first job as a licensed nurse was sitting behind a desk as a secretary on a Labor and Delivery ward while going thru an Army medical board. James had left for New York shortly after I graduated and I sat behind my desk depressed at giving up our home, moving into the barracks, working as a secretary, and being husband and friendless. Being depressed and lonely got really old so once again I remembered myself and counted my blessings, all of them. This dismal part of my life became a very fond memory. I spent every weekend and attended church with Aaron and Sarah. A total lifesaver. As my attitude got better so did my job. I sat at a desk answering phones and answered to no one. I got to do as much nursing and got as much surgical and mother-baby experience I wanted. I went home everyday to my lame little barracks room with a smile on my face because I was still getting paid as if I had a house. Wink wink. So, my time in the Army was served and over and once again I was with my husband and now in New York. Skip onto my next nursing story…
After a dark and frozen year in New York we finally got back to Texas. I got a job right away and now I was a medical surgical nurse, thinking that it was going to be similar to my med-surg experience during nursing school, WRONG! I was in tears most of my first day because there were no computers, everything was done (and not well) on paper and not only did my job consist of taking care of pre-op and post-op patients, I was also responsible for knowing, remembering, performing, and caring for patients with cancer, cardiac disorders, communicable diseases, as well as overflow of ICU, pre-natal, post-natal, and pediatrics. Yeah, the hospital that I was familiarized with had 7 different floors for all of that. So after getting over the panic of trying to remember and hating my job because I felt like a fish out of water, I fit right in to loving my job and caring for my patients. I went home everyday overworked and utterly fulfilled. The hospital was terrible, the paperwork was medieval, and the patients were mine, even for just 12 hours. Every day I was able to see the result of my gift of nursing others back to health. Everyday I made a difference, everyday I renewed a smile.
Wendy 2003
The farthest back that I can remember wanting to be a nurse was when I was looking at my grandmother Nielsen’s beautiful young face topped with a nursing hat. I was always in awe of her. This stranger that I resembled but didn’t know. Great grandmother Green was a nurse as well. When I looked at her picture, it’s wasn’t seen with the same beauty but with just as much awe. This amazing woman that I never knew that was one of mom’s best friends as a girl.
Oh, I knew that I wasn’t going to work. I was going to marry young, be a mother and raise my children at home like my mother and her mother before her. I merely wanted a career for the just-in-cases and what-ifs in life. Well…just in case turned into four failed tries at 3 different nursing schools, not to be outdone by four painfully restricting stress ulcers, three refused proposals, and one engagement ditch. But, I was, oddly enough, determined. I excelled at anything that I put my mind to. Problem was, the only thing that meant anything to me was just too darn stressful to get thru. So, since I couldn’t push myself thru the tears and pain, maybe someone else could? With a cumulative year of college, at 24 I joined the Army.
Where to start? Hmmmmm. Well, I guess I’ll start with dead rabbits and fish guts. Yes, you got it right, entrails and pre-dinner Peter. See, once upon a time I was dad’s little fishin’ buddy. I loved fishing, running a muck and bothering the other fishermen, but mostly I really enjoyed the smile on my dad’s face when I cleaned the fish, guts and all. I was probably a really smelly kid. J Anyway, back to the rabbits. Back to when you older kids can remember, we used to raise (successfully) rabbits and eat them. YUM! I remember dad cleaning one of the rabbits on the drain by the swimming pool and I was just fascinated by all the innards, especially the yellow round one that dad said not to touch. Course tell me not to and I will so like I said, I was a stinky kid. Ok, now down to the point. Even thru all the scrapes, gashes, and at-home stitches, blood never bothered me in the slightest. It actually really fascinated me. I always had my own little first aid kit in my room and I LOVED making any ouch all better. So as time went on and decisions had to be made, I decided that I wanted to be a nurse. Problem was, I hated school and tests petrified me. So after starting a full-time semester of nursing pre-requisites at least 4 times in Utah, Northern AND Southern California, I joined the Army to better pursue my life’s career launch. Now, it seemed like a good idea to me. No sleeping thru classes, no dropping out because of ulcers, plus a promise of a steady (though meager) paycheck. Well…frostbite, hypothermia, bronchitis, strep throat, a two week hospital stay w/pneumonia, lots-o-ulcers, hypertension, 1 husband, 2 recycles (starting the nursing course over), and 3 states later, I graduated from nursing school and passed the national nursing boards with honors. So after all the pre-test crying, post-test panic, now I was a nurse.
I did my internship in the Neo-natal intensive care unit and fell in love with my job all over again. My first patient was a tube-fed 1 pounder and all attitude. I became very good friends with all my little guys and still hope to get back to NICU one of these days.
My first job as a licensed nurse was sitting behind a desk as a secretary on a Labor and Delivery ward while going thru an Army medical board. James had left for New York shortly after I graduated and I sat behind my desk depressed at giving up our home, moving into the barracks, working as a secretary, and being husband and friendless. Being depressed and lonely got really old so once again I remembered myself and counted my blessings, all of them. This dismal part of my life became a very fond memory. I spent every weekend and attended church with Aaron and Sarah. A total lifesaver. As my attitude got better so did my job. I sat at a desk answering phones and answered to no one. I got to do as much nursing and got as much surgical and mother-baby experience I wanted. I went home everyday to my lame little barracks room with a smile on my face because I was still getting paid as if I had a house. Wink wink. So, my time in the Army was served and over and once again I was with my husband and now in New York. Skip onto my next nursing story…
After a dark and frozen year in New York we finally got back to Texas. I got a job right away and now I was a medical surgical nurse, thinking that it was going to be similar to my med-surg experience during nursing school, WRONG! I was in tears most of my first day because there were no computers, everything was done (and not well) on paper and not only did my job consist of taking care of pre-op and post-op patients, I was also responsible for knowing, remembering, performing, and caring for patients with cancer, cardiac disorders, communicable diseases, as well as overflow of ICU, pre-natal, post-natal, and pediatrics. Yeah, the hospital that I was familiarized with had 7 different floors for all of that. So after getting over the panic of trying to remember and hating my job because I felt like a fish out of water, I fit right in to loving my job and caring for my patients. I went home everyday overworked and utterly fulfilled. The hospital was terrible, the paperwork was medieval, and the patients were mine, even for just 12 hours. Every day I was able to see the result of my gift of nursing others back to health. Everyday I made a difference, everyday I renewed a smile.
Wendy 2003
TROOP TRAIN
TROOP TRAIN
Long lines of odd train cars slowly roll by
Clicking and clacking, grimy and taint.
We think we can read the names of their lines,
Dirty old logos, under fresh white paint.
Coming from somewhere and going some place
Pulled by an engine where diesel smoke flared.
The old cars, rolling coffins, were packed full
Of young soldiers who had not, as yet, been scared.
Their beardless young faces,
Some with grins, some with tears,
Hung far out the windows,
Giving many loud cheers.
We jumped off our porches
And ran apace of their whoops.
We waved and saluted
Heroes-to-be in tan suits.
And then something happened
That hadn’t happened before.
They crowded the platforms where car linked to car,
Every window was open, their arms reaching out.
Throwing papers weighted with pennies,
“Write me, write me! Tell your sisters to write me!”
they would shout.
We scooped up their papers and ran close beside,
Begging for bullets or insignias or hats.
They laughed as they told us
They could spare none of that.
We ran and ran, until shaking and winded,
We stopped, only to wave and give a salute
As their faces grew small and then faded,
Those heroes-to-be in tan Army suits.
My pockets were scrammed full and so was my hands.
But the cars kept on coming, so steady and slow,
Like slow running rivers
Where their blood would soon flow.
Mumbling, “Loose lips sink ships,”
The crossing guard came out of his shack,
He took the notes from our pockets
And never gave them back.
That was fifty-six years ago now
When with wide eyes and spent limbs,
I watched them pass, thinking somehow
After the war, I would see them again.
By: James Carl Collins (James' father)
Long lines of odd train cars slowly roll by
Clicking and clacking, grimy and taint.
We think we can read the names of their lines,
Dirty old logos, under fresh white paint.
Coming from somewhere and going some place
Pulled by an engine where diesel smoke flared.
The old cars, rolling coffins, were packed full
Of young soldiers who had not, as yet, been scared.
Their beardless young faces,
Some with grins, some with tears,
Hung far out the windows,
Giving many loud cheers.
We jumped off our porches
And ran apace of their whoops.
We waved and saluted
Heroes-to-be in tan suits.
And then something happened
That hadn’t happened before.
They crowded the platforms where car linked to car,
Every window was open, their arms reaching out.
Throwing papers weighted with pennies,
“Write me, write me! Tell your sisters to write me!”
they would shout.
We scooped up their papers and ran close beside,
Begging for bullets or insignias or hats.
They laughed as they told us
They could spare none of that.
We ran and ran, until shaking and winded,
We stopped, only to wave and give a salute
As their faces grew small and then faded,
Those heroes-to-be in tan Army suits.
My pockets were scrammed full and so was my hands.
But the cars kept on coming, so steady and slow,
Like slow running rivers
Where their blood would soon flow.
Mumbling, “Loose lips sink ships,”
The crossing guard came out of his shack,
He took the notes from our pockets
And never gave them back.
That was fifty-six years ago now
When with wide eyes and spent limbs,
I watched them pass, thinking somehow
After the war, I would see them again.
By: James Carl Collins (James' father)
ONE TO MANYFOOTSTEPS IN THE DARK
ONE TO MANYFOOTSTEPS IN THE DARK
It's odd that we think we travel linearly through time. Time is present and all our experiences from before the beginning to after the end (if the allusions to a beginning to end help at all) make up what we are, were, and will be. Anyway something in that punch helped drive this fact home. I then knew that I didn't travel linearly through time, none of us do. It's our mortal minds that arrange all the experiences of life linearly; it must be easier to process.
Then, there I was; stomach still sore on a sweltering summer's midnight; I was up in the attic with a fan that futilely blew hot dry air on me and a spray bottle full of water in my hand. This heat always makes me a little nauseous. It was a clear night with a bright moon, and having abandoned all hope of sleep till it cooled off, I went out in search of adventure. I jumped on the four-wheeler and took off toward the old John Marsh Home. I'd never
been in it and had always planned on checking it out before someone got around to restoring it and charging admission. I don't know if this was my first attempt or not but it wasn't my last. I took the old dusty dirt road down by the bridge on Concord along marsh creek toward the old stone house. I rode as long as I could and parked under an old oak tree, hopped off and followed a dirt road that was far too wide and open for my taste. There was no shelter from whatever had its eyes on me, I wanted to dart into a dark place and hide for a little while but there was nothing but golden hills and an occasional oak and thanks to the full moon no darkness. No matter how I turned the eyes were at my back. Every sound became footsteps and when I stopped to listen; they stopped to watch. As I saw the silhouette of the old home for the first time the hawks began to screech. In the end it wasn't the footsteps behind me, nor the eyes constantly at my back, but the screeching hawks that sent me running for safety. Somehow I withstood the first assault and plunged myself down in to the ravine carved out by the now stagnant stream. I wandered through some large cement structure that looked as if it was some sort of dam at one time. Now I had the shelter I'd longed for earlier but it gave no concealment. In every dark corner were new eyes and their footsteps echoed off all the walls, and then the hawks made their second attack. They screeched from every side and the heat of the night turned into a cold chill. That was enough for me, I ran out of the ravine tripping a few times on my way and down the road with the eyes, hawks, and footsteps always just behind me. The four-wheeler started just in time to speed me away from my foes. Just when I thought I'd escaped, there I was back on the open road with Sarah definitely going the wrong way. The hawks were no longer on duty; it was now winter and we made it past the cement wreckage and up the other side of the ravine. We peeked up over the edge at the dark old home and were building up courage to crawl over toward the house when horses began to buck and neigh. Steam shot from their nostrils sending shivers down our spines. We hadn't known they were so close. Sarah screamed, I was glad for it; we ran and ran down the road toward safety. I sure hope Sarah made it home because then and there I jumped in time.
It was now a Friday night, and I was dateless and alone feeling sorry for my self and walking up in rock canyon in Provo to pass the time. I felt as if I was missing the company of someone I didn't yet know. I walked and walked and must have still been afraid from the experience at the John Marsh home because I still heard those foot steps behind me and felt the eyes burning holes in the back of my head. As I walked the trail got narrower and narrower as the trees crept ever closer toward me making it easier for the attack when “they” were ready. The wind played an eerie song with the trees and dry leaves on the ground that I could not get out of my head, but on I trod toward whatever it was up there waiting for me. I wasn't ready when it came. The growl broke what I now realize was silence, that silent eerie song of wind and trees was replace by a thundering roar. I had no desire to see the fury behind the shaking bushes ahead. I ran, then slipped and tumbled face first into the gravel of a small stream crossing the trail. I got up disoriented only hoping I was running toward the mouth of the canyon and not toward the mouth hidden in the bushes. My heart skipped a beat every now and then as it tried to keep pace with my feet.
My heart was still pounding when I told Krista and Amy to wait in the bushes overlooking the Byron Hot Springs Hotel while I went down and checked everything out. It was around 1:00 in the morning and we hadn't expected anyone to be around. We were wrong. The infidel and I crawled down toward the hotel on our bellies taking cover behind every bush we could find until we put the hotel in-between us and the strange late night mischief on the other side. We crept through the old brick fire gutted hotel up to
the third floor and spied on the work being done. Luckily we didn't have to be that quiet due to the noise of the fork lift and the diesel engine of the logging truck that was running. Odd as it was to see a forklift at work at 1:00 in the morning it got stranger as we saw a logging truck loaded with long pine trees. From our vantage point we could see that the trees formed an arch leaving an open cavity in which the fork lift was loading crates. We backed away from the window at that point and snuck back up toward the others to tell them that the adventure was off. I could have sworn I was determined to leave when I found myself walking down the road lined with pepper and palm trees with Sarah and Emily, the road that lead to the haunted old hotel. We had flashlights that I was leery to let light our way. It would only make us easier to spot. We only turned them on at necessity, one which came much too quickly as a rustle in the weeds just ahead. Someone turned on a light that was reflected back at us through two red glowing eyes. It came toward us and we backed away. It kept coming and we kept backing up. It was a skunk and it backed us right into a clump of tress. I looked at Sarah smiling as I thought how funny it'd be to return to BYU smelling like skunk, that'd sure mark us as a couple.
I looked back toward the skunk and it was gone, then back toward Sarah and Emily but it was Krista and Amy still waiting for us to get back from checking out the hotel. Forgetting that I'd just left the hotel with good reason not to go back I continued where Sarah, Emily and I left off. We snuck down toward the hotel again keeping it between us and the forklift. We entered into the boiler room and I told everyone to wait there while I checked things out from the top floor. The infidel and I left them there with instructions to be quiet and not move lest they be seen by the odd company outside. I stared down on the activity below trying to remember how many men there were before and wondering why we hadn't counted when we spied on them the first time, and for that matter what we were doing back in the hotel at all. I was pretty sure it was just the one on the forklift and one keeping warm in the cab of the logging truck. We went back down to collect the others and get out of there. I rounded the corner into the boiler room and had the wind knocked out of me by Amy's fist.
That punch knocked me right back up into rock canyon some late summer's night. I was having a pleasant late night walk, and just kept following trails enjoying the warm night. I stopped and picked up a nice walking stick and took a few minutes to smell the faint scent of pine and dried grass. I picked up some of the grey-white rocks and watched them spark as I threw them against the cliff wishing that someone was with me to enjoy the night. Then I walked a little way up around the cliff and dug my heels into the loose gravel as I came down enjoying the sparks that followed every step. Then up the canyon I went with nary a footstep nor eye following me, until I came around one certain corner that I should have recognized. And there was the beast behind the bushes; he'd been waiting for me all these years. I turned and ran all the fear rushing back, jumping the stream in a single bound. And then suddenly I came skidding to a stop remembering the years before, thinking it odd that behind the same bush sat the same vicious beast ready to tear me limb from limb. I cautiously crept back up toward the bush with my walking stick outstretched. I jabbed it into the bush hitting air. The bush still growled and shook with fury. I jabbed again and again hit nothing. Seeing that I wasn't being mauled yet I gained a little courage and approached the bush peering into its darkness. I had to laugh at what I saw; it was a rusty old water drain that the bush was growing out of. The bush was being shaken from the force of the water rushing past it and the odd growling was caused by the water echoing through the long metal pipe.
I still had a smile on my face remembering how afraid I'd been and how many people I must have told about the animal attack in Rock Canyon so many years before. That smile must have made Amy even madder and WHAM the fist in the stomach. I was getting tired of this. Her mouth was moving but it took a while to understand the words. “I can't believe you'd do that, you scared us to death!” They didn't make any sense, I didn't do anything. So I enquired as to my misdeed. Amy proceeded to tell me how they were scared anyway being left behind, in a boiler room of all places, while we checked out the building, but jumping out from behind the wall and running away was uncalled for. It'd startled them to death, and when we didn't come back when they yelled a whisper in our direction made it worse. Now I was getting scared, we should have counted the guys outside the first time. I knew it wasn't me or The infidel that had jumped out to scare them. I ask where they saw us, she pointed and I made my way over to some steps leading up to the first floor from the boiler room. My mind was whirling trying to figure out what had happened hoping it wasn't one of our busy friends with the fork lift but finding no other solution. I walked carefully up the rotten wood steps and risked turning on my flashlight not believing my eyes when they told me there was no floor ahead. I muffled the light with my hand and only let a small beam escape. A shiver tore through my body, sure enough there was noting there but a drop off where the old wood floor had burnt through, to the basement. It surely wasn't one of our ill favored friends that jumped out from behind that door and whatever it was it didn't need solid ground to walk on. “RUN! … RUN YOU FOOLS!” I screamed pointing to the hills. We ran through the tangle of thorny weeds to the old dirt road, past the pepper and palm trees and over the gate to the safety of the car, leaving the ghosts to wander the charred remains of the old hotel alone.
I slept well that night. It wasn't nearly so hot in the game room now. And everything seemed awfully like a dream or old memory, the kind that's oh so hard to tell apart.
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