Take a moment to make someones day. Hold a door, pick up a dropped object, say please and thank you. Go that extra mile that leaves someone else smiling as you walk away. No recognition, not because you have too, but because it’s who you are and you know in your heart it will pay forward.
Carry on that is all…
The other night I rushed the family from our daughters softball game over to our CPA to sign our taxes. Driving like a madman, hoping to arrive in the nick of time to beat the deadline for an extension, 
we zipped through city streets like James Bond chasing down an adversary in his shiny Aston Martin. After awhile I found my jaw locked tighter than King Tutts tomb. My face so frozen like granite that one could bounce a quarter from my forehead. My shoulders squared off like a New York city parkbench. Tense I guess would be the theme I am going for here? I was just a little tense….
After partaking in the usual pleasantries, we inked our paperwork, then I slithered back into the car deflated, defeated and just plain old mentally exhausted. I found myself daydreaming of easier times, when I held no responsibilities other than waking up in the morning, carrying out a few chores, and feebly wandering my way through school. Yeah those were the good times alright! No responsibilities at all…….
It’s amazing how the old adage of “the grass is always greener on the other side” pops to mind right now. For as I wondered aimlessly through the bright and shiny portions of my past all I could see was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow as opposed to the rock it was sitting upon. Yet when things aren’t going so well, amazingly I only find garbage when peering under that very same rock. Our mind has a way of sheltering us from past experiences during some recollections while reminding us of those very same experiences during more emotional times. Curious, so very curious…
Back to the beginning.
So while driving home during my “pot at the end of the rainbow” period I chose to think of all the things I miss about being a kid. 
Yep I was yearning for the old days! Off in the land of the Walltons, Fall Guy and Wendy Peffercorn! No responsibilities at all, just me and my crazy youth! Since I was in dream land I decided to take the quantum leap into the furthest reaches of my mind and come up with a list of all the things I missed about being a kid. When it was over I carefully narrowed them down to a fair resemblance of a top ten. Here they are…
10. Missile pops. Nothing was better on a summer’s day than a missile pop, didn’t matter
where you were or how you got it. Melty, sticky, ice-cold and delicious! It was awesome! As an adult they just don’t taste the same…
9. Going barefoot. As a kid you could pretty much get away with being barefoot, whenever you wanted. As an adult now a days people just think you are weird. I still remember how good the grocery store floor felt under my bare feet as a kid. As an adult it’s just plain gross.
8. My A&A custom made, motocross racing bike. It was flat black with a little chrome and it was cool.
That bike was the center of my universe. I took the whole thing apart down to the frame then put it back together, just to prove to myself that I could. I jumped everything I could on that bike. Rode it ten miles to town just so I could cruise around the plaza downtown. I loved it, loved it, loved it! Shed a tear when at thirty-five I sent the worn out old frame to the recyclers after cleaning up my parents place during their move to a new house.
7. Summertime. Being allowed to play from sun up till sundown. Running around our ranch, hanging out with horse trainers and their kids, building forts out of hay, generally just being a kid.
6. The fair: I saved money all year-long waiting for the fair. I showed sheep so I was at the fairgrounds from sun-up till sundown all week-long. The money wasnt for rides, or cotton candy or even to play those stupid carnival games. Oh no! The money I saved was for one thing and one thing only! CORNDOGS! I ate them for breakfast, lunch and dinner for a week straight! They were my drug of choice and baby I couldn’t get enough! Just the smell sent me into drooling fits of hunger! Even now, I just drooled a little on the keyboard.
5. Swim practice: This was a true love hate relationship which is why its number five. I loved swim practice, because everyday I was guaranteed to see my friends for a least an hour and a half. 
Plus being a young lad rolling into puberty it was always an hour of prepubescent giggles between my friends and I as we watched the cute girls walk by in their shimmering one piece swimsuits! The hate part revolved solely around the hard work encompassed in practice itself. It was long, grueling and tiring. Although I never complained when we practiced in the rain, I always found those practices to be the most interesting. Something strange about being wet in the pool while more water flows onto you from the clouds above.
4. Summer camp: Oh yeah, friends, swimming, hiking, snipe hunts, marshmallows and a week away from chores, my parents and my sister. Enough said….
3. Hot Wheels: The sole reason for my fascination with all makes and models of 
automobiles to this day. British, Russian, Croatian, American, German, Bavarian, I love them all. 
If you have created or plan on creating an automobile I have either read about you, salivated over your creations or just plain envied you. I am the guy who can find at least one redeeming quality on even the worst made machine. I am always looking to understand the vision of a designer. I cherished American Muscle as a youth and still do to this day. I also am a big fan of German engineering and British ingenuity.
But at the end of the day I owned more hot wheels as a kid that revolved around two cars and two cars only. The American made Corvette and the German-made Porsche. Go fast straight and hang on g-force in the turns. I love them both! I have owned a Corvette and can’t wait until the day comes when my cob-web filled bank account opens its doors allowing me the privilege of wrapping my poor fingers around the steering wheel of a 911. Preferably a GT2-RS. One can only dream.
2. Sunday night fried chicken dinners! We ate until we popped and it was always great. No 
one can have a bad day after eating moms fried chicken. It was fantastic. Heck, really its about more than fried chicken. It’s about being able to eat anything at anytime without worrying about cholesterol, fat content, how many grams of protein or what my total caloric intake was for the day. Take that BMI!
1. Playing basketball with my dad. I know it will never happen again. I know it was only for a very short period of time, yet it remains one of the things I miss most about being a kid. Just the two of us, no sister, no mom, just us, laughing and having a good time..
Now I am sure at least one of you out there is saying to themselves; What about the lack of responsibility as a child? With the lead in you gave isn’t that what you were searching for? In reality I had tons of responsibility. More than most kids I am sure. We lived on a working ranch and my day was pretty full with chores that revolved around the welfare and care of animals. I learned a lot about responsibility as a child and I am doing my best to pass those traits on to my children. Oh, I am sure my parents would argue I was lazy and self-centered. A chore shirker who had to be begged and harassed into completing his work. But at the end of the day, my chores were always done and I went to bed exhausted. Somedays I even took to counting the minutes until I could lay down upon my pillow and shut down the machine.
So in the end it has always been this way for me. I always had to be doing something as a kid, as an adult I am no different. Rush here or rush there, on time or late. It’s all the same. The grass truly isn’t greener, for all that I miss about being a kid pales in comparison to all the cool things I can participate in as an adult.
Being a parent is without a doubt one of the highlights of my life, at times it has also held a few of the lowest points in my life. I never received a manual or “how to” book on raising children. But then who has? Everything we do as parents is a direct result of how we were reared by our parents. Some of it may even be attributed to a few of the television shows we watched. I prefered “Leave it Beaver”, in my fantasy family Ward Cleaver was my dad, Wally and the Beaver were my brothers. Yeah born a Cleaver how great would that have been?
Out of fantasy land and back to the real world!
I have been known to pick up and peruse the occasional parenting book written by one of Oprah’s top pick guru’s looking for answers. I have also been known to hold up the grocery store line a time or two while turning the pages on more than my fair share of “parenting” magazines. Then there are the times I have been patiently listening to the endless stream of unwarranted advice coming from the endless gaggle of distraught moms and dads purging their souls at church of school functions. And as referenced earlier I can’t leave out the wonderful advice given to me time and again by my parents. The same people who apparently live in a fantasy world when it comes to recalling exactly how I was raised. Yes that’s right in their eyes it was all snow cones, marshmallows and ponies for yours truly.
Yet with all this second and third-party knowledge floating in my head, for some reason (unbeknownst to me) it is still a day-to-day challenge ensuring my child is being raised properly. Over the years I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing many parent/child relationships grow and flourish; I have also seen the unpleasant side of the same relationship failing miserably. A relationship failing so badly one cant help but stand back and wonder what the heck happened? How on earth did this child grow to be in charge of the relationship? Why is this child demanding, disrespectful, and belligerent? The answer is simple; the parent opted to become the child’s friend.
When I was younger I would daydream about what my children would look like, how they 
would behave and most of all, I would wonder what kind of relationships we would have together. I thought about all the normal scenarios, like if it was a boy we would go hunting and fishing, play baseball together, camp in the backyard, go on bike rides and build a tree house! Work on cars in the driveway and farm equipment out back. Nothing a couple of MEN can’t handle, and nothing is better than working side by side with your son, your friend.
If it was girl, she would be my little princess, the apple of my eye, and mom would dress her up in the cutest of clothes. I would be her protector, her daddy, the man who would melt at her smile all while cleaning my shotgun as her first date arrived. 
Now don’t get me wrong I also have plans to teach her about hunting and fishing, keeping her girly with a little tomboy thrown in for good measure. Of course this will prepare her mentally as she begins taking care of herself against those awful boys she’ll encounter, due to her stunning beauty. But at the end of the day, she will be my little angel and we will always be friends. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter, we will always be friends… Or will we???
What I have determined over time is this; I am not my child’s friend. I will never be my child’s friend. I am something way more in-depth, and incredibly more important than a friend. Whenever I hear an adult say “me and little insert name here are best friends”, I cringe and instantly think oh gosh you are so wrong, and inevitably when I finally have the opportunity to meet that child it is obvious who controls the relationship. (Hint: it’s not the parent). It really is sad to see a parent bowing to the will of a 6-year-old all in the name of friendship.
Maybe Ward Cleaver had it right?
Ward solved every problem with a calm cool disposition. He never wavered and was always fair in distribution of punishment. His children loved him and his wife adored him. Now I know this was Television. A writers idea of what family life should be. But did they really have it wrong? And why was Wards way of doing things so effective? Why?
I have thought about this long and hard coming to only one logical conclusion. He was not his childrens friend. I have also found my parenting style somewhat the same for I too am not my childs friend; I am my child’s parent. That’s right I said it! In this feel good, words hurt, everyone gets a trophy, nobody loses, you need to express yourself society I have chosen to not be my childs friend, but instead focus on being the best parent I can possibly become!
Now let that sink in for a moment.
So I know many of you are saying “that’s bunk”! Some of you may even ask yourself “is there a difference”? We’ll let me tell you fellow readers, I believe there certainly is a difference! To me (my opinion only) its like this….
Friends come and go, friends can be spoken to in anger then if all is not patched up, friends can be discarded like yesterdays trash, no longer being called a friend.
Yet a new friend will take the old ones place in a matter of time. (And yes that statement is a generalization) A friend is just that, a friend an acquaintance. They travel through our lives like the wind, coming and going only to reappear when ever and where ever they choose. Don’t misunderstand what I am implying for a true friend can in fact be an important part of your life! Someone you may grow to rely on, someone who may be an important part of who you have become or may become. Someone who stands by your side for most of your life. We all have friends we have known since childhood, some we may even trust more than family members. When it comes to raising a child though, you need more than what friendship brings to the table. Your child needs strong, loving parents providing guidance in every facet of their life.
Heres the shocker! (once again my opinion)
Parenting means telling your child NO and meaning it, standing by it, never wavering. Parenting means letting them make mistakes, even though you can’t stand to see them fail. But fail they will and you will be right beside them, guiding them to an enlightened outcome. 
Parenting means punishing them when they have done wrong even though it’s an inconvenience for YOU! Yep that’s right, I can’t tell you how many times I have seen parents throw down the stern “this is how its gonna be” only to back pedal a few seconds later because it hurt their little ones feelings! Parenting means loving them unconditionally without question, regardless of what or who they have become. Parenting means sticking your nose in their business when they become teenagers, continuing to screen, observe and learn about every aspect of their lives and their friends lives as well. Parenting means teaching them the importance of a job well done along with the repercussions of a job unfinished or done poorly. Parenting means making mistakes yourself, recognizing those mistakes then apologizing afterwards. Even though you want to be perfect in your childs eyes they will respect you more for your imperfections and ability to rebound from those mistakes. Parenting means sometimes you need to cry when they cry and laugh when they laugh, even though you may not think what they were experiencing was worth crying or laughing over. Parenting means teaching them how to give and receive love unconditionally. Of course this is done by example. 
Good parenting will give them more emotional stability and knowledge about who they are than any parent/friendship. It will also give them the skills needed to grow, eventually becoming strong adults along with great friends themselves.
Parenting your child will always be one of the most challenging ventures undertaken. But in the long run its an investment well worth the risk.
I am very proud to say I’m a parent to my children.
Are you?
Side note: I also believe once your children are adults you never stop being their parents. But because they are now adults, it is a little easier developing a more “friend like” relationship if you so choose.
Oh easter candy that’s left behind, I hear your faint call, you are on my mind.
It really doesn’t matter what kind that you are, a toffee, a peep or a dark chocolate bar
I walk through the kitchen avoiding your stare, yet my brain calls my sweet tooth with an evil dare.
I have given up sweets for the betterment of health, so taking you now should be done with great stealth.
The kids are still watching, the wifes on high alert. I move into the kitchen and slide you up under my shirt.
The closet, the bedroom or just sneak outside, to get on my bike and go for a ride.
But in the end it’s just us, sitting on the edge of my bed, the bag is half gone, sugar races to my head.
I let out a sigh of orgasmic relief, for in a few moments I will be overcome with great grief.
The guilt oh the guilt, I shall certainly be hung. The youngest has found me, my bell has 
been rung.
No guiltier man was found by our family jury. In the end it was worth it, I enjoyed the last Cadbury.
An awful poem written for all you candy junkies such as myself who hate this holiday for the endless amounts of candy that are left in the house afterwards! Bags upstairs, bags downstairs, candy in little bowls and hidden in the cupboards. I crave it I need it, it talks to me, telling me its ok to have just one more! Who cares if its 250 calories a piece! So what if you can devour three or four pieces at a time! It’s just candy right? Its only once a year, right? Live a little, have some more, heck if you eat it all then there will be no more and you can go right back to your low-calorie, bland, tasteless diet that you have enjoyed so much over the last year. Just remember, your life insurance doesn’t pay out if its suicide! Self induced candy coma suicide! Fatty!
So my advice to you is, stay strong! Look the other way, let the kids eat it all and when you go to bed tonight and you hear the candy talking to you. Get up, and go make yourself a bowl of oatmeal. Your future diabetes will be in check and Wilfred Brimley will be proud of you.
This morning I was asked an important question.
Now being asked a question is not in itself a monumental moment. It happens on a regular basis in our household. The topics do vary and answers are given with a combination of elation, enjoyment, and occasionally frustration. Yet this mornings question was one I am positive has been asked, pondered and answered differently on many Easter mornings. It was also accompanied by an adjoining question that I am positive has been answered with the same zeal.
Dad where does the Easter bunny come from and how come he has eggs?
Studying the backs of my eyelids for an appropriate answer I tried recalling the wealth of Easter knowledge my parents bestowed upon my inquiring mind only to come up empty. Really? 
I have no answer for my son, nothing of humor or wit to make his little mind giggle at the mere ridiculousness of my statement! Come on, my dad surely had some bullshit story he passed down to me between picking at the Easter ham and two fingers of Black Velvet!
My child, still gazing up at me with wonderment is waiting very patiently for an answer.
What to say, what to say! Do I take the “I’m an educated adult path” and regale
him with stories of Mary Magdalene carrying hard-boiled eggs to the tomb of Jesus only to have 
them turn brilliant (blood) red upon seeing the risen Christ? Or fill his little sponge like mind with old traditions; such as dyed or painted Easter eggs that celebrate springtime and the rejuvenation of man/life? WAIT! What about the darn rabbit? I mean is he old enough to understand the importance of the rabbit in medieval religious art? That it was widely believed the rabbit was in fact a hermaphrodite who could achieve immaculate conception thus tying it for ever to the Virgin Mary? That eggs from birds and rabbits giving birth all tie back to spring and the Vernal Equinox?
He’s still waiting for an answer and I can feel the sweat starting to form on my brow!
I know! I will sit him down at the computer and together we can discover the true meaning of the infamous Easter Bunny. Yes that’s how we will do it, father and son together on a journey, a quest if you will for answers only the infinity of the internet can divulge! Side by side staring into the abyss of information that is all but a keystroke away! Easter morning just him and I, reading, searching and learning while our other children are searching for eggs a n d e a t i n g c a n d y…….. Yeah that’s not gonna work…
No more pondering doe eyes, I can’t take it anymore so I lay the truth upon him..
Son the Easter bunny comes from a big green meadow just below the North Pole and south of Santa’s workshop where it plays all year with other forest creatures from every Disney movie ever created. 
The Disney forest creatures sing and laugh all day with the Easter bunny while they paint eggs for every child in the world! The tooth fairy is by their sides determining how much candy everyone will receive by the amount of teeth she 
has collected throughout the year. Then the night before Easter the bunny quietly distributes eggs in hidden places all over the world . He hides them for you to find so when you’ve eaten all the Easter candy from your Easter baskets you can run around burning off your uncontrollable sugar high!
Ok?
son; Ok (shoulders shrugged)
Thinking I am in the clear, and its time for me to have two fingers of Jack Daniels; he then turns and asks matter-of-factly. Dad, how does he get all the eggs and candy around the world?
I tell him the discussion about the time-space continuum will have to wait for another day.
Damn being a lying parent is a pain in the butt!
Saturday evening 2200 hours.
I stare at my computer screen wondering what to write. My brain carries the sound of white noise as I sip the last of my sleepytime tea. I am showered and fresh, pajamas are on, my hair still dripping slightly. My wife comes up the stairs, inquiring about my 40 mile stare. I state matter of factly; I can’t think of a thing to write. She replies maybe its past your bedtime, why dont you come to bed.
Hmm maybe???
Wait a minute, have I finally reached the age where I must be tucked neatly into bed before midnight? Jeopardy is over and apparently I can’t seem to make it through 
Wheel of Fortune! Should I bust out the walker and start bitching about the horrible service after 5pm at the local Denny’s! I can hear myself now; Holy crap they never remember my senior discount!! This cant be so! We are talking about me! King of late night! Ruler of the stars! Howler to the moon! God who surveys the breaking morning sun! Why you have no idea the powers I hold in regards to being an all nighter!! I will be damned if you think for one minute I am ready to turn down my hearing aids, lay on the Apsercreme, drop the old chompers in the Poli-dent and call it an evening!
This cat could party till dawn baby! Thats right, start drinking at 5pm and walk into the house as the sun breaks over the Sierra Mountains, take a little nap and hit it hard again! Oh yeah I was that guy! No beer I hadn’t tasted, no place I wouldn’t party, no time I needed to be home! Yep a regular “Frank the Tank”! 
When it came to work I wasnt much different. Fire the truck up at 3am hit the road and arrive home at 9pm. Grab a little grub, hit the hay and do it all over again! That was me, a regular night owl. Candle burner from both ends! Night-watchman to society! It was awesome! Plenty of time to sleep when you die! Right? RIGHT???
So what the Hell happened? How in the world did I end up sitting here on a Saturday night with tea? Not even a shot of something in the tea! Just tea! In my pj’s, barefoot, wet, 
and boring. How sad is that? No really, how much worse could this possibly be? Gosh, now I am kind of feeling sorry for myself. Where did my wild side go? Where did it disappear too? I mean I can’t even feel it anymore, its like a dull, numb ache inside.
Oh wait; now I remember.
My wild side slowly evaporated after four kids, a mortgage and multiple responsibilities. Helping a few friends say goodbye to their wild side’s ate away at mine for a while. I closed the door on my wild side when I took on the challenge of becoming a firefighter. The last nail in my wild side’s coffin was after my first few years on the job picking up the after math of many other people’s wild side’s gone horrendously wrong. Yep the all nighter, wild sided “Frank the Tank” Betty was gone for good. Good riddance!
So here I sit staring at my computer wondering what to write and suddenly it doesn’t seem so bad that I am in my comfy pajamas with the last drop of sleepytime tea hovering over the bottom of my mug. My family is asleep, quiet has fallen over our house and I am the last one up.
Oh yeah I still got it!
RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT
Oh yeah ladies and gentlemen its time for Betty to bust out the pain! Lay down the smack! Bring up the blazingly obvious that all of you notice, bitch and complain about to yourselves but never to anyone else!
Drivers Licence Mayhem
As far as I know if you own a driver’s licence in the great United States of America then it means you passed a test allowing you to hold said licence. Correct????? It means that when you decided it was time to obtain these valued credentials you studied, went to drivers education classes, partook in valuable drive time on both freeways and surface streets with a certified instructor? Right???? Last but not least, like the rest of us valid card 
holding members of the united front of commuters you sweated buckets while a DMV representative sat alongside you, with a clip board in hand, guiding you through a designated course, determining if you had the ability/talent allowing you behind the wheel of your current 3400 pound bucket of rust! Didnt you??
Yet with all that being clearly stated why on earth do you lack the ability to safely merge onto the freeway? At what point and time in all those hours of behind the wheel training did anyone ever show you how to pull all the way down the on ramp at elementary school zone speeds to then stop, look over your shoulder and pray for an opening you can squeeze into from 0-75 mph? With your Prius! It’s not going to happen! Unless you own a Lamborghini Gallardo and are a very talented driver you are not going to make this move without serious consequences!
Of course it must run in the family because this morning I met your cousin Captain Oblivious! You know Captain Oblivious don’t you? 
Yeah, he’s the one that comes down the on ramp at freeway speed and never looks over his shoulder! Stereo up loud, hands at the ten and two position, head faced straight forward! Tractor Trailer? He don’t care! Giant 4×4? Better get out-of-the-way! He coming down that ramp like a skateboard to hell and there’s nothing you can do about it! He figures you will move out of fear! Apparently he missed the chapter about safely “merging”! Under the definition of “merge” it must read Merge: to ram large object into small or non-existent space without repercussion. The rest of us missed that chapter of the book but not you Captain Oblivious! Not you!
Of course my rant wouldn’t be complete without a visit from out other traffic family member! 
Flat floored Fred! You see Fred enjoys driving really fast! Fred runs the stops signs with the skill and grace of even the best California stop artist! Fred can’t help himself as he moves between lanes like a skilled race car driver. Drafting off a Lincoln, cutting the front of a Ford and pushing his way into position at the next stop light all so he gets the jump on you the moment it turns green! But Flat floored Fred has a serious flaw. Dont put him in the fast lane on the freeway! We have all seen him at his best! 
He darts down the on ramp at full throttle, smoke billowing from his 1993 Cutlass Supreme! He is coming fast, faster, faster than BAM! Across three lanes like Steve freaking McQueen! That car settles into the fast lane looking strong and stealthy until suddenly the anchor falls out of the trunk! Now Flat floored Fred shows his true side, its 55mph. Yep he’ll break every intown speed limit all damn day long but get him on the freeway and suddenly we are driving Ms. Daisy! Heres a hint for Flat floored Fred. If everyone (and I do mean EVERYONE) is passing you from all three of the right hand lanes. 
Get out of the fast lane!!! You are just frustrating everyone! They all want to kill you! That is defintley not the “your number one” sign they’re flashing you!!!!
And what the heck is up with roundabouts? These little freaks of roadway nature are nothing more than an excuse for most people to see how fast thier cars can go while drifting! No kidding! They may work in Europe to ease traffic congestion but here in the states they are just an invitation
for the Red Bull Drifting series to have try outs! They are perfect! How many times can I go around this thing sideways, smoking the tires and blocking all others from entering into the circle of trust? 
You know whats an even better idea? Place the round abouts right next to high schools! Yep thats the ticket! Then the teenagers can all pretend to be Tanner Foust! Its pure genious!
Man I feel better! Its true purging is good for the soul!
Now piss off all of you before large 4×4 guy with dents in his truck loses his temper and shows you the bumper of the Betty mobile!
Saloon doors open as the wind drives a tumbleweed through the barren streets of a lonely little high plains town. Inside a half-witted piano player takes note of the mid-sized stranger strolling slowly through the doors, across the threshold. Quiet falls upon the gallery of scraggly, dirty, motley looking inhabitants renting temporary refuge inside this dank place of excess. A bartender moves slowly as to not give away his left hands position upon a firmly mounted sawed off double barrel beneath the bar. The stranger moves forward entering the center of the room, eyes steeled upon a table of well dressed men and low brow women. Money on the table and enough whiskey to purchase a round for the bar three times over are strewn about. With every step the stranger takes, the farther away life’s crustaceans scurry. 
Before long the stranger is standing alone, jaw locked tight, hands laying limply by his side, a gentlemen dressed in what would be most mens Sunday best sits before him. Without turning around the well dressed man continues to play poker to an unwilling table. The entire population of the bar have worked their way into optimal viewing positions, some cowering, some standing tall, but all waiting to see who makes the first move. The well dressed man stands to face the stranger, slowly he turns narrow eyes peer from under the brim of his hat, instantly showing equal disdain for the presence before him. The stranger speaks…..
Oh man I love westerns! They have filled my head with fantasy for over 40 years! Most of my heroes were cowboys! John Wayne, 
Glenn Ford, Robert Mitchum, Jimmy Stewart, Clint Eastwood and James Garner. They were real men! Stood for what they believed in no matter the cost. If you weren’t with them you were against them and that meant one of two things; you ended up dead or you duked it out, then shared a whiskey after the brawl.
As a child we had four channels to choose from, today we have over 800! I miss the old 
days, as a kid it forced you to watch what was on, you didn’t have any other choice! If it weren’t for those four channels I am sure I would have missed out on some great televison series! These are a few of the wonderful shows I watched on many a rainy day; Bonanza, Big Valley, Gunsmoke, Bat Masterson, Davey Crockett, F-troop, The Lone Ranger, and Gene Autry.
Dont even get me started on the fantastic western movies I have seen over the years! I compiled a small list of westerns that meant something to me, that moved me and continue to garner my attention to this very day. These are not just average westerns, no, no, these are westerns that force me to stop what I am doing, drop everything cold just so I may sit down too watch!
Old Movies
The Kentuckian, The man who shot Liberty Valence, The Fastest Gun Alive, The Big Country, Rio Bravo, The Alamo, Mclintock, A fistful of dollars,
The Cheyenne Social Club, The Sheepherder, Cahill U.S. Marshall, High Plains Drifter, Support your local Gunfighter, Rooster Cogburn, The Shootist and Big Jake.
Newer Era
The Man From Snowy River, A River Runs Through it, Lonesome Dove, Blazing Saddles, Silverado, Quigly Down Under, Hildago, Unforgiven, Tombstone, Appaloosa, Wyatt Earp, and 3:10 to Yuma.
There are numerous westerns spread over many generations, I can honestly say I have sat through most genres; Epic Westerns, Spaghetti westerns, and B movie westerns. Although I may not have liked them all, I certainly enjoyed most of them.
My all time favorite would have to be Silverado. I have seen it more times than I can honestly count. 
The shootout at the end is one of my favorites. Second runner-up is 
Tombstone. When Kurt Russell tells Ike Clanton; “tell all the other curs the law is coming, you tell em I’m coming, and Hells coming with me you hear! Hells coming with me! “ is one of the best lines ever in a western. Big Jake and Mclintock would be tied for third with Appaloosa bringing up a solid fourth. The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence would finish us off in fifth.
High Plains drifter, Hidalgo and A river runs through it for honorable mention.
So now that I have completely lost your attention let me explain where I am headed with my school girl/boy crush upon the western genre. These were and still are my heroes! As an adult when ever a great western comes along I feel as though I am a 9-year-old boy lying on the living room floor gazing upon the open plains dreaming of one day becoming a real bona-fide cowboy! A man among men, a moral and righteous man with ethics beyond refute! 
They make me feel alive, reminding myself that no matter how hard life has become, no matter what problems we may encounter, I can disappear into a safe place for just a little while. My brain can shut off and escape all the modern-day trappings that envelope us. These characters are bigger than life! I want to be them if only for a little while.
So what I am wondering is; if I can feel this way after 45 years, what genre will my kids still idolize as adults? Movies today are centered around gruesome murders, Horrific villains, vampires, zombies, disgusting hate crimes, and social injustice. Comedies are centered around drugs, ignorance, more social injustice, racism, and disrespect for parents and any unsuspecting figure of authority. Who are the movie stars you would consider safe to set an example for your kids? Which ones will your children remember as adults for the parts they portrayed? What actors will still have a viable meaning full career after thirty years, where our children will someday preach the gospel about his/her acting ability? Or is it completely different now and I am just missing the point? Are we as a society so plugged into electronic devices, revolving around our friends lives along with news from around the world; there is no longer a need? With so many fantasy world options (video games, Facebook, twitter) have our kids lost the ability to think for themselves? To fantasize about healthy alternatives to the lives they are living? It all seems mystifying to me. Am I alone in this? Am I blowing this way out of proportion? Am I stuck with the Hunger Games and Harry Potter becoming the standard by which they disappear from reality? Or is it because I can’t let go of my dream, inadvertently putting a moratorium on theirs? I just don’t have an answer but I am definitely worried.
Oh well, for now I am riding off into the sunset, Henry Rifle strapped to my saddle and six-shooter by my side, its time to be moving on…….
Oh and if you are wondering how my little story from above ended, that’s the beauty of writing, use your imagination. You tell me…..
Forget candlelight and romance! Throw away the preconceived notion of dancing until dawn. 
A night at the opera in the city followed by a moonlight stroll along the shoreline, ridiculous! You see, I have found the ultimate date night for parents! An evening filled with laughter, food, shopping and a stroll along the parkway! Oh yes its true! Wine, it’s there, gourmet fare, got it! Supplies to cover any unexpected emergency? Yep, right inside the door! Movies? Ah yes! Dessert? Only as much as you can eat!!! Valet parking? Sadly no. So there isn’t everything you’d ever want for a date night but it’s still pretty fantastic!
If you are a parent or married couple with kids this is the place for you!
COSTCO
Yep that’s right ladies and gentlemen, my wife and I have been clamoring to go on a date quite some time. Between Softball, swimming, horses, fair animals and 4-H it seems our calendar is full 99% of the time! So tonight after a long day of breaking apart domestic disputes between our four lovely (sarcasm) children! My wife mumbles an exasperated “I have to go to COSTCO”. We are never going to be alone ever again are we? This is usally where the sobbing begins….
Hold that thought honey!
Enter the infamous COSTCO! Entertainment mega, all in one, grocery, everything household and then some superstore to the masses. I use the word entertainment in describing COSTCO, because once you look around it’s quite obvious you arent in Kansas anymore. (Unless of course you are at a COSTCO in Kansas then it’s a moot point)
So being rather quick at deducing problems I arrived at a summation; the only way we’re going to achieve some alone time would be to abandon the little heathens (aaahhhhemmm our sweet children) at home to fend for themselves while we stroll the isle ways of the local COSTCO hand in hand. All together now… AAAAHHHHHHH!
So I locked up the weapons, hid the duct tape and padlocked the knife drawer. Left the 15-year-old in charge with more than ample directions to insure his success. Told said 15-year-old not to play XBox ( hard request to make with a straight face) the whole time, but focus instead on his little brother who is starving for big brothers attention. Turned to the middle two, pointed a short stumpy finger at them with a reminder that nothing should be damaged or misplaced upon our arrival home. 
I received a tweedle dee and tweedle dumb nod of acknowledgment. Then without haste I swept the misses off her feet and into the car with hopes of clearing the driveway before one of them felt the need to ruin the moment with an unfounded emergency!
My wife and I laughed as we cruised down the road with no kids in the car, stereo up loud pumping some 80′ Van Halen, sunroof open we’re pushing 75mph, whoop whoop! We continued to laugh the way I imagine D.B. Cooper chuckled after stealing $200,000.00 dollars and possibly committing the perfect crime! It was ours all ours! Two, maybe three hours without interuption! Oh sure we would be surrounded by other families, No doubt we would hear children crying and screaming, fighting and whining! But they weren’t ours!!! T-H-E-Y-W-E-R-E-N-T-O-U-R-S! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
We arrived at COSTCO immediately finding a parking spot right up front. (good sign so far) 
grabbed a cart and off we strolled through checkpoint Charlie. I flashed my “executive” members card which instantly lets the fine young security lad know that, well, I m kind of a big deal! He acknowledges my glossy black plastic ticket to paradise with a sly wink and nod! Without haste the privileged are ushered inside! Let the carnage begin! Its only once you are inside the magnitude of this building truly takes your breath away. It lays before us like a blank canvas of consumerism! Waiting for us to fill it with colors and vision. Each item placed into our cart is an expression of our lives. A snapshot of likes and dislikes. We are a tapestry smeared with food, wine and bathroom supplies!
Our evening is proceeding well, I feel a second date may arise from this encounter. We are chatting like we’ve known each other most of our lives! (oh wait we have) We also find ourselves blindly strolling down each and every isle. We have no need for a 50lb bag of kitty litter, but it’s reassuring to know if we did need some it was there! The international fare is delicious! 
There are free food tasting stations spread throughout the store allowing you to sample a little bit of everything from around the world on sale this week. Brilliant!! Halfway through the store I stopped the cart, took my wifes hand, slowly leaned forward-looking her dead in the eye, I proclaimed ever so softly: do you hear that my love? She chuckeld, snuggled up real close to me, then placed her other hand over my heart. While pressing up against my chest, she whispered I do. I hear it so loudly it hurts. Silence.
Somewhere between 20lb tubs of peanut butter and 54 packs of 4 ply toilet paper, in a Sunday packed COSTCO, two people held each other in silence. Neither one of 
us could hear the hundreds of people talking. No kids screaming at us, no little children needing something every two or three minutes. No teenagers fighting over the remote control eventually ending up wrestling where inevitably someone gets hurt. No back talking, sniveling, whining, complaining or crying and that’s just from us!
Nope a romance was rekindled today, a date was made and kept. We didn’t need all those fancy date night stereotypes to make it happen. Some may refer to me as a cheap bastard, or possibly a loser husband for not blocking out the time, creating a proper night away. I say pishaw! I took a bad situation and improvised! By the end of the day my wife professed her undying affection and I still ended up footing the bill for $350.00 dollars! (approximate cost of dinner and the opera for two) The only difference is instead of one night at the opera with dinner afterwards; the Ipod is charged up and we’re all going to eat for weeks!
Whose the loser now!!!
Today I spent the better part of the afternoon looking forward to settling in to write something humorous. Feeling the need for a little laughter in my life opened my eyes to numerous opportunities as I traveled about. Many ideas floated around in my dome, so funny were some, I was seen standing alone laughing out loud like a crazy person on the subway. Not a bad thing really, I think it’s a benefit to keep people off guard sometimes.
It felt as though my brain was on fire! Smile across my face, grinning from ear to ear, I could hardly keep my enthusiasm to blog under wraps. It seemed an eternity before the keys of my computer were clacking beneath my finger tips! Writing keeps me sane and this was my moment of pure laughter ridden sanity, waiting to unfold! I sat down at my desk with a hot cup of tea, cracked my knuckles and gazed upon my carelessly scribbled notes of hysterics. Then something occurred to me, hitting my brain like a ton of bricks! I was rocked to the core, my eyes darted across the desk top searching for my calendar, hoping praying I was wrong. It just couldn’t be, nope, no way! I really didn’t need this right now! Pure selfishness on my part really.. But I knew it was true, I could sense it, I could feel it, the pit of my stomach hurt and I began to feel nauseous. It doesn’t matter how many years go by, its always there to remind me, to haunt me, to let me know how quickly life can change. Everything changes in the blink of an eye and there is nothing any of us can do about it.
Back in time we go:
March 22 2001
A day like any other, right? What I didn’t know was this would be the last day I would ever have a normal conversation with my wife again. It was the last time we went about our business like all married couples will. Off to work, off to daycare for the boys, off to school for me. Dinner with the family, small talk before bed, studying for me, snuggling with the baby for her. It was another average some might even say boring day. Something I took for granted all to often. Something I think we all take for granted “all to often”.
March 23 2001
I awoke early and headed off to school, I kissed my wife on the cheek and told her I loved her. She mumbled good luck on your test and I love you, it was the last time I would ever hear her voice. It was the last interaction with recognition that would ever transpire between the two of us. Little did I know what test she really was referring too. It was and has been the hardest test of my life.
She had the day off and was going on a trip to the park with our oldest, the newborn and some friends. I was in class preparing to take an exam when I received the call. A friend of ours, with her at the park called me, panicked, nervously explaining that my wife was on the ground complaining of severe chest pain. “She just wants to go home” was exclaimed; our friend didn’t think that was right. Little did she know how right she was! I remained calm performing a quick assessment over the phone, quickly advising her to hang up with me and call 911! If she didn’t do it I was going too! I had the day off work for class, so it was my Engine Company that arrived on scene. My guys took care of her, my guys accompanied her to the hospital, my guys made the call, reporting everything they knew directly to me. My guys were suffering too.
And so started a 19 day odyssey of emotion, heart-break, self discovery, unity, hope, and finally complete destruction of what I thought was my life. Kimberly Nadine perished on April 10 2001 after a hard-fought battle against a failing heart. That very moment started a journey that woke me up sending me on my way. It was the test of my life and I am still living that test to this day.
A promise made, a promise kept…..
I promised Kim I would never forget those 19 days, I also promised I would never forget the ten years we spent together, using them as a lesson learned in how not to be a husband. I was selfish, self-centered, egotistical and a generally a poor excuse for a spouse. Looking back I often wonder why she chose me. She tried her best to smooth the rough edges, but before finishing the job she was gone. This left me looking into the eyes of our children, seeing her and wondering why. So I’ve made a point to never forget, every year it comes, on this day I keep my promise. To hold that in perspective one must remember, It’s hard to take a scar and never let it heal. To pick at the wounds of those lost until they bleed. But I continue to do this, as a reminder of what it takes to be a better person. The person I felt she always wanted me to become. I kept a detailed journal over the 19 days at Stanford hospital. On this day every year I take a moment to myself, pick up the journal I kept, let it fall open and read an entry from what ever page appears. In 11 years the same page has never revealed itself twice. I read it, I remember, I go through sadness, anger, and eventually peace. It’s difficult to do, it leaves a lump in my throat, and sometimes depending on the page, it leaves me weeping. Not for the fact she perished, not for the fact she is not here to see her children, but for the unknown. I will never know what she felt, or how she suffered. But I carry a fair idea due to my medical knowledge. I will never know if she gave up because I told her it was ok to go, letting her know I understood if she wanted to quit fighting. She fought really hard through two failed operations, the odds were stacked against her. I knew it, the doctors knew it, no one wanted to verbally say it! After I whispered it was ok, and told her I loved her I stepped out of the room to gather myself and bring her mom in to see her. It never happened, ten minutes later she went into cardiac arrest and died. I will never know if she heard those words I wanted so badly to take back. I will never know if she heard me say I love you one last time. Those images can never be erased from my head, images of her dead lifeless body lying there so peaceful at rest. Cold…….
So that brings me to today.
My cheerfulness depleted, my humor erased. I walked to my dorm and pulled out the books that hide my journal. In goes the good air, out goes the bad. Head pounding, weight of a rough week on my shoulders, eyes already misting, I hold the book ever so gently as to not influence the fall of pages. It opens… Here is the page it fell upon.
It’s not the greatest, I wrote it 11 years ago, tired, exhausted and emotionally spent.
April 22, 2001
Its been 12 days since you’ve gone. I am lonely and tired. Caring for both boys by myself is exhausting. I never realized how much I took your hard work for granted. I promise to never do that in a relationship again. Someday I think I will publish this journal, not just for the boys, but for all men in America. My eyes have been opened and I feel that many as I was are walking around blind.
I want every man in America to learn these lessons now and not the hard way as I have! It’s too painful, and though many will have to learn them the hard way maybe, just maybe if one listens it will make a difference.
Men in America need to understand what true love is:
True love is not sex
True love is holding hands, not because you have to, but because you want too.
True love is knowing when to look deep in her eyes and tell her its going to be OK.
A true loving marriage does not consist of coming home to find your laundry done, your meal cooked and a warm bed to sleep in, that’s called having a maid.
True love is finding a free minute during the day to remind her you love her, and not just with words, but with actions, for they speak volumes.
True love is telling her you love her every morning, you never know when it will be your last.
True love is watching the mother of your children beam with pride at the sight of your children.
True love is never, ever going to bed angry.
True love is sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee listening. Even though you have some place else you should be and something you want to say, just listen.
True love is letting her sleep while you take care of the kids. Not just once in a while, but on a regular basis. They are your children too.
True love is standing back and marveling at how much one person can accomplish in your absence. Then letting the other know how much you appreciate the effort by performing the exact same way in her absence.
True love is never losing interest, marriage isn’t easy but if you can just call her once or twice a day to listen,talk, and remind her how much you love her, your relationship will flourish.
It’s a wonderful life.
I am remarried with two more children for a total of four, as most of you know who follow my blog. When I read my journal entry today I was fully expecting my annual tear fest to start storming and yet I realized something halfway through the page. I have accomplished all of these snippets. Every single one of them! I kept my promise! I kept it, I kept my word and I have a relationship that I never take for granted. I am blessed, I am whole, my family is one.
In life we are often faced with difficult insurmountable obstacles that are placed in our paths of growth and exploration. But overcome them we will, with perseverance, and will power. Remembering who we are, where we come from and trusting in where we are going. I never in my life thought at 34 I would be widowed with two kids. It was a hard and bumpy ride, I pray I am never in that position again. It would have been a shame had I not learned from the experience. But I came away from it stronger and wiser than before, able to give and receive love without question. To trust and believe that lives can be rebuilt, relationships forged. To get up off the floor dust myself off and start all over again. Death is never easy for anyone under any circumstances. Some lessons are learned the hard way. It’s just the way it is…..
Remember life is a gift for you to cherish. Dont waste it. For all you know tomorrow is your last day. How do you want to be remembered?
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