A Born Swimmer

A Born Swimmer

As you all know, I love to swim. I have always been a strong swimmer even when I was little. The following experiences involve swimming, or the lack there of. See, when I was ten I was so excited because I had gotten a brand new boogie board. I took it to the beach every time I went, which was twice by the time our first story begins.
I had been out in the waves for about an hour when I saw a huge wave come up. Now, I had two choices, ride the wave or wait for a better one. The only problem was that I didn’t have time to do either. The wave was coming fast and before I knew it I was under the water being tossed here and there by the waves. The boogie board was strapped to my ankle and it was following the waves, pulling me under. I didn’t know which way was up and I was running out of air. I wanted to scream and cry but I needed every ounce of air I had. The water, once my friend, was trying to kill me. I was terrified as I fought for the surface, but the problem was, I was going the wrong way and I hit my head on the sand. I immediately switched directions and just as I was about to break through another wave came and my trusted boogie board pulled me under again. My air was running out and by the time the third wave hit I knew that I was going to die. I couldn’t hold my breath for that long and I knew that soon I would have to breathe something in. It was all because of that stupid ankle strap on my new board. If I hadn’t had it strapped in, I wouldn’t have been pulled under. I remember praying to the lord to save me and after my prayer I went completely limp. I guess I floated to the top or something because my next memory was taking in a huge gasp of air. I promptly picked up my board and walked along the shore to mom and dad.
This next story was a few years later. The ankle strap of my boogie board had since been chewed off by one of our dogs and I was much older (probably thirteen or fourteen). I was out in the waves again, my experience of years earlier having not deterred my enthusiasm for being out in the water, and I was resting on my boogie board. I had been out for a while and suddenly I saw a lifeguard coming out into the water. I looked around to see who was drowning because he was on his jet ski. I didn’t see anybody. That was when I noticed that he was coming directly towards me. I was confused, I was completely fine. In a hurried manner he told me to get on the sled with my board. Being very embarrassed I complied. When we were on the shore I found out that I had been caught in a rip tide. After thanking the lifeguard and being scolded by mom (don’t worry, I wasn’t mad mom) I spent an hour playing in the sand before going back into the water, this time with Michael as an escort.
Fast forward a few more years to May after I turned sixteen. It was freezing cold, pouring rain, and I was in a swim suit. I was certifying to be a lifeguard and I was the victim in the scenario. The rain made everything slippery and my shaking wasn’t helping. Several people had already gone home sick and two were being treated for hypothermia. Anyway, back to me. I was on the board pretending to be unconscious from drowning (yes, I get the irony) when I felt myself falling which a few seconds later was followed by my head hitting the board, bouncing off, and hitting it again. Yes, the geniuses had dropped me. I was treated for a head injury and then an hour later I did my scenario and got my license. Sadly, the girl who dropped me got hers too.
Months later I was life guarding below the big slide at the water park when I saw the guy at the top start to panic. I looked around and saw a little girl come out of the slide and hang on to the lane line for dear life. Without thinking I jumped over the bottom of the slide, gave the signal for Chase to stop dispatch and entered the water. Being this lovely day and age I had to ask if she wanted help, otherwise I could do nothing while she was still conscious. Anyway, she nodded and I picked her up. She clung to me for dear life but as soon as she was out on the cement she RAN away. I had to wait for my break to hunt her down and do all the paperwork after having to yell at her for running. For once though, the mom was on my side, I cannot tell you how many times I have been yelled at by parents. It is not fun. Anyway, back on topic. It felt great to save that little girl. It was then I realized why I had become a lifeguard. I loved the water, but I knew it was dangerous. I was there to protect the people like me who just get caught in a bad current. Of course the idiots that infest the park help me to forget and I really don’t know how to transition from that so I will just say, the end, and always listen to the lifeguards.

A Dip in the Pool in Tropical Australia

A Dip in the Pool in Tropical Australia

We were in the tropical region in Australia and my companion and I were walking through the town and we noticed across the street a building that said swimming pool.  We were perspiring on this very hot & muggy day.  We went in and everything was spic and span and only a few people in the pool swimming.  One of us said, “Wouldn’t it be nice to take a dip and cool off”.  We decided we’d take a swim and so we rented a suit and towels and jumped in the pool for a few minutes.  It was a large pool, shallow on one end and deep on the other.  After swimming for awhile we decided we’d better get going.  We both agreed to go.  I said to him, I think I’ll swim across the pool once more and be right in.  He said, “ok” and went to change.  I made it about half way across the pool when an evil feeling came over me.  I was swimming and not going anywhere and just flailing.  Things got worse and I felt like I was in a whirl pool getting sucked under.  I became disoriented and couldn’t cry for help.  I was splashing and splashing and not going anywhere and lost track of where I was.  Very disoriented.  I reached out after a few minutes and felt the side of the pool.  I thought, “Thank God, for that.”  I looked around and I was all alone.  Everyone had gone.  I found myself at the deep end instead of where I was swimming.  I told my companion of my near drowning and we got dressed and went on our way.  I will never forget it.

 Great-Grandpa Green

Well, here goes the best story of all ever for me.

Well, here goes the best story of all ever for me.
I was a senior at BYU and one day I was lurking in the Fine arts center looking for a date. I had had some great dates the last few days but was without one for that night.  I was perched high up on a stairway and was surveying the girls that walked across the floor below me.  Mine eyes caught a very lovely young thing walking across the floor below me like a trucker. She must have been in a hurry.  I hurried down and caught her and asked her name. She said “Marsha”. I asked “What is your last name? She said Green. Well I was happy then because I knew how to find anyone at BYU when I had both first and last names and I wanted to find this girl. I went to the dorm and did a little research and found where she lived. She was in Deseret Towers. Well I asked her out and she accepted.  Later, I learned that the only reason she said yes was because of a dare from her roommate Nan. Since BYU prohibited beards and I (being the rebel I was) had a full beard. Nan had dared her to go out with me. When I asked her out I asked her if she’d seen a certain play.  She told me she hadn’t so I asked her to go with me.   What she didn’t volunteer was that she had a date that very evening for that particular play.  I remember that I really liked her. I had dated a girl named Marilyn the night before and called Marsha Marilyn all night. What a dufuss.  But even with that, she accepted when I asked her out again.  We dated for about six weeks, and I asked her to marry me. I am sure her dad thought it was much too early, but he gave his consent when I asked him for Marsha’s hand in marriage.  I was headed for San Francisco to go to dental school at USCF which was considered one of the best schools in the country. I had been accepted there and at Oregon. Well, we were married in the Salt Lake Temple and that night headed for San Francisco to start a lifetime, no an eternitytime (probably not a word) adventure. It has been a wonderful journey filled with many experiences - joy and happiness mixed with some trials and sadness. But, by far, the joy and adventure and love has been much greater than the trials. With 12 wonderful children and now some wonderful spices (spouses) it just gets more and more interesting.
So, the journey continues and will for all eternity. How exciting.     
Love Grandpa Willy

Swim or Die

Swim or Die
            Mom and dad were on vacation in Alaska which meant that I had nothing to protect me from my older brothers and sisters.  This is the story of how I learned to swim.
            Joseph was visiting here at home and he told mom and dad that he’d take care of things if they wanted to go on a vacation.  So they did go on a vacation.  Which translated into Joshua was doomed!
            One summer day when my brothers were swimming, they decided to put floaties on me.  Floaties are flotation devices that are placed on the arms.  Then they threw me into the swimming pool.  Who would do that?  Why would they? 
            I think I just stood in the shallow end of the pool and floated and cried.  Unfortunately I knew that they were serious and that I had to learn to swim or die – well sink anyway.  I actually don’t think they would have let me die but things could have become very uncomfortable for me so I learned to swim.
Joshua Wilford 2007

Peeking at All Those Presents Sitting Under the Christmas Tree

Peeking at All Those Presents Sitting Under the Christmas Tree
Have any of you peeked in advance at a wonderful present you are being given?  I have.  Only I didn’t know I was peeking.  Let me explain.
        When I was 12-years-old and my dad was bishop, our ward won the Men’s Soft Ball regionals and advanced to All Church .  For those of my posterity who may read this in coming years let me explain what All Church was.  Each ward had a men’s soft ball team and they competed with the other wards in the stake.  The ward to take 1^st place in their stake advanced to regionals.  If you won 1^st place in your region you advanced to play in the All Church finals and could be the best men’s soft ball team in the entire church.  I remember a few California teams but most of the teams were from Utah wards.  Well back to when my dad was bishop of the Kaysville 6^th ward.  I remember that my dad was so proud of these men.  Dad would take me to All Church and we would spend a good part of the day watching the various teams and appraising them. “Could our ward beat them?  Did it look like they were better than us?”
        Before or after one of our games, that year, my dad and I were walking around and we paused to watch a game.  We saw this man hit what should have been a home run but there was a strong breeze that day and it blew the ball just foul.  We stood there amazed as we continued to watch that man hit one homerun-blown-foul after another and another and another and another.  Weren’t his arms wearing out?  How could anyone hit so many foul balls over the fence?  Finally he hit a double and we groaned a bit in sympathy for him – at just advancing 2 bases  instead of getting a home run, then we went on our way.  A few days later my dad was reading the paper and he told me that that man had been named MVP of All Church that year.  Wow!  And to think I saw him do it.
        Advance the time.  It is now at least 6 years later and Bill and I are eating dinner at mom’s and dad’s home.  I think we were just engaged and my parents were politely trying to learn who this guy was that I’d brought home for them to meet with the big silly grin on his face.  Of course I bragged how he was Valedictorian of his high school graduating class and had been asked to be one of the Valedictory speakers at BYU that year.  He mentioned that he’d played basketball and baseball in high school and that when he was 17 he’d even played in All Church with his ward.  As a matter-of-fact . . .  That was when he was interrupted in his story when dad realized that that was the same year our ward was there.  I then told my honey about this man we saw hit one foul over the fence after another after another.  Bill’s big old silly grin got even wider, if that were possible, as he announced that he was that batter and got MPV that year.  What fun.  To think that I got to have a sneak peek  of my future husband that day – and what an impression he made!
Marsha 2007

Copper Collection

Copper Collection
I used to love to collect copper. When I was in welding, I used to love to heat copper red hot and melt it.  But then later on, I heard from my welding teacher that heating copper caused toxic fumes whenever I heat it and melt it.  And then after that I no longer wanted to collect copper.  In fact I threw all my copper away because when I heat it, it gives off toxic fumes.  And if it didn’t give off toxic fumes while heating it up, I would have kept it and that’s my story.

The Rope Swing

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The

Rope Swing

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Dreaming
I was going on 14 in 1988 when the construction of our new home out in Brentwood was starting.  We'd go there on the weekends to see the progress that had been made since our last visit.  We would water trees, one at a time, siphoning from the old gas tanks that would slowly fill from our well.  We would wander through the unfinished house as it slowly took shape.  And we'd explore.  In short order, I found the sand mines smelling of dead cow and littered with beer bottles and trash, they were great for exploring and adventuring.  Eventually they were blasted and bulldozed into oblivion.  There was a creek near our house from which we'd catch and eat crawdads with pieces of cheese on strings or a wire mesh trap if the water was deep enough.  Later we heard that marsh creak supposedly contained higher than normal levels of mercury.  But the creeks potential wasn't just in supplying poison crawdads, it also had massive oaks lining its banks, oaks with rope swing potential.  There had been one rope swing back in Antioch a mile or so away from our old house on Marble Drive.  It was quite popular until someone (so the story goes) went flying off into the bushes and came walking out with a stick poking through his eye and into his brain.  He walked home, went to the hospital and had the thing removed with no permanent damage (so the story goes).  I never knew the kid, or his name, but like many of the us that frequented the rope swing I grew to dislike him, whoever he was.  Dislike because Stick-Brain-Boy was used as proof that the rope swing was dangerous, it was cut down and monitored by police for a while to be sure it didn't get put back up.  As far as I know it never did.  There were other rope swings here and there but nothing special, nothing with the potential that the creek oaks near our new home had.

Finding
There are a few essential things you need for a good rope swing; a steep slope, a good tall tree with far reaching branches on it, and most importantly, a rope.  And if you are lucky enough to find all of those you'll need two more things; someone than can be conned into climbing out onto the limb to tie the rope and someone else duped into testing out his knot.  When we found the tree it was clear that there had never been a tree better suited for a rope swing than this one.  It clung to the side of the steep creek bank, and the area below was cleared due to a gravel road that came down into the creek and followed it for a few hundred feet before climbing up the other side.  The limbs stretched out in all directions, one being perfectly situated over the center of the clearing. Now we needed a very long rope.  Just before the start of my freshman year of high school we moved into the new house.  Time enough had gone by that I was no longer actively looking for a rope; I just kept it in the back of my mind.  Weeks or months later I was on my bike riding down Marsh Creek road toward the John Marsh home on some adventure or another and there was the rope.  I veered toward it, as the sun burst through the clouds, and the birds started to sing.  I hit the brakes too hard, everything slowed down, dust and gravel hung in the air, the bike balanced oddly on its front tire, and I drifted slowly through the air toward the rope.  I grabbed it as I rolled never taking my eyes off of it.  I came out of the roll with a length of the rope in my hands resting on my haunches, dust settling all around me.  Amazed at my luck I lifted an end of the rope to covet it.  The rope was more than an inch think, very long and very heavy.  I began looking around, a ravenous beast protecting my scrap of meet.  I coiled the rope again and again around my neck and shoulders and struggled over to my bike but was unable to ride with it on.  I briefly considered stashing it, but feared that portal to some parallel universe from which the rope had obviously come, would open in my absence and greedy little hands of some parallel self would snatch it back into oblivion.  No, that was a risk I could not take.  Somehow I managed to lug it home.

Building
The tree was tall, very tall.  Death being on the line I had to climb up and tie the rope myself.  There were a few rotten boards nailed into the tree from some primitive child's attempt to explore the heights of the tree.  When I reached the end of the ancient rungs I was merely to broken arm or leg height, with still a long way to go.  From there I had to use the rope itself to climb, the limbs being too far apart from one another.  I'd throw the rope up over a high branch and use it to pull myself up.  Eventually I was standing on the limb that I would tie the rope to.  I leaned against the trunk to catch my breath and tend to a few wounds.  The branch was wide enough just to walk out on, but that presented a problem in wrapping the rope around it.  My arms wouldn't fit around to hand one end to the other.  I figured I'd just swing the rope with one hand and try to catch it with the other.  While reaching out to catch the rope I lost my balance and nearly fell out of the tree.  Unable to think of any other way to get the rope around at the moment, and being impatient, I kept swinging the rope around the limb with eventual success.  The knot was tied.  But would it hold?  "Michael" I yelled, "its ready give it a try".  It held.

Flying
At first we just jumped from the bank beside the tree trunk, feeling brave with our twists and backwards jumps.  We inched our way higher and higher on the bank but soon tired of that launching spot and sought for another.  We found a unlikely and scrawny oak tree that was in the proper location, branches so small that they would snap off if we were not careful to place our weight near the trunk.  Though any pity we may have felt for the little tree could not spare it as it proved to be an exponentially exhilarating launch spot.  It was taller, more dangerous and we didn't have to worry about crashing back into the trunk of the giant oak on our return trip.  The greatest feat of daring that was ever performed from the second launch spot was that of Carl Pantel.  Carl, being large in stature, was not well suited to launch spot two.  I don't remember anyone coaxing him, but all of a sudden there he was clambering up the scrawny little oak tree.  I watched, shocked, speechless and at the same time morbidly curious of how the baleful disaster would unfold.  I couldn't help but think of Horton up in his tree oblivious to the fact that he didn't belong there.  We cringed at each broken branch and the trees awkward tilt as he climbed.  Incredibly he reached his precarious perch and called for the rope, now a mere thread that would snap with the slightest pull.  Someone needed to stop this madness.  My finger lifted as my mouth began to open... as time slowed and he took flight.  He was out of the tree twisting and tumbling toward the hard rocky slope below when with a groan and a stretch the rope caught his weight and shot him skimming across the creek and rising high into the air on the other side.  There was a whoop of delight from Carl and the echoing of exhales from everyone else as breathing resumed. As far as I remember he never jumped again.  Launch spot two lead to the discovery of the great and final launch spot.  If it were possible to get enough speed from the small oak tree our trajectory would have placed us height up in the fork of a much taller tree on the other side of the creek.  The fork was nearly the height of the branch that held the rope itself.  We found a way to climb up and a means of getting the rope up to the jumper.  Their was a slight problem in the math that equated to not being able to straddle the cross board prior to launch as was done from the other spots.  The rope wasn't quite long enough and you had to lean out to get one hand on the rope the other anchoring you to the tree.  To launch you'd jump out toward the rope, position the cross board between your legs with your free hand while floating in the air, and grab hold of the rope before free fall ended.  The rope would catch your weight and fling you across the creek, eyes watering, cheeks pulling back, tongue flapping in the wind, and hurl you high into the air above the skinny oak.  There a weightless silence enveloped you as you rolled back toward the earth to begin the decent.  In the beginning we'd slow down naturally swinging back and forth and back and forth as we bask in the exhilaration of it all.  Eventually we'd dig our heals into the gravel as soon as we could not being satisfied with anything but the initial circuit.

Losing
We were always careful to put the rope up after each use; we'd climb the end of it high into the tree to insure that it wasn't easily accessible to anyone that might leave it dangling.  We never had a run in with cars as they seldom traversed the creek.  We were careful not to give anyone a reason to remove it.  Then one day I made the trek down to the creek and the rope swing had been destroyed.  It had been cut in half about the height of someone standing on top of a truck.  Not wanting to believe this was the end of the rope swing, believing there would be some way to repair it I went on a mission of reclamation.  My hands shaking, fighting back tears of outrage, I stormed over to a near by house where I though I'd likely find the guilty party. Unable to hide the accusation from my voice I demanded to know what they did with my rope.  They didn't know anything about it.  I don't imagine that they even knew the swing existed.  I wanted to believe they were at fault and lying about cutting rope but I couldn't.  I didn't have the strength or courage after the initial confrontation to go down the road accusing other neighbors of destroying our rope swing.  I didn't want to know of anyone else's innocence, the whole world was guilty at that moment.  The frayed length of rope still dangles from the tree.  Perhaps in some future it will inspire a boy or girl to turn off the TV or drop the video game controller and begin the quest for the perfect rope.

Aarastas