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:
As the rain falls, a hero emerges
If you love to get out in the wild, get some piece and quiet, away from the hustle and bustle and get back in touch with the nature, then don’t come camping with us. If you want to eat a lot of food, have fresh coffee every morning, enjoy the rain and the noise of kids running wild, and still have access to the internet, then you want to camp with us.
hopefully Amber and Glenn get this done before bed time.
not very good hiders
my ladies on the bridge
Alli and Jo, on a rock DOWN BY THE RIVER!
Every year we try to get out and rough it at least once a summer. We find a nice cozy campground with water and a bathroom, a latte stand within driving distance, cell signal and preferably a river or lake nearby, and then head out for a night or two of miserable sleep, lots of bug, wet clothes and great company. This year it was us, the Daniels, the Davis’s and some Katzenbergers. So by my math that is 7 adults and 18 kids, or what you may call sheer paradise.
Fishing women
That hole has no fish left, just a hunch
Momma and Jo
Jason in the wilderness, just him and his iphone.
One thing you must know about camping with us, expect rain. Don’t think “it might rain” don’t be fooled by cloudless 70 degree days, don’t even bother looking at the weather, it will rain. If we camped in the middle of the Sahara Desert during the dry season, it would rain. When the Godfrey’s camp, it rains. As long as it is warm, we deal with it. By warm I mean above 50 degrees during the daylight hours.
Did you hear something?
maybe it was a fish
I like your boots Jake
Modeling for momma, cuz she made us
One huge advantage to camping with us is that you don’t usually have to worry about bears. You see the trick is to let all the kids out to run wild all over the campground, screaming, running, throwing things, screaming, crying, screaming and not only would any bear in its right mind stay as far away as possible, so do all other campers. Hence, we usually have the campgrounds to ourself.
Do you think we should be helping them set up the tent?
kids, fire, food, danger?
this crew cooked breakfast all day long
Not cooking, just warming my head.
Jeremy's catch, just a little late for dinner
a little fireside entertainment provided by Jace, hopefully it wasn't the Beastie Boys
During this camping trip I found a true hero. Now hero is a word that is thrown around loosely, but here I witnessed a true one. I believe we established that is going to rain, so I came prepared. This time I brought a tarp, not any tarp, a tarp that could serve as a runway in small village. The only people motivated enough to use the tarp were me and Ryan, so we got to work. As the rain fell we came with a master plan to cover the whole camp with the tarp. Things were going smoothly, the running lines were holding, the trees were well placed, the architectural plan was sound and we just needed everyone to get involved for one final pull to cover the rest of the camp. Unfortunately there was a minor flaw. You see, we already had the fire going. In fact, when we started putting the tarp up, Angie, Tra, Amber and the kids were cooking smores and enjoying the show.
So technically she's not eating in the background, but she is about to, and that's a big bag o chips.
you can't camp without some twister
Scary story time. Skip the story, just look at these faces...
...or these faces
but especially these faces in the light! Yikes!
Fortunately, the kids were excited to play with the earth darkening tarp, and dropped their marshmallow sticks and grabbed hold. Shoot, even Jason and Tra grabbed a corner. This is where it went all wrong. Our plan was to have a lean-to style covering to allow the smoke to escape. But instead, as everyone began to pull, we ended with more of like a giant teepee, with Ryan holding it up where the hole should be. Within seconds we realized this was not a good plan. Immediately we lost our sight due to the density of the smoke, seconds later we could not breathe. I tried to scream for the kids to let go, but I could barely breathe. Then Ryan, standing on a picnic table, holding up the center of the tarp screamed ” EVERYONE OUT” ! As he stayed firm holding up the tarp buried in deadly smoke, allowing all others to escape. This was paramount to shouting “SAVE YOURSELF!!!!!” The words of a true hero. As I ran out, to grab the edge of the tarp mind you, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Angie was still standing by the fire, marshmallow stick in her left hand, finishing the last bite of smore not looking a bit concerned. I would put a picture of this, but she has threatened to kill me if I post one more picture of her eating. Everyone else was coughing, scattering and screaming…. with laughter. Finally I was able to move the tarp, hoping beyond hope that Ryan was still alive, for my CPR had expired a year ago, and to my great relief he emerged, my new hero, with an ashen covered face. He had sacrificed himself for the good of the camp.
from amongst the ashes a hero emerges
the backside of the finished product
the front side of the finished design
enjoying the fruits of our labor and near death experience
Needless to say, we did not give up and eventually the tarp did rise, with a new architectural plan. And much like the tarp, a new hero emerged in my eyes. As I sat chilled, near the crisp fire under the tarp listening to the rain mercilessly beating down, I reflected on what another great camping adventure we had just experienced, then I pulled out my iphone, went to craigslist and started pricing travel trailers.
amp time
Every time she comes over I can pretty much predict the order of the day, a lovely conversation on the drive home, a mobbing from everyone as she walks in the door, long snuggles with mom, dress up, coloring, play dough, creative activites and then at some point the question, “daddy you want play on the ampoline with me? ” It is her routine, and it is very hard for daddy to resist some ampoline “amp” time.
this may hurt a little
Jake's version of break dancing
Kassie moving so fast she looks elongated
the belle of the ball
In fact the trampoline somewhat signifies our relationship with Jo over the past four years. It started out so fun with some ups and downs, but we just kept bouncing. There were a lot of twist and turns, some tumbles, some huge up moments and the downs only went so far before we bounced back. But eventually, especially for us older folks, we became exhausted and then just lay there as everyone else jumps. And that’s where we are now, just laying on the trampoline and letting everyone else and everything else just move around us. I don’t know if you would call it giving up, because we are still on the trampoline, but we are just not jumping up and down as much. We are there, laying and we are waiting, waiting on the Lord and perhaps that where we should have been all along.
The belle in a not so graceful moment
Umm daddy, I don't think the trampoline is supposed to go down that far
the old man still got some moves! I hope my insurance co. doesn't read this
Ben catching some air
not sure how Kassie ended this one
So whenever we are so blessed to have a visit from Jo, and when the inevitable questions comes, she knows that I will not say no. What she doesn’t know is that eventually I will tire, and lay on the trampoline, reflecting on what else I can do to make it so she never has to leave again. And time and time again my answer is to wait and trust that the springs have enough uumph to get us up once again. And eventually, hopefully soon, every day she’ll be able to ask me if I am available for some amp time.
the "amp" crew
The wild beasts of Fuller Lakes
Imagine the rare 75 degree Alaska day; you have a day off from work and decide to hike 3 miles away from civilization, to a lake teeming with rainbows and dolly varden. You arrive, dripping sweat from the steep hike, but alone with a slight breeze and the sun beaming down on the lake. There are small pockets of snow, a welcome anomaly, you grab a handful and rub it on the back of your neck to cool down. Then you notice the fish are feeding, and whip out your fly rod and begin casting. The slight breeze helps you place the tiny mosquito fly you tied yourself in near perfect position, as you get a strike on your first cast. You haven’t even taken your backpack off your back, but the quiet solitude, the sheep on the mountain, the only sounds of the water cascading from the beaver dam and your fly line whipping in the wind are perfection. You can’t imagine a better day or a better way to spend Memorial Day.
Fresh at the start of Fuller Lakes Trail
Jace and Jeremy taking a breather
Who looks the most tired in this group?
Then you hear it ” The last one up is a stinky fish head!” ” hey quit pushing me!” ” I can’t wait to jump in!” “Get outta my wayyyyyy!!!” That would be us, the Godfrey Daniels crew, a party of 17 entering into your perfect wilderness setting. The last place you would expect to see 13 kids from 5-16 dragging four adults up the side of a mountain. I know you go up there to get away from the hustle and bustle, to spend time in nature and enjoy the quiet and solitude, but so did we. Our strategy is different though. You see we hike the mountain to burn the kids out so when we go home and eat dinner, they go to bed. Then, and only then can we enjoy our quiet and solitude. Instead of a fly rod we will likely have a remote control in our hand, but the effect will be the same.
You can see the very happy fisherman if the background
Arrival of the truly wild beasts of the wilderness
No wonder I could keep up with Ben, he only had one shoe on!
Thinking about the kids being in bed by 9
So we apologize to you Mr. fisherman hiker, but we do not regret that Memorial Day Trek. That hike created some more life long memories, but most importantly, it got the kids quietly in bed by 9 pm on warm summer school-less day; and because of that, I predict there will be many more hikes to come this summer. In fact, if you are planning to scale Mt. McKinley this year, don’t be surprised if you hear ” the last one up is a stinky dog toot”, and turn your head just in time to see a party of 17 on your heels.
They had no idea I was even taking a picture
Jason and Angie with Skilak lake in the background
Fish watching
sheep watching
Olivias
Gangstas of Fuller Lake
"Um, I wasn't playing in the water."
"I'm not playing in the water!"
A parting shot of Skilak
Success! Now only 6 more to go!
Mickey D’s and Mother’s Day
I had a great mother’s day. I know, I know, who cares how my Mother’s Day was, how was Tracy’s? Well that is the point, for me to have a good Mother’s Day, Tra has to have a great Mother’s Day. I think she did.
The day started with great service in church, and Tra leading the morning worship, which I thought was pretty great. Then again I may have some biases, but I think even Simon Cowell would agree with me. After church we ran home, well we actually drove home as it is about 15 miles away, and changed for lunch. Changed for lunch? You ask. Yes Change. I know we have our Sunday best on, but that is far too dressy for this fishing town. Further, our lunch was coming via a drive thru, and I don’t want anyone spilling ketchup or special sauce on their Sunday best.
Present Time!
Dude how do we end up here every year?
I don't know, but this is what Mother's Day is all about
So after changing we headed out the door to McDonald’s, and I must admit I was shocked to see it wasn’t packed. I mean it was Mother’s Day, people should be taking their mom’s out to chow, and let em pig out a little. I can’t think of anywhere better to pig out the McDonald’s. I guess we are just an exceptional family.
Jo and Amber with her 5th cup of coffee
Peyton chilling at mom's feet
I hope this is not one of my boys
Yes we did go to McDonald’s, but the reason is that we have developed a tradition over the last few years for Mother’s Day, and McDonald’s is a key part of that tradition. Once we get through the drive thru, which is no small feat when you are ordering for 10, then we head south to Homer.
For the last three Mother’s Day we have driven to Homer to spend the day after church. We shop, play on the windiest beach in America, go to the park, and eat, after Mickey D’s wears off.
I smell trouble
Throughout the day you rarely see mom without her camera. I don’t know how we survived before digital cameras. I would have to budget 1/3 of our income just to buy and process film. I truly think her favorite part of the trip is to take pictures all day long. So we let her snap away, posing as she wishes, and gritting our teeth to keep them from chattering.
Mom and Jo
Mom and Jake
Ben with his slave
monkey boy
Finally, when we get to my favorite part, the food, we actually eat at a sit down restaurant, with tablecloths, silverware and waiters. This year we went with a whole bunch of friends, so we were a party of 22, and man our waitress at Fat Olives was very excited to see us. I mean she yelled the whole time we were there. Stuff like ” that’s impossible”, “We absolutely cannot do that”, ” We don’t do separate checks” for a minute I thought she was going to take Angie out, but Amber had her back. She was great, and made for fun conversation! I’m guessing she was a mom and her family didn’t take her to McDonald’s.
Ben's present, and he paid for it all himself
Jo beaching it
Sisters
Kassie the kollector
I can't say who the old guy on the swing is
But even with our cheery, loud, New York accented, negative waitress, we still managed to have a great time. But what made the day best for Mother Tracy was that Jo got to go with us. And not just for Mother’s Day, but the whole weekend! You can’t get a gift better than that, unless you count the “clunky” jewelry the kids picked out for her. So my advice to you husbands and sons out there, if you want to have a great Mother’s Day, start it with some McDonald’s to go, there is never a wait on Mother’s Day.
Angie and her brood
8/10 of Tra and Glenn Make 10
She’s just playing
We knew early on she belonged on a stage. In fact, by the time she was two she was known as our little drama queen. She was unbelievably cute, she knew how to bat her eyelashes , smile, and even say things like ” oh daddy” in a patronizing voice. Oh yes, early on we knew this one would be trouble. Tracy figured that dance class may be a place for her use up her charm. She was right. Alli took to it like me to cheesecake, she devoured it. And as good as she was in class, she was even better on stage. She had the smile, the charm, the confidence, she had it all and she knew how to bring it all together to stand out on the stage. Things were going great, dance four days a week, performances 4-5 times a year, and a lot of driving and costume money from dad. But the important thing is that she had to have somewhere to put her creative energy. That all came to a crippling halt last year when her meniscus said ” I need a break“, or perhaps even more proper, I need a tear, as documented in this very blog.
- I really should be out there “acting”
looking beautiful
The three banditos.....
.... and the three princes
So she sat around the house for months with nothing to do, no way to release her creative energy except on her parents. It was politely suggested to her that perhaps the stage was calling her once again, alas not in dance but in drama. Her eyes lit up a little and it seemed as if something so obvious should not have been such a surprise to any of us. Of course she took to it like a rainbow trout to roe.
After a semester of drama she tried out for the school play and actually got two roles. Neither was a lead, but both were scattered throughout the play, and she was critical to the start of the plot and the closing scene. The whole family got to enjoy the play, and the consensus was: She must love sword fighting because she smiled the whole time, Jeremy loved the sword fights but was disappointed she didn’t die on stage, she looked beautiful and did a fantastic job. We are so proud and maybe its time for her one woman show, just as long as she leaves the drama on the stage.
Short video clip of a couple of scenes from the play
The Cast
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
All I want for Christmas are…… socks!
Quick, what did you get for Christmas this year? What did you get for Christmas last year?
I don’t know if I can name a favorite gift from every Christmas, but I know I can name one from my last two Christmases. I got the same thing, this year and last year but I don’t want it next year that’s for sure. Yet, if I do get it, it will be the best present once again. Have I piqued your interest yet?
Happy to see her bros and sis's
Ben gets one of the first hugs on the way to momma
Finally made it into momma's arms
daddy, Jo, Jake, Kassie busting a move down the hill of death
hurry up, let's do it again!
paused for a minute to get a pic of the whole gang again
I didn't need a workout after the 47th "I wanna do it again".
Livy and Jo with a little winter swinging, that usually drops the wind chill by about 15 degrees.
Jake and Jo in their current favorite outfits
a little art time making ornaments
Present time! I love my new hat!
Excuse me sir, can I please take your order?
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.
Happy Birthday Nana
Nana, we wish you a fantastic, awesome, joy filled happy birthday. Now you need to forgive me, because I don’t have a lot of digital pictures of you, so for the following video I was scraping the depths of my computer’s hard drive, and this is what I could come up with. You know they used to use film and disposable flash back in your day. We love you and can’t wait to see you!
Her blood runs strong
So we had a great surprise today, my Grandma stopped in for a quick visit on her way to Homer. Let me tell you a little something about my Grandma. You see, I grew up commercial fishing in the summers, literally I grew up on boats. I started with my Grandpa and Grandma, 3-4 months out of the year on a 42 foot boat with them for the summer. I have already explained how influential my Grandpa was, but all along Grandma was there right by his side. I thought she was old back then, of course everyone is old when you are pre-teen. But there she was stacking seine gear, pitching fish, scrubbing decks, cleaning salmon, digging clams, hiking mountains to pick berries amongst the legendary Kodiak Brown Bear, cooking for all of us and living on a boat with 3-4 guys. She was the Deadliest Catch before there was a Deadliest Catch. And she did this for decades. That, my blogging audience, is a true Alaskan woman. My Grandma was born and raised here, emerging a strong Christian woman from the small village of Ouzinkie on Kodiak Island. I remember her stories of WW II alarms and drills as a child. Stories of her sisters, cousins and more. She grew up in a tough time, and she emerged as a tough woman raising four kids along the way.
Grandma mixing it up with the Kodiak buffalo
Grandma taking care of Ben's fishing needs
I share this with you because of her latest escapade that she shared with us today, laughing her patented chortle the whole time. As you all know, my grandfather recently passed away and for the first time in, um I don’t know, probably at least 60 years, my Grandma is somewhat alone. So what do Grandmas do then? Sit and knit, rock and talk, move to a home? Not my Grandma. I don’t know how old she is, but she is darn close to 80 if not past. She decided that she needed to go to Menominee Wisconsin to visit some relatives. So she hops on a plane, by herself, from Anchorage bound to Missouri to visit some friends, and then decides that she should take a bus to Wisconsin. Well she has never taken a bus before, and especially not from downtown St. Louis. So here is Grandma at the bus station in St. Louis. Now, I have been to that bus station, and all I remember is me and my buddies, strong strapping college men, hiding all our jewelry ( yes we had a lot of jewelry in college, it was the 80s) and banding together in case we had to “throw down’. The bus ride itself was near torturous, the smells, the stares, coughing, hacking, cussing, music, babies crying and pit stops at the truck stops, which are a whole story unto themselves. It was an adventure fit for a college guy. Now picture the same thing with an 80-year-old woman by herself, not only in a strange town, but in a strange state. Sitting on a bench, by herself, luggage close by, patiently waiting for her bus to arrive and eyeballing those around her. I would not be surprised if she was knitting or crocheting while she waited. That’s my Grandma. Not only did she do it, she had to spend a night in Chicago by herself, something she did not know when she boarded the bus. She was quickly able to discern which people who wanted to be her “friends” were not the right kind of friends, and she was able to befriend a couple of genuinely nice gentlemen to aid her along the way. She ended up spending over 8 hours at the bus depots, a good time for adventurer, and slightly stressful for Grandma. And here she sits laughing her head off relaying the story to us.
She made it safe and sound to Menominee, and had a great visit, and for some reason decided to skip the Greyhound for Jet on the return trip. But I share this with you because I am proud that my bloodline runs through a woman like that. A true pioneer of this state and a true blue tried and tested Alaskan woman, who decided she was up for a bus ride from Missouri to Wisconsin. Shoot, my kids don’t even like taking the bus to school ( and I can’t say that I blame them). I have seen her strength in my mother and my sisters and I can only pray that I get a taste of her strength to pass on to my kids.
Hay, Hay we’re the Monkee’s
Have you ever felt like you were lost, going in circles, unable to figure out where you should go next, then looking to heaven for guidance? Well I have, literally a couple of weeks ago. You see, apparently a yearly tradition around here is the hay maze at the Solid Rock Bible Camp. Now we had never heard of the hay maze, but it sounded like great fun. I envisioned a giant maze six feet high, dead ends, running aimlessly looking for exits, laughing, frolicking and all that great stuff. Well it wasn’t quite like that. You see the hay maze was definitely a maze, but instead of six feet high it was about 20 inches high in most of the maze.
bravely waiting our turn to enter the amazing maze of no return
once you enter the red barn you may never leave
Now if you have never been in a maze of hay that is 20 inches high, there are a couple things to think about. Hay absorbs sound like a Shamwow sucks up soda. So your screams for help, well all they do is get you more freaked out and make you short of breath. Bricks of hay block out light, all light, and believe me when I say lighters are not an option. When you only have 20 inches to work with, you cannot use your knees, especially if you are full-grown, or over grown as in my case. So the military slide is a necessity, and doing the military slide over hay, well let’s just say hay will find its way in every area of your body, and I mean everywhere, especially when it is hanging over head. So if hay absorbS sounds like a Shamwow, then it absorbs air like a Super Shamwow mop with a mega twist handle for only 3 payments of $9.99. There is not a lot of air to breath in the hay maze, and I am not even claustrophobic; Tracy is. So I must admit that I was extremely proud of her when she conquered her fears and entered the maze, after much self deliberation and an external internal conversation.
Following dad into the maze, what brave smiles.
the bridge is the only place you can stand straight up and see any natural light
Once inside there really is no turning around, there is one way and that way is unclear. Luckily for us we all had flashlights and me, with a Game Warden’s keen sense of direction. Now prior to entering the maze I was given a hot tip, “look up”. Hmmm, I can’t even turn my bloody head, how am I gonna look up? I thought to myself as I came to the first crossroads. Right or left, right it was, with Jake, Ben, Kassie and my gasping wife in tow. “Worry not” I yelled, to myself as they could not hear me. “Hmmmm, this looks familiar.” And I realized we had just done our first full circle, all the sudden I felt a little short of breath, worried not for myself of course, but for those bravely laughing as if they were having fun behind me. This time I quickly took a left. I must have been going a little fast as I left everyone behind, but of course I had to scout out an escape route. Then I remembered to glance up to heaven, and out of the corner of my eye, on the edge of my L.E.D light I could make out the shape of wood, “ladder”. I quickly climbed to make sure it could hold the weight of the others, and at the top I had a little more head room, and there seemed to be more air. I was sure Tracy was far behind screaming and thrashing about, kicking over bails of hay looking for an emergency exit. To my surprise, she showed up shortly after I had helped the little ones and scolded them for excessively laughing and giggling to hide their fears and embarrassing their mother.
Jake screaming with fear... or laughing with fear... maybe just laughing
ben & kassie in the bridge area, the area of breathing I like to call it
The maze continued on like that, with bridges and areas you could stand, and more crawling, crawling so tight you had to turn sideways to get through. It even had a slide, and a fireman’s pole at the end. A pvc one where I learned that you do not want to wrap hands tightly around pvc and slide, especially if you need to have readable fingerprints.
Tra bringing up the rear and doing a fine job
waiting for mom, boy the flash sure makes a difference
All in all it was a lot of fun, for the kids. Tracy and I even did it a second time with them, just to show them how they could be brave and conquer their fears, not having to hide them behind huge smiles, giggles and words like ” this is so much fun” “this is awesome!” ” can I lead this time”. The false bravado touches a father’s heart. The best part of the hay maze, between all of picking hay out of …… areas, is that we had enough to make quite the bedding for our rabbit. Did you know hay sticks to tears?
Escaping from the jaws of the evil beast! Note Jake running full speed away.
an un-anticipated milestone (or inchstone)
Oh, the second milestone. Shoes, yes shoes. I took Dorian to get his basketball shoes for the season. He is very particular about his shoes, well about everything. But we finally found a pair he liked, with rockets and flubber gel, super jump springs,weighing only one ounce, and they had 7 years same as cash. So that means we can have them paid off by the time he graduates college.
We ordered up his 10 1/2 to 11, the same size his dad wears. He put them on and they looked great, but he said they were a little tight. So the shoe man said “let’s measure his feet” He slid his sock covered feet into the flat metal foot device and after some minor adjustments the salesman proclaims ” he is closer to 11 1/2″. What? That cannot be! He cannot have bigger feet than his dad! So I chortled, “let me see that thing” and slid my sock covered foot into it; 10 1/2 to 11. No one told me that my 15-year-old kid would ever have bigger feet than me, ever be taller than me, no one. It had never ever occurred to me that my 15-year-old would be unable to fit into my shoes. How could this be? He is still several inches shorter than me, and about 200 pounds lighter.
at least mine smell better!
Then I recalled a day, many years and many follicles ago, sitting in the lobby of Bethel Regional High School, socializing with friends. I plopped my size 10/12 foot up on the coffee table, and those next to me exclaimed “holy smokes, dude you have huge feet. You are going to be a giant!”. Obviously I am not a giant, but I do know that I have worn the same size shoes since my freshman year of High School; so I wonder if Dorian will have the same fate?
So now you know the second milestone is that my first child now has bigger shoes to fill than his dad. What is even more frightening is that I still have three boys to go. The good news, when he is done with a pair of shoes, I can borrow them. I may look like a clown, but I am old enough now that I don’t care.
At least mine are much warmer, and much less gnarly I might add.
Milestones
Every family has milestones, marriage, first child, first steps, 5, 10,15 20, 50 year anniversaries, first graduate from high school / college, retirement… they just keep coming on coming and we pray that we live to see them and they are joyous occasions for us. Well we hit a few of those milestones this past month. The first was expected, Olivia turned 13, that means we have 3 full fledged teenagers in our house, and in another month and 1/2 we will add another. Now Livy has always been very low maintenance, very self sufficient, helpful and just a great child. But I could say that about Alli and Dorian too, until they turned 13. Something happens, and perhaps it is our perception, or perhaps it is reality and symptoms left over from the eating of the tree of knowledge, but either way, I perceive it as real, so to me it is real. At that time their needs are much more important than anything on earth. What they want, what they think, what they say outweighs everything else in, not only the house, but the city, and often times the world. Does it make us love them any less? No, but at times it does make them less pleasant to be around, and much easier to tease, I must add.
I have no idea, but it looks intense.
I am sure, now that she is 13, I will pay dearly for putting this in the blog, but it is worth it!
Olivia D. with her typical dinner whenever she stays over. She said it's what her mom feeds her all the time.
Since we already have two in the house, we have some training, and God has blessed us with good kids, even though they have typical teenager troubles. We try hard to remember what we felt like during that time, and I don’t remember it being pleasant. I remember my folks thinking they know everything and not understanding why I needed to stay out to 3 am. I remember how hard the driving test seemed and how hard I worked to get my hair just right ( reserve all comments please) life seemed stressful, because up to that point, I had not really felt what stress was.
Girls doing whatever it is girls do when they gather.
must be hard work doing what girls do when girls gather.
I mean I had to be at school six hours a day, and one of those hours was basketball, the other was film class, and, well you get the picture. I remember my mom & dad explaining, sometimes not so gently, that this was the easy time, this was the good time, the time to have fun and just enjoy yourself. But to me, their life seemed much more fun. No curfew, nobody telling them what to do and when ( I didn’t understand the concept of bosses) spending money on whatever they wanted, ahhh yes life was good.
The group (sans Kiowa who had to go to cpr class early)
Livy with her big 13 present, her own notebook.
The best present was Jo got to spend the night with us!
Obviously, now I know the truth. But I know the truth because I have walked in their footsteps in my own time and my own journey. I have come to realize that it is likely no matter how many times I try impart my age old wisdom, the words will fall flat until they have traveled their journey. And then, they will look back and hopefully say ” man, mom and dad weren’t kidding. If I had only listened to them..” and the circle will repeat itself once again. So we have to realize that they are teens, and they are good teens, no matter how wacky they seem to us, they are good teens and they are God’s teens, given to him to complete the life they have laid out for them, and trust that they will follow in the way they were raised. Besides, 13 is a lot closer to 18, and I know that it is extremely likely that at least 2 of them will end up back in our home, but I pray they at least reach their big milestone of having job and getting paid, so I can get me some rent. The second unexpected milestone? Well you will have to stay tuned.
A mountain of a trip, and a mountain of pictures
Kodiak, an Island of the southwest coast of Alaska was home to me. I will always have a fond place in my heart for “the rock” as it is known by those of us who frequent it. I know people who love it and I know people who hate it, but I don’t think I have ever heard any say “meh, it’s Okay”. Some people cannot stand the thought of the rain, remoteness and the possibility of being stranded days beyond your intended stay. I have been there. There are only two ways to Kodiak, the ferry and the air. I remember once when I was commercial fishing, waiting five days, five full days to get off that Island and go home to my wife. That was a time when I hated the rock. That was long before internet and cell phones, the days before lattes, facebook posts and twitter. So we just sat, sat , sat in the airport, me, my crew and about 200 other unwashed, stinking commercial fisherman, waiting for one day of decent, not good, just decent weather.
The view from our hosts, the Mortenson's
Mort , Sonya & Olivia, some of my favorite people.
Mom & Dad reliving some old memories at Fort Abercrombie
hanging on the old cannon at Abercrombie
old bunker at Abercrombie
The woods at Abercrombie
Ben picking salmonberries
Finally found something that quieted him up for a minute
posing in the Abercrombie woods
fences mean nothing to this family
mom & dad still reminiscing
But even that could not sour me on Kodiak. It is nearly impossible to beat Kodiak when the weather is nice; those three days are awesome! I know when we last lived there we loved it. We loved the pace of life, the beauty, the fishing and hunting, and our church. Shoot, we even got a Wal-Mart. It was a good life.
hey, I wanted a turn!
who let Jeremy drive?
Ensign?
My ladies
The newest attraction, 120 ft. blades on these bad boys. That'll keep you cool on them hot summer days.
view from the top of Pillar Mountain.
More Pillar Mt.
boyz on the Mt.
This time we were just going back for a visit. You see my dad was born and raised in Kodiak, and he went on to become Commissioner of the Dept. of Public Safety. He was very involved in native issues and did quite a bit for the native community. He was the first Alaska Native Commissioner and proud to be so. He died a few years ago, and since then a few of the native corporations made a move to name a Mountain after him, one in a bay where he and mom spent there last time together. So our trip was part of the celebration of the naming of this mountain. I, unfortunately, was on the committee planning this thing out. Had I the foresight to know what that would entail, I likely would’ve excused myself.
on the road to Pasagshak
Nana talking to her friends the seals. Alli learning the ways of her crazy elders.
Indiana Godfrey and his bullwhip of death. Don' t believe me, ask Ben where his left ear is.
One of us has a little less hair than the last time we were here.
she still likes me!
Notice the famous rocket launch tower in the background
scenes from the beach
more beach scenes
even more
Part of the committee job was travel, travel to get the family to and from Kodiak. Things were falling into place a little nicely and I should have known a curve ball, nay a sinking slider was upon us. The day they were supposed to arrive, our air transportation was cancelled. coincidently, this was the day prior to the event. Ahhh Kodiak you got me again! Myself and my family, understanding how this hearty island worked, we were there a week early on the ferry, so we were good to go. It was the other 18 people with which I had to deal with. Frantically, as fast as my fingers could pound the flat screen of my iphone, I was sending emails, making phone calls, and reading emails. Finally after hours and hours of heartache, indigestion, anxiety, stress and a little fear, we were able to make arrangements to get the family to the Island with hope, just hope of getting them home ( I of course did not tell them that). But I knew once I got them there, the rest would depend on the Island.
some of the buffalo
getting an early start on fine arts
watch out Jake!
Nana, Grandma and us
Dorian doing what he loves the most
nana doing her best at Lake Rose Tead
the kids? wading
Dorian may like fishing, but he don't like wading
here comes a big one
A scene from Baywatch!
run for your lives! or at least for your socks
cleaning up Papa's grave
I don’t want it to appear that the whole time was a stressful mess, just a few days of the trip. The rest of the time we explored the rock as if it was our first time. We hit up our favorite beaches, sites and mountains. Visited spots where Tra and I had dates, ate at new places and old, visited great friends and had a genuine good time. The first day of the ceremony went well, for most of it was indoors. The second day of the ceremony, well….. it didn’t happen. It was to involve a boat trip to the mountain to place a plaque. But when the weather is blowing Northeast 45, no one is too skippy to take a boat trip anywhere, especially the skippers of the boat. None-the-less, we made a day of it, again hitting the beaches, all 30 of us.
the most popular drummer
One of the dancers
The traditional mask that was built to be burnt.
The fire to burn the mask those logs are about 8 feet long
The beach we chose that day was Pasagshak, a beautiful forty minute drive through three Kodiak wind swept bays and over the mountains. There were horses, buffalo, salmon, bald eagles, deer and more spread along the way. After several stops, we arrived at the end of the road, our beach of choice.Upon unloading the crew, and doing a little beach combing, I sat on the beach, watching my kids playing in the surf, looking for fossils, exploring the WW II bunkers, and climbing every hill in sight; I breathed in the salt air, listened to the massive surf pound the beach, and felt the wind pressing against the back of my jacket, and I was in the moment in one of God’s greatest creations. Just then, a small, but fast raindrop pelted against my nose, and caused me to look up into the sky. I didn’t have to look up much, and I saw the low dark clouds hovering in a haze of foggy rain, and I realized that I had to figure how to get all these people home. At that moment I knew, the Island had got me once again. How many days this time Kodiak? Some things never change.
leaving scenes
Jake reflecting
Jake Reflecting
Nana, Grandma and their 20 grandkids and counting, color coded of course
Labor Day Weekend Part II. The long awaited sequel to Labor Day weekend part I
The next day we again ventured out into the briny sea, this time with the whole family in tow. Early to the high tide, the fishing was not nearly as productive, but everyone managed to catch something. Unfortunately, something more often than not, was a 50 pound skate or a feisty little dogfish shark. Somehow, I don’t think the little ones minded too much, except for dad who had to wrangle each and every one of them off the circle hooks. I made a bit of an art of it after a dozen or so attempts, and a few cuts, and a few crushed fingers from those blasted skates.
A shark.....
... a skate........
.....my hot date!
To the little ones, a picture with a shark or skate was much more exciting than a stinking halibut anyway. Although before the trip was over, Alli landed a 30 lb. prize, followed by Jeremy and his 50 pounder, added to the halibut of day one, we ended up with enough meat for even our family.
I have no clue.
Shyla on the boat doing the same thing she does at home
Alli on the boat doing the same thing she does at home.
While fishing, the fog come upon us without warning and we had to rely on our old fashioned navigation, the gps. It guided us right back to spit. After a vessel and fish cleaning session, we grabbed some pizza at Starvin Marvin’s and headed back to home sweet home. That night, cuddled up and cramped, we ate some home made popcorn and played games while sitting on top of each other.
that's a rod bender there.
more bow poses
Jake chillin
kids kissin
dad drivin
Jeremy fishin
dad gaffin
Jeremy posin
Instant Foggin
That night the kids retreated to their exclusive loft, which managed to sleep each and every one of them. The downfall, the loft was right above our room, so every shift of weight, walk to the bathroom, or acrobatic bed jump, flexed the roof above our bed and sounded as if Dorian’s halibut from the day prior was flopping around on top of us.
our humble abode
our view
their loft
We finished our mini vacation to the south with some stream fishing on the way home. There wasn’t much in the way of catching, just fishing and bug fighting but opportunity for lots of pictures and hopefully some memories. The trip ended with unpacking of twice as much stuff as we packed. I still don’t get how that happens. Every trip, every time, even when we do no shopping and eat everything we packed, we come back with at least twice as much stuff. I equate that to the mystery of missing laundry socks.
Anchor River fishing
jakey working the Nemo pole
Ben fishing?
Alli in B&W
Kachemak Bay
still working that Nemo pole and mohawk
looking for fish, not catching, just looking
All things considered, the trip was a lot of fun for a mini vacation 90 minutes from home. Next time though, we won’t pack as much stuff.
Jake found a ride home
You’re driving me crazy!
Dorian is now driving me everywhere I want to go. He has been permitted for several months now and he is doing a fine job as my chauffeur. He hasn’t done too much chauffeuring for mom, because they still want to have an amicable relationship once he is fully licensed to drive.
I have been breaking him in on my beast of a truck, a 1996 rebuilt (95 body) Chevy K1500 with a 5 speed manual. This truck intimidates those with low testosterone levels if they merely enter the beast, much less dare to drive it! ( ask Pastor Scott about that!) The smashed in driver’s side door, the scratches on the deep dark blue paint, the over-sized tires, the unintentional hole in the muffler giving her the sound of a Harley on four tires, and the blood colored fluid leaks, make this man’s toy no child’s play.
Pure concentration as he delivers the whole family safely to church
I have several ulterior motives for training him on this TRUCK. 1. If he can drive it, he can drive anything! 2. If he hits something, odds are that something will likely be worse off than the behemoth. 3. It is nearly impossible to drink, text, talk on the cell, or even itch your ear when driving this four tired terror. 4. It has the old fashioned muscle power window rollers so that he can build some mass on those arms as he orders dad’s coffee. 5. When he masters it, and has his Alaska Driver’s license hot of the laminator, he will be endowed with this beauty of a motor vehicle, a vehicle that the cash for clunkers program was invented for, but will ride the roads of Alaska until she can ride no more. I will not bow to the government’s instance of taking all the cars with character off the roads of America!
The big van
the "girly" car
The "beast" note the fluid stains under the engine. This is the dump run, hunting, fishing, towing, packing, mountain climbing, man machine.
Unfortunately, he cannot always drive the truck, so sometimes he has to drive mom’s girly car, the Mercury Sable with leather seats. Or, if he is lucky he gets to drive the 15 passenger Chevy Express, a ride that puts Hummers to shame ( and embarrasses all teenagers that are dropped off at high school in it) . This past Sunday Dorian drove us all the way to Church and back in the van, and he even became a true Alaskan, making his first coffee drive through. A dad couldn’t have been more proud to have his sugar free white chocolate americano passed through the hands of his son ( and yes that is a very manly drink!)
Dorian's first coffee shop drive thru, a true Alaskan experience
Coffee menu, I am craving one right now! And yes those prices are in American dollars.
So stay tuned as we embark on the adventure of adding our third licensed driver to our household, and the joys that come with driving, such as going to the dump for dad, to the store for milk for mom, to the coffee shop to get mom and dad their s/f white Americanos…. oh to be young again!
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.
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.
Drizzle
Wi Filess
We have been without Internet for a week. Therefore, I have not been able to update the blog. We still have no Internet, well I guess that’s not 100% true. We have my wireless card that gives us very minimal Internet, and of course we have our iphones.
My favorite story teller
I need to vent, and when I vent I usually like to write. So you all get to be the brunt of my vent.
First, this week we heard from OCS ( for the first time in forever) that Jo will be leaving us forever on July 19. This news came out of the blue and kind of took the wind out of our sails to start the week. If you don’t know, Jo has been our child since before her first birthday. In a couple weeks it will be her fourth birthday. Now they tell us she will no longer be our child. As you can imagine this has been an emotional nightmare for our entire family. We have been praying and praying and praying more for Jo to be with us, and right now we are in the 12th hour and barring a miracle, it does not look good. The last few years, our time with Jo has been an emotional bungee jump. I will not go into everything as I have bore my heart about her several times on this blog: That\’s what I (don\’t) love about Sunday & the one that started it all… At what cost. If you want to read the whole series, just click on JoJean in the category cloud to the right. Needless to say this has been like ripping our hearts out of our chest, and frankly I have been numb all week. Yet we have no choice but to be strong because we have 7 other kids that need us.
Then today at 3:05 Tracy calls me at work to let me know that my Grandpa just died. What? Is this some kind of joke? Now I must point out that my Grandpa has not been well for a while, but he was one tough hombre and every time we thought he may not make it, he pulled through and was sometimes better than before. Nonetheless, it hurts, and it hurts bad. I feel for my mom, my aunts and uncle and very much so for my Grandma, and for our family. I spent a lot of time with my Grandpa growing up. He taught me so much without trying. He taught me work ethic, perseverance, strength, fire and desire, he was instrumental in teaching me how to be a man. Something that a lot of this society now lacks. He didn’t set out to “teach” me these lessons, he was just himself.
I commercial fished with Grandpa since I was about 5 years old. I spent all my summers on boats out of Kodiak, and I took my first steps on one of his boats. I have so many memories, some hard, some bad, some tiring, but many great memories that are almost surreal. He showed me how to work a seine, how to drive a skiff, how to dig claims and fish for halibut. He showed me how to shoot deer, catch shrimp, carve, and much to my Grandma’s horror, how to chew snuff. I remember he used to smell like skoal and coffee as I sat on his lap on the flying bridge of his boat, just me and him traveling along somewhere away from anywhere, and I would revel in the smell. That smell was my Grandpa. It was with him I caught my first king salmon, my first halibut, drove my first boat, learned how to play cribbage and pinochle, all before the age of 10. All these things he did not set out to have me experience, I was just there, part of his life, and he was happy to have me there.
I have heard few better story tellers than my Grandpa. I am sure over the 10 or so summers I spent with him I heard all of his stories, and I would beg him over and over to tell me again. They were bigger than life, but all true. The details, until the day he died, they never changed, the names they were always the same. He could recall to the pound how much crab he had on board when it was rough that the waves took out his window. He could recall how much he got paid for loads of crab, and how he would get on Fish & Game’s case because they were wiping out the fishery. He could recall the looks on the face of the men in his stories, the crate of eggs the sea sick deckhnad sat on as Grandpa ate an egg sandwich in front of him for spite. And almost every story ended with laugh as he looked up into the sky, his piercing trademark blue eyes glistening with a slight tear; his mind back in his younger years and the multitude of adventures he had as a pioneer of the commercial fishery in this state. And I would be sitting on his lap or at his feet with smile as big as his in awe and wonder of such a man of strength and adventure.
I can probably write a book about my adventures with Grandpa & Grandma Gugel, but this is a blog not a book. Grandpa thank you for the stories, thank you for the lessons, thank you for the skills, thank you for the patience ( all though short at times, he was part German after all as he frequently reminded me) and all the experiences. But most of all thank you for being you and helping me to be the man I am today. You will always be a huge part of who I am and who I become and who my children become. You have left a great legacy. I know you are with God now telling him about the time you ate the maggot infested salmon; finishing, as always with ” and you know Glenn, that was the best smoked salmon we ever had”.
Grandpa, Jo and Glenn this past December
