"We're on a mission; From God."- Elwood Blues

Here's a couple of videos I found on the internet which showcase the motorcycle club my dad is in. If a person pays attention to them and knows what my dad looks like, a person can see him doing what he does in his spare time: winning souls for Jesus.

Interesting things:

The first horseshoe pitching tournament in which competition was open to the World was held in the summer of 1910 in Bronson, Kansas. The winner was Frank Jackson. He was awarded a World Championship belt with horseshoes attached to it. At this time, Jackson had never heard of being able to hold a shoe so it would open toward the stake, but he had been practicing to find some way by holding his shoe with his finger around the heel calk so he could pitch ringers.
-http://www.horseshoeshq.com/horseshoes-history-lesson/ 

Celebrate, celebrate, dance to the music

That's right, there's good news in the Broyles family, this time it's the Dennis branch that's dubstepping to the good news good times, because they learned they're going to have another little Dennis to add to their happy family.

You might not know it, but that's good news! That's my big sis; the only sis I have. That's going to make four kids for them, because I am speaking out loud this healthy pregnancy and delivery and baby. Good thing Macy is 14 now, she'll be able to really step in there and help out with the baby, due November 29.

I'm so happy to be an uncle to three great kids, now I am anxious to be an uncle to four great kids.

Keeping busy part II; or The Sequel; or The Revenge of Keeping Busy

So, class last Friday was close to a waste of time. Due to the earlier start day of 7:15, we had shortened class periods, plus everyone was keyed up from either staying the night at the school, or arriving at five a.m. for the cool schools taping. Add to that increased energy and buzz in the school,  the date was 4/20/12. 420 is a popular number among marijuana users (I don't know why) and is generally considered a drug reference (April 20th is also the birth date of the Nazi leader Adolph Hitler, and a lovely niece of mine, Macy). With the date being 4/20 there was a buzz (pardon the pun) all week long among some of the student body who planned to sabotage the Cool Schools event on Friday, by arriving at school under the influence of that illicit drug, in order to appear on television with red eyes and a hunger for pancakes.

In order to deter this rumor, the faculty sent out a warning on the wire to the student body there would be a special surprise to seek out those idiots that chose to engage in the undesirable, and illegal, activity. This amounted to a visit by the Ottawa Police Department and their K-9 unit. The school was put on "lock-down", which meant no person was allowed to travel in the hallway, while the drug dog sniffed at the lockers and then sniffed at the vehicles in the parking lot.

At least one of my students was placed on three day out of school suspension for having "Half of a seed" in his vehicle. I can neither deny nor confirm this student's version of what was found. It does appear that that was the worst of it, thankfully.

Obviously, these events shook up the school day, but we hung on until school was dismissed at 1:10 for the day. It's an earlier than usual dismissal time that took into account the special circumstances surrounding school on that Friday.

I went home and it was just about right on time for Leo's nap. Mare and Jack and Henry were leaving to go snoop around at a couple of garage sales, and Mare suggested I take a nap with Leo, which I did. There was a whole chicken baking in the oven which I was supposed to "Keep an eye on" and probably remove around 3:30. I slept hard and wasn't awakened by Leo's squirming body until about 4:15. Whoops. Fortunately, the chicken was fine. I wrapped it in foil and set it on the range top for good keeping and made preparations for Leo and I to go to nearby Heritage Park; he riding his scooter, I walking.

We didn't stay long, and as we were leaving we spotted Jack and Mare and Henry approaching, so we stayed on a little longer. Mare and I have been trying to form the habit of walking a couple of miles around the loop of Heritage Park while the boys play. Sometimes it happens before we eat, most times after we've eaten supper. On that particular Friday, it was my pay day, so I made the patriarchal decision to eat out at the local Chinese food restaurant, Blue Star Cafe.

We ate the buffet (very good by the way) and the lovely waitress (and I suspect family member/owner) close to our age, who  we've learned over the years has a son close to Leo's age, came over to coo over Henry. She's super nice and we have grown to understand her accented English pretty well. She wished to hold Henry and we allowed her to do so without reservation. She walked right away with him, and we thought that was kind of funny. Then, I looked over and saw a young man holding Henry. The waitress's husband works as a chef/cook in the kitchen and she'd went and got him to come out and carry the baby around for a spell. Henry was happy as could be.

Marian would never had gone for that back when Jack was Henry's age. She would have been following her and him around and might not have even surrendered him in the first place. After we stuffed ourselves on noodles, savory vegetables and rice, and topped it off with a little dab of ice cream, we went on home and gave the two oldest a bath and sent them to bed.

Saturday morning I fixed breakfast for Jack and Leo, then I attended a "How to build a deck workshop" at the Ottawa City Library. At the conclusion of the workshop I was to receive a free building permit for a deck, which I presume a front porch will count as a deck and might need if I get around to building a new front porch this summer. The guys giving the workshop were code inspectors for Ottawa, and were not experienced public speakers. It was a whole lot of them reading long paragraphs of what was up on a power point for everyone to read already. Then also, the two guys had been working at the job for quite a bit of time and every now and then there would be a little competition about who would deliver the last word on a given topic. One fellow was determined to do so, even if his last word was completely way off topic. They had donuts and coffee.

I then raced back home on the bike to pick up Jack and Leo to take Jack to tee-ball practice. I did so successfully and arrived ten minutes early to the building where we've met previously, which is not far across the river and a short ride for me. After the boys' helmets were off and they were unbuckled, the head lady came out to inform me the session had been moved to a location on the south end of town 14 blocks away. Soooo, I loaded them back up, and like Thomas the Train, I huffed and puffed over there and was only late by about ten minutes.

Marian and Henry had plans to go to another couple of garage sales while we were there, but she cut that short and showed up at Jack's tee ball practice mid way through.

The boys and Marian left in the car and I made a quick stop at the hardware store for a quick repair on my bike and then met them, ironically, at the first building I took the boys to earlier that day.

More to come...

Keeping busy

It's a Monday afternoon as I write this; about four o'clock in the middle of the North American continent. I bet you're wondering, "Where's the clever title, blogger?"  Yes, I bet you are.

I went to bed early on Thursday night because I needed to get up early on Friday. A local Kansas City television station runs a weekly segment called "Cool Schools" where the reporter and cameraman broadcast a live feed of the students behaving as hooligans and conduct on air interviews with some of the movers and shakers of the student body. The broadcast began at five o'clock a.m.so, I needed to get on up and at 'em to join in on the fun. The previous night the high school held a "lock-in" or a "sleepover" or "shenanigans-fest", whatever you want to call it, for the students. The girls were kept segregated from the guys (a wise move; there's no need to look for ways to increase the student pregnancy rate). There were a few teachers that volunteered to stay with the students. I was not one of those teachers. Before I had children of my own I would have been there to "chaperone", or "bear witness", or "katy-bar the door", but now that I have three little ones and a little lady at home, I feel it is my place to be at home with them at night in the highly unlikely event that "something" might happen and I would be needed.

I rolled up on my bicycle at about a quarter to five on Friday morning, my bike all lit up like a landing strip. I figured I better get all visible and such as there would be some student drivers arriving at five a.m. for the beginning of the festivities, and might be tired and distracted. My students puzzled me with their reactions to this: "You rode your bike this morning?"

Well, yes. I'm not sure why they were surprised about this. Some of them have never seen me in a vehicle, but I guess since it was early in the morning, they thought maybe I'd not be up to it. But, I was, and I did.

I dove into the free all you can eat pancake breakfast with some colleagues and students both, where we cut up and looked forward to a day of whiners and complaining.

More to follow...

One twentieth of a century! Or Jack's birthday weekend: part II

Did you get that title? Of course you did.

I hadn't been on the campus of Kansas University in quite some time, and like many university campuses its layout is not conducive to efficient navigation for the unfamiliar navigator. The unfamiliar navigator was none other than myself, who also served as the driver, simultaneously. It would not be inaccurate for one to describe my manner of motor vehicle operation on that Friday the 13th, on the campus of Kansas University, as slow, hesitant, indecisive, and even ponderous. College students have important places to go and they have motor vehicles to get them there. Just before noon on a Friday the 13th in April, some of those college students grew impatient with my driving and expressed their frustration with exhibitions of acceleration immediately after extracting their motor vehicle out from behind my own. One little white pickup truck spun one of its rear tires really, really, fast going around a corner in the opposite direction as my own, after it crept up a hill behind me. I presume they arrived where they were going safely, as we did, only much quicker and in a must more perturbed state than us.

We parked on the fifth level of a five tier parking garage, which we entered from the ground floor, much to the amazement and satisfaction of our two oldest boys. They've watched a dvd at home multiple times which documents the different stages of constructing one of these, and it was their first time to actually experience one in real life, three dimensions.

The natural history museum was neat because it displayed a large number of stuffed animals and skeletons found not only in Kansas, but from all over the world. The boys liked the skeletons on display, and the fabricated skeletons. I liked the dinosaur...paraphanelia (is that the correct term?) It's difficult for me to imagine that world dinosaurs occupied. Of course it's difficult to attempt to comprehend the length of time involved in the geological and evolutionary processes scientists believe our Earth has gone through to present time.

 One exhibit made an impact on our sons. It was the bee hive. On the third floor of the museum a hive of bees was thriving and producing honeycombs and honey in a fabricated tree with plexiglass sides in order to view the bees and their activity. A tube connected the hive to the outside world and allowed the bees to enter and exit through the window. The information referred to honey as "bee barf", because honey is technically, "regurgitated bee saliva". This has brought a great deal of enjoyment to our boys each time we've had a honey treat at the table.

The exhibit on germs was interactive, and quite impressive for an adult, however it failed to hold our sons' interest for very long. It was okay with us, because we felt we'd exhausted our usable time there in the museum. In other words, we felt the end of our sons' interest level approaching, and we made preparations to leave and go onto phase two of the day's activities.

Phase two involved a stop at the closest convenience store along the way for snacks and beverages. I say along the way, because I left out the part where we left the museum, Mare fed Henry while the boys ate birthday candy and I people watched, and we retrieved the car from the awesome storage building. We'd planned to travel just south of Lawrence to a place called "Wells Overlook". Wells Overlook is a four story wooden observation tower built upon a tall hill. It's a Douglas County maintained park which charges no admission or permit fee. Mare tells me during her childhood there was a playground there, however that playground and several "very cool" trees have been removed since. What remains on the tall hill, besides the observation tower, is a covered, paved, shelter full of picnic tables, and some short "trails".

The view the tower afforded was, needless to say, impressive. It seemed I could see for ten to twelve miles off, especially if I used the binoculars.The boys sure had fun going up and down the stairs about four dozen times or more after they discovered they could toss their plastic dinosaurs off over the edge and watch them from between the cracks of the railing fence as they landed on the ground below. Henry played on his back and stomach on a thick blanket we'd brought along for that pursuit. Jack spent some time hunting for insects to collect and examine with his new adventure/explorer kit. Then, we explored some of the trails in the park. We stayed there until nearly dusk, then traveled back into Lawrence to spend a couple of gift cards we had to Applebee's for supper.

The boys were worn out! The parents were worn out! We carried their dishrag limp bodies into the bathroom and scrubbed their little teeth really well to get all that birthday candy off their teeth, then dressed them in their pajamas and tucked them into bed. I went to bed. Mare stayed up making cupcakes for the birthday party which would take place the following morning.

Yes, that's right, there was more celebrating to come!

We took lots of pictures, and if I get really ambitious I might attempt posting them on here for your enjoyment.

By the way, carrying in a limp sleeping kid is about the best thing in the world, and I experienced a case of deja' vu remembering how safe and snug I felt when my own dad carried me into the house at night after falling asleep in the car. That's good stuff.

Half of a decade

I could have just entitled this post "Five years", but then what's poetic about that? Then again, one might immediately ask, "What's so poetic about 'Half a decade'"?

Touche'!

As you might have inferred, last Friday the 13th was Jack's fifth birthday. Technically, and Mare and I have had this conversation/argument before, it's his sixth birthday if you include his birthday. To be specific, we celebrated the fifth anniversary of his birthday. There! Are you happy?

As on his very first birthday (the day of his birth) it was a Friday the thirteenth. Our household does not give credence to friggatriskaidekaphobia, (I'm not kidding, click on this to read the wikipedia entry) so we had no reservations whatsoever about celebrating his birthday. We walked out of the house and made our way under a ladder, shooed away a black cat that lay in our path, and broke to pieces that pesky mirror we'd been wanting to get rid of and went on our merry way.

After a hearty breakfast intended to sustain us through a big, big day, we loaded up the vehicular and merrily rowed along north to the campus of The University of Kansas Museum of Natural History; otherwise known to our children (the ones who can talk) as "The Dinosaur Museum" (accompanied by excited shrills of, well, excitement {as if shrills can be anything else than excited!}) It took us a little while to get off the ground and going, mainly because I, in my desire to be prepared, focused my considerable technical savvy upon one of our vehicular's wipers. It was damaged, I remembered, and the forecast for that Friday the 13th of 2012 called for thunderstorms and rain showers, and sprinkling, and high winds, and precipitation. While rummaging in the trunk, actually I wasn't so much rummaging as placing the big stroller in the trunk, I noticed an extra wiper blade and naturally I was pleased with the immediate assumption that it was the right size and that I was looking at a quick and easy fix. Notice the word "assumption".

Well of course I removed the old, damaged wiper and it fell apart in my hands. Good thing I had a brand new wiper that fits . . . oh no I don't, it's the wrong size! How did I overlook that? (see previous paragraph: keyword assumption). So, I thought, "I know, I'll just install the old one back on so we can get on the road...oh that's right, it already fell apart in my hands! Can't do that. I thought briefly about swapping one out from our other car, but by then the kids had arrived outside and Marian, too and were all expectantly climbing in to depart. So, since there was now a metal nub on the end of the wiper arm where there was previously a wiper that was damaged, I had to protect the glass windshield from being scratched when the wiper returned to its place of rest (no that's not a euphemism for death, but the position the wiper returns to when not in use), so I placed my leather work glove over the metal nub for that express purpose. There is a mechanic's shop I'd check at the end of our street that I hoped sold wipers to avoid driving all the way to the south end of town to purchase new ones.

They didn't sell wipers at the mechanic's shop at the end of our street and I had to drive our family all the way to the south end of town to O'Reilly's auto parts to purchase and install new wipers, all the while Jack the birthday boy was asking why we were heading to Humboldt and not to Lawrence. No wait, it gets better. While I was inside the mechanic's shop inquiring about wipers, the O'Reilly's delivery guy was there, had just dropped off a package there, and was leaving to go...where else? Back to the south end of town to O'Reilly's, where we were now headed. No, wait, it still gets better. We actually backed out first and the O'Reilly's delivery guy next to us (with his reverse lights on, because he was backing out to go where we were going, or vice versa) was hoking his horn and pointing at my work glove on the windshield which he thought I'd neglected to remove. But wait, it still gets better. At the traffic stop light, he was next to us in his vehicle and continued to honk and point at my windshield and the glove. So, I rolled my window down and was mouthing the words "I know, it's okay!" to him, because it was the O'Reilly's delivery truck and O'Reilly's didn't want to spend a lot of money on their delivery truck, so that meant they purchased the model without power windows, so the driver was unable to roll the passenger side window down in order to hear me. Again, I'm assuming this is the case with the O'Reilly's delivery truck. It could be the truck did have power windows and they were inoperable for some reason, or that the delivery driver didn't know how to roll the passenger side window down, or that he simply chose not to do so. Whatever the case, we had a good long, confusing exchange that I would describe as silent, were it not for the horn on the delivery truck which sounded frequently, and was assuredly, operating in peak condition.

So, we were intermittently alongside of said delivery truck and confused delivery truck driver, or a car length ahead of or behind for the entire way across town, going to the same place he was headed, all the while I was becoming furious with myself for being so hasty as to not check that the spare wiper in the trunk was indeed the correct size before removing the damaged one, and cussing whoever it was that put a spare wiper in the trunk, which didn't fit! Probably me. At O'Reilly's, I encountered the driver and I fake laughed about it as I explained about the glove and waited for my turn in line to purchase two new wipers, because I was getting two of them, brand new ones as much trouble as this was turning out to be! The salesman was kind enough to install them, (I could have, I assure you, I've done hundreds of them!) because I was too mad at myself and fearful of making another time wasting mistake.

All of this was before we left town to get to the museum. Part two is forthcoming.

A big day for a three year old

Saturday the 31st of March was Leo's third birthday. He'd been counting down the days for a few weeks. Mare and I had determined we'd be best to give him his present right away, first thing. Mare had secured a large drawstring bag (think Santa Claus) to place the large new toy John Deer front end loader into. He was thrilled, of course. It was big and looked fun as heck.

I rounded them up and we ate bread and jelly for breakfast, ate our vitamins and I drank my fiber ( old much?) then we headed down to Forest park where we'd reserved the big shelter house for Leo's birthday party. We arrived a half hour early so the boys would be able to play some before the guests arrived. The grass hadn't been mowed all over the park, so the boys' feet and legs were soaked with tall grass dew right away. Mare and I unloaded all the "gee-dunk" that goes along with a three year old's birthday party, and decorated minimally. I walked around with Henry on the front carrier for a bit.

Some of Leo's friends from the library attended with their siblings and parents and they all had a blast playing on the playground equipment together. Mare had spent the previous evening making a birthday cake that resembled a turtle which we put Leo's three lit candle into for him to blow out. We served up "juice" barrels and individual ice cream cups for everyone and cupcakes for those who didn't get the turtle cake. We sang happy birthday and opened presents and Leo was very good about not being greedy and sharing his toys and saying thank you to the right people.

Next we attended a city sponsored Easter egg hunt in a separate park which was a big hit, despite the unseasonably warm temperatures. Jack didn't have such great success in his age group, but Leo did well. Mare's b.f.f. Lisa's son Cash went as well and did real well finding the eggs.

After the egg hunt we went home quickly and the boys played for a bit in the new deposit of sand dad had brought them that morning as part of Leo's b-day present. Then we drove fast for Topeka to the zoo. There we walked around for a couple hours and saw a tiger, lions, gorillas, an orangutan, hippo, giraffes, and elephants. Also, a bunch of people at the zoo who by far looked wilder than the animals.Directly across the street from the zoo entrance is Gage park. It was b-u-s-y! The boys were wanting to go there, so after the zoo closed we let the boys play where they wanted. Mare and Henry and Jack went one way, I and Leo went another way.It's a good, big park and the boys played on almost everything for over two full hours before we called "calf-rope!" and made them leave just before the sun went down.

At home they got a hot bath and were sent to bed where they dropped like full sacks once they hit the rack. Matter of fact, mom and dad hit the rack and went right to sleep also.

The boys were good all day despite having no real naps and all the excitement and change in schedule. We've got another big day planned for Jack's 5th birthday coming up on Friday the 13th! Before that, we will travel to Lawrence for my father-in-law's 60th birthday party on Saturday, and then to Humboldt on Sunday for Easter at Irene's.

Big few weeks. No school tomorrow on good Friday. I hope to mow the yard and edge it and get it looking nice. I hope all is well with my dedicated followers. I wish all the full blessings of God on all of you and your families and friends and those families and friends of my own.

thanks for reading.

Spring Break: installment II

Congratulations! You've made it past the first barrier of long-winded ramblings, and you've come back for more of the summary of my and my family's spring break. You WON'T be disappointed!

Leo, Jack and I hiked in the rain at Clinton Lake on the George Latham hiking trail for about two and one half hours. We all wore our rain gear because it had started raining right at the beginning of the hike, but then the sun came out intermittently for another hour and half or so. Finally the rain set in and didn't stop and we hiked back to the car where we already had all our camping gear packed up dry. It was to be the beginning of about five days straight of rain! I was aware it was to begin raining that day and that's why I chose to take the boys camping on the last night where rain was not in the forecast.

At home we took a hot, sudsy, full bath and cleaned ourselves of the woods and body odor we'd acquired. We only found one tick when in the woods, but were sure to double check for them when in the tub. After the bath we had a nice sandwich and soup lunch (thanks Mare), put in a Bob the Builder: How Skyscrapers are Built DVD to watch, then took a nice long nap.

We put the boys to bed somewhat early that night, Monday night, and Mare and I watched roughly the first part of Fiddler on the Roof. Now, I have to take a detour from Spring Break Wrap-up in order to fill readers in on this movie/musical.

 Fiddler on the Roof is a movie/musical from the 1970's. I'm not familiar with any of the actors, but they really did a great job.Fiddler is the story of a poor milkman's family of him and his wife and their five daughters. They live in the early part of the century somewhere near Poland. They are Jewish and their village is a Jewish community, but they must live while being persecuted by the Polish (I think it's the Polish). The girls all give their father fits due to their wish to decide for themselves who they will marry. It's really all about change. I recommend watching it. Be warned, it is close to full three hours long.

The next couple days we spent kind of picking up the house and playing indoors, as it was raining leprechauns and shamrocks. Thursday, though, we took the two oldest to their grandparents in Lawrence. We left them there for the night while Mare and I used our gift certificate to Buffalo Bob's, a barbeque joint in Lawrence. We walked around downtown Lawrence with Henry, ran into Mare's uncle Craig at a coffee shop, I went to a hair salon to have my hair styled, and we shopped for Mare some earrings. At home we enjoyed not having the two kids to worry about, and it was quiet...too quiet.

The grandparents brought them back on Friday and I attended a United Way meeting at noon. Mare helped out her mom and dad with some tax issues and we began to clean up the yard, since it was the first nice day we'd had, really, since spring break began. Thursday while in Lawrence, it was cool and trying to rain on us there as well.

Saturday and Sunday we spent trying to get the yard cleaned up a little. Every little bit helps. It is sure nice being at home with my family. I really enjoyed my spring break. It was tough going back to work on Monday, as I'm sure the students also experienced.

Jack's soccer practices are over and I've joined a group of writers that meet once or twice a month. Tee ball will be starting up for Jack in a couple weeks. Tomorrow is Leo's third birthday already. I just love him so much. I love all my boys so, so much. Henry is rolling over. Jack is figuring things out. We'll have a birthday party for Leo at the park, then attend an Easter egg hunt, then attend the Topeka zoo. Should be a fun, fun weekend.

Love to all. If you read all of this, I'm very impressed.

Spring break has come and gone. Now it's back to the not-so-real world of public education. I could provide a breakdown of almost all that my family and I did over spring break. It would include these things:

• stay the night with my mom
• attend my cousin's wedding
• camp out for one night
• fishing
• hiking
• reading
• resting
• writing
• date in Lawrence
• hair cut
• soccer practice
• writers' group
• yard clean up

That's the abbreviated version. For those of you who only want the "quick and pointed", there it is and you may now feel free to skip on out of here without reading any more. Don't feel guilty, I'll wait on you to leave . . .



 Still here? I can only conclude then that you are either a glutton for the form of punishment that is reading these horrid diary entries; or, you have found that you must "clean your plate" literarily speaking, and finish reading each and every word to the bitter end, once you have started, for good or bad. The last scenario is not plausible enough to entertain, and just barely made the final cut of possibilities, and that is this: you actually like to read my writing. However much I'd love to consider this as a viable option concerning my writing, I find it difficult to believe. I just can't imagine anyone reading this willingly who had no relationship with me. However, this is the blog about my family, which my readers realize when they get into it from the get go. So here goes.

My "little" cousin was married to a wonderful gal on Saturday March 17. I'm happy for the both of them. I don't know her real well, but she's made a positive first (and succeeding) impression upon me. He, the groom, is just a great guy who's learned some lessons the hard way and I can't say enough good things about him and her and her two daughters. They make a great family and I'm excited to see them go through life together. They are somewhat like Mare and I in that they just keep things real and are not into posturing for others' benefit. Whatever that means.

I was wonderfully privileged to be asked to perform some songs on my guitar during the seating portion before the wedding, and to play the opening melody of Nothing Else Matters by Metallica for her walk down the aisle. Learning that song was a challenge, and in the end I did not perform it perfectly, but well enough for a group of people I mostly knew who paid no attention to it anyway because they were all focused upon the bride to be walking down the aisle. They treated us to a great barbecue dinner after the wedding, so that was an added bonus heaped upon the other good things about the union.

Because the wedding rehearsal was on Friday night, I buzzed down to Humboldt with the two oldest boys in tow and we all three stayed the night with my mom. She was alone for the evening as dad was away. Mom and her two grandsons had fun walking to the golf course pond and all the ensuing hi jinx that goes along with it. My sister arrived late, late, that night from Oklahoma. We rose early on Saturday for breakfast together, and I drove myself and the oldest boy back to O-town for his soccer practice for an hour. He helped wash the car and Mare got her hair trimmed and we loaded up all of us to go back to Humboldt for the wedding. Sis left back for Oklahoma about an hour after the wedding and we drove back to O-town not long after.

Sunday I spent the morning finding and packing things to take the two oldest camping. We finally arrived around 1:00 at our usual haunt for camping in Kansas: Woodridge Campground at Clinton Lake. We immediately hiked down the trail about a mile or more to the lake shore where we tried fishing. Daddy couldn't secure any bait for the fish, so we were forced to try Whales crackers, the knockoff brand of Goldfish crackers. It's all I had and besides it was so oppressively windy, the fish didn't bite (the wind? the bait?) and we only tried it for about 40 minutes. They thought it was cool nonetheless.

We hiked back and the boys played while I set up the tent and scoured the empty campground (Sunday night, remember?) for firewood left behind at other camp spots. I gathered a bunch after a bunch of trips, and lit it just before sundown. Up until then I had kept the boys out of the tent, but since they'd eaten all they wished to eat at the picnic table, I let them in to change into jammies and to read bed time stories. I lit and hung the candle lantern in the tent and got back out to sit by the fire and do some writing. I kept my ear on the weather radio as it was kind of windy up in the campground among the trees, too, and the sun had not shown its face yet and rain was in the air, but unexpected until Monday afternoon.  We had the campground to ourselves, though there were some vehicles parked there and their occupants loaded up backpacks to hike down the trail a ways to camp in the woods.

I packed up as soon as we got around in the morning to have everything in the car in case it rained. We were able to enjoy another big fire in the morning with the leftover fire wood from the night before. So, we sat around it for awhile until it did start to sprinkle and rain. At that point we donned our rain gear and set off for our second hike. We started down the opposite trailhead. We walked a long way and then made our way back after a couple hours of hiking. We dove in the car and made our way home where it was warm and dry.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Life in la-la land, or, Spring Break 2012!

Happy Birthday to you Allison Clarice!

Today is March 5, 2012. I'd like to wish my big sister Clarie a happy birthday, and I'll show my respect for her by omitting any revelation concerning age. What is age anyway? If I were to judge by her wisdom, she's about 120. If I were to judge her age by the love in her heart and her zest for life, she'd be less than 10 years old.

She's helped me out my entire life, even back when I didn't want her to as a child. For example, she's the one who taught me in my first ever high school dance as a freshman not to dance with my tongue hanging out. That was valuable advice I've implemented ever since. That same dance she taught me that the senior girls think it's cute when the freshman boys dance instead of stand at the sidelines. Again, advice I put to use immediately and applied to other dances since leaving behind the title of freshman.

I'm sure she could teach me how to fish if I so desired. No one else could. She could teach me how to slalom ski behind a boat, if I were a good pupil. She could teach me how to have fun in any situation and how to find the positive in all things. She could teach me accounting and management and child rearing. She could teach me to train for a 5k run. She could teach me to look glamorous at any given moment. She could probably teach me to be a good son, if I'd listen.

I can't imagine being a part of one of those families where the siblings are estranged. A situation that does, in fact, occur within my grandparents' generation of sibling relationships. There were times I'm sure it would have been much easier to be like Peter and deny me. But, unlike Peter, she always claimed me. I'm not sure I turned out the way she'd hoped or predicted, but she's turned out exactly as I knew she would. She's a caring, loving mother; devoted wife; successful business owner; a charitable and empathetic Christian; a good daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, etc.

Clarie, I love you. You've been a better sister to me than I've been a brother to you. Happy birthday, sis.

Second chances

Our high school schedule today ended with a "motivational speaker" named Joe White. Joe is 25 or so now, but when he was 14 he jumped from a moving vehicle under the influence of alcohol. As a result of hitting his head on a concrete curb at 35 mph, Joe is partially paralyzed and has difficulties with speech. His message to the teens in the room, and really to everyone, was to make smart decisions and make the best of the life you've been given and the second chances we all are given.

I appreciate Joe's message and I hope some of the yahoos in our school will remember to make some smart decisions also. It's estimated 70% or so of high school students drink alcohol. It doesn't take but one mistake, or one bone headed decision for something to end badly.

Look up Joe White on Facebook. His is a sad, but rewarding story. We can all learn from Joe's mistakes. Not all of the bad decisions we make involve alcohol. Some involve relationships and interactions with other humans. Take a moment to breathe and calm yourself and make a good decision.

Wear yer' gloves!

I cut the meaty left part of my palm below the thumb on my left hand on Saturday. More accurately, I gouged it with a putty knife. I had sharpened it on a flat metal file to use. I made the mistake of removing my work gloves temporarily, then neglected to put them on again. Sure enough, I was scraping away and it slipped and gouged into my hand. I remained calm and cupped my hand to catch all the blood. I didn't wish to alarm anyone in the house, namely the boys, so I went directly to the kitchen sink to wash the wound. Marian cleaned it up a bit and dressed it with some kind of goop from a tube and applied a big band aid to it and a couple strips of fabric tape to help keep it more secure than the bandage's adhesive alone. The bandage came off at some point later in the day and was never replaced.

It's really not that bad of a cut. It's really only about a half inch long and not at all deep. It could have been much worse. The cut itself is a pretty clean cut, the flesh was cut rather than torn, although it bled more like a puncture.

In retrospect I have identified a few places this could have been avoided. For one thing, I let the nasty grease build-up on the range top grow to such an extent that I was forced to take the drastic measure of taking a sharpened scraper to it. Although we both are good at wiping down the range top surface after use, we seldom take the time to genuinely try to to remove it and keep it removed by using chemical cleaners. We are in the habit of simply wiping it down with the wrung-out dishrag. Unfortunately the grease builds up imperceptibly  until it is a complete eyesore and no chemical will touch it.

Secondly, I should have kept my gloves on. I'm in the habit of wearing my work thick leather work gloves for completing tasks like this one and others that are similar, (thank you dad and grandpa!) Ask my wife, (or don't) I have them stuffed everywhere: in the car, in the pickup, in the closet, by the door, in the workshop, in the pantry cabinet, in my underwear drawer, in my wife's underwear drawer...etc. You get the picture. I should have just kept them on while I performed my task, as is my habit, but for some reason, I forget now exactly why, I took them off for one thing, then didn't put them on. Probably, I was in a hurry to get in there and continue scraping off that grease.

I love wearing gloves. In a way, it makes a person superhuman. With work gloves on, I can scoop up live coals that have fallen from the campfire into my hand to chuck back in among the flames. I can handle hot metal and grasp thorny branches; I can work the handle of a shovel without blisters. I can gouge my left hand with a sharpened putty knife and withstand injury.

Simple pliers do much the same thing. Pliers turn ordinary hands into superhuman tools. They grip and hold safely when something is far too hot or cold to handle.They grip like, well...pliers. They're so handy I just feel invincible with my work gloves on my hands and my pliers snug away in my carpenter pants (another great invention, so practical and full of pockets for stuff!) and I'm ready to... to... go sit in the chair and read a book!

Learn from my experience. Gloves are cheap (at least you can pay what you want for them); so are pliers. And they're both readily available for purchase at the town and country store or auto parts store you like to shop. Get some and keep them nearby. Save your hands for your baby!

Well, there's good news to be told. One of my cousins will be married next month. My other cousin will be having a baby and get married, both in September. Now, I don't care who you are, that's good news! If you want a gritty realistic worldview that provides no room for good news and happy endings then go watch the evening news on one of the big three networks and leave us alone!

People might could use a little good news these days. Do you really want to hear more belly-aching about the economy or who is going to be the President next, or what's the matter with today's youth, and why can't things be like they used to be? Well, let me tell you something Johnny, these days are the best days. We here in the United States enjoy a level of prosperity and comfort never, ever known before in the entire history of the world. We've got it easy! I have it easy! You have it easy, too! So celebrate some people being in love and get over it!

That's probably the most gratuitous use of exclamation marks this blog has seen. Oh, what the heck. Let's add one more!

My kids are healthy. My family is healthy. I've got a good house and a couple reliable vehicles. I live in the United States in the great state of Kansas in a county named for one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence (Ben Franklin). I've got Netflix and wireless internet, what more do I need?

In the words of Navin R. Johnson, the Jerk, played by Steve Martin:

Navin R. Johnson: Well I'm gonna to go then! And I don't need any of this. I don't need this stuff, and I don't need *you*. I don't need anything. Except this.
[picks up an ashtray]
Navin R. Johnson: And that's the only thing I need is *this*. I don't need this or this. Just this ashtray... And this paddle game. - The ashtray and the paddle game and that's all I need... And this remote control. - The ashtray, the paddle game, and the remote control, and that's all I need... And these matches. - The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control, and the paddle ball... And this lamp. - The ashtray, this paddle game, and the remote control, and the lamp, and that's all *I* need. And that's *all* I need too. I don't need one other thing, not one... I need this. - The paddle game and the chair, and the remote control, and the matches for sure. Well what are you looking at? What do you think I'm some kind of a jerk or something! - And this. That's all I need.
[walking outside]
Navin R. Johnson: The ashtray, the remote control, the paddle game, and this magazine, and the chair.
Navin R. Johnson: [outside now] And I don't need one other thing, except my dog.
[Shithead growls at him]
Navin R. Johnson: I don't need my dog.

Really?

No comments? Really!?

I spend literally minutes of my time on a sporadic and unreliable schedule approximately once a month to write valuable content for my loyal readers, all eleven of them. I turn on my computer (that is, I switch on the power to the computer, I don't speak softly to it and turn down the lights and play saxophone music on the stereo) and access the internet thingy expecting to see some kind of reaction from you people and all I can read is the drivel I've written, which I already know and the "0 comments" statistic insulting me like an empty answering machine disappoints an expectant lover!

That last entry that served a lot like my obituary and what I hope to be known for when I die didn't elicit a single comment neither in support nor disdain?!

Not one single person commented, "Grow up Clayton! You live in Kansas, not Los Angeles or New York!" or, you shouldn't quit your day job, Clayton, because if you were going to be some kind of famous writer or actor it would have happened by now!"

No! Not one single supportive person wrote that they'd like to see my name on the cover of a book in every school across America, or on an Oscar winning movie now available on Netflix or three nights of the week on TBS!

What do I have to do to get some comments?!

Here's my plan. I'm going to run naked through the Sonic drive-thru yelling "Free the chili-cheese coney dogs!"

Now, would anyone like to comment?

That makes 37 folks!

Thirty seven years ago the snow and cold set in and the water pipes in the upstairs bathroom of a house on Sycamore street burst, just as the water in a pregnant young mother burst in a hospital room of a nearby hospital.

Thus begins the narrative biography of Clayton Broyles on his 37th birthday, the famous prolific writer of the turn of the century. Born of humble beginnings in humble Humboldt, Kansas, he humbly toiled as a humble carpenter, then later as a humble teacher, in order to humbly pursue his true passion: writing.

Unbelievably, he became rich and famous for his major enduring works of fiction, poetry, plays and songs, rather than his long and distinguished resume' of roles he played in major Broadway plays, his extensive radio acting career, stirring roles in major motion pictures.

His works are considered modern day classics and have been anthologized many times over for the literature student in universities all over the world. Though his fiction by and large occurs in a fictionalized small southeast Kansas town, the insight he provides into relationships and human nature plumb the depths of truth for all people of all cultures.

Broyles' parents were devoted, working-class people,evangelicals who instilled in him faith, a strong work-ethic and their belief that he was the master of his own destiny, and that, quite literally, anything was possible. They worked long hours at the business they owned involving petroleum marketing equipment, in order to provide for Clayton the education and freedom he needed to pursue his art.

He met his wife Marian Daniels, while an English student of creative writing at Pittsburg State University. They were married and had three children. Broyles credited his wife with being the better, hidden part of his success.

Broyles and his wife Marian liked camping all over the National Parks, long distance bicycle camping, and canoeing the rivers of the United States.