Category Archives: Just for Fun Stories

Going Down Hill

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Trust and understanding is at the heart of every successful marriage. Crystal and mine is no exception. In Crystal’s case, she trusts that I won’t usually do anything too stupid, but knows that I am a lot more, shall we say, adventurous than she is. She knew what she was getting. Whether rock climbing or skiing or hiking past the danger signs, I have always been a little willing to take calculated and sometimes not so calculated risks. The other day was no exception.

I had just finished my traditional post golf beer, at Hilltop Golf Course, when another member entered the clubhouse with the news. A tree had fallen, taking down power lines, and blocking the only road up the hill to the course. A storm was on the way and only a few golfers remained. There was no telling how long it would take for the power company to clear the road. A plan was devised. Anyone who was willing to take a chance could try to follow a couple of four wheel drive trucks across the golf course across an overgrown field to the small airstrip at the other end of the hill. From there, there was a paved road down to civilization.

This was one of those do and/or die decisions with an expiration time. With the storm on the horizon it was now or never. Once the heavy rain started, even the four wheel drives wouldn’t have been able to handle the mud. If I were smart, I might have left my car and gone down in one of the four wheel drive vehicles. However, the next day we were supposed to go to Crystal’s dad’s for a visit. Someone had to look in on him for a few days while Crystal’s brother and his wife were out of town.

The decision was made; and we started across the course. Hilltop is a beautiful course. Normally, I look around and admire it as I go. During this trip, however, I was just focused on following the two trucks and the van in front and on keeping at least two wheels on the cart path. One more truck was behind me; yet another reason not to get stuck. When we reached the end of the course, there was nothing but tall weeds and bushes. I took a deep breath when the first truck went up the small hill through the weeds. I waited for the van to clear the hill before I started. Years of driving experience had taught me that you want sufficient and consistent speed to maneuver obstacles. As I reached the top of the hill I was relieved to see a somewhat scruffy dirt access road on the other side. I continued to follow the van at a distance. My biggest area of focus was keeping my wheels from dropping into one of the many dips and holes in the road. One final little hill and there it was, the airstrip. By this time it had started to rain. Fortunately, the traction was still good. However, just ahead there was a three way fork in the road. The first appeared to go back toward the golf course. The second led right up to the runway only about a hundred yards ahead. The third was headed in the right direction, but you couldn’t see what was ahead. The first truck stopped. We waited for what seemed like ten minutes. I was at the top of the hill, and couldn’t tell if they were talking, or just flipping a coin. In my head I was thinking, go for the runway. I knew my little Honda could make that trip. Finally, we started up again. They went toward the unknown. I meekly followed. For a while the trail was fine. Then I stopped for a moment as I watched the three vehicles ahead disappear down a rather step downgrade into a hole in a dark forested area. If this wasn’t the right path there would be no way to back out. It was then I started to pray. Usually that was Crystal’s job when I was doing something questionable. Then I followed, slowly and carefully trying to stay on the road as bushes brushed both sides of my car simultaneously. I had lost sight of the other vehicles, and for a hundred yards or so felt very much alone.  I was half expecting to see stalled taillights at any moment. Just as my car bottomed out, I saw the darkness break. As my Honda broke into the light, I was overjoyed to see an actual paved road and three vehicles ahead of me. Soon we were out and back to civilization. I knew my car had to be covered with dirt and mud, but I didn’t stop to look. As I started up state route 36, toward Warsaw and home, the light rain turned into an all out downpour. I had to drive at about twenty miles an hour to see anything. Ten minutes earlier and I would have been stuck. That one, I owe to God. Not only did I make it home with my car intact, but it was clean, and ready for the trip.

When I look back upon the experience, I can’t help but notice how similar it was to writing “One Hundred and Fifty Years of Marriage”. It too was quite a journey.  From the interviews, to the writing, to the four or five edits of the manuscript, we learned a lot about our parents that we never knew. It was kind of like going up and down the hills I knew so well, but from a new perspective. Then we saw what was beyond those hills, new stories and different points of view. Finally, to shift gears to where we are now, staring into and entering the dark forest , not knowing if or where we will come out. We are now in the middle of our search for agents, publishers, and presses. We are on a new and very unfamiliar path. However, we take solace in the fact that there is a path, and we know the destination is close. You faithful readers will be among the first to experience with us, when we finally break from the darkness into the light. Like my little adventure, and life itself for that matter, sometimes you just have to take things one step at a time and enjoy the ride.

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A less rainy day at Hilltop Golf Course

Crystal and the Critters

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            I know I have mentioned this before, but Crystal makes me laugh. I think everyone who has a successful marriage, if pressed, can tell you what they like about their partner. I could not be with anyone who doesn’t have a sense of humor. Crystal not only has one but she laughs at my corny jokes. But what is much rarer, she has a rare ability to be able to laugh at herself. Trust me sometimes the things that happen to her aren’t immediately funny. However, once the dust has settled, we all have a great time.

I try to never tease her about her lack of mechanical ability or occasional bout with being mentally somewhere else when we talk (it occasionally happens to me). But when it comes to nature, let’s just say, the stories never die.

            We have complementary skills. That’s why we work. I understand mechanical things. She doesn’t believe in creative spelling as I do. That’s why we work. However, the natural world doesn’t understand Crystal the way I do. We recently had our house treated for yellow jackets. I went around with the exterminator to try to understand the process. It looked fool proof. I looked around and found no trace of the varmints. Over the next day or two an occasional bee found its way into our room and I killed it. The bug expert told us that might happen. However a couple of days later I got a frantic call. I was just getting out of my Bible study when I found several messages on my phone. I listened just long enough to hear my hysterical wife telling me she was under attack. I rushed home, grabbed the hornet spray and killed the twenty to thirty that were still alive in our bedroom. I then let Crystal handle the call to the exterminator. I think she liked that. I almost felt sorry for the customer service representative. I know she couldn’t possibly be getting paid enough.

            This was only the most recent of a lifetime of misunderstanding between my wife and nature. One time when we had a cook out, she went to throw out the rest of her hot dog, when she jumped and screamed. I had no idea she could jump that high. Michael Jordan would have been proud. I ran to her rescue only to find the cutest little baby raccoon had fallen off a low hanging branch into the trash can, thus eliciting Crystal’s reaction. I tipped over the can to let the baby waddle off to freedom.

            Another time Crystal was alone when she saw two eyes staring at her in our garage. This time it was an older relative of the baby. This was a tough old critter. It took a broom handle and some stick to paw combat to coax the varmint out.

            Then there was the infamous bird in the bathroom fiasco. I got that call at work. I can’t even describe the terror in my wife’s voice. This poor creature had obviously fallen down our chimney, and been scared half to death by a screaming women, when I caught it in a towel and rescued it.

            Then there was the time we rented a cabin and went camping with two of our daughters. That night when Crystal and Michelle went out to the rest room Lisa and I stayed in and talked. A few minutes later we heard them coming back to the cabin. Then Michelle came in pushed her mother back out and slammed the door. She screamed as she came in hitting herself. Apparently the door was covered with moths. Judging from Michelle reaction I can only assume they were of the man eating variety.  I then opened the door to let Crystal in and help clear her of moths.

            No Crystal and nature haven’t always gotten along. But it does make for a lot of fun stories and bonding moments. I think it also makes me feel more useful. Somehow it feels like a manly thing to do to rescue the lady in distress from the savage raccoon or a killer black bird. It’s nice to feel needed.

 

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Lisa and Michelle in front of our cabin during that campout (pre-moth period)

Scouting

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If you have been following this blog regularly you know that we are currently seeking an agent for our memoir. It is a long slow process. I thought it might be fun to share a little from our memoir. The first part of the book is about how, prior to our meeting in college, Crystal and I grew up. One of the chapters is titled “Scouting”. Being in the Boy Scouts was a big part of my youth and I have a million stories. The following event, while not currently in the book, should give an idea what it was like, and for that matter what our book is like.

When I was about eight years old I wanted to join the boy scouts. I loved the idea of camping out and being in the woods. Unfortunately, I was too young. Both of my parents quickly agreed that joining the cub scouts sounded great. My overprotective mom obviously didn’t think this through. She liked the idea that there would be a lot of parental involvement and even became a Den Mother for my den. She loved leading our group in various craft projects and helping me with my rank advancement activities.

I think she hoped I would move on to new interests before I advanced to the actual Boy Scouts. You see the Boy Scouts actually involves activities away from parents and family. Cub Scouts was OK, but for me, it was just biding time. I couldn’t wait to be out in the woods, with my fellow scouts, having adventures. This is what terrified my mother. She watched me growing up. I was the five year old who figured out that drawers and a toaster could be made into stairs to ascend to the top of the refrigerator. I was the ten year old who could climb to the top of almost any tree in the neighborhood. I used to assemble a system of ramps in a local prairie to do X-games type tricks fifty years ahead of the actual games. These and many more of my antics used to terrify my mom. She was born to be a mom and I was her only child. If it were up to her the Doctor never would have cut the cord or at least replaced it with a nylon tether.

Being in the scouts was a great experience. I recommend it to all young men who like the outdoors. By the time I was a first class scout (a middle rank) I could set up a camp site, make a fire, chop down a tree, paddle a canoe down rapids, and hike up to twenty miles in a day or swim a mile.

Learning new things and challenging my abilities was great, but what I really loved was playing. After a hard day of advancement activities, hiking, or competitions, there was always time to play. Whether it was capture the flag, flashlight tag, or steal the bacon, it was all good. One day, during a Jamboree (competition between Troups) we decided to play softball. I loved softball, baseball, football, basically anything with a ball. While my team mates were trying to decide where to play I ran out to center field. This was my position. I loved to run and had a knack for knowing where the ball was going as soon as the batter began to swing. I could almost cover three fields by myself. Or, at least, I thought I could. That day we were on somewhat rocky, seldom used field, with a partially disintegrated backstop. It didn’t matter, this was fun. As usual, outside of the field and game, itself I had noticed nothing about my surroundings. Near the end of the game, a big boy, Hal, who was a couple of years older than me was up to bat. He hit the ball. I knew immediately, it was high and deep, and directly over my head. I turned and started to run full speed away from the field. I knew this ball would take everything I had to catch. Without slowing I reached up, one more step and I would have it. Then the strangest thing happened. That final step never happened. Instead there was nothing under my foot. Still totally focused on the ball, I took another step, still nothing. Then I noticed the ball, which had been on a direct trajectory into my glove (as God had intended), was getting further away. I never took my eye off the ball as it went further and further way from my beckoning glove. Finally the free fall came to an end with a rustle and a sickening thud. I gasped for air as the wind had been knocked out of my body. After what seemed minutes later, my troop was standing at the top of the embankment looking down at me. I stared up at them, some roughly ten feet above me, from the bush which had sort of broken my fall. They looked concerned and asked if I was OK. I said OK, I think. When I finally got to my feet I was still most upset that I didn’t make the catch. I stumbled over to grab the evil ball sitting in a creek about twenty feet behind me. Before climbing up the dirt wall I rubbed a little of the “sterile” creek water on my multiple scratches and scrapes. After all, the game wasn’t over. For some reason, after that, no one else wanted to finish the game. We headed back to camp and dinner.

Stories like that were never told to my parents. In retrospect, maybe my mom wasn’t as overprotective as I had always believed.

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Crystal, Lisa and I on a Camping Trip

They’re Small, How Much Trouble Could They Cause?

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Nothing outside of the marriage it-self can cause as much stress in a relationship as children. It’s not their fault. They are small and innocent, and to some extent, you train them how to treat you. It’s just the nature of nature. You bring these cute little bundles of joy into the world and become responsible for them for the next eighteen years. Everything changes, including your relationship with your spouse. Some changes are good, some not so much. Let me illustrate.

 

            We were smart. Crystal and I waited to have children. We had been married five years when Elizabeth came around. I wasn’t worried; Crystal was like the encyclopedia of family issues. She had read every contemporary theory about having children and child rearing. Our relationship was good. We had worked through several early marriage communication issues and had even taken the Lamaze class. When after thirty-four hours of labor and a C-section, Elizabeth was born. We were both unconscious for a while. However, I still remember the overwhelming feeling of pride and joy as I carried her out of the hospital.

 

            In the weeks and months after that, we found that while we were probably as prepared as possible, there’s a lot about children that the books and classes don’t cover. In the five years BC (before Children) Crystal and I love to travel and stay overnight away from home. We had visited the Ozarks and Florida and had a number of shorter several day or overnight adventures. Being maybe somewhat conservative we stopped traveling before Elizabeth was born. When Elizabeth was one year and four months old, I had had enough. I convinced Crystal it was time for an overnight. When I told her the plan, Crystal was totally on board. We would drive from our Chicago suburb, around the lake to St. Joseph, Michigan. We happily drove the two plus hours to a nice motel near Lake Michigan. Elizabeth of course slept the whole trip. That’s just what she did in the car. It was like magic. We dropped off our stuff and got into our swim suits. At the beach that day things didn’t quite go as planned. Elizabeth loved going into the pool at our complex with me holding her. However, the big, seemingly endless lake, that day had waves almost as big as she was. She would have no part of it. Crystal and I took turns swimming and playing with her on the beach. We went back to the motel for showers and to dress for dinner. Elizabeth took her normal afternoon nap in her playpen. Before dinner we had a nice walk through the city to look at the shops. We had a nice dinner then went back to the motel. It was Elizabeth’s bed time. However, this is where she drew the line. She had been very accommodating until now. We weren’t home, and this motel crib wasn’t her bed. To this day I can still hear the seemingly endless pleas “Home, Bed”, over and over and over again. We tried everything, the play pen, holding her, bringing her in bed, playing with her (that she was fine with). Nothing worked. Finally, around two in the morning, I put my clothes on for the strategy of last resort. I strapped her in her car seat and we went for a drive. Normally she would have been out in about five minutes, but not on this night. She would be stubborn (a trait I later found as part of her personality). The moon was full that August night. I kept looking back. She wasn’t complaining, but really seemed to be enjoying the view of the lake front by night. Finally, at around three AM, she was asleep. I made my way back to the motel. I picked her up and turned toward the motel. I pushed the car door closed as gently as I could. Not quiet enough, she was awake. An hour later she finally fell asleep between the two of us. Of course now she was back on schedule. Up at seven and ready for more adventure. We put on our clothes, ate breakfast, and started home. Crystal insists we picked some peaches on the way, but I couldn’t tell you. I just remember being almost as glad to have survived and getting to “Home, Bed” as Elizabeth.