THERE I WAS

The Side of the Mountain

It started when I was 8 and my cousins left me sitting on the side of the hill above the Capitola house. THERE I WAS … sitting half way up and half way down. Too scared to move and surrounded by bumble bees. They coaxed me to come up, and then dared me to go down. It seemed like hours, although it was probably minutes before I figured out how to get down. Great fun leaving the little fat kid on the side of a mountain.

The Other Side of the Mountain

The weekend after high school graduation some of my buddies and I decided we were going up to Big Basin. There were 5 of us who went. We had our tents, food, etc. We were going camping and hiking. If I remember right, we spent two nights there. Of course, I had all the experience from my Deadman’s Creek days with Uncle Lee. We met some girls there who were camping with the parents of one of the girls. Naturally we wanted to impress them, although we knew we would never see them again because where they were from was quite a ways from San Jose. After breakfast one morning we met the girls and were going hiking. The trail we were taking led to a waterfall and was well marked. About half way up a steep part of the trail with a deep drop off, I got too close to the edge, paying more attention to the girl I was with than where I was going, and the trail just went out from under me. THERE I WAS … sliding down the side of a mountain … feet first on my butt, trying desperately to not get hurt and to grab onto something! I grabbed but couldn’t hold on. I could hear everyone yelling at me, but I was going down fast and they were getting fainter. Finally I saw a good sized tree in looming in front of me, so I rolled over on my side and caught the tree with my feet and stopped. I probably slid a couple of hundred yards or more, and now I had to go back up. I hurt. I was bleeding from all the scrapes on my arms. My ankle hurt like a sprain, but I had to show her that I was a-okay. It took a good 15 minutes, but I made it back to the top.

Down in the Valley

I knew a girl in Salt Lake City whom I dated a few times in the summer when we were both in high school. She would come to California to visit her uncle. A few months after I got home from my mission, a few of us guys from the Institute decided to drive to Salt Lake City for winter break. This would be a great time to see her before I got into school full time. The fellow who organized this trip, Brent, sold cars and could get a new car from the dealership for the week and we could drive out in style. As we drew closer to the departure date, Brent found he couldn’t get the car; but that we could still go in his Camero. Another day went by and Brent found he couldn’t get off work, but that we could still use his Camero. But, now we needed a replacement guy because we had the gas money figured out for 4 of us. So a girl, Bonnie, decided to go. The morning we were supposed to leave, I got a call and they would be a little late. Finally, 8 hours late and several more phone calls, they showed up … in a 1954 Ford. This was 1967. We piled in and off we went. We drove about 6 hours, arriving in Reno at about 8 PM. We stopped and got something to eat, and off we went. We traveled about 10 miles to Sparks and the car sputtered and died. The driver fiddled around under the hood and found gas pouring out of the "whatyoucallit". In 1967 there were no 24 hour services in Reno, except for casinos. It was nearing midnight. THERE I WAS … in the middle of the night with 2 other guys and a girl, in a broken down Ford and very little money between us. We rented a motel room and slept there. The next day being Saturday (naturally), no mechanics shop was open. We found a Sears store open with an automotive shop, so we limped into there and had the fuel pump replaced. Good to go!???? A couple of hours later, the car overheated. We limped into the next town and found a gas station. The attendant, a shade tree mechanic of sorts, told us the thermostat was out and that he didn’t have the one we needed (does this sound familiar?) But we were in luck … between where we were and where we were going, there weren’t many hills (ever hear of the Rockies?) so the car won't over heat if we just removed the thermostat and made our way to SLC.

Naturally, the cars owner was somewhat apprehensive about driving several hundred miles without a thermostat, so we decided we would stop at one of those now non-existent desert gas stations, café, and junk yard. We figured we could find the part we needed in one of those old junks on the side of the hill out back. Now, we were good kids, two returned missionaries, one about to go on a mission and a girl. We had not shaved in 24 hours and we looked pretty rough. We strolled into the café and asked the owner if we could get a needed part off one of the cars out back. We were the only people in the shop. An old desert rat and the “Wild Bunch” – three guys and a girl. THERE I WAS …. looking down the barrels of a 12 gauge double barrel shotgun! “We ain’t got no parts, so get out!” We did. We got to Battle Mountain and I called the girl I was going to see. We had been on the road now for nearly 24 hours. She told me that she had called my mother and that they had the highway patrol in three states looking for us! It was after dawn when we finally made it into SLC. None of us looked forward to the trip home. A couple of days later I found out that he had gotten rid of the Ford and we were on our own. I flew home.

Down the Side of the Mountain

She wanted to take me skiing. I could end the story here and let your imagination take over. But, no … we went to Brighton Ski resort and I rented an outfit! She had an outfit, I had and outfit, and if you had an outfit, you could be a skier, too! (But that’s a different song.) She took me to the ‘bunny” hill, although I didn’t feel like a bunny! I got two practice runs and then it was to the chair lift. Yep, the Chair Lift. Ever get on one? You stand in the path of the chair and when it hits you in the butt, sit. Have you ever almost not sit on a chair lift that hits you in the butt? I know I have! Harder than getting on is getting off. You would think the lift would stop so you could get off, but NOOOOO, you have to stand up at the right place and ski off to the left. I stood up at the right place but skied off to the right. There is no place to ski off to the right. I just fell down into a culvert.” FRANK, where are you?” “I’m down here in this culvert!” “HAHAHAHAHAHA”. That was all I needed. I made it back up then had to quickly get across the landing point before the next chair got there. Ever get hit in the head by a ski chair? I know I almost have! Then we skied(?) over to the starting point. “Meet you on the bottom of the hill”, she said, and down she went. THERE I WAS … on the top of a snow covered mountain; skiers everywhere! How am I supposed to get to the bottom … on my bottom? In the end, I got down the hill on my end! I lasted on the skis for about 15 seconds and down I went, and the skis came off my feet. Fortunately they didn’t go far. I gathered them up and slid down the hill ON MY BUTT! The skiers were not happy with me, but I finally got to the bottom. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for a half hour. Want to go again?” You can see why that relationship didn’t go far!

McDonald’s – One of the Finer Things in Life

In Vietnam we did without the finer things in life … things we take for granted here. Things like flush toilets, hot and cold running water, having water whenever you want it, McDonald’s! In Tay Ninh we had running water when the engineers remembered to fill the water tank on the top of our hooch. If the tank was full, we had running water. If the engineers were late, as often they were, we didn’t. Like the shower at home, we had cold, warm and hot. If you wanted cold water, you got the water early in the morning after the night of cooling and before a day of heating. For hot water, you got your water during the day, say about 2 pm after several hours of the sun heating up the water. For a warm shower, you usually waited until at least 7 pm. Then it was warm. One evening I decided to take a shower. It as about 7 pm. The sun was still bright outside, which meant it was not as bright in our hooch. In our hooch slept 8 soldiers in bunks – 4 per side, and an aisle down the middle. I showered, shaved and returned the hooch. One of the soldiers was cleaning around his area and had moved his bunk into the aisle of the dark hooch. His bunk was the first one on the left. I came in the hooch. THERE I WAS … my little toe on my left foot smashed up against the leg of his bunk. CRACK! Had there been a mortar attack and I was running from the shower to the bunker and broke my toe, I would have gotten a Purple Heart. But NOOOOO – I got a roll of tape, instructions how to tape my toes together, and sent back to duty. I did get to wear a flip flop on my right foot instead of a combat boot, though.

Clean Sweep

Because there was no running water, we had no flush commodes. We had outhouses. We had a one holer for the NCO’s and officer, and a 4 holer for the enlisted puke. Every Monday morning at the chow hall we had to take a malaria pill. Actually, we had a choice. We could take two white pills every morning, or we could take the orange horse pill on Monday. If you chose the white pills, you had to be faithful in taking them or they didn’t work. So most took the orange pill. Only problem with the orange pill was that it was like taking a big dose of ExLax. And when it hit, it hit hard! I had a standing (or sitting) appointment in the 4 holer for every Monday at 2 PM. Now, you need to know that the outhouses received the “human waste” into the bottom quarter of a 55 gallon drum. Every day our Vietnamese worker would take the drums and soak them in diesel fuel and burn it off. Wonderful aroma! It was a Monday afternoon, shortly after 2 PM, THERE I WAS … sitting in the 4 holer with my copy of Stars and Stripes, fanny hanging thru the opening. WHACK! “Sargie, move over to other seat”. She had hit me on the bum with her broom! She wanted me to move so she could take the barrel. So I moved. Privacy? Hey, this was war!

It’s Second Nature to me now

Finally the war for me was over. I returned to my lovely bride and our baby girl. A few days after I was home we went shopping. You never realize how second nature things can become; you react without thinking – you just do! Mortars ,rockets and whatever the enemy can throw at you comes in mostly at night when you are sleeping. You wake up in a bunker not knowing how you got there. You hear a hollow thud far off in the distance and you drop your cards in the middle of a card game, yell as loud as you can, “INCOMING” and dive into the bunker. Wherever and when ever you walk somewhere you are constantly scanning your surroundings for a place to dive should you hear a thud or a siren. You learn the difference between friendly and enemy fire. You jump at any loud noises. It becomes second nature. As Jannie, Heidi and I strolled from the parking lot to the store, somewhere in the distance a construction worker started his jack hammer. THERE I WAS … laid out flat on the pavement of the Sears parking lot. People were looking at me. “What’s wrong?” my bride asked. Nothing was wrong, I was home. We laughed.


Santa Claus is Coming to Town

If you ask my grandchildren if there is a Santa Claus, they will tell you yes. If you ask my grandchildren if they know who Santa Claus is, they will tell you yes. And, if you ask them if they know where Santa Claus lives they will tell you yes. You see, for the last 30 years, I have been Santa Claus. Some of my grandchildren even call me “Grandpa Claus”. Every year for 30 years I have been Santa at one function or another. With 8 kids, I had my own Elf Corps, and I also had Mrs. Claus. I would stroll thru the lunchroom at the elementary school during breakfast or lunch and the kids go wild. So much for a stuffy principal and his “no talking” lunchroom. At Ward Christmas Parties I had the same effect on the kids as I entered the Cultural Hall. I have had the wonderful privilege of being Santa in many places in Central Texas. Once, after another sterling performance at Clifton Park Elementary School, I was invited to be Santa at the faculty Christmas Party at the Fort Hood NCO Club. Once while serving in the Bishopric in Alabama a sister in the Ward saw me on my motorcycle in jeans and a t-shirt. She was taken aback because she had only ever seen me in a suit. That’s how I felt when I entered the club. These “covered from neck to foot” teachers of our babies, now were practically bare from neck to foot! I was supposed to go in and hand out the gifts for the gift exchange. The evening wore on and finally the gifts were handed out, dinner was over and many “adult beverages” consumed. As I was getting ready to leave, a teacher called out that she wanted to tell Santa what she wanted for Christmas. And before I could get up, she sat down. THERE I WAS … a kindergarten teacher sitting on my lap, her boobs in my beard. That was the last time I ever played Santa for an adult function! Much safer with a room full of kids and their parents.

And Down St. Nick Came with a Bound

For years I have been Santa for our Ward Christmas Party. As my Elf Corps got older, they became my Elf Security force. One Ward Party was a real gala for a ward party. We had gotten word that one of the Deacons was going to pull my beard sometime during the night. His opportunity came early in the evening. Santa made his appearance just before the benediction for the evening, and he was to visit with the boys and girls while the clean-up was taking place. The young man made his way toward Santa during the prayer. Just feet away from Santa, Elf Todd made an open field tackle any NFL player would be proud of. That was the end of that problem for the night. All went well for the rest of the night and then it was time for Santa to catch the sleigh back to the North Pole. Some of the elves kept all the kiddos away from Santa as he made his way out the back door and down the stairs to his waiting sleigh. These were the days before Santa acknowledged that he needed contact lenses and his beard was obstructing his vision. Elf Chad ran ahead to insure the sleigh was unlocked and ready for Santa to get in. Santa got to what he thought was the bottom of the stairs, but wasn’t! One step and THERE I WAS … spread eagle on my back! My hat was off and my beard askew. I wasn’t moving. Elf (?) Tom saw me fall and came to help. I still wasn’t doing much but groaning. Elf Tom ran up the stairs to get Mrs. Claus. She came running out, fearing the worse. When the extent of my injuries was determined to be my ankle and foot, I got into the sleigh. A quick trip home and then on to the emergency room. THERE I WAS … telling the doctor how Saint Nicholas came down with a bound! I spent the weekend with my foot propped up, in a splint. Turned out nothing was broken … except maybe my pride.



Potpourri

In our quarters at Fort Rucker, the washer and dryer were in the kitchen. One afternoon Jannie and I went to the Commissary to buy our groceries. We also purchased a beautiful striped watermelon (melon, water, striped). As usual we set the watermelon on the floor in front of the washer. With a passel of kids in and out of the house, a daddy is always in a hurry, as I was that afternoon. Recently someone asked what my favorite shoe was, and I answered that no shoes were my favorite…I loved being barefoot. And on that afternoon I was barefoot. I rushed into the kitchen and rammed my foot into the watermelon. I felt great pressure on my toe and I noticed that I had watermelon rind crammed under my toenail. Try as I would, I could not get it out. So off to the emergency room. THERE I WAS … explaining to a teary eyed corpsman how I got a piece of watermelon rind jammed up my toenail. His were tears of laughter! After a short wait, I was taken back in and the doctor, splitting a gut in laughter, removed the offending rind.

Chad and Kimber decided one day to take a day trip to Colorado River Bend State Park outside of Lampasas. On their way back they had a flat tire …. then another. Since this is about me, I won’t go into Shawn McCourt and the two cans of Fix-A-Flat. But in the attempt of the boys to mobilize and affect a rescue of Chad and Kimber in Lampasas, I took the old shop van to the Killeen Wal-Mart to get a new tire to replace the one we blew up. After not having any success, I went back to the van and started to leave, but the van was dead. Wal-Mart Automotive was closed, so I couldn’t even get a battery. Fortunately I had the Auto Club. So I called for a tow from the parking lot back to my house. About 30 minutes later the tow truck arrived. He hooked up the van for the tow back home, and I was invited to ride in the cab of the tow truck. This was not some little old tow truck; this baby was on the back of a semi! It was so cool and REALLY HIGH UP! I rode back home and while the driver was filling out his paperwork, I decided to get out of the truck. I took one step out. THERE I WAS … laying face down on the pavement! I was bleeding, hurting and embarrassed. I got up and the driver looked at me and asked, “Hey man, did you just fall out of my truck?’ What could I say? He saw me, as did everyone at the house! I said I did, signed his papers and went into the house. I was wearing shorts and my arms and legs were all skinned up and bleeding.

I think my life is full of little booby traps. Open a cupboard and half the contents fall out. Walk across a dark room barefoot and step on a Lego block. Open a freezer and a pork roast falls out and lands on your foot! Have you ever had a pork roast fall on your foot? I know I have! I used to describe the clumsiness of one of my companions by saying he could walk thru and empty room and trip! How about walking thru your family room and just breaking your foot. Have you ever walked thru a family room and broken your foot? You get your foot taped and you walk around in a wooden shoe – and after several weeks your foot is still as sore as when you broke it. So the podiatrist says he is going to have to put a titanium screw in you foot because it isn’t healing. Have you ever had your foot screwed? I know I have.

I could say THERE I WAS, but after all of this, I guess I am happier to say HERE I AM! Still alive and kicking – even if it is with a foot that has been watermelon rind impaled, pork roast impaired, and titanium screwed! Frankie Boy has it all over some kid named Tommy!