My Mom's Parents.....

So these thoughts starting flowing about the time I had no time to share them. I am frantically trying to get everything ready so that we can leave Friday morning for my grandpa's funeral. But, since the thoughts are here I will find some time when I should be sleeping to make up for the time I am spending now to write down my thoughts.

My first memory of my grandparents is at their home in South Lake Tahoe. If you have never been to Tahoe, you owe it to yourself to go at least once in your life. To me it is heaven. On the occasions I was permitted to stay with my grandparents for a few nights, I would get to sleep between them in their bed. (There were never any monsters in Grandma and Grandpa's bed.) I remember how the carpet smelled in their house. Is that weird? I remember celebrating Christmas in their house. The snow and the hill in the backyard was perfect for sledding. I can still see my grandma hanging out her clothes to dry on a line that was on a pulley that went from the eaves of the house to the other side of the yard. She would stand there and hang one article of clothing at a time, pulling the line to make room for the next. My grandma was a bit of a neat freak, but she never made you feel unwelcome because of it. You know how things like pillows shift when you sit on a couch? Well when you got up she would straighten them when you weren't looking. You would have to be sneaky if you wanted to catch her doing it. When we would first arrive at my grandparents, my grandpa would pick us up and hug us so tight that I was sure he loved me more than anyone else loved me. He could hug so tight that sometimes I thought it would be OK if he loved me a tiny bit less.

Some years later my grandparents moved to Carson City, Nevada, which was great since that is where we lived at the time. Grandparents closer is always good. I remember sitting at the bar in my grandma's kitchen while she cooked us "noodle soup" for lunch, aka Top Ramen. I loved that stuff as a kid. When the soup was too hot, she would pour a little cold water in the soup to help it cool. Well one day we must have had her a little frazzled because when my sister said hers was too hot, grandma poured a little milk in my sister's soup. Grandma was clearly annoyed at what she had done, but my sister didn't care. She ate it anyway. Not long after that we learned that my grandma had cancer.

I know that my grandfather spent his life savings trying to save his wife. There was never any question about how grandpa felt about grandma. So much so that when my grandma's health started to really decline, the nurse who cared for my grandma commented that she wished someone would love her even half as much as my grandpa loved my grandma. My grandma knew she was going to die. She would say, "I don't know what the Lord has planned for me, but I wish he would just get on with it." My grandma died shortly after my eighth birthday. I still miss her almost 30 years later. Before she died, she had a "heart-to-heart" with my grandpa that no wife ever wants to have with her husband. Grandma knew that Grandpa needed a wife or he would be miserable and difficult to deal with and she told him so. As they were having this conversation she expressed to him that she wanted him to re-marry and that she thought he should marry the nurse that cared for her. Now I ask you......Could you do that? I love my husband fiercely and I would want him to be happy......I just don't know if I could know who she was or pick her out. OK, truthfully, I don't know if I can really stand the thought of him being married to anybody but me, but the Rocket Scientist would have to re-marry too. Months after my grandma passed away, my grandpa married my Grandma Carma. She was the nurse that cared for my grandma.

One of the coolest things about gaining another grandma was that I gained two more aunts and an uncle. (Grandma Carma's children from another marriage.) Something that I have always been thankful for. It honestly felt like more people to love and more people to love me. When I was twelve, we moved away from Carson City, but through the years we have visited often.

When my grandpa passed away a little over week ago I felt like I knew him better in his last days here with us than I did before. Funny how someone all of your life has been "framed" one way. To me he was just Grandpa. As I looked at his large frame in what seemed like a tiny hospital bed, I realized for the first time, he was a lot more than Grandpa. He was the son of Swedish immigrants, a brother (number two of five children) , a father of seven children and a husband. He was a business owner, a friend, and a man with dreams, goals, failures, and accomplishments. I also learned there was more to his sense of humor than I knew most of my life. For instance, my grandpa loved caffeine-free Diet Coke and chocolate chip cookies. In fact I have heard it said that he was the original Cookie Monster. I am certain for the last couple of years that he has tried to sustain his life on this particular diet, though there were many that tried to convince him to eat things that were better for him. When my grandpa knew he was going to die in a few days, my Grandma Carma asked him if he thought there would be Diet Coke in heaven. His reply was "Nooooo!" Grandma Carma then asked, "Then what will you drink, Ed?" His quick as a whip reply was, "I'll just drink water."

I have more stories about my grandpa I will share in following posts, but for now, it's back to laundry and getting ready to get out of town. Thanks for listening......

Malibu and Weddings....

Did I ever mention that the Rocket Scientist and I lived in California when we were newlyweds? We lived in the Los Angeles area in the sun and smog. There were so many things I loved about living there. The food, the ocean, the sunsets, the palm trees, the public transportation that I knew like the back of my hand, the Central and South American cultures melting into North American culture, and the ocean breeze.

This past weekend, the Rocket Scientist and I had the pleasure of being apart of our dear friend Kevin's wedding celebration. The Rocket Scientist met Kevin while going to school. I can hardly believe it's been more than 13 years since we left Southern California. For all the places we visited while we lived there, we never once made it to Malibu. I assumed it looked like the rest of the area. I should have known better. Our friend Kevin and his lovely bride were married in Malibu over looking the ocean on Saturday. It was beautiful. Some how that word does not seem to be enough to describe the setting or the wedding. The canyons in the area, I am told are reminiscent of Hawaii, bright green hills only to be broken up by the soft blue/grey of the ocean. The groom so happy I thought he would spontaneously combust and enough love in the air to fill the ocean.

Congratulations Kevin and Angelique! May your years be filled with as much beauty and love as your wedding day.

You may have already seen this.

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook. It was such a happy story, I had to post it here.


Happy Weekend!

One from the Rocket Scientist

Today has been a rough one. The Rocket Scientist in all his sweetness has written the post that I desperately needed written tonight, but could not do myself.

So, after dinner tonight I sat down at my computer. I went to flickr.com and looked at the pictures that Karen has saved on the website...one thousand eight hundred and seven (yes, really, 1,807). I looked at everyone of them. There were pictures of unfinished yards, finished yards, houses, houses that became our homes, home improvement projects, trips to home improvement stores to buy stuff to do those home improvement projects, and pictures of the Sea Monkeys in shopping carts at home improvement stores. Of course, I lingered slightly longer on those last pictures.

In addition to the pictures of the Sea Monkeys in shopping carts at home improvement stores, there were pictures of birthdays, Christmases, Halloweens, and vacations. I saw kids playing in desert yards, Great Plains yards, and yards buried (and I mean BURIED) under the Greatest Snow on Earth. If you don't believe me, read the license plates. It says so right there. I saw pictures of kids who sneaked off to fall asleep in their beds and pictures of kids who sneaked out of their beds to fall asleep on the floor. There were pictures of kids blowing out candles on cakes, eating cakes, and, of course, wearing cakes. As I looked at these pictures I noticed two things--not a single picture of my beautiful wife and I am (and I can prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt) the most fortunate man who has ever lived. And for that I am grateful. Blessings have been lavished upon me that I will never deserve.... I know that and I acknowledge that.

And despite all the feelings of gratitude, I hadn't found the picture for which I searched. It was a needle in a haystack. See I was looking for this picture (or a semblance, thereof).



See, the yellow lab (to the left) is Sabrina. You've seen a picture of her before. Sabrina is a Guide Dog flunkie. I've been advised to refer to this as a "second career", so as to avoid injuring her delicate self-esteem. Sabrina is my dog. The dog on the right is Penny. We got her as an "oops" from a friend. Penny is Sabrina's dog. I'm certain Penny cannot remember a day in her life without Sabrina.

Sabrina came to us in the summer of 1998, just a few months after we moved into our first house. She was, bar none, the best trained dog in neighborhood...until I got a hold of her. Sabrina has lived in every state in which I have lived. Really. California (for guide dog training). She moved back to Utah in 1998 to become my dog. She moved from Utah to Kansas with me in 2003. She moved from Kansas to Arizona with me in 2004. She was even willing to move back to Utah with me in 2007. For each move, Sabrina rode in the vehicle I drove. We played together, ran together, wrestled together, and hid out in basements during tornadoes together. We traveled the road between Clinton, Utah, and Carlsbad, California, who knows how many times together. I could go on and on about the things we've done together. This picture reminds me of Sabrina's favorite pasttime. I was, so often, the recipient of her expressions of love.



Sabrina and I have spent many days and nights side-by-side. She is gentle and concerned by nature. She is massively expressive with her eyes and eyebrows. She truly broke me in as a pet owner. I have always planned on being the one responsible for all of her care, regardless of what she required. However, I wasn't with her last night. I was 1,442 miles away from home, on business in Nashville, Tennessee, and Huntsville, Alabama. Sabrina left us in her sleep.

I've spent the day trying to occupy my mind with (what today anyways seems so trivial) thoughts of how to ensure the rocket that will someday carry astronauts to the International Space Station & the moon will function properly and meet its intended mission. Each time I lost focus, I had to fight the tears that wanted to flow knowing I will never have the opportunity to see my own "man's best friend" again.

I thought of my wife, who, once again, had to face a difficult challenge alone, because, once again, her husband was across the country (or across the ocean) on business (I am so sorry you had to handle this Karen). I thought of the Sea Monkeys, who, even though they try, will take several weeks to grasp that Sabrina is really gone. Even the First One is struggling with the concept, despite having lost one of our cats a couple of years ago. The Little Jamaican won't get it for several months, or maybe even a couple of years. I think about Penny, who, last night, lost her master, her friend, and really her momma. I've been told her tail has been between her legs all day long trying to figure out why she's alone.

Mostly, I think about Sabrina, and the years we spent as companions...the miles on foot, the miles by car, the of number times I wore my arm out throwing balls for her, the time my dad hit her with an aluminum bat because she was to impatient for the ball to actually get hit far enough for her to run after it, and the amount of things she destroyed even within the last couple of months with her teeth (I thought labs outgrew chewing). Mostly, I think about how grateful I am that yesterday afternoon, before I left for the airport, I had the opportunity to watch her run, full-bore, to her feed bowl. I'm also glad that I heard she ran the yard last night before going to bed. Sabrina, we will all miss you. You're a great pet, great dog, and great companion. I will, however, miss you more than the others...I knew that would be the case, though.

Lastly, I think about the three incredibly kind neighbors (one state trooper, one municipal police officer, and a director of new product training for Novell) who stepped up after I made a single phone call explaining the situation. They took upon themselves the task of removing Sabrina from her kennel and the kennel from the garage so Karen would have so much less to worry. And, to the director, an incredibly deep, heart-felt thanks for taking Sabrina and burying her on your family's farm, where I can stop on my way to or from work and say good-bye to the friend to whom I didn't get to bid farewell.

Good-bye, my friend.

Good-bye sweet puppy, I will miss you, too.

This Bud's for you

I have a terrible habit of not getting through all my e-mail. If I notice that it is a personal message, I read it right away. If it's not a personal message? Well, I'm still going to read it. I just may have not read it yet. (Sheepish smile) So the point of this is; I have an aunt, who I adore, that sends me lots of really cool e-mail. I rarely have time to get through all of it. The times that I do get to read everything she sends is problematic for me. Once I have read it, I feel the need to store it, since I am usually wanting to not forget what it is that she sent me. (Does this make me an e-mail pack rat?)

Well today, I was going through some of those e-mail and this is what I found.

So the rumor goes: Budweiser only aired this commercial only once so as to not benefit financially from such a sad day in our nations history. Just the same though, they wanted to show their respect. Somebody please tell me why beer companies make the best commercials?

I remember September 11, 2001 so well. I sat in the middle of my bed with a new born in each arm, watching news coverage over and over till I could tell you what the anchor person would say before they new what they would say. I cried a lot in fear of what my sweet, new, little babies would have to face in the future. I remember being so proud to be an American when I watched how one of our nations biggest tragedies brought out the best in her people. People truly caring about each other, being united in getting through this tough spot in history.

All right here is the big part of this confession. My aunt sent this to me on September 11, 2007. Are you reading this Aunt Jean? I promise to be better about reading your e-mail before it is almost a year old.

Moments of Magic

I'm sure it happened when I was younger, more than I remember. Now that I have children of my own, I notice those moments that are amazing, beautiful in their own way, a lot more.

Last night held moments like that. A few of them. Earlier this week, my mom who is a elementary school teacher, calls and tells me that this group came and preformed at her school. She talked about how amazing it was to hear these kids from Kenya. Then she mentions that they will be performing here on Friday night between 7-9 PM.

So I suggest to the Rocket Scientist that this might be something fun to do with our children. I have this need for them to connect with their roots. He agrees and asks if we can have Rubio's for dinner since we will be in Salt Lake City. So we made the plan.

We go to dinner where planned. We ate out on the patio since it is a beautiful evening. I happen to then look at the Little Jamaican and realize, not only do her clothes not match, but her pants and underwear are on backwards. If this is not enough, I then look at her feet. She is wearing two right feet of "Dora" Airwalks. One hers and one of the Wild Child's. Of course I am horrified knowing that there are going to be people at the Gateway from Africa who are going to wonder a bit about us anyway, but really wonder about my abilities as a mother. Somehow I get over this and we proceed as planned.

Upon arriving at the Gateway we find that the concert is being held out doors over looking the Olympic Splash Pad. This a very informal type of concert being held outside at a mall. This is the perfect pace for four children ranging in age from 4 to 7. The African music is playing in the background and my children are now playing in the splash pad. For a few minutes, the whole world holds still for me. I realize all the little miracles that had to line up for these few precious moments to happen. I can for a split second, see how my children would be living in a country different than they do now. I can see how childhood holds so many keys to happiness. I can see getting surprised by water shooting out of the ground is one of life's true moments of glee. All of it together is like magic in my head. So much so, that I find myself a little overwhelmed with emotion.

Thirty minutes later, I realize I have four kids soaking wet and the sun is setting and didn't think to bring any towels. We live about an hour a way, so riding home wet, could be very uncomfortable. Thank goodness for Old Navy sales. Everybody got new sweat pants and t-shirts tonight. The whole family in a "family bathroom" is a sight to behold. Not to mention to hear. The guy waiting to use the bathroom when we were finished couldn't quit laughing. He thanked us for the parade as all six of us marched out after changing children's wet clothes.

My only regret for the night is that I forgot to take my camera. The Kodak moments were abounding.