My new career as a bus driver.
Almost every parent goes through the first day of school blues / excitement. We are a slight exception. As most of you know, last year was the first year that any of our kids attended public school, and that was Alli & Dorian. They attended High School for 2 classes a day as a trial run. Other than Dorian not finishing his wood-shop project ( wood working 101) they did pretty good. So this year we have decided in the interest of Tracy’s sanity, and for other noble reasons they will attend Soldotna High School full time this year. Today was the first day. I know it was a big day because I saw people moving around the house at an hour when I am always the only one awake.
Eagle River circa 2000
Dorian Kodiak circa 1999
Alli, typical of a high school girl, budgeted about an hour and half to get ready. She was extremely excited to see her friends and get the year started. Dorian, typical of a high school boy, budgeted about 1/2 hour to get ready. Dorian likes, loves his sleep. To him, the worst part about school is getting up before 1 pm, and I am not joking. For a kid that likes hunting and fishing so much, he sure can sleep. Then our surprise guest was mom, up at the crack of dawn, getting lunches ready, nervously checking every last detail, holding back the tears as they walked out the front door.
2000?
Missouri 1997
The plan was for me to drop them off on my way to work, which I did. I felt like I started my new career as a bus driver of two, and I can’ t say I liked it all too much. The roads are slow, the lines are long, there are 16 year old drivers and giant yellow buses all over the place, with kids darting in, over , under and through cars all around you. A little stressful for a man with a low patience tolerance such as myself. The second part of the plan was that Tra would pick them up every day after school. We went to plan b. I had to come home early due to minor health issues, so I called and told Tra I would grab them on the way home. Let me tell ya, pick up time is much much worse than drop off time. The kids are faster, the buses slower, the parent drivers more impatient and the lines much longer. Finally, after a quick text sending the signal I was amongst the throng of plastic, metal and rubber in front of the school, they emerged from the school and found me.
First year of football in Eagle River 2001
2000
I was very excited to hear the exploits of the day. During the drive in I shared stories from my days as big man on campus, excited for the new adventures they would experience. As they got in the car I blurted out “so, how was it?” Dorian – “uh, Okay I guess” Alli- ” I hate all my classes, my teachers are mean” . Well we are off to a great start! Eventually, after much interrogation, sighs, “I dunnos” and “I guesses”, I was able to ascertain that things went well and that they found a lot of their old friends. Alli seems most excited about Drama class, which in my opinion was a natural fit. Dorian seems most excited about playing basketball. Me? I am most excited to find out that the real bus runs right by my house.
1998
my all time favorite picture of Dorian & Alli, circa 1999
silver lining
Camo and darkness, that is stealth mode
Jeremy is so excited he is reading the cheez its box, and Benny, as usual makes great picture faces
One of our good friends took us out on his boat this past Monday to see if we couldn’t harvest a few silvers for the freezer. Now the Kenai River is known for its king and red salmon, but the silver fishing it yields is not to be over looked. The river flows swiftly, but not rapidly. The water is often a silty mush green color. It is true silt, silt that tinkles of the bottom of your boat as the river sweeps it under the hull, ocean bound into the Cook Inlet. There are fewer relaxing things for a man than sitting in a boat with the engine off, a full thermos of hot coffee with just a touch of vanilla creamer, four rods out tempting the fish with your “super secret special” bait, and good quiet company as the sun rises over the tops of the spruce trees adding color and heat to the gray morning.
Jeremy already has one in the fish box so he can chow.
the beauty of a bending pole
I limited, now you guys better get er done.
Then all of the sudden a rod tip slams down into the river, line peels off your reel and crushes the silence as you jump to your feet, doing your best to act as you are not half asleep, as you fumble to grab the rod out of the rod holder; mumbling under your breath to hide the embarrassment of not doing all this in one swift graceful move. With the rod firmly in both hands and clear of its cradle you set the hook pulling back with one strong swift pull, praying you feel that all familiar tug at the end of the line signaling to you that the fight is on. Can this 200 ( okay, 200 +) pound man subdue this 15 pound fish? And most often you can. But every time, without fail, the biggest fish, the one that would have made the cover of every sporting magazine, gets away with nary a glimpse and is relinquished for all eternity to a story. And always it is never the one holding the rod’s fault; Oh no, it is the hook, the old line, those around him, or that pitiful knot. Yet as quickly as it is gone, as quickly as your heart leaped at the first click of the reel, you are ready to try again, and this time you tie your own knot ( just as you did last time).
moby dick?
Benny with one in the boat now what.............
.................. nap time!
Now that is what fishing is all about. It is one of the best ways I know for a dad to spend a morning with his sons, and I wish we could do it more often, as do they. This past Monday was a very good day of fishing, six silvers and one released 35 pound blush king, not a great day. A great day of fishing would entail every one of my boys catching more and bigger fish than me, and being done in time for a hot breakfast where we could tell, for the first time, the story of the one that got away and the land lubber’s knot that freed it.
I had to do an audio swap on this video, so it is not as I intended.
Summer of Soccer
Finally the soccer season has come to close. Unfortunately it ended with Jerms team losing at the state tournament, so it was a bittersweet ending to be sure. However it has been a great summer of soccer. The sport has brought us to Anchorage multiple times and Fairbanks, ending with the state cup here in Kenai. During our travels we got to visit my sister and her ever increasing family, some long lost friends from Kodiak, the Wolffs, who were on the precipice of moving to Seattle from Fairbanks. The Coons who now reside in Fairbanks, and of course my Mom who is still in Eagle River.
Jake and Isiah in action, aka the hooded wonder.
Best friends, terrible defensemen
picture time, not the gum in Jake's mouth and the tongue in Saih's mouth.
rarely seen without his orange hoody that gave him special soccer powers.
I must admit, prior to coaching soccer or watching the kids play soccer, I was not a huge fan. I did not understand the appeal. I mean there are no home runs or slam dunks or three pointers, and what the heck is up with the offsides? Then the refs are always playing with cards and waving flags, it seemed more like a parade at times. Now, well now it is a different story. I have come to learn and appreciate the nuances of the game, the beauty of a perfectly set up cross, the thrill of a header goal, the rarity of a blocked penalty kick, the trickery of offsides, and the amazing full speed footwork, all of it, to me, has become interesting and enjoyable. Even the refs and line judges have felt the wrath of my tongue, a sure sign that I am enjoying the sport I am watching. I will even admit I have actually chosen, not by accident like at a sport’s restaurant, but chosen to put the t.v. on a channel where a World Cup soccer match is being played and watched it. Soccer players are incredible athletes that have earned my admiration.
Livy in action on the best coached team in the league
Livy playing some deadly D
the boys can't keep their eyes of the game....
...neither can the girls.
or "headphones" some of you may know her as Alli.
I guess it is like anything else,when you take the randomness out of it and understand the order of what is being played out before you eyes, then you can appreciate the beauty of what is occurring. It also helps if your kids are participating so you feel vested in the outcome therefore peaking your emotions and proclivity to care. It probably doesn’t hurt that unlike football, the weather is often warm, and you get to sit on the sidelines in comfy lawn chair coaching a prefect game with all the other sideline dads, with no risk. So today’s post and pictures are dedicated to the summer of soccer and the joy, exhilaration, frustration and aggravation it brought to our family; or in other words, LIFE.
Jeremy running for the snack.
must be some pizza straight ahead!
Jerms clearing the ball
coach Scott bestowing sugar and honey all over the boys, I am sure.
It wasn't all soccer this is pool, err golf? Better stick to soccer Jeremy.
do you think Ben knew a camera was near?
Benny doing his thang! That girl tried to get by him earlier, you see what that got her.
Ben fixing to take the ball
That's not a push, just aggressiveness.
Ben was famous for his throw ins. He managed to get a side spin on em and launch em deep.
Don’t cry for July
I think August / September may be my favorite time of year. I know, I know it means summer is behind us, I know it means the weather will start to turn, and I also know the days will become shorter and shorter. But I have lived here on the Kenai Peninsula for seven years, and the last few years I have developed a love / hate relationship with July. You see all winter long I long for the action packed red filled month and all it brings. But then July comes, and July brings the red salmon, and with the red salmon comes the people and with the people comes the dip net fishery. Now me personally I love dip netting, we do it every year to get a good supply of fish for the up coming winter.
Jeremy working the dipnet amongst the throngs of fellow dippers
Dorian manning the other side of the boat
I'm not going to have touch any fish am I?
For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, dip netting is a local personal use fishery, for Alaska residents, where you dip a net in the Kasilof or Kenai river and pull it out with salmon in it. It is a fun fast filled addictive way to get fish quickly, even more so from a boat.The problem is it isn’t a secret. You see there are over 20,000 free permits issued for this fishery with an average 4 people fishing each permit, which means tens of thousands of people down here to catch fish. And that’s just the dippers, then you have the sport fisherman, the commercial fisherman, and the I just want fish fisherman, and my job is to make sure they are all being good boys and girls. Guess what, they’re not. Guess what else, they like to tattle on each other… a lot! Now I don’t go in the field anymore, I am in the office answering phone calls and dealing with complaints from all of them, including all the members of government who are upset because their constituents call them and complain about us not doing anything. Naturally, me being of good cheer, try to take it all in stride, but it wears a man down, and it wears me down too.
Jerms working hard to hold the 9 ft. net
Got One!!!
trying to get it in the boat quickly while Ben tries to get away
So about the fourth week of July, I am flat worn out, not physically, but mentally. But I am definitely ready for July to be over, because when July ends so does the dip net fishery and the tens of thousands of dippers go with it, leaving their trash, fish carcasses, and money behind; but taking their no left turns available, Fred Meyer’s is too full for you to find a parking spot, and slow driving, road hogging road whales with them. It also marks the end of the red fishery and the beginning of my favorite fishery, the coho or silver fishery; the berries are ripe for picking, with hunting season stepping into the picture. All this with about 1/10th the people and problems. Furthermore, this particular July had a lot of other life junk thrown in just to make me in a particularly bad mood.
Hey, I thought I didn't have to touch them.
Thirty nine red salmon, not bad for four hours fun, errrrr work.
So welcome August, I am so happy to see you. I don’t mind the slight chill in the morning with the moisture on my windshield. I don’t mind the fact that the sun takes its rays and hides by 10 O’clock at night, and doesn’t waken until after six am. I don’t mind that the first school bell of the season, bringing out all the brand new 16 year old “Jeff Gordon” drivers, rings. I don’t mind that our crazy life schedule will blow up with kids social events. And I don’t mind that snow is only 2 months away. Hmmmmm, come to think of it, I can’t wait for next July, only 358 days to go.
We are your worst nightmare mighty red salmon of the Kenai River. Oh, yeh and we are working very, very hard as hunter gatherers for our clan .
I’m real sorry.
Knowing what to say to someone who is living through a storm has always been a struggle for me. I never know what to say to someone who’s had a close one die, get badly injured, or any tragedy. I desire to be sincere in my words, but also trying to be original. So this last couple of times I have been trying to pay attention to what encourages me, or what I like to hear people say. I remember right after my dad died I would be contacting people out in the field, and there in bright gold right above my heart was my name on my bullet proof vest. It was almost like a neon sign blinking, begging for someone to ask…. you’re not related to the Godfrey that got killed are you? The first few times it caught me off guard and I fumbled around with my words, ignoring the unsuspecting sportsman, but the more I thought about it, the more I wondered what they would say if I said yes. So me being me that’s what I started to do. “Yes, that was my dad” was my standard response. Then I just waited in silence. Almost instantly you could see the blood drain from their face. Now what? What do I say? I would just look at them in silence, curious what would come out of their mouth. Usually it was stammering, followed by “I’m really sorry about that”. The standard response. I would reply with “yeh, me too” and then get right back to business. This taught me a lesson regarding the words that emanate from my mouth, or the double edged sword.
Jo with Jellybean, her birthday rabbit (still don't know if it is a boy or girl)
Our happy girl
wore out after a great birthday party
This latest experience caused me to reflect on what people have said to me when I have been going through the absolute lows of my life. I wanted to know so I would know what to say to others when it was my turn to attempt to comfort them. I must say, I really liked hearing “we’ll be praying for you” , especially from people that I knew were not just saying it, people who said it and I knew they would hit their knees, probably cry, and pray from their very soul and being. When they say they are going to pray for you, that means something, that inspires, that gives you hope and encouragement. You know they are top friends on God’s facebook, and he listens to them. I have been fortunate to know a lot of those people.
Zoolander (or Jeremy/ Jerms as we call him)
cousin Gunnar at Grandpa's funeral
Grandpa's burial site, overlooking Homer. (Not his cross)
But upon reflecting, the most memorable, the most inspiring, the one that I will likely never forget was not from a close friend of mine. It was right after I wrote the “at what cost blog” . This giant of a man, an acquaintance but not a close friend, found me when I was sitting by myself. He walked up to me grabbed my hand, looked me directly in the eyes, I could see the tears bulging and sparkling in his eyes, I could feel his hand trembling and see his chest heaving a little as he struggled to maintain his manly demeanor. He ,being a father of young kids, looked right into me and whispered one word with his voice crackling and trembling “dads”. That is all he said, that was all he had to say. I knew right then that he truly felt for me, perhaps he could not relate exactly to what I was feeling, but he definitely felt for me. So with one word, a man, and acquaintance, perhaps touched me more than any other condolence I have ever received.
Jake and Jo, brother and sister forever
Asia, Aevry, McKenzie and Jo ( probably all spelled wrong)
Love's riding in daddy's car ( he drives faster than mommy, but not over the speed limit!)
In conclusion: Only 30% of conversation is the actual words spoken. Therefore, what you say isn’t nearly as important as to how you say it, show that you really mean it, that you mean what you are saying and if you say you will pray, pray and pray earnestly. I am not saying you have to cry or well up, but just be sincere.
Extremely sick during Grandpa's funeral, and days to follow.
How about you? What has worked for you? What have you said or has someone spoken to you that comforted you? Please share so that we could all learn from your insights.
