I didn’t really think about them when I signed up for the swim team in December or even when I officially joined the team in February. My goal was to make it through practice each day. I didn’t think about what I was working towards, all I thought about was earning points for my team so that we could keep our record strong. Two months without any competition made me think of practice as a personal test. The real reason I joined was to test myself, to prove that I could test my limits and reach beyond them. The first time I competed it was only a scrimmage. It was too early on for me to get into the game and I really didn’t get the feel of competition. I hardly even knew my team, how was I supposed to race in the relays if I didn’t even know my teammates strengths and what I needed to do to makeup for lost time. Everything changed over break. After making it through “hell week” I knew who my team was and I knew the feeling of real competition. After that I felt that everything had changed. I had tasted victory and all I wanted to do was swim and break record after record. I kept getting first in all of my heats and I moved up. But it wasn’t until the Dai LaSalle invitational that I really thought about what I was racing towards.
I was searching for my heat and lane in all of my events. My eyes scanned over the 100 yard freestyle and the 100 yard back stroke until I found the 50 yard freestyle. I was in the ninth fastest J.V. girls’ heat. It may not seem that good, but there were thirty heats. It was then when I started to look towards the final swim meet. I thought about it for about two weeks, but then it was back to thinking about next Friday’s swim meet. There was nothing else to it. My life revolved around swimming. Everyday I would go to practice, swim for two and a half hours, get out, go home, and do my homework.
Sometime in May the coaches announced the arrival of the swimming equivalent to dead week. Practice was only an hour long and it was all easy distance. There was very little sprinting and we did a maximum of four thousand yards a day. It was heaven. And to top it off there was a party on Thursday to celebrate the end of the season for most of us. It was known as the shave down where we all got to shear away the hair that had accumulated over the season. The superstition is that not shaving all season will help slow you down so that when it comes to the finals and you don’t have hair you theoretically go faster. My favorite part about the party was the food and the chocolate covered strawberries. But this story isn’t about that party; it’s about the day afterward.
I didn’t go to seminary that day because I would have had to leave early and no one would have given me a ride. I waited in front of the school at six forty five in the morning until seven thirty. Food was being passed from teammate to teammate as our coaches took role. We loaded onto the bus and headed off onto the most nerve wracking day of the season. The race schedules were being passed around and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I was swimming the 50 yard freestyle, the 100 yard freestyle, the 200 yard melee relay and 100 yard back stroke. The swim suit I was wearing seemed more constricting than normal. The straps bit into my shoulders and I found it hard to breath. After a few hours we got off the bus and walked to the Clayton Valley pool. I tried to take my mind off the race as Liberty set up “camp”. I was one of the first to dive into the pool and start the warm up. My movements felt mechanical as I raced to keep up with the others. This warm up was longer than usual; we all knew what was coming. While resting for a short while to stretch I looked at Liberty versus the other teams. Their warm-ups were scattered and irregular. As I watched my team’s synchronized movements and their turn executions the theme of the empire from Star Wars entered my mind. I was swimming for a strong team, but I was swimming for something else too.
The day came and went and I swam in most of my races. They canceled the backstroke so I only had three events. The relay and the 100 yard freestyle were no big deal and I spent most of the day playing cards with my teammates. The race I was the most worried about was the fifty yard freestyle. I would have to give it my all for every inch of the race. My heart jumped into my mouth as I stepped next to the starting block. I ignored my position. I was in one of the fastest heats and this was my first year swimming. I was swimming against girls from Carondalet and Clayton valley. Freedom was nothing to worry about, but there were also girls from YV there. There was only one other girl from Liberty in that heat but I didn’t care. This race was about me and I had to win. The pressure was mounting. The thoughts raced through my mind…You need to do this…you have never been less than second in this race…this is your chance…prove that you can do this…Then they called for the swimmers to mount the blocks and all thoughts stopped. We took our marks and the tension was unbearable. Then a girl fell in and we all had to stand up and get off the blocks. We mounted the blocks a second time and took out marks. I was so tense, my body was rigid and like stone. The buzzer rang out and I sprung off the board. Each stroke was faster than my last and my flip turn was the fastest and strongest that I had ever done. I hardly took the time to breath and the race was over before it began. I could hardly get out of the pool and I felt so weak. The rest of the day went by in a flash. The most vivid part of that day was when my coach came up to me after my last cool down. I was on my way to the changing rooms to get out of my corset like swim suit. She came up to me with a smile on her face.
“Can you believe it Nielsen?” She said. I had no idea what she was talking about. “What Dillman?”
“You made it into the finals just like Scuttle did her first year.” My face dropped. She continued to walk as I ran to see the final scores of that day. I had done it.
Only sixteen swimmers make it into the finals for each event. Eight were in the consolation heat and 8 were in the championship heat. I was at the very bottom of the championship heat. I had made it in. Unfortunately there were some errors in the first copy so my position changed from last to third to last on the correct sheet. I had done it. I was in the BVAL fifty yard freestyle championship heat. It was amazing. I felt slightly light headed and all weariness left me. I ran to my friend Airiseli and she was as excited as I was. I was dazed on the bus ride home. I probably can’t capture my feelings not for lack being able to, but for lack of time considering that tonight is Christmas Eve.
2009 Note: The next year I made it into the Finals for all my events even with my bad shoulder (I injured it that February) and mom and dad came by to bring me lunch. Because they were watching and because it was to be the last race of my swimming career, I beat the previous day’s time by four seconds, coming in first and making it my best race ever.
Showing posts with label 2005. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2005. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Having Madelyn
Having Madelyn(Everyone already knows this story to nauseating detail but here goes anyway) Our sweetie little baby is a miracle, seriously. When our little Bean was born to her physical cells, James and I never saw each other. We were both working 12 hr shifts at the hospital. I worked at night, he worked during the day, we NEVER spent time together, but when Bean was 5 weeks old I went to my Dr. for medicine because of my sour stomach and something told me to get a pregnancy test. Two hours later I walked in the kitchen door to a blinking answering machine and found out I was pregnant! ABOUT TIME, since we had been trying to have a baby since 2001 and had just quit trying in early 2004... And thus started my the worst experience of my life that produced the most wonderful blessing of my life.
By the time I was 7 weeks along I was throwing up every 15 minutes or less. I couldn’t keep anything down and was losing weight fast. I had my first doctors appointment at 8 weeks because I was so sick and we got to see our little one moving around on screen, we were having a kidney “bean”. Bean became her name for the next few months until we found out we were having a precious little girl.During my pregnancy I was extremely sick, hormonal, and lonely as James was working from 70-80 hours a week. I was in tears every single day and finally, around my birthday I was saved. Mom flew me home for several weeks for some much needed attention and pampering. I even got my first of two baby showers, fun! Although I was still really sick and tired, I had the best time; I had my family, great food, a comfy bed, and a SWIMMING POOL, plus I didn’t throw up the whole time! Finally I headed back to Texas eight pounds heavier.
Madelyn had hiccups an average of 3 times a day because she was an amniotic fluid lush. The only thing she did more than drink was kick. That girl liked to stretch out right under my ribs. In fact, that’s why my belly was so small, she liked to tuck herself safely up inside my ribs and press against my diaphragm and some nerve that went all the way up my back, OUCH! By the time I went into labor, I had lost 30 pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight and then gained 36. Talk about a lot of force feeding. I started labor at 6 am on the 12th of October, the day James was supposed to drive to Oklahoma to settle a ticket, good timing baby girl. My contractions started out at every 6 minutes on up to every3 minutes and then they hit a plateau at every 30 minutes until we took a long hard walk and they went back up to every 15 minutes until 4:30 am. on the 13th. I tried to tough it out at home but the contractions hurt too much even thought they were only 4 minutes apart. We left for the hospital at 05:00 and got to sit in the triage room until a room was available. I finally got a room at 08:00 which was a good thing because James said I was scaring the other moms. Well, IT HURT! All the anesthesiologists were busy so I didn’t get an epidural until 09:30. I was 0so mad...and crying. I probably would have been more tough if I had planned on being in pain but I wanted an epidural so I didn’t have to feel any of this. I, of course, was still nauseated so they gave me aphenergan and James and I got a few hours sleep before it was “go time”. As soon as I started pushing, I started throwing up, my oxygen levels dropped and so did Madelyn’s heart rate, severely. Finally after over 3 hours of pushing and vomiting, I was wheeled into the delivery room and finally some adrenaline kicked in and the Dr. said he barely used the vacuum extractor as evidenced by Madelyn’s perfect little round head. After 48 hours of labor, our baby girl was here. The pediatricians took Madelyn right away because our pooper let some meconium slip before she was born. She ended up peeing 3 times and pooping at least twice before she was measured at 6 1/2 pounds and 19 1/2 inches long. She never cried. Even when she was being suctioned, given shots, and bathed. All she did was make little squeaks. I guess she was too tired to cry because we could never wake her up. The nurses did all their terrible stuff to her and she just slept right through it. She found her screamer when we got home though. She finally figured out that she was hungry.
Once we got feeding down she smiled and smiled showing all her precious gums at only a few days old. After jaundice, losing too much weight, and getting breast feeding down, Madelyn got up to a chubby 90th percentile. Our sweet baby is still smiling and laughing all of the time.Saturday, October 22, 2005
Cowboy Willy
Cowboy Willy
I was about 14 when my dad got a job herding cattle for the local cattlemen's association in Salina, Utah. Well, since my dad had the job, he had my brother Jack and me help him heard cattle. We spent most of the summer in the mountains in Salina Canyon herding cattle. We got to come into town on weekends. It was so exciting to come to town for me after a whole week of only talking to cattle. Salina was a town of about 1100 people, give or take a few. Now I can't imagine why it was so excited to get to town but I was. I drove the old pickup as fast, well faster, that the road could allow. We were on two wheels often as the truck rounded sharp turns much too fast. It is amazing we didn't tip over.
Well, one day, Dad asked Jack and me to take a bunch of cattle and move them from one range to another range that was on top of a mountain. We started out very early in the morning and started to drive the cattle. Soon it became apparent that they DID NOT want to move to the top of the mountain. It took all day to get them up there, and it was so hard that we thought we were going to keel over and not be able ever to move again from exhaustion. My legs were rubbed raw and bloody everywhere the saddle touched. It was terrible. Worse than terrible. After we finally got them up on top of the hill, we rode to camp after dark and told Dad what we had done and how hard it was. Well, he was somewhat amused and surprised about our experience because the hell we drove them up was the wrong hill and they had never been there before. Cattle are evidently among the most stubborn creatures on earth and every step of the way, they fought us. They had never been on that hill and did not want to be there. If it had been the hill that they go to every other year, they would have herded themselves eagerly with us just following them. It would have taken just a few hours and been nice and easy. I will never forget that cattle drive. It took quite awhile before I could want or sit because of the open wounds from the drive.
Dad
I was about 14 when my dad got a job herding cattle for the local cattlemen's association in Salina, Utah. Well, since my dad had the job, he had my brother Jack and me help him heard cattle. We spent most of the summer in the mountains in Salina Canyon herding cattle. We got to come into town on weekends. It was so exciting to come to town for me after a whole week of only talking to cattle. Salina was a town of about 1100 people, give or take a few. Now I can't imagine why it was so excited to get to town but I was. I drove the old pickup as fast, well faster, that the road could allow. We were on two wheels often as the truck rounded sharp turns much too fast. It is amazing we didn't tip over.
Well, one day, Dad asked Jack and me to take a bunch of cattle and move them from one range to another range that was on top of a mountain. We started out very early in the morning and started to drive the cattle. Soon it became apparent that they DID NOT want to move to the top of the mountain. It took all day to get them up there, and it was so hard that we thought we were going to keel over and not be able ever to move again from exhaustion. My legs were rubbed raw and bloody everywhere the saddle touched. It was terrible. Worse than terrible. After we finally got them up on top of the hill, we rode to camp after dark and told Dad what we had done and how hard it was. Well, he was somewhat amused and surprised about our experience because the hell we drove them up was the wrong hill and they had never been there before. Cattle are evidently among the most stubborn creatures on earth and every step of the way, they fought us. They had never been on that hill and did not want to be there. If it had been the hill that they go to every other year, they would have herded themselves eagerly with us just following them. It would have taken just a few hours and been nice and easy. I will never forget that cattle drive. It took quite awhile before I could want or sit because of the open wounds from the drive.
Dad
Speech Impediment
Speech Impediment
I should begin by telling you that I have a serious fear of public speaking. My palms get clammy, my voice waivers, my eyes get fuzzy, and my stomach lurches whenever I get up in front of a crowd. If it is a particularly large crowd I start to cry. It was my freshman year in college and one of the GE’s that I had to take was speech 101. How exciting for me, I was so terrified of it that I actually dropped the class first quarter, deciding that maybe later on I would be more brave.
Well, second quarter rolled around and I started it off with zero credits. The wonderful budget cuts going on by the state of California made getting classes difficult. Eventually I gathered 12 credits, but I needed more, so I reluctantly added the only open spot left for speech 101. My teacher was nice, the class size was small, and the book was less of a joke than my first one… so I felt a bit better this time round. Well, we started off with an explanatory speech, I practiced till I was blue in the face and when I gave it my face was more of an olive color. Either way, I gave my speech and actually did well. After delivering I had to put my head on my desk and breath slowly so I wouldn’t share my lunch with the classmate next to me. The semester went by, and as with anything, practice makes perfect. I still got ill, but I could handle it.
During the last weeks of class our teacher said that there was to be a persuasive speech competition. If one of us won, she would give that student an automatic A in the class. I decided it sounded pretty sweet, so I entered in. My speech was on reality TV and all the evils I felt went along with it. I wrote a good speech, I just needed help with the delivery.
Anyway…I’ll have you know that this competition was rather large, it was for all the students in speech 101. That means it could include even super seniors! Overall there were about 200 people in this competition. We all showed up on a very rainy evening and were assigned into groups. There were three rounds to make it through, then the finals. I delivered my speech as well as I could in round one, received a bit of criticism in round two, and kind of choked in round three. I took comfort in realizing that my material trumped most of the other students. Eventually all 200 of us reconvened into an amphitheater type room to hear the finalists. I was sitting with my friends chatting as they called out the names, I didn’t need to listen, there was no way I had made it.
My friend turned to me wide eyed and her mouth dropped a bit. I was kind of confused until they announced my name again. My palms broke out in a sweat, my stomach turned and my head began to pound. They couldn’t be serious! I had to give my speech in front of all 200 students and the judges! I fearfully took my seat next to the other two finalists. I was the second to go up. I started out over my crowd and froze! The judges started at me, I stared back. I started to panic, if only I could just get my first line out! “Imagine you are living in the year 90 CE, sweat dripping from you brow, and blood dripping from your sword….” Yes, I had done it, everything else began to follow. I triumphantly finished by challenging my crowd to think twice about what they called entertainment and took my seat.
I sat nervously as the judges discussed the scores, “The second runner up is….the first runner up is…..the winner of the 2004 speech competition is Meghan Nielsen”. I was so excited, I rose to accept my trophy, take a few pictures, and skipped off towards home. It was a great experience and I am so glad that I was able to get over my fear of public speaking, well, at least back then :).
I should begin by telling you that I have a serious fear of public speaking. My palms get clammy, my voice waivers, my eyes get fuzzy, and my stomach lurches whenever I get up in front of a crowd. If it is a particularly large crowd I start to cry. It was my freshman year in college and one of the GE’s that I had to take was speech 101. How exciting for me, I was so terrified of it that I actually dropped the class first quarter, deciding that maybe later on I would be more brave.
Well, second quarter rolled around and I started it off with zero credits. The wonderful budget cuts going on by the state of California made getting classes difficult. Eventually I gathered 12 credits, but I needed more, so I reluctantly added the only open spot left for speech 101. My teacher was nice, the class size was small, and the book was less of a joke than my first one… so I felt a bit better this time round. Well, we started off with an explanatory speech, I practiced till I was blue in the face and when I gave it my face was more of an olive color. Either way, I gave my speech and actually did well. After delivering I had to put my head on my desk and breath slowly so I wouldn’t share my lunch with the classmate next to me. The semester went by, and as with anything, practice makes perfect. I still got ill, but I could handle it.
During the last weeks of class our teacher said that there was to be a persuasive speech competition. If one of us won, she would give that student an automatic A in the class. I decided it sounded pretty sweet, so I entered in. My speech was on reality TV and all the evils I felt went along with it. I wrote a good speech, I just needed help with the delivery.
Anyway…I’ll have you know that this competition was rather large, it was for all the students in speech 101. That means it could include even super seniors! Overall there were about 200 people in this competition. We all showed up on a very rainy evening and were assigned into groups. There were three rounds to make it through, then the finals. I delivered my speech as well as I could in round one, received a bit of criticism in round two, and kind of choked in round three. I took comfort in realizing that my material trumped most of the other students. Eventually all 200 of us reconvened into an amphitheater type room to hear the finalists. I was sitting with my friends chatting as they called out the names, I didn’t need to listen, there was no way I had made it.
My friend turned to me wide eyed and her mouth dropped a bit. I was kind of confused until they announced my name again. My palms broke out in a sweat, my stomach turned and my head began to pound. They couldn’t be serious! I had to give my speech in front of all 200 students and the judges! I fearfully took my seat next to the other two finalists. I was the second to go up. I started out over my crowd and froze! The judges started at me, I stared back. I started to panic, if only I could just get my first line out! “Imagine you are living in the year 90 CE, sweat dripping from you brow, and blood dripping from your sword….” Yes, I had done it, everything else began to follow. I triumphantly finished by challenging my crowd to think twice about what they called entertainment and took my seat.
I sat nervously as the judges discussed the scores, “The second runner up is….the first runner up is…..the winner of the 2004 speech competition is Meghan Nielsen”. I was so excited, I rose to accept my trophy, take a few pictures, and skipped off towards home. It was a great experience and I am so glad that I was able to get over my fear of public speaking, well, at least back then :).
A night with Aaron and the 4-Wheeler
A night with Aaron and the 4-Wheeler
I have many fond memories of the 4-wheeler. At first I was a bit hesitant to use it at its full potential in fear of breaking it and having to then deal with telling dad what happened. All my reservation however flew out the window one night when Aaron took me for a ride. I was taught just how far the limits could be pushed before tipping or being flung from the moving craft, and even then it wasn’t that hard to push back up-right or get yourself back on and continue. I was impressed that the only reason off road vehicles existed was to push the limits, theirs and yours, and in doing so risk life, both theirs and yours. If not they just were not that exciting. One of the selling points about the 4-wheeler was that (unlike the motorcycle) it had working headlights so I didn’t have to hold a flashlight for Aaron. This was a real treat because he could decide when the appropriate time to go into stealth mode was and didn’t have to rely on me hearing him yell it over the howling 60+mph wind. But the best part of ridding with Aaron was that if it broke or we “broke” he was the one that should have known better and I would be the innocent victim. Yeah, ridding with Aaron was alright.
This one night that I speak of was, I think, Aaron’s first real ride as well, so I felt honored to partake in it. I think we waited ‘till about ten so dad would be asleep. We filled the tank with gas then bounced on it to somehow get the gas to go down. It did and we continued the ritual till we had succeeded in the ultimate top off. We drove down the gravel road took a left on to Concord Avenue, a right onto Orchard lane, a right onto Marsh Creek Road. I remember crossing the levee and being at the top of the slight hill on Marsh Creek. The moon was full that night or the sky was really clear because I remember it being a bright night.
Straight.
Soon we came to a bend in the road. If we took it right we would end up passing Round Valley which I don’t think existed then. If we went left we were on Camino Diablo.
Left.
I remember the hum of the tires on the asphalt muffled out by the scream engine muffled out by the howling wind in my ears. Aaron’s hair was flapping. He always had it slightly longer than Matthew and I but not much. I wondered if I should grow mine out like his, it was. But then I would have to “train” it with a hat to not go forward and that was too much trouble. I was getting cold now but would never tell him that. He seemed to live for pain and limits and cold was a form of them. I remembered that he seemed to enjoy the pain that cutting weight for wrestling caused him. I once questioned his sanity when I saw him open his mouth and scrap his tongue with his index finger to display a marshmallow size wad of cotton mouth while cutting. I remembered this and knew that cold was nothing compared to that.
I didn’t really know what he was looking for, maybe we were just going as fast as we could, But if that were all why not just stay on Concord Ave? Maybe he wanted to get another cable to make a zip line. I was with him when we go the first. We used the motorcycle then. I was the first to ride the zip line, I was the first to fall, and I was brave in front of his friends, or a fool, but I felt brave.
Cold.
We slowed down almost to a stop. Had he found what he wanted? I didn’t care, at least the wind stopped. We slowly coasted along looking for what I finally understood to be a way in. You see, we were out on the street where very little mud could be found. But in, on the other hand, was much better. Inside the freshly watered orchards you could find as much mud as desired. And that is what he was looking for. After all, 4-wheelers are not for asphalt. This is why the tires complain like they do. They make no sounds of complaint in mud. But why not find an orchard closer to home? Ah, that’s why, we needed a baby orchard; Aaron knew that established orchards would have grass or simply mowed weeds. This would not give us the full “mudding” experience. No, we needed a newly planted and watered orchard. Aaron some how knew exactly where to go. We found a way in.
Mud, lots of mud
We spoke of how we needed to erase all evidence of this night once we arrived home. On the screaming trip back I thought there would be little evidence left at the rate I saw and felt the mud flying of the back. We made it down the gravel road, parked in the drive way and hosed it off. Aaron made fun of me for tucking the black rubber boots up into my jeans. After we cleaned the 4-Wheeler it looked spotless to me and seemed to be clean enough for him because we called it a night and went in. The next day I went out to look at the machine to find it looking as if some one and dumped a truck load of mud on it and let it dry. Had we even cleaned it at all? I never heard a word about it, and besides, I would be the innocent bystander of one more of Aaron’s wild adventures.
I owe all of my wild times on the 4-Wheeler to that night. All my jumps, spills, tips and even endos. All my bloody elbows, branch whipped eyes, scraped skin and swallowed bugs. All the times I threw myself and my passenger from the moving mass were a result of that night. Thanks Aaron for showing me how to use the 4-Wheeler, and sorry dad for using it that way.
Michael 2005
I have many fond memories of the 4-wheeler. At first I was a bit hesitant to use it at its full potential in fear of breaking it and having to then deal with telling dad what happened. All my reservation however flew out the window one night when Aaron took me for a ride. I was taught just how far the limits could be pushed before tipping or being flung from the moving craft, and even then it wasn’t that hard to push back up-right or get yourself back on and continue. I was impressed that the only reason off road vehicles existed was to push the limits, theirs and yours, and in doing so risk life, both theirs and yours. If not they just were not that exciting. One of the selling points about the 4-wheeler was that (unlike the motorcycle) it had working headlights so I didn’t have to hold a flashlight for Aaron. This was a real treat because he could decide when the appropriate time to go into stealth mode was and didn’t have to rely on me hearing him yell it over the howling 60+mph wind. But the best part of ridding with Aaron was that if it broke or we “broke” he was the one that should have known better and I would be the innocent victim. Yeah, ridding with Aaron was alright.
This one night that I speak of was, I think, Aaron’s first real ride as well, so I felt honored to partake in it. I think we waited ‘till about ten so dad would be asleep. We filled the tank with gas then bounced on it to somehow get the gas to go down. It did and we continued the ritual till we had succeeded in the ultimate top off. We drove down the gravel road took a left on to Concord Avenue, a right onto Orchard lane, a right onto Marsh Creek Road. I remember crossing the levee and being at the top of the slight hill on Marsh Creek. The moon was full that night or the sky was really clear because I remember it being a bright night.
Straight.
Soon we came to a bend in the road. If we took it right we would end up passing Round Valley which I don’t think existed then. If we went left we were on Camino Diablo.
Left.
I remember the hum of the tires on the asphalt muffled out by the scream engine muffled out by the howling wind in my ears. Aaron’s hair was flapping. He always had it slightly longer than Matthew and I but not much. I wondered if I should grow mine out like his, it was. But then I would have to “train” it with a hat to not go forward and that was too much trouble. I was getting cold now but would never tell him that. He seemed to live for pain and limits and cold was a form of them. I remembered that he seemed to enjoy the pain that cutting weight for wrestling caused him. I once questioned his sanity when I saw him open his mouth and scrap his tongue with his index finger to display a marshmallow size wad of cotton mouth while cutting. I remembered this and knew that cold was nothing compared to that.
I didn’t really know what he was looking for, maybe we were just going as fast as we could, But if that were all why not just stay on Concord Ave? Maybe he wanted to get another cable to make a zip line. I was with him when we go the first. We used the motorcycle then. I was the first to ride the zip line, I was the first to fall, and I was brave in front of his friends, or a fool, but I felt brave.
Cold.
We slowed down almost to a stop. Had he found what he wanted? I didn’t care, at least the wind stopped. We slowly coasted along looking for what I finally understood to be a way in. You see, we were out on the street where very little mud could be found. But in, on the other hand, was much better. Inside the freshly watered orchards you could find as much mud as desired. And that is what he was looking for. After all, 4-wheelers are not for asphalt. This is why the tires complain like they do. They make no sounds of complaint in mud. But why not find an orchard closer to home? Ah, that’s why, we needed a baby orchard; Aaron knew that established orchards would have grass or simply mowed weeds. This would not give us the full “mudding” experience. No, we needed a newly planted and watered orchard. Aaron some how knew exactly where to go. We found a way in.
Mud, lots of mud
We spoke of how we needed to erase all evidence of this night once we arrived home. On the screaming trip back I thought there would be little evidence left at the rate I saw and felt the mud flying of the back. We made it down the gravel road, parked in the drive way and hosed it off. Aaron made fun of me for tucking the black rubber boots up into my jeans. After we cleaned the 4-Wheeler it looked spotless to me and seemed to be clean enough for him because we called it a night and went in. The next day I went out to look at the machine to find it looking as if some one and dumped a truck load of mud on it and let it dry. Had we even cleaned it at all? I never heard a word about it, and besides, I would be the innocent bystander of one more of Aaron’s wild adventures.
I owe all of my wild times on the 4-Wheeler to that night. All my jumps, spills, tips and even endos. All my bloody elbows, branch whipped eyes, scraped skin and swallowed bugs. All the times I threw myself and my passenger from the moving mass were a result of that night. Thanks Aaron for showing me how to use the 4-Wheeler, and sorry dad for using it that way.
Michael 2005
New Homes
New Homes
When we first moved in Marble Drive, just in the first time we moved at Marble Drive there weren’t any houses over our fence, except down the street along Boulder. They put windows up before they put boards across roof frames, except the roof frames, are standing up. And I saw them put windows on before they put any parts of the roof up. A roofless house at Boulder already having windows in it. You know, they put paper over the studs. I saw them put garage doors on with only the black paper around the house – when we first moved at Marble drive. Over our fence there were only paved roads and sidewalks with no houses over our fence at the time. Only houses were started down at Boulder drive. And then they started building houses up the street up the street from Boulder and then finally they built houses over our fence. I used to love – enjoy, going over our fence exploring the houses walking through them. I felt like I actually wanted to be a carpenter when I grew up because I enjoyed those houses so much. You know the cemented house frames? They put cement before they put floor boards over the house. Sometimes they put floor boards across and then sometimes they would put plywood across the floor before they put cement in the garage. Sometimes they would actually lift up walls before they put cement in the garage. They would paint the house with cement paint over the house before they put garage doors up. Sometimes they still put garage doors up with only the paper around the house. They build all different ways. After they paint the house with cement they paint the outside house with real paint. Oftentimes they didn’t put windows in until they scattered the shingles on the roof. And that’s my story – pretty much. And I used to enjoy walking around our fence, riding my bike and had fun there watching them be built. In other places they put windows up while the roof frames were lying down on top of the house. And that’s my story.
David 2005
When we first moved in Marble Drive, just in the first time we moved at Marble Drive there weren’t any houses over our fence, except down the street along Boulder. They put windows up before they put boards across roof frames, except the roof frames, are standing up. And I saw them put windows on before they put any parts of the roof up. A roofless house at Boulder already having windows in it. You know, they put paper over the studs. I saw them put garage doors on with only the black paper around the house – when we first moved at Marble drive. Over our fence there were only paved roads and sidewalks with no houses over our fence at the time. Only houses were started down at Boulder drive. And then they started building houses up the street up the street from Boulder and then finally they built houses over our fence. I used to love – enjoy, going over our fence exploring the houses walking through them. I felt like I actually wanted to be a carpenter when I grew up because I enjoyed those houses so much. You know the cemented house frames? They put cement before they put floor boards over the house. Sometimes they put floor boards across and then sometimes they would put plywood across the floor before they put cement in the garage. Sometimes they would actually lift up walls before they put cement in the garage. They would paint the house with cement paint over the house before they put garage doors up. Sometimes they still put garage doors up with only the paper around the house. They build all different ways. After they paint the house with cement they paint the outside house with real paint. Oftentimes they didn’t put windows in until they scattered the shingles on the roof. And that’s my story – pretty much. And I used to enjoy walking around our fence, riding my bike and had fun there watching them be built. In other places they put windows up while the roof frames were lying down on top of the house. And that’s my story.
David 2005
Experiences that help you grow as a person
Experiences that help you grow as a person:
-Amy Nielsen
Working in the AIDS program has been one of the best experiences I have undergone. Prior to my employment there, even though I don’t like to admit it, I was pretty judgmental toward the gay and homeless population. In fact whenever a homeless person would ask me for money I would get a bit upset and rude, like, “here I am working two jobs to put myself through college, and you have the nerve… “
Anyway… I worked with an AIDS and HCV (Hepatitis-C) positive homosexual man named Buck, an AIDS and HCV positive woman named Lois, another AIDS positive gay man named Jamie, and an HIV and HCV positive man named Bull (whom had previously been incarcerated at San Quentin…) I was pretty intimidated at first. First of all I had never been surrounded by such diversity, second I did not know too much about the viruses that they carried, and third…SAN QUENTIN. Is that not a maximum security prison?
As I am not one to close up and not get to know someone I took the opportunity to ask these folks about their lives (after I had discovered they were MORE than willing to share… J) After getting to know them, I discovered that YES they messed up when they were younger and YES they are suffering the consequences, but they are truly magnificent kind and caring people that worked hard to get where they are at. Even though it is just clean and sober and not some other accomplishment. Most of them had crazy horrible childhoods and look at them now…volunteering for this program so that they might help others that came to find themselves in tough situations. “Others” that will listen to my coworkers as they have been there, they KNOW what this person is going through and that helps immensely. And when it comes to Bull…, remember San Quentin? Very nice man.
As far as the homeless person thing is concerned we tested our fair share of them. Plenty came in hoping for some incentive to test. After getting to converse with these upstanding citizens (as the front desk person) I have come to find that many of them are truly insane…I mean for real. And that there is a major problem with programs to help them in California and these are the type that cannot just go get a job at MacDonald’s. Sure, there are tons of lazy homeless people that would rather sit on a street and float through life without getting a job, but just keep in mind that there are others who grab a pencil off of your front desk, think it is a hot dog with mustard on it, and try to eat it…..
That last statement happened for real…right in front of my eyes.
I wish that we all could have this opportunity. To be surrounded by people who have come from not so nice childhoods and that were dealt very different hands at life. Or just people who make different decisions than we sometimes think they should make and support and try to understand. I think it would make us all just a bit less judgmental.
-Amy Nielsen
Working in the AIDS program has been one of the best experiences I have undergone. Prior to my employment there, even though I don’t like to admit it, I was pretty judgmental toward the gay and homeless population. In fact whenever a homeless person would ask me for money I would get a bit upset and rude, like, “here I am working two jobs to put myself through college, and you have the nerve… “
Anyway… I worked with an AIDS and HCV (Hepatitis-C) positive homosexual man named Buck, an AIDS and HCV positive woman named Lois, another AIDS positive gay man named Jamie, and an HIV and HCV positive man named Bull (whom had previously been incarcerated at San Quentin…) I was pretty intimidated at first. First of all I had never been surrounded by such diversity, second I did not know too much about the viruses that they carried, and third…SAN QUENTIN. Is that not a maximum security prison?
As I am not one to close up and not get to know someone I took the opportunity to ask these folks about their lives (after I had discovered they were MORE than willing to share… J) After getting to know them, I discovered that YES they messed up when they were younger and YES they are suffering the consequences, but they are truly magnificent kind and caring people that worked hard to get where they are at. Even though it is just clean and sober and not some other accomplishment. Most of them had crazy horrible childhoods and look at them now…volunteering for this program so that they might help others that came to find themselves in tough situations. “Others” that will listen to my coworkers as they have been there, they KNOW what this person is going through and that helps immensely. And when it comes to Bull…, remember San Quentin? Very nice man.
As far as the homeless person thing is concerned we tested our fair share of them. Plenty came in hoping for some incentive to test. After getting to converse with these upstanding citizens (as the front desk person) I have come to find that many of them are truly insane…I mean for real. And that there is a major problem with programs to help them in California and these are the type that cannot just go get a job at MacDonald’s. Sure, there are tons of lazy homeless people that would rather sit on a street and float through life without getting a job, but just keep in mind that there are others who grab a pencil off of your front desk, think it is a hot dog with mustard on it, and try to eat it…..
That last statement happened for real…right in front of my eyes.
I wish that we all could have this opportunity. To be surrounded by people who have come from not so nice childhoods and that were dealt very different hands at life. Or just people who make different decisions than we sometimes think they should make and support and try to understand. I think it would make us all just a bit less judgmental.
Bad Horse
Bad Horse
I have this bad habit of judging things based on one bad incident that once happened to me. For example: we once went to a fair to see some alpacas. A pretty one was walking past me so I reached out to pet its soft fur. Big mistake. I scared the thing to death and it bucked at me and almost broke my legs. Ever since then, I tell Aaron that I don’t like alpacas just because I happened to meet one mean one.
I had only known Aaron for about 2 months when he invited me to go and visit with some of his friends that he had worked with up in Alaska. We were meeting them in Airmo, Idaho. Airmo, Idaho??? Where’s that? That’s what I said. It’s this tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. The girl hosting the party was so excited because the town had just got a new gas station—therefore they didn’t have to drive hours to go to the nearest grocery store.
We had a good time playing games and telling stories the night we got there. The next morning, after a yummy breakfast of “Spud nuts”—potato donuts, we all went across the street to a field of horses. A bunch of people wanted to try their hand at clay pigeon shooting. I had already tried that in high school and knew I couldn’t hit anything if my life depended on it (and my sister probably appreciates that!!), so I was just watching. I was minding my own business, when a big horse came up to me and started nudging me with his nose. I’m not much of an animal person and really didn’t like it. I backed away, only to have the horse follow me. I could feel its hot breath on my neck. It kept trying to nip me. If you’ve ever looked close in a horse’s mouth you know they have big yucky teeth. I got really scared and ran away from it. Aaron was all the while laughing at me running like an idiot from a horse. I was getting so scared though. I screamed for Aaron’s help. I think I probably almost wet my pants. Right when I thought I was going to die from a horse biting my neck, Aaron ran over to me real fast. He had a funny look on his face. He reached into the hood of my sweatshirt and pulled out a handful of Reese’s Pieces candies. Apparently he had put them there to munch on throughout the morning. I was so mad at him!!! I almost got bit by a horse because he’s a goofy kid who likes to hide things in weird places! Don’t worry—he didn’t do it intentionally. Do you think I would have married someone who thought it was funny to watch his date get eaten by a man eating horse?
To this day, I tell Aaron that I don’t like horses because of this one incident. He says I’m crazy to base it one experience, but I have to be honest. I don’t like horses!
I have this bad habit of judging things based on one bad incident that once happened to me. For example: we once went to a fair to see some alpacas. A pretty one was walking past me so I reached out to pet its soft fur. Big mistake. I scared the thing to death and it bucked at me and almost broke my legs. Ever since then, I tell Aaron that I don’t like alpacas just because I happened to meet one mean one.
I had only known Aaron for about 2 months when he invited me to go and visit with some of his friends that he had worked with up in Alaska. We were meeting them in Airmo, Idaho. Airmo, Idaho??? Where’s that? That’s what I said. It’s this tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. The girl hosting the party was so excited because the town had just got a new gas station—therefore they didn’t have to drive hours to go to the nearest grocery store.
We had a good time playing games and telling stories the night we got there. The next morning, after a yummy breakfast of “Spud nuts”—potato donuts, we all went across the street to a field of horses. A bunch of people wanted to try their hand at clay pigeon shooting. I had already tried that in high school and knew I couldn’t hit anything if my life depended on it (and my sister probably appreciates that!!), so I was just watching. I was minding my own business, when a big horse came up to me and started nudging me with his nose. I’m not much of an animal person and really didn’t like it. I backed away, only to have the horse follow me. I could feel its hot breath on my neck. It kept trying to nip me. If you’ve ever looked close in a horse’s mouth you know they have big yucky teeth. I got really scared and ran away from it. Aaron was all the while laughing at me running like an idiot from a horse. I was getting so scared though. I screamed for Aaron’s help. I think I probably almost wet my pants. Right when I thought I was going to die from a horse biting my neck, Aaron ran over to me real fast. He had a funny look on his face. He reached into the hood of my sweatshirt and pulled out a handful of Reese’s Pieces candies. Apparently he had put them there to munch on throughout the morning. I was so mad at him!!! I almost got bit by a horse because he’s a goofy kid who likes to hide things in weird places! Don’t worry—he didn’t do it intentionally. Do you think I would have married someone who thought it was funny to watch his date get eaten by a man eating horse?
To this day, I tell Aaron that I don’t like horses because of this one incident. He says I’m crazy to base it one experience, but I have to be honest. I don’t like horses!
On the way
On the way
A slight breeze stirred a scent of sun baked weeds, ripe berries, wildflowers, and pine. It was a cool morning and the sun was warm as I balanced my way up the White Pass railroad tracks toward Denver Glacier. I sampled various odd berries and gnawed on jerky along the way. It was easier to walk along the rails than try to match my stride with the ties…until it was easier the other way around. So on and off I switched walking the six miles to the Denver Glacier trail head and then another three and a half up a river to the glacier. From time to time the tracks hugged cliffs, spanned bridges and tunneled underground for long sections. It was quiet with only a slight breeze or few birds chirping here and there and the sound of gravel under my feet. I was certain I could hear an approaching train, though occasionally I’d sneak a glance over my shoulder anyway. I don’t believe I ever felt so much like Huck Fin as I did this day; I had on a plaid wool shirt and some duck Carharts, a good pocket knife, all the time in the world and nothing to do but explore. I came across a hole in the ground off to the side of the tracks, and it being early, around six in the morning, I went to investigate. I felt a cool breeze coming out of the hole, so excitedly I removed my pack and lying flat on my belly squirmed through into the darkness. The hole opened into a small cave and I flicked on my head-lamp to have a better look. It was small but large enough to walk around on my knees. I located the source of the wind again and down I went. The tunnel opened up into another small cave and continued half way up the opposite side. I peered through and could see that it opened up again to another cave; the hole being like a small window between two rooms. I cleared a few small rocks and started through. The tunnel narrowed a bit more and my chest started to wedge top to bottom.
I could just barely reach a good foot hold and my arms pressed against my head out front could not bend enough to find some rock to pull or push on. With dreams of finding some old miners’ cash or a vast underground world from some Grandpa Willie tale I decided I could probably make it through. I let the breath out of my lungs to make room and shoved forward using the one foot that had access to some stone and moved a few inches further into the cave. The plan was to find some other purchase for either my feet or my hand but I found none. My arms were now free but dangled uselessly inside the next cave. I couldn’t rotate my head and could only see my one arm and a bit of rock beyond and hardly that as my head-lamp had twisted askew in the process getting stuck. I could swing my feet all around but there were no more rocks or walls to push or pull off of. I tried to breathe in but my lungs could not expand being held shut by the rocks. My personal best at holding my breath is about three and a half minutes--that being with lungs full of air floating face down in a pool on a warm summer day, not deep underground wedged between rocks with empty lungs. Though I have practiced for such situations, it can’t be called holding your breath as your lungs are empty so let’s call it holding for breath. Give it a try, it’s much harder. My record is somewhere around a minute though I think I broke it this day. I wondered if anyone would find my body, my backpack clearly marked the entrance to the cave, however it was more likely someone would swipe my pack giving no thought to who owned it other than they weren’t anywhere to be seen? I wished them well, squirmed a little more, tried to breathe again but to no avail. I thought of a line from my patriarchal blessing that gave me a little hope although the seconds were still adding up. I never did go into panic mode that I remember, albeit I did have quite a bit of dirt in my mouth that I couldn’t remember how got there. Did I bite my way out? I don’t rightly remember how I got out but the air tasted good. Sitting there on the floor recovering I debated with myself as to rather I should give it another try. Perhaps if I cleared a bit more gravel and went through on my back finding some different leverage points? Though an unforeseen but hoped for future, a beautiful wife, and adorably naughty little girl and a fat little squealing boy, had me back out in the fresh air and sunlight hiking toward some new perils - ice-caves.
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