18 Years
She was the ultimate ham, the “look at me” girl, dancing, singing, telling stories, a broadway show all in herself. Her short heavy black hair, chubby little cheeks, squeaky little voice, she was the light of every room she entered, the center of attention, and not unwanted. Cute beyond any measure of cuteness, 18 by the time she was four, making friends everywhere she went.
Daddy and Alli
Nobody told her to put her hands like that, we never had to.
One of her first best friends.
He wasn’t shy, but not outgoing. He loved to laugh and laughed hard. He would run in and out of a room, his short black hair, chubby dark cheeks and squinty eyes, never desiring to be the center of attention, but happy to be playing something, basketball, baseball, football. Unlike her he didn’t make friends instantaneously, it usually took some time. But his friends were always his friends. He was always happy, always hungry and very easy-going. They were a perfect complement to each other, Best friends, buddies and siblings.
Our earliest pictures of Dorian. He was a chunk.
Momma's boy
He loved snuggling with mommy
They were twins, if not by blood, by family. They journeyed through every phase of life together, walking, home school, Sunday school, T-ball, getting new brother’s and sisters, becoming annoyed with new brother and sisters and even High School. Although as they got older their interests may not have stayed the same, her the social butterfly making a new friend every day, dancing, drama ( a suitable fit) and any other activity she could get him to drive her to. Him, football, baseball, and eventually settling on basketball. He became a very hard studier, pushing himself far beyond average, very organized and self motivated. He made a few friends, but they were his friends, and that is all he needed. His quiet demeanor making him mysterious and popular although not to his liking. She at every dance, he at none. He studying hard for every test, her waiting for the last-minute choosing to read books instead. The results were very similar, the grades very similar, they are very different, but very similar.
she always loved the camera, and it loved her.
Dorian and Uncle Gerad
Grandpa reading to Dorian in Kodiak. They both loved bird watching.
Beautiful from a very young age.
Two finally adjusted kids, the oldest of this family of 8, the leaders, the ones who had to suffer through our blunders as parents, our impatience, often taken for granted as new babies came. They became our rocks. The ones we counted on to come through for us, that we leaned on, that we trusted to be Godly, wholesome people, the ones to help us with the rest of the family. And now together they turn 18. Likely this is the last year they will live with us, and they will be missed. The Bible says in God’s eyes a day is like a thousand years and life is but a twinkle of an eye. Looking back in my mind’s eye, I think I know what that means now. Because as much as I love them now, as proud as I am of what they have become and as excited as I am for where they are going, they will always live in my heart as the two-three year old gifts from God who brightened even minute of my life and the lives of those that had the pleasure to meet them.
Dorian with his first of many King Salmon.
Again, just her natural pose after a piano recital
Post dance
Best buddies forever.
Dorian and his oldest cousin Josh
Alli, Kassie, Livy after yet another dance recital.
My girls
My boys
I pray Alli and Dorian that you find joy in this life through your relationship with God and others, and that you follow the path that he leads you on. Your mom and I will always pray for you, always be here for you and are always forever thankful for all you have brought into our lives. You could never be replaced and you could not be loved more. Thank you for being awesome role models for all your younger siblings. You are awesome adults, but you will always be our oldest LITTLE boy and girl. We are confident that no matter where you go or what you do you will excel. Thank you so much for all you have brought into my life and all you will continue to bring. And if you ever decide to go into business together, Alli you be the “talent” Dorian you be the manager and I promise you will be unstoppable. .
My all time favorite Alli / Dorian picture. This is how daddy will always remember you.
Any reason to party?
Back in the states Halloween was a pretty big deal. In fact, if I recall correctly, the very first date Tra and I ever went on was near that very holiday, at a harvest fest type of event. I recall having to be prepared every Halloween for the slew of kids to come parading through the neighborhood. With every open door a shot of cold air would rush across our skin, and handfuls of candy would be dropped in the bags of ghouls, ghosts, goblins and ???. In Costa Rica there is no Halloween. Perhaps it is because they have a plethora of other holidays, or perhaps it is because it was created by the candy moguls in America, or perhaps it is because chocolate can be very hard to come by for the locals. Either way we didn’t expect much of anything, we were wrong.
a rock star from NOW, an American army guy, and a flapper
Ben from "Not of the World" Note the tat.
Jeremy and his first victim of the night.
Ben and Brockzilla, two rock stars from different sides of the track, not standing out at all in a packed La Paz gym.
There is a pretty large contingent of Ex-Pats in this area, and they hold on to their American / Canadian traditions very strongly, as we are quickly learning. If there is a slight reason to celebrate or party, they will gather in droves. Superbowl, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Columbus Day, doesn’t matter, if it connects them to home, they embrace it. Halloween, other than being a floating holiday is no different.
our flapper girl
Kassie and Jake harvesting some subsistence candy.
In the area we live there are three primary english schools, La Paz, Country Day, and Gold Coast Academy. All three private schools, all full of Americans, Canadians and French ( don’t ask me). All three of them held festivities on Friday night.
Livy in her award-winning costume, the one in white.
all about the candy
Our evening began right at sunset; humidity still thick in the air, the hot night air enveloping those in monkey suits, ghost sheets and more. I saw more sweat stains than at a July jalapeno chili bake in Texas. We hit La Paz first, the school had a special area for candy gathering, and it seems every english speaking kid in the country was there, adding to the humidity. As we weaved our way through the blue mat maze of on-air conditioned classrooms, we were met by princess’s, gold people, Lego’s and many more homemade costumes. There is no Wal-Mart, so creativity had to be high. Although sheer torture for the camera wielding adults caught in the never-ending snake of children, it was fun for the kids as their bags weighed down under the girth of the mixed tico candy. The school also had a small haunted house, and a gym full of games for the kiddos with prizes and awards. To top it off they had a bake sale and hamburgers and hotdogs off the grill. It was an all out event that required traffic control and parking on an empty over grown lot next to the school.
still waiting in line for some more loot.
Like, who's this creeper pretending to be Shaggy? ( a good friend, the real creeper is over his right shoulder)
Next we made our way to Country Day School, where they had a similar event going on. However, their highlight was the haunted house, and that is what we set our sights on, at least those of us brave enough to endure the close tight humid quarters. As we made our way through the draping of dark plastic we were assaulted by every creature imaginable from every angle, our feet, our heads, straight on, they were everywhere, and it appears that they were heavily dehydrated. It was a fun adventure with blue lights, water , at least we hope it was water, and much more. And talking to some of the creatures afterward, it was labor intensive, hot and draining, but they did not complain, instead they did their best to elicit screams and cries, and I am sure I heard a few, even from within our own party. Again, there were games for the kids, bake sales and some BBQ pork sandwiches. Lots of decorations, and balloons that were getting heavily assaulted by anyone under 4 foot tall.
no parking on the dance floor baby!
We finished the evening as chaperones at the Freaky Tiki, and event semi-coordinated by Alli as the event planner for her school. The event was made for the older kids as a costume dance event. Now I don’t know what qualifies as a good dance, but if it is a bloody red pool and fountain, lots of sweaty kids dancing all together, loud never-ending music, pizza and very loud never-ending music, then this was a successful dance. Again, it seems every english speaking kid from every local school was there. Apparently things have changed form when I used to go to dances. In my day you asked a girl to dance, you went out to the floor together and danced next to your buds, making funny faces and did your best to be cool. What we witnessed was just a glob of people all dancing together. I never did see two people dancing. The smallest group was six. However, I could’ve been hallucinating because between the unbearable thumping, heat, strobe light, and extra curricular lightning storm, I am not totally sure what we witnessed. But I am pretty sure there were no nefarious on goings nor any grinding going on during our watch! The dance went from 7-11 and was thumping the whole time.
a pool of blood surrounded by tombstones.
The fountain of blood, created by Mr. S. the demented.
strobe light limbo.
It was pretty much packed like this the whole night.
The freaks come out at night.
I have never been so exhausted after a Halloween night. I am convinced that we met every Ex-Pat in the area on that Friday night, even the ones without kids. And the best part, Halloween is tonight. I have no idea what to expect, but we will be prepared with some melted chocolates for our little prettys, just in case. Can’t wait to see what Thanksgiving will be like. I plan to get a nap before that one.
How to shed a few hundred pounds
As D-day (departure day) approaches us like a charging bear, life changes from hectic to frantic. Moving houses is a huge task, moving cities is a giant task, moving states is a humongous task, and moving countries is an overwhelming task. There is so much to think about, so much to plan and so much to execute that it makes us physically exhausted, not figuratively, but physically exhausted. Our minds are cluttered, our days our cluttered, our house is cluttered and our shed was cluttered. You see in the midst of all this working and planning we managed to have a day of unplanned fun.
It was a pouring rain Saturday, a miserable day by any Alaskan’s standard sans the salmon. One of those days where the rain pounded so hard of the dark wet asphalt that the drops that missed you jumped up from the asphalt to bite you in the leg. It was of course the day I had chosen to empty our shed; for a few days prior we had found out that it was sitting on the electrical easement, right where the electric company HAD to put the box. The options; move the shed or get rid of the shed. My inclination was to sell it and have someone else move it. So Ryan and I began the task of moving the mounds of “stuff” from the shed to the garage. I must admit that I was somewhat embarrassed and ashamed of the stuff we just had to store. I know I took at least a truck load directly to the dump. Finally after a few hours the shed was empty and ready to be displayed to a potential buyer. Sure it was a little crooked, but there had to be someone out there that needed a 16X12 crooked tongue and groove shed. Right? I mean people in this state got a lot of stuff. Just then, as we loaded up for our dump run Jason shows up, presumably to help but I suspect that he wanted to make sure I wasn’t getting rid of any good stuff he might need. That’s when the trouble began.
You see now there are three men of action sitting around looking at a leaning shed, a worthless leaning shed. It took but a second for Jason to convince us that the shed was worthless and that it would be impossible to move without destroying it and instead we should tear it down. Well that sounded way too fun to resist, and without any planning, safety briefing, or permit, we found some straps hooked em up to the old Suburban and began to tear down that shed.
I can’t say things didn’t go as planned, because there was no planning, but they didn’t go as expected. Further, that darn worthless shed, crooked as piece of Homer driftwood, was stinking hard to destroy. It took several takes and many different tactics before we got her off her skids and drug her right in the middle of our driveway. Now what? We were stuck, the driveway was blocked, and the shed looked sturdier than ever. After several attempts to flip it over, it was time for old blue to roar to life. We got my truck running, full of trash mind you, and I proceeded to use it as a battering ram to knock the shed over. I have blogged about my truck in the past, it is blue, it is damaged, it is loud and it is a 5 speed manual, or what you would call a man’s truck and it begs to be used for more than dump runs. So as I sat in the seat I could feel the engine vibrating through my hand which sat on the shift handle. I gave the engine a few good deep revs and proceeded to back right into the shed. With each attempt I gained more confidence until finally I was able to go hard and fast enough to push it over the edge, without destroying old blue. Much better,we then had a crushed shed in the middle of our driveway.
This was a time to plan, over a cup of coffee and some cupcakes of course. The plan was to start cutting, ripping, smashing and tearing and we would load it on a trailer and take it to the dump. Again, contrary to our so-called plans, Jason decides half way into the plan that this shed needs a fire. So after some prodding I provided him with my favorite fire starter. Within 1/2 hour he had two fires going, and one was big enough to be seen from space. So now we had a smashed shed, power tools, fire and rain. It doesn’t get any better than that. Cutting, ripping, smashing, breaking, throwing, burning repeat, and so the rest of the day went. Of course we had to eat so there was a chicken taco break, candy, cupcakes and a smorgasbord of smores. But hey, we could indulge after all we just got done shedding a couple hundred pounds. Did I mention there was video?
Road Trips
Every once in a while a man has to get out of dodge and take road trip. In college a road trip consisted of; scraping up some gas money, spending most of it on snacks ( pickled red-hot sausage for me please), a car full of screaming teenage boys, very loud 80s music in the cassette, excessive speeding and not planning ahead for the trip home. They were spontaneous, reckless and usually fun fraught with a touch of danger and self-induced issues.
road trip scenes
Cook Inlet Turnagain Arm
Tern Lake
Now our road trips are just a touch different; Get through all the days appointments, PLAN for two days, pack for you the kids and for every contingency under the winter sun, take care of the dog, take care of the cars and leave about 2 hours later than planned, with no pickled red-hot sausage for dad because a 40-year-old gut can’t handle it. But probably the biggest difference is the purpose. In college, the purpose was not usually well-defined and sometimes not well intended. Now there is a purpose. Perhaps for a shopping trip, a family visit, or just some family time.
This past weekend we went out on one of our road trips to attend a family function. When my family has a function it is usually not an intimate thing. This time it was to congratulate my brother on graduating from law school and to celebrate my grandmother’s 81 (0r 82) birthday. After four years of working a full-time job and taking classes my brother was finally able to graduate with his law degree and take his bar exam, all while getting fantastic grades. We are very proud of him, and we just hope he doesn’t bill us when we call him, because he can be a little long-winded at times and we don’t have that kind of money.
A small portion of the gathering, Dorian, Jeremy, Jennifer, Brad and Wyatt
Brad " is that one of my kids crying or one of the 30 other kids?"
Just one of the kid's tables
These ones couldn't find a table
Grandma, well she keeps plugging along. She is the type of grandma that acts about 1/3 her age. My kids love being around her because she is so much fun, In fact Ben just did a road with her to Homer and he said he was laughing the whole time; it was his best road trip ever. So maybe she acts more like a 1/7 her age. Whatever it is I have learned that the older you get the younger you act the younger you will feel.
The adults beginning to gather after the cow bell for dinner was rung.
Olivia, Alli, Dorian, Tim and a whole slug of other eaters
Gerad about 1/2 hour into his thank you speech, with Deb and Grandma looking on.
The event itself was just that, lots of puroke, potato salad, turkey and desserts; new family members introduced, stories were shared, relationships rekindled, people were honored, and all were fed well. It was awesome. There were approximately 57 people in attendance. I could not give an exact number because approximately 30 of those people were under the age of 14 and they didn’t stand still long enough to be counted. We ended up having a grand time seeing family members we had not seen in years, and some new ones we had never seen. Unfortunately we were unable to stay as long as we would’ve liked, perhaps next time I will skip that pickled red-hot sausage on the drive over.
A week of a lifetime in one post.
I realize that my blog posts have not been coming as fast and furious as in the past. This has been one of the busiest periods of my life. I feel as if I have some things to write about, but I am also trying to keep things in order, and my time in perspective. I want to thank those of you who take the time to comment and say such nice things. So without further adieu, I am going to wrap up the end of our summer guests in this post, even though I could probably break it down into another 3-4 blogs.
As I have said in the past, when family comes to visit it gives us an excuse to act like tourists, so act like tourists we must, and we did. One of the first things we did was to hike up to Russian River Falls. Our main goal was to see some bears, and I figured this was as good a place as any. We didn’t see any bears, but we did see a Bri, and she walked all the way the falls, 2 miles each way, in Crocs with no socks. Oh did I mention she was pregnant? That is more rare than a bear in my mind, and worth the trip. Their only complaint, not enough potties along the way. I didn’t have a problem, but apparently they are used to having privacy. Which, as we all now, is a difficult proposition on the Kenai in July. It was an exhilarating hike, especially on the way back as there was a noticeable pep-in-the-step of those looking for the outhouse at the trailhead.
Tina near the end of the hike and near the end of her life?
Help, I've fallen and I can't get up!
I told you that they really had to go. I don't know who did it but...........
......... I don't know what aunt Bev is doing here.
Because of the lack of bears, we had to take a dangerous white water rapids trip down the Kenai River. Now when I say whitewater rapids I mean we saw one small patch of white water, and it almost splashed on me! I like to live on the edge. It was a lazy, cold trip down the Kenai, a good way to take a nap. And yes, we saw a bear. It was one of the Russian River Bears tearing into a salmon, so hopefully that made the trip worthwhile. They did have some good sausage and cheese prior to departing, so that was something! I don’t think it was quite as exciting as they expected, especially after they geared us up into 25 pounds of safety gear.
Livy and Alli testing out some prom outfits, if daddy got to choose that is!
Looks like we are all ready to get in the yellow submarine.
Not sure if I want to be on the raft that this crew is running.
notice, only one cool cat is wearing camo, and sun glasses, and a sweet ball cap ( I didn't want anyone to know that I was taking a paid rafting trip down the kenai!) Note the extreme amount of patches on the port bow of our raft, hmmmmmmm.
Money shot! No, that's not Shyla.
Unfortunately I had to work a few days, so the family had to do a few trips without me. They took a trip to Seward and to Girdwood, and spent some time in Anchorage, shopping. Which, shock of all shocks, was their favorite part of the trip.
So during their time up here in the last frontier, they got to experience pretty much all of the Kenai Peninsula. It was fun to have the real housewives of Moberly here for a visit. They put a twinkle in Tra’s eyes and made us stop on smell the rotten salmon carcasses. I find it is easy to forget how awesome of a place we live in; and the best way to get that feeling back is to see it through the eyes of someone who is appreciating it for the first time. Much like helping someone to catch their first salmon or halibut, there is great joy in that.
Jo n Kassie checking out the dippers on the Kenai River
the gratuitous fireweed shot. The bee adds a special something.
Only Austin would wade 50 feet away from a melting glacier, and smile.
Glenn said if you drink a gallon of it, you will look like Angeline Jolie.
Exit Glacier in Seward
It's receding faster than my hairline.
glacial hike
Mom, I think we found something for dinner! Alaska Wildberry in Anchorage.
Sorry baby, but this one is going to have to sleep with us.
I didn't have the heart to tell her that the bear is a breeding ground for lice from foreign tourists.
So now we are back to reality, back to the grind, back to work, back to the rain and early mornings, back to school, back to the cycle of life on the Kenai Peninsula. Excited for what is ahead and what God has in store for us. I have a funny feeling the next time family visits us, the backgrounds will look a lot different.
Briana, Lana, Aunt Bev and Tina ( Austin is probably fishing or swimming in the Kenai River) You are all welcome to our house anytime. Thanks for the laughs and the memories.
Day one of visitor fun
Summer time in Alaska may not bring warm air, but it quite often brings warm houses, in the form of extra bodies and house guests. Even a house already full of bodies, such as ours, is no exception. Much like the salmon migrating upstream, the lower 48 relatives migrate north to Alaska; not that we mind. In fact we enjoy it thoroughly and it gives us an excuse to act like a tourist, which I am not too good at doing. This year it was Tracy’s Aunts, well actually only one of them was her real aunt but all familial ladies who don’t have a formal title are addressed as aunt. The others were her cousins, one of their 16-year-old son’s, and a new friend, her real aunt’s daughter-in-law. They were a hoot.
Meet the Gang, Breana (sp?) Lana, Tracy, Tina and Bev
Scenes from the Homer pullout
Jo enjoying the scenery, and yes this is proof we had at least one sunny day this summer
The first thing you need to know about Tracy is that she is from Missouri. When I met her, she a twang about her. I can’t explain it, I can’t duplicate it, but I can certainly hear it. I brought her all the way up to Alaska to break her of her twang. However the twang isn’t permanently gone, it comes and goes. When she is on the phone with her mom for more than 5 minutes, it is twang city. So imagine what happens when 5 of her family members show up for a visit for 10 days: Twang Town. As she would say ” it was a goin”. It was especially goin every night when they all gathered in the living room after the day’s activities. Five Missouri twangers, laughing, sharing, and twanging. In its own way, it was endearing, but not enough to keep me from going to bed.
Picnic on the Spit. Corn dogs are the perfect picnic food.
Dorian convincing the ladies that this is the prized catch in Alaska, and that they should fillet it up and bring it home.
Dorian and Austin working the water for anything that will bite.
Austin and his first Alaskan trophy!
Now when people come to visit, we always want to share the “real” Alaska with them. We want to take them off the tourist routes and to places that they can see things that most visitors will not. So the first thing we did was what every local Soldotanian likes to do in July, get the heck out of here. So we drove south to Homer. It turned out to be one of the truly nice days we had all summer.
Jo doing something somewhere in Homer
Notice any resemblance?
I wanted to make sure Austin got to experience true Alaskan fishing, so I figured we would catch something on the spit and it did not disappoint. Although we were mostly skunked, Austin managed to get himself a pollock, or trash not worthy of bait, as we would call it. But hey, he caught a fish.
Tina working it on the beach
Tina at it again. Don't know if she is using this bulb kelp as a microphone, or eating it. Either way it probably went home with her in her suitcase.
For some reason, I think they would fit in perfect in Kasilof.
Of course there was shopping, dock walking, bird watching and all the things one does in Homer. But who knew that the highlight of the day, at least for young Austin was the McKinley Mac. Yep, the one and only McKinley Mac found only at your local Alaskan McDonald’s. It would be a highly sought after prize for the remainder of their trip, and since I am not a tourist, I have never had one. Better put that on my bucket list!
Mizzou representing on the spit!
to be continued:
Our hope is in uhmorrow
I wish I could say it was like she never left, but it wouldn’t be true. She swoops back into our life and we savor every minute of it, not taking it for granted, but enjoying the moments that the Lord has blessed us with. Perhaps these unexpected visits are to bolster our faith, perhaps they are to encourage, perhaps they are just to bring us joy, or perhaps they are for Jo’s sake. She has been the one that has initiated the visits, she is the one that asks to come over and doesn’t want to leave. If we drive by the road she now lives on she whispers “don’t take me there”. When she comes over she asks to spend the night, and when we drop her off she asks to come back again “uhmorrow”.
Jo's funny camera face
her favorite thing in the whole world is dress up, and she does it well
the instant she comes home, the clothes come out!
and she doesn't have to look far to find accomplices
Maybe God knows that she needs t0 interact with her brother and sisters and her mom and dad, and maybe she needs it just as much as we need it. Whatever it is I don’t want to question it, I just want to accept it and enjoy it. I want to pretend that it is forever, I want to pretend that she never left, that she isn’t going to leave, that she will spend the night every night and be with us every uhmorrow. But it is different because I know, for now, that her time with us temporary and fleeting and I believe that as much as we want her to stay, she yearns for it just as much. For she has asked “why do I have to leave” she has said ” I don’t want to go” with her lip curling and her eyes moist. It is almost unbearable. As “adults” we at least understand what is going on, we don’t like it, we don’t agree with it and we understand that this is a spiritual battle, not a physical one. But Jo, Jo doesn’t get it. All she knows is that we love for her to come and visit and we love to play with her and cuddle with her. Then we take her back and we don’t let her stay forever, we don’t let her stay the night, we don’t let her stay until uhmorrow. “We” don’t do it, that is what she knows.
the fluffier the better
So you see I can’t say it is like she never left because she has left. She knows it, we know it and it is always there. We love, absolutely love having her here and we will take her every day we can. We will never say no and we will pray without ceasing that she will be home, here with us ,where she belongs and soon. But until then, that feeling will be there, until, as we believe, she will be with us every day and more importantly every uhmorrow.
sunshine dancer
100% Girl
She will always be our girl
Cool Hand Cole and Bad Boy Ben vs. Jail Breaker Jerms
Pillow fights, finger guns, even Nerf guns are old school. Now sleep overs are ruled by Xbox and all out Airsoft war. Instead of scary stories and flashlights it is now laser sights and screams of war as tiny plastic bullets fly across the yard, rarely hitting their intended target. The combatants are all under 65 inches tall, but well protected in stylish glasses, heavy winter coats and gloves. Their strategies are antiquated and brazen, yelling and charging and then yelling and running away. There are screams of anger when time-outs are ignored for reloads, because when you are not ready those tiny hard rubber pellets sting a little, especially in the cold of winter. Tactics are thrown out the window when, much like the Civil War, brother battles brother, friend battles friend all in the name of…. fun?
Now I know some people will tell me that I shouldn’t let my boys play games like this. That guns are not good, that pretending to shoot each other with real looking guns is not healthy. To them I say, at least they are getting exercise. Shoot, I wish we had these things when I was a kid. I played for hours with my finger, or a stick that looked something like a crippled gun with arthritis. The problem with those guns is that everyone could miraculously dodge those bullets. “You missed” ” No I didn’t” was 95% of the dialog in the battles in our day. Now a days you can hear the scream of pain upon the sting of the rubber pellet, and you have the satisfaction of knowing you had a hit.
There is no blood, no serious injury, a little excitement, a lot of heart patter, and tons of fun. So other than the toys used, nothing has changed. The games are the same, the goals are the same. Instead of using pillows to pummel each other until their heads ache, they use little colorful rubber pellets to show their brotherly love. Instead of shooting at each other with fingers and sticks, they use plastic guns. Instead of arguing…. Well, some things will never change, no matter how advanced the technology gets.
For those of you not opposed to such things, here is a short video of the recent epic battle involving Cool Hand Cole, Jail Breaker Jerms, and Bad Boy Ben ( aka the screamer). I was going to put it to cool music, but I rather enjoy the sounds of a battle in the early afternoon.
The Godfrey Goonies
With a family our size, there have often been references to the Brady Bunch or Partridge Family. For those of you too young to recall, these were 70′s TV show icons. The Brady Bunch was cool, and they had some talent, especially in choreography:
But the one that I have often dreamed we were like was the Partridge Family. Here was a family that was a full band. They traveled the world, their misadventures shared through the magic of television. They had kids that sang ( David Cassidy), a kid that played the piano, a kid that played guitar, a seven-year old drummer, a five-year old tambourine player, and a mom that played the keyboard and tambourine. They would make the most wholesome teeny bopper pop music. See for yourself, if you dare.
Why I am writing about the Partridge family? Well, I thought maybe our family could be the next Partridge family. We only have one hurdle, and it’s a very small one; There are only 3 of us with any musical talent at all. Obviously we have other skills, like my surfing. But musically, Tracy & Ben can sing, and Livy can play the piano. Dont’ get me wrong, I sing a lot, and I sing loudly, just not well. Dorian hasn’t sung a note since he was three, Alli, well Alli tries hard, and she is an excellent dancer. Jeremy is learning to play the guitar, with a heavy emphasis on learning. Kassie, she is a very good smiler and gymnast, but I don’t know how much that would help us. Jake and Jo, well they actually sing a lot, but only when they think no one is watching, usually while going potty. So performing live could be an issue.
The reason I bring this up today is because, like they often do, my children surprised me with a performance. Now when they perform, they don’t sing or really do anything, they just dress up come find us, and do their best to look cool. This is the outcome:
The Godfrey Goonies, from left to right: Jammin Jerms, Krooning Kass, Bopping Benny, Lovely Liv, and their security guard, Jive Jake.
So for any of you talent agents out there, you can clearly see we have almost all the bases covered, a large family, a diverse family, awesome attitudes, fraught with misadventures, willing to travel, and THE LOOK! If Milli Vanilli could do it, why can’t we? I, as the manager of this up and coming band, or shall I say musical dynasty, can be contacted via the comments section. We look forward to performing, uhhh standing in front of you.
Our version of the fruitcake
Holiday’s are filled with tradition, they themselves are tradition. Not all traditions are great however. Take for instance the 24 hour salad. The 24 hour salad is our families version of a fruitcake. It shows up every Thanksgiving and sits right in the middle of the table beckoning out for someone to scoop its unmatched combination of fruit, jello, marshmallows, vegetables and more onto their plate. I am not that man. To be fair, I think my mom, Uncle Mort and one other person actually eats the stuff every year. But their taste buds are old and worn out. In fact in the last 20 years I don’t think I have ever seen the bottom of the dish that stuff is melded in.
The 24 hour salad before dinner was served.
My main issue with it is celery. Why in the world is there celery in a gelatin dish? Then combine that with nuts. I don’t know about you, but it takes a lot for me to eat Jello with fruit in it, that is about the extent of the texture I enjoy in my gelatin. When you put nuts and celery in it, it is akin to drinking milk with chunks, your throat will not accept it. Believe me, I have tried. Yet year after year there it sits, usually right in front of me ( very funny mother). It always makes its way to the main table, because if it was on the buffet line no one would take it.
The 24 hour salad after dinner
However, I must admit I am comforted by it. If it was gone, I would miss it, and would ask about it and I would insist it be made, or we could just pull out the original batch from 19?? buried deep inside the deep freeze. Either way, I wouldn’t eat it, but I need it to ground me and to be the tradition that will unite Thanksgiving from 19?? to eternity, for that’s how long it last. Oh, I know you are wondering why it is called 24 hour salad, well I have several theories: 1. That’s how long it takes to make it. 2. That’s how long it takes to gain the courage to eat it. 3. That’s how long it takes to chew it. We accept all other answers or thoughts in the comments section.
I am not trying it, you try it! Where's Mikey?
four turkeys ( five if you count Sean) and no 24 hour salad. It has to be on the main table.
Labor day weekend part I. Dorian and Goliath.
Three days to commemorate this summer and we decide to spend them south, as far south as we can drive that is. We spent the Labor Day weekend in Homer, camping errr cabining and fishing. We found a quaint little, and I mean little, cabin down near Homer to hang our hats for the weekend. But first, Dorian and I had to venture down ahead of the rest of the crew to do a little fish scouting. So we embarked from Homer, as we have done several times, hoping to tempt the giants of the deep; the Homer Halibut. As we headed out on the shimmering, sunny flat calm day, we had no idea if we would be fighting off sharks or pulling up slabs of white tender meat, but either way, we were going to try.
a glass flat calm day
Within one hour Dorian had landed a nice 20 pound halibut, dad had zero. Within another 1/2 hour Dorian’s rod started peeling line as he was loosely holding it on his lap, and he reared back hard to set the hook. The rod tip never even moved up. Then he began reeling, and reeling and reeling. Finally, while I waited with gaff in hand, he said “dad I need help. I need the belt”. I was sure he had a solid 50 pounder on the line. So I took the rod so he could get the belt and I felt the tug. Now I have caught a few halibut in my day so I consider myself a good judge of size. This was way more than 50 pounds. “Dorian grab the harpoon while you are at it” I yelled. Knowing I would need much more than a gaff if I wanted to maintain the bone structure in my arms. Just then my rod goes down, as we had left it unattended while we dealt with rod one. Not sure what I had, I left it be while we dealt with the rod at hand.
the tamed beast
Finally with the fighting belt in place with many minutes and many tugs, he managed to get it near the surface. In the water I estimated it to be over 5 feet long, but I didn’t sit back and look, I immediately began debating whether or not we should keep it, and that lasted for about 1/10th of a second as I reared back and harpooned the flat giant. It did not like that. It thrashed hard against the boat drenching both of us with the glittery gold water, which to be honest was a refreshing welcome, as my heart was pounding and I was dripping sweat in anticipation. I loaded up again and put another in her, concerned that she may break free. That settled her down and we both realized that Dorian had just landed a trophy, likely a once in a lifetime fish. I then rushed over and tended to my rod. As I reeled up my pole, the 30 pounder felt like a feather compared to what we had just dealt with. None-the-less, I swallowed my pride and landed it happy to have the meat.
We had no one to take pictures of us loading this hog, so this is after we got her on board.
We left the trophy in the water as it would’ve taken up the whole deck, while I finished fishing. The bite was on and we wanted to catch our final fish, which would have limited us both out. I was getting bites and decided that my bait had been decimated, and as I was reeling up to check, I did my little reel pause just in case. Now the reel pause has worked once, maybe twice ever in my lifetime, just enough for me to keep doing it. Well this day was the third time as 70 feet below the surface my reel spooled line like Usain Bolt was running the 100 yard dash with it. I could tell it was a nice fish, but not like we had just dealt with. After a few minutes, I managed to get it to the surface and realized it too would need a harpoon, but those were still hanging in the other fish. I handed the rod to Dorian and quickly ( at least the way I remember it was quickly. Dorian has other memories) removed one harpoon head from the trophy halibut, loaded it up and had Dorian gently lift its head, careful to keep it in the water. Slam, perfect shot. We had limited out. Now to get Dorian’s fish on the boat.
Dorian posing with the day's catch. Guess which one he caught. Notice there is about 6 inches of tail flat against the ground.
The both of us, pausing for some photos from several different groups of people. And yes I did not notice the pulley until after some nice guy helped me get the But hung.
With some creative engineering, we rigged up a large tie up line through her gills, and after clearing the deck of all remnants of gear, we both gave her the old heave ho. I knew if we didn’t get her the first time we would have to go to plan B. Plan B involve a long slow ride back to the harbor with But in tow. We managed to wiggle the head over the rail and we both fell backwards as we slid her on deck. Success.
Kassie posing, even with tail flat it is still taller than her.
Jake, Ben and Kassie wondering if we could keep her as another pet. Just what we need, another pet.
Unbeknownst to me, getting her on the boat was the easy part. Upon arriving at the harbor, we then had to transfer that slab off the boat onto a Costco type flatbed trailer, without dropping her back in the water. No small feat, but one accomplished. The next trick, pulling that trophy loaded trailer up the ramp to the cleaning station. Now if you have never been in a boat harbor, then you might not realize that harbors float. They rise and fall with the tide. So the ramp rises and falls as well. At high tide in Homer, it is almost as flat as Missouri. At low tide it is closer to Mt. McKinley. By the grace of God, we were closer to Missouri. As we motored our way over to the ramp, amidst the oohs and ahhs of the clients disembarking from their charter boats with their limit of 20 lb. halibut, I knew we would once again have only one shot at getting up the ramp. If we stop, if we rested, we were likely done. We decided that dad would pull and Dorian would push. In hindsight, probably not the best strategy for if I was to slip, Dorian would be run over by the near 200 pounds of fish and steel. Alas, we made with dad’s checks beat red as the blood from the fish, huffing and puffing all the way.
a little more ingenuity to get her on the cleaning table.
Dr. Godfrey getting ready to work his magic.
other than a piece of someone elses bait, the only other thing in her stomach was this full size dungeness crab. I was ready to cook it up, but no one else was game.
At the top of the ramp we, with some help from the myriad of onlookers, were able to get the fish up on the picture hooks and snap some shots. Tracy showed up just as we were finishing up and all the kids got to see Dorian’s pride and joy. After another hour of fish cleaning, and an over flowing cooler, we were off to dinner and onto the cabin to check out our digs for the weekend. That was day one. Stay tuned for day two.
Dorian is about 5'8", or 68 inches. We figure the But at about 70" or 165 lbs.
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.
That’s what I (don’t) love about Sunday
Sunday used to be one of our favorite days, now it is a painful day. You see Sunday is the day Jo has to go away for the week, every Sunday for ….. ever? We still believe that a miracle will occur and that she will be with us, but until then it is very hard to take a little girl you love with all your heart, who is crying and begging not to go, and give her to someone that you don’t think loves her as much as you do, or will care for her like you.
Yet every Sunday afternoon we do just that. It gives us a knot in the bottom of our stomach and a fist in our throat. We do our best not to think about it, but sometimes it just sneaks up on you and you realize the gravity of the situation and the pawns we have become in that struggle that is her life. Further, instead of getting easier as the weeks pass by, the pain increases, and the reality of the weeks and months that we have missed weigh heavy on our souls and cloud our minds.
We pray, try to lighten the mood, and encourage her telling her that she will be back, and maybe, just maybe next time it will be for ever. So from the time we pick her up on Friday to Sunday, we try to make the most of our time, and that is just what we did this Fourth of July weekend.
We started the weekend with a 2 hr. parade, yes 2 hours! An hour and a half of it were Harley riders and wrecked race cars. But the kids got tons of free candy, and after all isn’t that what Independence Day is all about?
Jo loving the deer. He better be glad hunting season is still a month a way.
candy hounds, this is how the spent 90% of the parade. I don't think they saw but 2 floats.
Jo took a picture of daddy
After the parade we boogied down to Clam Gulch and hung out at the beach all day. The weather was absolutely perfect and we staked claim to a great section of beach. The kids played in the freezing water, the miry clay, the unstable bluff and had a great time. If we hadn’t forgot the hot dogs, it would’ve been perfect. Good thing Tra thought to pack some meat for hamburgers and saved the day.
every day at the beach must include rock throwing
Ok, the water's a little colder than I thought
Hmmmm, looks like she does at home.
hmmm, looks like he does at home ( minus the cool shades & fire)
you know how I feel about cameras!!
I don't remember painting red, white and blue on my toes... I thought I went with straight blue.
Olivia and Jake
Jake and Jo
The warrior with the farmer tan, Ben.
No hot dogs, no problem
From the clan of ignorant fools.
Sunday was another beautiful day, and after church and a fried chicken lunch, the slip-n-slide was calling my name. I didn’t answer it, but the kids did.
Jake prepping the slide for maximum slippage.
Jake in action, and yes this is a redneck slip-n-slide.
Livy in action
uhhh, Kassie in action?
a redneck slide must have a redneck fort
- Jeremy building something I am sure, as always.
sisters forever
this is how you do it.
spray action
Jo eating something that is probably not meant to be eaten
General Hospital
Another thing that others do not think about regarding those with a covey of kids is the hospital. Yes the hospital. You see the hospital gets to know your family very well. Lest you think it is just my maniacal wild family, well I guess it could be, but I doubt it, let it be known we know others who spend a lot of time at the hospital. Over the years we have had countless fevers, copious amounts of vomit, diarrhea ( just wanted to use that word in my blog) sore throats and more. We have also had several surgeries, stitches and more sprained ankles and knees than I care to recall ( hence my early retirement from the NBA the No-game basketball association). We have also had many more serious things such as broken bones, emergency surgery and more. Thus the hospital gets visited by the Godfrey ten almost as much as Walmart. We almost have paid for our own wing by now. Thus We are very thankful to have great insurance and a great hospital close by.
So Mr. Glenn, why are you writing about hospitals? Well this past winter Dorian went snowboarding and hurt his toe. He didn’t talk about it much for a month or so, and then it really started hurting. It turns out he had an ingrown toenail and he aggravated it by wearing too small of boots. That was at least six Dr. Visits, due to infection, and one small procedure, removing a portion of the nail. The following pictures are not of the toe nail, but of his 2006 snow machine accident.
2006 Dorian in the hospital right after arm and femur surgery
Jake and Dorian, best buds
Even with a broken wrist and femur he wouldn't miss fishing
Two days ago as I was waiting outside Ms. Vergine’s Dance Studio, where they have a parking spot named after me, one of my Ballerina Girl’s friends came out with her bag. She politely informed me that Alli had been injured, so I rushed in to her aid. Well maybe rush is too strong of word. Maybe I grunted and mumbled something rotten under my breath, but I did actually go in the building for the first time in eons. There she was helpless, moist eyes and limping. Being the super daddy I am I opened the door for her as she hobbled to the car. I did however carry her up the stairs at home.
Ballerina on crutches
Two days later another trip to the Doc. Dr. Innes informs us that surgery is imminent and necessary because her ACL, MTl, PTL, LOL, and AOL are all torn and need replacement. Needless to say Dr. Innes, who fixed Dorian’s broken bones, has worked his way onto our Christmas Card list once again. Perhaps he will be joining us for Thanksgiving Dinner as that is about when Alli will be done with her visits to his office.
Do not look at the below picture unless you like disgusting nasty jello looking stuff. You have been warned.
Please do not look at this if you have a weak stomach, or if you are a normal person.
What’s up homey? It’s always something.
Ever notice that when you own a home there is always something that needs to be done? Since we have been married, Tra and I have owned four homes two of them have been brand new. I have learned that no matter if your home is brand new or older there is always something that needs to be done. It can be as huge as new floors or as simple as new lights, there is always something. You may wonder why I would bring this up, with spring comes projects and we have a lot of em to get done. When you have 8 kids running around your house, and sometimes as many as 20, things get broke, and they get broke well. So spring always seem to motivate me to get to that endless list of projects.
Eagle River home living room
Outside of Eaglr River home
But, you see I have a problem, I love to start big jobs, remodel rooms, put in new floors, build walls and closets, add outlets and much more. What’ s the problem? Well I don’t like particularly finishing jobs. Once it is good enough to function it’s good enough for Glenn. I was warned of this by my good friend Ryan when I moved into the home we are currently in.
Our first Soldotna house being built
Inside the Soldotna house
Finished Soldotna house
When we first moved into this house, we lived downstairs for a couple months while we completely remodeled the upstairs, and I mean remodel. We tore up the floors to the joists, we tore down walls, we put up walls and much more. It was a filthy mess. Finally we came very close to completion, we just needed new vent covers and window sills, so we decided to move up stairs and I could finish it all over the weekends. Ryan prudently counceled me not to do it, he begs me not to move in until is completely done. What does he know? I am one motivated individual. Well last week I put in most of the vent covers, and the window sills…… well I’m going to get to them soon I promise. Since then I have done probably a dozen other huge projects, none of them 100% complete. Oh and for those of you that are not aware, we moved upstairs over three years ago.
Current Soldotna / Sterling home. Hmmmm, looks like it needs a deck upgrade!
So now I am overwhelmed with what I hate most, a whole bunch of mini projects that need to get done. I have dedicated myself to completing at least two mini-projects each week and this week it was Alli’s door and the vent covers. Next week, I think I would like to remodel our bathroom. Does that count as a mini project?
It’s all about the percentages
Quite often we are approached with ” I don’t know how you do it. I thought two was a handful.” In fact I was approached with that exact statement today. Well we have had a lot of time to think about this and how we are not overwhelmed, oh and btw at times we are quite overwhelmed. None the less, how can you go from 2 to 8 kids and survive?
It is all in the percentages. When you have / adopt your first child that is huge. You have gone from zero to 1, and you are not the center of your universe anymore. There are now prohibitions on travel, dates, sleep etc. etc. You get used to it and decide it’s not so bad. Then you decide to have another, you go from 1 to 2, that is a 100% increase, a substantial change. Twice the poopies, pukies, and problems. This intimidates many because it was such a dynamic change, and they think there is no way they can go any further.
But let’s say you do not want to be average, you want more than the 2.5 national avg. so you make the leap for a third. Now you go from 2 to 3, a 33% increase, substantial, but not nearly as significant as 100%. You find it is easier than you anticipated and you have had practice, so now you know some tricks, shortcuts, and you are anxious to correct all the mess ups you made on the first two; so you go for four because even numbers are always better. This time it is only a 25% increase, almost nothing, in fact you almost don’t even notice that you have another kid.
You see how the math works, and so by the time you get to your 8th child, that is only a 12% increase, and by then the older ones can help out with much of the workload. So the more you have the less it actually affects you.
Now that I have shared the ancient Chinese secret of big families ( and yes I am aware they only have one child each) I expect to see all of our faithful blog followers doing their part to add to our tax paying base and shoot for at least double the national average.
Surprise Guest Star
I am still a little star struck. I couldn’t believe my luck, this week we had an actual guest star visit the Godfrey house. She is well known, especially around these parts. These parts being mostly our church, but none the less. Her work can be seen on a rival network, schemanski.com (there is a link to the right ). You guessed it, it was Nya Schemanski herself.
Let me tell you, her work is awe inspiring. Immediately I could tell she was a professional, because from the moment I picked up my camera to see if I could sneak a few shots of her, she started saying “cheese” with no prompting. Accompianed with this cheese, was the true smile of a professional photog. She knew how to work the camera, of that there can be no doubt.
A good chili eating outfit. I have the same one.
She was mobbed all night long by the kids of the house, obviously happy to have a celebrity of her status in our own home. You can tell she is a celeb because she refers to herself in the third person, “Nya’s turn” “Nya’s thirsty” “Nya’s jello” definitely stuck up, but since she is so cute, and a star, she can get away with it.
Nya and Kassie playing "mess up the house" a newer version of house.
Once she was done with the chili outfit, it was time to go out.
She was definitely hip, as she refered to me as “daddy” just like the jazz stars. I convinced her to call me uncle Glenn, but that turned into Levi, her true uncle. Finally she decided to call me by my name, Gwen. I always liked the name Gwen, it is so masculine.
Uncle Gwen cooking up a storm!
"and in the morning momma looks like....
Where is my chauffeur? She is late!
Sadly she had to leave us at the end of the night when her chauffeur showed up. Just prior to leaving she said something to the effect of going home to “pway wif daddy’s new webel in the pahdy.” I don’t know what that meant, but whatever it is, I am sure daddy will be pleased. She will always be welcome back to “hang”.
Here is a short video of her visit.
