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I was going through my Google reader this morning and happened upon this blog entry: "No Shoes Mommy." Go read it - it's pretty funny and will just take a few seconds. I couldn't help but think of a similar incident, kind of, that occurred with Evan, when he was about five years old. Evan had not yet started school.
We were visiting my parents in Cherokee, Iowa (it was our annual, summer-long visit). I woke up one morning and walked into the living room, expecting to see Evan watching TV. Brett was still in bed asleep, but Evan had apparently already gotten up.
The living room was totally silent. No TV blaring, no Evan. I picked up a piece of paper that was on the floor, and threw it away. I could see that Evan wasn't in the kitchen. I ran downstairs to the play area and my dad's office. Nope - nobody there.
I ran back upstairs and out the front door. Both of my parents' cars were gone, and there was no Evan. I ran to the backyard. Nothing.
OK, so I'm trying to not freak out, but I was freaking out. I finally decided that, duh, Evan was with my dad! So, I made myself calm down and sat down to wait for them to come home.
About an hour later, my dad walked in the door...alone. I said, "Where's Evan?" He said, "I don't know." I asked, "Evan hasn't been with you this morning?" "No," he said.
All heck broke loose.
Lots of screaming, running around like chickens with their heads cut off, hearts pounding, desperation, nausea....At some point, Evan walks in the front door with my dad. "Where have you been????!!!!!!" I demanded to know. "I went to Evan's house!" (Evan was my Evan's age and lived across the street from my parents.) "You know you can't just leave the house," I said calmly (it's true! I was calm...). "But I left you a note telling you where I was going!"
Now, this made me pause. Evan was not yet reading or writing. I didn't know quite what to say, not wanting to make him feel worse. So, I'm standing there looking into little Evan's precious face, and I vaguely remember a piece of paper on the living room floor. I went to the trash can, took out the paper, and looked at it. Letters of the alphabet were scattered across the paper. I asked Evan if the paper was his note. "Yes," he said. "See? 'I'm going to Evan's house'," he pointed to the letters as he read.
Oh, my goodness! How cute was that!! That child never ceased to amaze me!
I still had to discipline him. He was so confused. "But, I left you a note!"
Many moons ago, my parents and my brother, Timmy, took the kids on vacation to Colorado at the time of the 1998 All-Star Game festivities. Evan and Brett were thrilled to be going to FanFest. Bethany looks happy, so maybe she was thrilled, too. I was thinking about this photo while Evan and I watched the Home Run Derby last night (the All-Star Game has ended tonight, but I'm still waiting for people to show up so that we can watch the recording. I accidentally saw the score, so, grrrrr!!!!!).
During last night's Home Run Derby, Prince Fielder hit a 503-foot home run. My dad informed us today that, when he was playing baseball back in the day, he once hit a 510-foot home run. This was determined by the opposing team, so it's surely true!
The NBA draft is over. I have no idea about our new players. I don't even intend to find anything out. It seems that the draft isn't the end of it. They can trade these people, willy nilly, throughout the summer. I'll just wait and see who's on the court/bench in the first game. There are already changes to next season about which I'm pretty disgusted. House Party and Jim Kozimore are gone. At least the Kings had the sense to keep Kayte.
Speaking of Kayte, while she was waiting to attend the draft thing in New York City, she did a bit of sightseeing. I am including this video mainly for Tim, one of Kayte's biggest fans. From the looks of the video, she chose as boring of sights as I did when I was there. Unfortunate. But, Kayte's cute.
When the kids were little, we would spend the summer with my parents - Lincoln, NE, Cherokee, IA, and Larned, KS. I think it started when Evan was almost two (1986) and continued until 1998, which is when we moved to California. I wish it had never ended, but I think it's twice as far from out here. In any case, those were fantastic summers. I was thrilled to get home for these visits not only to spend time with my family, but it was the only way the kids were going to get to know their Grandma and Grandpa and uncles (it was too far to make more than one trip each year).
Every summer now, Evan flies home, usually at the end of May or first of June. This year, however, was different. Since Evan graduated from college, he had to do some job hunting before he could come out. I didn't know when he'd make it out here, so I wasn't talking much about his flying out yet. I guess, because of my silence, he decided to once again try to convince me to let him drive out. His plan, since graduating from high school, has been to drive from Houston, through Kansas (to visit Aunt Ann like we always did back in the day), go on up to Omaha to spend a couple of days with Grandma and Grandpa, see Uncle Jerry Mark and Uncle Tim, the other Aunt Ann, and Jordan and Jessica. After a couple of days, the trip would continue on to California. I have never let him make this trip. Until now. I don't know what came over me.
Evan made it to Aunt Ann's house in Hutchinson, had car trouble (I don't think a relative of Evan's father has ever made the trip from Houston to Nebraska, Kansas, or Iowa without car trouble, one of the reasons I've dreaded the thought of the whole "road trip" idea), had his truck fixed, then drove on to Omaha. He and Grandpa have played several ABPA baseball games (I think Evan has won every game. What happened, Daddy??!!). This afternoon, Evan and the 'rents trotted on over to Jerry Mark and Ann's house for a visit. They took pictures!
Aside: Yesterday, I texted Evan: "Don't forget to take pictures." Evan's reply: "Of what?" Really, Evan?
I still have to deal with Evan's driving through the mountains to get here. You know, just last week it was snowing in the California mountains. And then, in several weeks, I have to deal with his driving back to Houston. Through the desert. You know what happens to lone travelers in the desert, right? No? You must not see many movies. I am so wishing he would have just flown home!
The whole week has felt weird to me, knowing he's with my family. I keep thinking, "How did it happen that Evan's old enough to drive himself around the country?" The kids should all still be little, I should be sitting in my parent's living room cross stitching or working one of my mom's jigsaw puzzles, my dad should be taking Evan and Brett for a walk around the lake or to buy baseball cards, and Bethany should be chewing on the coffee table (at which time, I would pick her up, set her down, and hand her a baby toy). After dinner, Daddy and I would be going for a ride to look at clouds, old barns, cemeteries, or picking Queen Anne's Lace. Yes, those were the days.
One of the advantages of having an ex-baseball player for a dad is that you end up knowing a lot about baseball - even if you're a girl (what am I saying! I'm more athletic than either of my brothers!). Now, my boys may take issue with that because, for the last few decades I haven't watched a lot of baseball - except for them, when they were in Little League - and they think I'm clueless. But if they could have known me when I was growing up, they would discover I knew just as much as them about, not only the rules of the game, but about who was playing and how they were doing. With just the one TV, all we watched on the weekend was sports - and any other time of the week that they were on. I was familiar with basketball and football, too, but since my dad specialized in baseball, that's what we played just about every day after supper, in good weather.
As an aside, I don't know if Evan and Brett remember, but I was the assistant coach one year for their baseball team. Their dad was the coach. He didn't know diddly about baseball, but with my instruction and guidance, he learned quite a bit - as did those kids he coached. :)
Each summer, my family embarked on a vacation. Many of these vacations included a major league baseball game. (They also often included visiting Indian places, i.e., Anadarko, because Jerry Mark was into that. I don't think we ever took a vacation based solely on my interests, but I wasn't one to complain.) During our Haysville era, we went to quite a few Wichita Aeros games (AAA). I loved those games. Every night, I listened to the Aeros game on the radio. If I got in trouble, one of the punishments was grounding me from listening to the game. Torture!!
It was in Haysville that the Kansas City Royals acquired George Brett and Hal McRae. I loved these guys. (In fact, Brett is named for George Brett.) We often watched/listened to the Royals games, so, with Brett and McRae, they became my official team. I also liked the Pirates and the A's.
After Haysville, we moved to Norfolk, NE. My dad bought the APBA baseball game. Each player selects a major league team to manage. Mine was the Royals, of course. My dad's was the Phillies, of course. Timmy also had the Royals, Jerry Mark the Dodgers, and my mother, the Rangers (although, she rarely played, and why she picked the Rangers, I have no idea). Because I don't remember having trouble with this game, I purchased the game myself a couple of years ago. Well.....there are so many rules!!!! And playing with Tim! Bless his heart. He's not just a few decades behind - he never did baseball. Oops. I'm sorry. He saw the Senators play back in the 1800s when just a wee lad. That's about it.
So, I'm still the Royals. I don't know a single one of the players. I've been told they've had terrible teams the past few years. Tim's the Phillies. Now, we do know a little about some of them - we did watch the World Series last year. But, you know, I have to explain the infield fly rule, errors, pass balls, home plate, etc. We're trying to finish our first game. I can't wait for Evan to get out here to deal with all of this. We've gone three innings in a week. And, I curse myself for not learning how to do the scoring back in the day.
You know, nothing unusual stands out in my mind about those games we used to attend. I do seem to remember some drunk guys a couple of times. More recently, Tim took Bethany, Erica (Tim's daughter) and me to a Dodgers game. The people sitting above us were seeming to be dropping an excessive amount of debris down on us. At first, it was just popcorn and trash. Erica (27 at the time) had never been to a ballgame before. She wasn't appreciating this. I was a bit surprised, myself. I had to explain this wasn't normal. Indeed, it wasn't happening anywhere else. Erica took her place turned backwards in her seat, looking up, warning us as things fell down. As time went by, she began to get a bit upset.
If you know Erica, you know this is not good. For example, when I get upset with strangers, I complain to my family. When Erica gets upset with strangers, she takes it to them. Well, when the ice and liquid started flowing down, I knew I would not be able to keep her in her seat. Sure enough, the next time - there goes Erica! Meek and mild Tim was right behind her! Little Bethany (6 at the time) and I are sitting there like, "Now, what do we do." We finally grabbed the purses - after another drenching - and went to find Tim and Erica. Come to find out, you can't go to a level unless you have a ticket for that level. That was probably a good thing. The stadium workers did get an earful! For some reason, I'm seeing Erica swinging the little souvenir bat around. Could that be right?
The reason for all of these meandering reminiscences about baseball is this You Tube video of Bernie Williams that I saw today at The Riddleblog:
This snowy scene is what greeted me early this morning. I was beginning to feel left out of "winter." I know there's a big snow storm there in Omaha. Well, if you're at my location in California, the snow has melted after a few hours. It was all gone by 3 this afternoon. I have more photos on my camera (this was taken with my cell phone), but those photos are going to take a while to access. My desktop computer, where we do all of the photo work, is down with a major virus, don'tcha know (the result of letting one of the kids in the vicinity of said computer - if you can avoid this, this allowing of one's children - regardless of age - in a 50-foot radius of your computer, please do so).
Of course, I would have preferred the snow come at another time. Bethany and her youth group from church are currently driving to Lake Tahoe for their winter retreat. This snow is just the beginning of a series of storms marching through California for the next several days. Unfortunately, most of their driving will take place in the MOUNTAINS, for crying out loud. I've gotten hundreds of warnings about this storm system for days (it's true - I have a subscription to the California warning system). WHY would someone let their child be a part of this ridiculousness?! you might ask. Well, I don't know. I seem to be the only sane person around here aware of all the disastrous things that could go wrong. Nobody else has a problem with any of this. I mean, the bus driver did make sure to bring the chains. So. Calm, happy, "life is always wonderful" Tim didn't see why she should miss this trip, so! There she goes! And now, he gets to deal with me all weekend. Happy Valentine's Day to you, Baby! :)
UPDATE: I forgot to come back to add that Bethany arrived home safe and sound Monday morning. The trip that took 9 1/2 hours to travel 70 miles on Friday night, only took two hours Monday morning. It was still stormy, but it was more rainy than snowy, so....Let's not do that again!
Tim and I were married nine years ago today in Waipi'o Falls, Hawaii. Tim was telling someone, just the other day, that it seems like yesterday! The years have flown sweetly by, seeming like mere moments. *sigh* Oh! Anyway, our hotel was in Kailua-Kona (on the Big Island), so the morning of the wedding involved a couple hours of drive time. Our wedding was down on the Waipi'o Beach, just below the falls. We drove down to the Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, at the southern end of the island, after our little ceremony. We stayed until dark, which was recommended for good views of the lava flows. Following dinner at Volcano House, in the Park, we drove back to Kailua-Kona. It was a beautiful day in a truly magical place.
To commemmorate our big day, we went up to Apple Hill after church. There's really nothing around here that would in any remote way be like that day in Hawaii, so we decided to do one of our favorite things here. The fall colors were wonderful up the hill, we had our favorite chicken salad sandwiches for lunch (they're so good, even Bethany likes them!), bought apple pie, crisp, and streudel, and took a bunch of pictures. We came home and ordered from Olive Garden for dinner, ate with the kids, and enjoyed a Kings basketball game (well, it's halftime, so I won't know how much I've enjoyed the game for a while yet). I didn't take pictures at dinner - the kids get so grouchy when they see a camera. Sheesh!
I probably won't be dealing with the pictures until tomorrow, so I'll post them later. I feel like I have quite a bit of make-up posts. I need to get with it. I think I've figured out how to do my blogging and keep an eye on the puppy (I so hate cleaning up messes!).
Back to Tim...thank you, Baby, for nine fantastic years!
"You are entitled to food, clothing, shelter, and medical attention. Anything else you get is a privilege."
Evan has wanted to go to Alcatraz for several years now. It's taken a few years to get it set up, because I keep forgetting that you have to make reservations a couple of weeks in advance. You can't just decide, "Hey, let's go to Alcatraz today." Finally, this summer, I remembered to make the reservations before it was too late.
The trip to Angel Island and Alcatraz was an excellent one, to hear it described. Tim, Evan, and Bethany left at 5:00 a.m. on Wednesday. They had to be ready to board the tour boat in San Francisco at 9:00. Not knowing where they had to go or
how traffic would be, they had to leave pretty early. Tim and kids arrived in plenty of time, found a great parking space (miracles do happen!), and had time to go to breakfast at a fancy restaurant on Fisherman's Wharf (no one seems to remember the name of the restaurant).
They boarded the tour boat and rode over to Angel Island, first. I first
learned
of
Angel Island on History Detectives a few years ago. It had been used much like Ellis Island, as a point of entry for immigrants, for a number of years. Tim and the kids learned quite a bit more of the history of the island, though, which is very interesting. A few things:
The island was inhabited for thousands of years by the Miwok Indians.
After 1808, Russian sea otter hunting expeditions established a storehouse on the island.
Camp Reynolds was established during the Civil War to protect against confederate soldiers slipping into the Bay and attacking naval installations at Mare Island and the Benicia Arsenal.
Soldiers coming home, during World Wars I and II, were quarantined for six weeks on the island.
They rode on a tram around Angel Island, walked around and took pictures for a while, and got back on the boat headed for Alcatraz.
Tim, Evan, and Brett toured the prison and walked around the island.
There are only a few places that have been repaired and reconstructed
to show how things looked back when it was all in use. Most of the
buildings on Alcatraz are in disrepair, including the prison. There
was a fire a couple of decades ago that destroyed many of the
buildings. It is very chilly and windy at the prison, even in August.
The tour took them to "Broadway," the hole, the yard, the cafeteria,
the library. They saw where escape attempts were made. The holes from
grenades were still there from the siege in 1946.
One of the ex-prisoners, Darwin Coon, was there signing autographs. Evan bought his book, Alcatraz:
The True End of the Line, and got the autograph. I read the book immediately, since Evan was leaving shortly after this trip. Tim bought me a book
about the history of the prison. Bethany bought a harmonica, I
believe. Maybe she'll play it when she's grounded, believing she's got
it as tough as those guys in prison. They brought back a souvenir for Brett, too. A wall hanging of one of the rules they had there on the
Rock. Regulation #5: You are entitled to food, clothing, shelter, and medical attention. Anything else you get is a privilege. Good for prisoners, good for kids. Prison warden, parent - same thing.
They have a night tour of Alcatraz that's supposed to be pretty scary. It was already sold out, or I would have had them go on that tour. I'll have to try next year. Bethany loves to be scared.
Here's a slide show of the trip. Tim was the photographer most of the time. If you click on the arrow in the center, a little square of arrows will appear in the bottom right-hand corner. Click on these little arrows to see the slide show in full screen.
Years ago, whilst still a teenager and living in Norfolk, NE, my family and I were planning a summer vacation to Estes Park, CO. It was the mid-to-late '70s. My mom had gotten a cabin reserved for us somewhere in Big Thompson Canyon for a portion of the trip. My dad and his parents had gone to Big Thompson Canyon years earlier, when my dad was just a kid. Dad enjoyed that area, which is why we were going to visit there. Anyway, I don't remember the name of the campground/business/cabins where we had the reservation. Mom might remember.
I also don't remember how it came to be that we had to change our plans. I think my grandparents were having an anniversary party in Kansas City, so we changed the time we needed the cabin to later in the summer. We went to Kansas City for whatever function was happening. On Sunday afternoon, we piled back into the car to go home.
I was nearly asleep, kind of listening to the radio (a station my parents selected, so you know how that goes - it was probably a sermon), when I heard the words "flood" and "Big Thompson Canyon." I sat up, someone turned up the radio, and we were stunned to hear of the horrible storm and flood and that people were killed, missing, businesses and buildings swept away at our vacation place. It was sickening. At some point we thought, "Is our cabin still there?" I don't remember when it occurred to me that, if not for the event in Kansas City, we would have been there in that flood.
There is a memorial which lists the names and ages of those that perished in that disaster. Lots of teenagers and little kids. My name, my families' names, could have been on that memorial.
I don't think about that story very often. My family has all been to Colorado, the Rockies, Estes Park, many times since then. I usually have to hear "Big Thompson" something or other, and that will usually jog my memory. Well, I saw the headline, "Man Presumed Dead in 1976 Colorado Flood Found Alive," a few minutes ago. I knew 1976 was around the time of the Big Thompson flood, so I went and checked out the story. Crazy. I don't know how these people missed all of the news.
I decided to Google "big thompson canyon flood" to see what I'd find on the internet. This website, with an excellent slide show presentation and quite a bit of information, was the first to pop up. It has a lot of information from the beginning of the storm through the recovery and rebuilding. If you have time, click on "start the presentation" link.
We did make it to Colorado that summer of 1976, mid August, plans completely changed. My mom tried to get her reservation money back, but the lodging place was gone, swept away by the flood. I don't think the owners were found by the time we were in Colorado a couple of weeks later. I vaguely remember seeing fliers around Estes Park that mentioned some Campus Crusade for Christ staff members that had died in the flood.
UPDATE: I heard from my parents, this morning, in an email. They don't like to do the comments. They had more, specific information about this particular summer trip and Big Thompson Canyon.
We had changed our Colorado vacation to the middle of August so that we could attend a Kansas City Royals baseball game in Kansas City, MO at the end of July (I knew it had to be something important like that!).
Our cabin reservation was at a campground in Drake, CO. The owners drowned in the flood. Their estate did refund our money.
This website has some pictures and diagrams about what happened that night.
I remember trying to figure out, back in 1976, what we would have done had we been in our cabin in Drake, CO. People were pretty much ready for bed when the warnings were issued. Would we have thought it was too much trouble, getting dressed, packing the car, racing out of there - they've certainly had thunderstorms in the area many times before with no problems. I can imagine that we could have decided to just stay. Except for one thing: My dad. I'm not saying he worries and panics, but, well, sometimes you just have to call a spade a spade. That little fact of the worrying and panicking may have saved our lives. I'm more than happy that we didn't have to deal with any of that. It still makes me sick to my stomach, though, that people just like my family and me did have to go through it, and many precious lives were lost.
I was listening to Tammy Bruce this morning, and she mentioned that NORAD had moved from Cheyenne Mountain to Peterson Air Force Base. I was surprised to hear this, and I was especially surprised that it had happened several months ago. How did I miss this? Was it not in the news? Anyway, the AP ran this article earlier today.
My ears always perk up when I hear "NORAD," because I visited the complex at Cheyenne Mountain a few years ago. OK, a couple of decades ago. My first Continental Tour had a reunion the week after Christmas 1980 in Aurora, CO. One of the guys in that tour invited us to his house, and several of us spent a fun week gallivanting around that portion of Colorado. I can't remember what my friend's dad's profession was, but he had connections that enabled us to get a tour of NORAD.
It was very exciting to walk through and see everything. I was quite impressed with the massive springs that were sitting underneath all of the sections. We were given a tour that lasted a couple of hours. I remember the springs, the computer room, and being told not to be goofing around. Well, I was with a bunch of guys, ages 18 - 22 about, so they would be the potential goofing off-ers. Not me.
I'm pretty sure I had to have NORAD explained to me before we went to see it. And, I should have taken notes or written a journal entry about the experience (we weren't allowed to take photos). I don't know that I thought I'd forget so much in such a short amount of time.
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