The Glass is Half Full

While drinking coffee and reading the paper this morning, I overheard a next-booth cellphone conversation: "The sidestreets here are snowpacked, and the temperature out is twenty-five--and that really sucks."

I hadn't realized that we were in such dire straits. She failed to memtion that: we had received a few inches of much-needed snow; the sun was out; it will be back to fifty in two days; and all the snow will have melted. Guess that didn't match her message.

Thanksgiving Day Thanks

On Thanksgiving Day as I was walking with my granddaughter Genevieve in a Spokane park, I met a man with a lazy left eye who appeared of mid-eastern descent. He introduced himself as "Ali—like in Ali Baba." He said he was from Iraq, where in 2005, he was captured and tortured by an Iraqi militia group.

He told me, "They cut out my eye with a knife--that's why I have a glass eye. They released me after my family paid them a ransom. We escaped to Jordan where I got refugee status from the U.N. That's how I got to the U.S."

He said, "Yesterday, I became a U.S. citizen in a ceremony at the government building. I can now apply for a U.S. passport so I can visit my family in Jordan."

He told me how thankful he was on this Thanksgiving Day.

One Tough Dude

In the post office, I hand a filled-out form to the clerk.

He reviews the form and says, "Chance, is that how you sez it?"

"Yeah," I reply.

"Well, when I was in boot camp, I had a drill instructor: Sergeant Chance. He was one tough dude. Do you know any Chance like that?"

"I don't know of any Chances that were drill instructors. How long ago was that?"

"Oh, gosh, over thirty years ago. Don't think things in the military are as tough as that anymore."

"Yeah, nowadays the DI probably gives out M&M's for good behavior," I joke.

"They never let us have sweets in boot camp. When we got CARE boxes from home, we had to open them up in front of the DI and the troops. I remember when a friend opened up a box from his mother that was all cookies--chocolate chip. Sergeant Chance made him dump them on the ground and then Sergeant Chance stomped them into dust. I'll never forget that Sergeant Chance--one tough dude."

Uncle Dick

Natalie and Rebecca,

 

Here is a scanned copy of a copy that Aunt Elvera sent me a decade ago.

 

The first time we Chances met Richard Slabey was in August 1947, when Elvera brought him from Minneapolis to Great Falls by train to meet her older (by 13 years) sister's family. Two years later we drove to Minneapolis to attend their wedding; Mom and Judy were part of the wedding ceremonies.

 

This picture was taken by one of Hindel's Cabins where we stayed on Lake McDonald in Glacier Park. This picture triggers many great memories.

 

I am six and standing in front of Mom. Sister Judy is almost four and standing in front of Dad who is wearing his coat and tie in Glacier. And Elvera (Fautsch) and Dick are on the right.

 

In all of these years, Uncle Dick has been my hero, role model, confident and friend. I  treasure the times he made us laugh: not ordinary laughter; not laughter experienced anywhere else; but tears in your eyes laughter that hurt and brought us to our knees.

 

Sixty-five years have gone byand now he is gone; I am deeply deeply saddened.

 

Rest in peace dear Uncle.

 

Geoff

 

 

 

 

 

 

John Denver and the Children's Chorale

A photo my daughter posted today of her, her chorus and John Denver brings back memories of the concluding performance that the Children's Chorale did in 1988 in the large Aspen concert tent with John Denver at a convention of Windstar, an environmental group founded by Denver and Tom Crum. This was the second year that the chorale had been part of the convention. I had been heavily involved in the background doing sound reinforcement and production stuff for the chorale during the three-day conference. The production director of the Windstar event was Randy Kunkel who had a daughter in the chorale. Just before the closing act where the kids were to sing their beautifully choreographed  and upbeat "Ease on Down the Road," Denver decided that it was going to make the ending too long and told Randy that he was axing their act. "Randy and John argued, but with a final plea to "trust me, John," Randy got the act back in the program.

 

There was tension as co-founder Tom Crum joined us in the sound booth for the finale. Then as the kids began to sing, a most memorable and magic moment happened: an energized audience joined in singing with the kids and began dancing in the aisles, Tom Crum shouted and danced precariously on a tall narrow stool in the sound booth. The kids had a rousing finish and ran off into the cheering crowd. Peter Kader's jazz quintet then joined in with chorale director Bob Crowder on keyboard as they improvised on the "Ease on Down the Road" theme for a quarter of an hour. Everyone hugged, laughed and danced. Conversation was limited to shouting, and the Aspen tent was shaking. Unforgettable.

Bonding time

It was bonding time for my four year old grandson and me as we aimed at floor-to-chest-high urinals--until I felt him peeing on my foot. After suggesting a forty-five degree correction, I experienced the joy of mentoring my grandson.

The Woman With The Tail

As I stood in line to order my senior coffee, I noticed that the woman in front of me had a tail. Yep, a real tail like foxes have. It emerged through her jeans right at her tail bone.

She turned toward me and I said, "There must be a story there."

"THERE'S NO F___N' STORY THERE," she shouted with a snarl, enhancing the wrinkles of a rough life.

A pall fell over the restaurant... With a timid voice, Michelle the clerk said, "Next."

Young Adult

I am outside reading the paper, when a blue jay lands on the edge of our bird bath--for an instant--and then falls off to the ground. Clump. After dusting himself off, he flies back up to the edge, and clumsily gets a drink of water. A juvenal jay out on his own; his parents avoided discussing bird bath skills.

Bears in the Night

Last night, I ate watermelon on our deck. Unfortunately, this morning when I looked out on the deck, I saw I had left the melon rind, and some creature had gnawed on it--as pictured here. Looking closely, it was easy to see that this was the work of a bear--or mother and cubs. Large bite and tooth marks as well as muddy prints of dirt and watermelon juice all over the table and deck--they even checked out our patio door.

Good work, Geoff. They can smell a watermelon rind from a mile away, and now they will be returning to check for more food. I hope that it is not when we are eating; bears on deck ruin a nice meal.

Letter to Uncle Dick,

Uncle Dick,

Is this your car? It is just as I remember it. I don't think you should have ever sold this jewel.

It brings back memories of my sitting in the back seat with the top down--it doesn't get much better than that to an eight year old--who was thrilled to be sharing the life style of his about-to-be-married, "Camelot-like" aunt and uncle.

 

I remember being in Grandma Eva's garage after the wedding with Dad and his accomplices, as they worked over your Plymouth. They wired up a smoke bomb, Bon-Amied it with cute messages, filled it with rice, and attached cans to the rear bumper. I was disappointed that you outwitted them and took another car.

From that incident I can still remember exactly how to connect up a smoke bomb to a car; so you get some credit on my becoming an electrical engineer.

Love,

Neph Geoff

Suprise Visitor

As I read the paper on our deck early this morning the birds started squawking, and then several yards away a bobcat appeared. Seeing a bobcat is an ephemeral moment that happens once a year or less, always coming as a complete surprise. She was majestic, stealthy, and confident. We looked at each other, and then she, with what looked like a grin, again faded away like a Cheshire Cat.

Daughter Rebecca's Essay

Here is a thoughtful writing by my daughter to whom (she and her family) we are much indebted for taking us into their home during the wildfires.

Rebecca Chance Cordova

The events of the past five days - (has it only been five? - it seems like time has stopped) -are beginning to sink in and I am amazed at the incredible force of this fire and the incredible bravery of fire crews and officials who are working tirelessly around the clock to save structures, people, whole communities and... cities. My heart breaks for those who have lost homes and swells with gratitude that no one has been injured or killed yet, which surely in the midst of an inferno that could triple in a day is a miracle. I am not affected in my practical life - I still go to work, the grocery store, the YMCA. My family is safe, although my parents are evacuated, but their home still stands and we appreciate that we are together. There is the constant smell of smoke, ashes falling from the air, and as I drive down I-25 from Briargate Parkway towards Garden of the Gods Road, I can see that to the west is a ghost town - completely evacuated. No one is at work or at home - everything is still and empy under the blanket of smoke that rests here most heavily. Beyond where I can see, I kow there are areas of ash where homes once stood. At a recent press conference, this angry question was asked to the officials, "Who is in charge around here?" I thought to myself how in that question the basic desire of all humanity is raised - how can this happen to us? Who is going to stop it? And there is no true definitive answer. Surely there is a greater power than us all at work here. And our human fraility is exposed - we must adapt to the unthinkable, the frightening, the upredictable. Yet those moments are rich with triumph - the brave firefigters, police, and pilots who rise to meet the terrifying blaze. The ordinary citizens who reach out to meet the needs of others with shelter, clothing, food, comfort. In the midst of this destruction, there is the rich opportunity for so much giving, sharing, gratitude, and bravery. We become better because we have less than we did before. It is in these moments that grace is breathtaking.

The Flowers

This morning Lois and I were ordering breakfast in Panero's, when a young man in a wheel chair and holding a large bouquet of flowers in his lap got in line. As we were eating, we saw him opening the door to his vehicle parked in the handicapped space, when a young woman wearing an apron came running out with flowers in hand and tearfully embraced him. After smiles, hugs and kisses, she returned to work, flowers in hand. Using his strong upper body, he lifted himself into the driver's seat and slowly dismantled his wheel chair putting each piece on the seat next to him. When his labors were done, he backed up and drove away.

The Rain Man

As I rounded a lap in the Y pool, a guy asked if he and a friend could join me. "Sure," I said.

It was evident that his fiend was mentally challenged. Bob introduced himself and whispered, "Mike is the Rain Man."

"How so?" I inquired.

"Oh, he remembers everything--days, dates, times...and weather--he doesn't like Seattle weather where he lives, but remembers it in detail." Bob went on to tell me that Mike is an uncle of his wife and visits every summer to give relief to Mike's caretaker sister. Bob and I swam; Mike water-walked.

After our swim, Mike and I were in the shower; just what do you say to the Rain Man?

"Hey, Mike, when did you come to Colorado Springs?"

"Thursday, June 7, 2012, at ah, ah, 4:32 p.m. on Alaska Airlines Flight 632. I am leaving on Friday, June 22, 2012, at 7:00 a.m. on Alaska Airlines Flight 2442. On October 31, 2011 I visited my niece, my niece, in Spokane. It was Halloween, a Monday, a Monday, uh, seven months, two weeks and one day ago."

I said, "My daughter and family live in Wenatchee and are moving to Spokane."

"Yeah, I took the bus back from Spokane to Seattle on November 15, 2011, ah 213 days ago. I went through Moses Lake--lots of sun, Quncy, Wenatchee--it was cloudy there, Leavenworth, into the Cascade Mountains over Stevens Pass and into Seattle."

"Mike, I was born May 23, 1941. Do you know what day that was?

"Ah, May 23, 1941...ah, ah, that was a Friday...ah, ah, 71 years, three weeks and one day ago."

As I dressed, Mike continued to tell me in explicit detail of his past several years. His conversation was interspersed with "Got to get the key to this locker from Bob, got to get the key, from Bob, from Bob."

I will always remember the Rain Man.

Car Wreck

I saw a friend at the Y today and asked how was he doing.

 

"Well, I was in a car wreck last week; we were stopped at a light on Academy Boulevard, and a  woman, going fifty, rear-ended us."

 

"Wow, you get hurt?"

 

"No, we were really lucky; the car was totaled. The insurance company bought us a new one."

 

"How about the crazy woman who ran in to you?"

 

"She wasn't hurt. She was on the way to the funeral of her daughter, who had been killed in a car wreck the week before."

Breakfast Partner

Daylight is just appearing as I park in McDonalds empty parking lot; it will be quiet while I enjoy four-bit coffee and the paper. I am surprised to see a guy standing by the counter as I walk in. He has shoulder-length hair covered with a watch cap and is dressed with war-surplus togs. A long strip of cellophane tape covers the top of his eyeglass frames to secure his lenses. He hasn't ordered an...ything.

I get my coffee and walk way back to the corner. He follows me. "Great," I tell myself. I sit down, open the paper and start reading, giving him no eye contact.

He starts talking about the time that he and his friend Mike climbed up Barr trail, which is 13 miles long and goes to the top of 14,110 foot Pikes Peak. He says that they made it up to Barr Camp which is at around 10,000 feet.

"Yep, we smoked some weed there and then couldn't go any higher. Then we took some acid and couldn't get down. It was a long day."

With exaggeration, I say, "Hey, man, I'm not interested in talking to some acid head."

"Hey, man, I haven't done no drugs for twenty years. Hey, man, like man, you got some money so I can, like, get breakfast?"
********
So, what should I have done? Given him one to ten bucks; given him none; or let him stay in our guest bedroom for the week?

A Crepe-Paper Poppy

I read an editorial today about a campaign to bring back the poppy as a remembrance of those who have made the ultimate sacrifice in defense of America.

Every Memorial day in the fifties, I remember buying a red crepe-paper poppy from the VFW or the American Legion for twenty-five cents and then wearing it at the cemetery ceremonies--attended by most of the town.

The ceremonies included the reading of John McCrae's poem of the horrific WWI carnage at Ypres: "In Flanders fields the poppies blow between the crosses, row on row...." Concluding with the serious charge: "To you from failing hands we throw the torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die we shall not sleep, though poppies grow in Flanders fields."

I still hear the sounds of silence, sobs and the shedding of teardrops. Most had lost a close relative or friend in the big war.

I do want to find or make a red poppy to proudly wear tomorrow.

Graduation

The Thunderbirds just roared over our house as they practice for their iconic fly-over of the Air Force Academy graduation tomorrow, when they at precisely the right second--just as the graduates have been commissioned as Air Force officers by the President of the United States and throw their hats high in the air--will appear trailing smoke for a deafening second or so, creating a frozen-in time front page picture of cheering cadets, a thousand floating hats and six F-16C's in perfect formation.

A Conversation

At the restaurant this morning, I said hello to Donice, my octogenarian friend, whose husband of sixty years, Melvin, died nine months ago. I asked her how she was doing.

"Oh, okay, someday I hope l will see Melvin here at breakfast; I have a lot to talk to him about."

"What's that?"

"Politics."

Spring

The morning is brisk as I lounge on the deck by warm flames from the fire pit.

I am supplied with Lois's raisin oatmeal muffins, coffee and the paper.

Two magpies squawk as they perform their mating rituals.

A robin steals cedar mulch for its nest.

A doe grazes on tender grass shoots.

Spring has arrived.

The Only Road Left to Roam

As I read the paper and drink McDonald's senior coffee, from a couple of booths away, I hear the funky strumming of a guitar: driving, bluesy, percussive, syncopated. The musician is well groomed and well dressed. Out comes a soulful ballad of hard times. I write down the chorus on my newspaper:

Everyone knows how this story goes,
There is no end.
The only road left to roam is the lonely road home,
You've got to let me in.

I walk over and say, "Good sounds, man. I'm Geoff. You write that?"

"I'm Mark. Yep, I wrote it. I've been on the road for quit a while. Headin' for California. I've had lots of time to write down my story."

"Where ya from, Mark?"

"Indiana. I've been takin' engineering at Purdue, but it wasn't workin' out."

"So, who's that you're singin' about?"

"Oh, she lives in LA, that's where I'm headed."

I go back to finish reading the paper, and then as I drive home, I see Mark, with guitar and backpack, thumbing on the I-25 southbound ramp, holding a neatly printed sign that reads: "Albuquerque"

My thoughts... (A letter to my daughter)

Dear Natalie,

I am sorry that you finally heard the "other shoe drop,"  after such a long, unsettling and drawn-out process. I am sure that it is a difficult time for you. Here are my thoughts about your situation, after observing many friends (including myself), who have experienced such unpleasantness.

First you must experience all the phases of grieving: surprise, anger, denial, sadness... For this process, a day is too short; a year is too long. 

The friends I admire got the event behind them in reasonable time and didn't take it personally. They didn't let the demons of lowered  self worth and confidence and the resulting ennui stay in their psyches. They got back up and went on to greater achievements. Most important--they didn't take it personally. Easy to suggest, harder to implement; but the only thing that is rational. 

Key for you to focus on the talents and skills that you have always had and have honed:  technical expertise, quick learner, quick wit, "take the bull by the horns" attitude, leadership, persistence, "Get Along With Others," excellent communicator, quick thinker under fire... Besides that, you can safely use a flame-thrower to make a hell of a creme brulee. Few are so blessed.

Your skills and contributions are in demand. It is a tough market, but you have the edge. Everyone knows that in your case, they layed-off a valuable employee for reasons that have nothing to do with your excellent performance. They took away your job, but they didn't take away any of your fine attributes.

In Toastmasters, I have two friends that I admire for being successful in tough times. I think you met them both: Barry and Byron.

Barry is the turtle. He wrote his first book a few years ago and collected 275 reject letters before he got it published. He just published his fifth book and may be going to China to lecture on starting successful businesses. Public speaking is not Barry's strongest point; persistence is.  When Barry gets a rejection, he just sends out a thousand more inquiries with a self addressed, stamped envelope.

Byron, of course, is a world class speaker. He is the rabbit.  After realizing that he was never going to permanently play at baseball's major league level, he decided to be a world class speaker. Shortly after joining our club and hearing about the International Speech Contest, he said that he was going to win the World Championship. He called everyone who had won the International contest and asked them for help. He went to see them. Many of our club evaluations were tough on Byron; he took much to heart and changed. We had a TI champion visit the club one time he and Byron made a pact that Byron would win the TI contest and the champion would help him. In one year,  Byron competed at the convention in Connecticut. He didn't win, but probably would have placed if he had spoken seventh or eighth, rather than second.

Last year, Byron didn't even place at the Division level contest. But that doesn't make much difference now. He gave the Key Note speech at the TI convention in Los Vegas. He is in demand as a public speaker. His business card has a testimonial by President Obama on it. He is going to speak at an event in June with Obama. I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't call the White House and ask for the president. An upcoming speech is in Africa to four thousand women. When Byron gets a rejection, he picks up the phone and calls the world's best for advice and criticism.

Two approaches to adversity.

Enough.  I just want you know that I think about you much and admire you for all of your attributes. Please don't forget them.

Love,

Dad

Keep Out

Granddaughters Genna (7) and Sarah (5) were playing, but had a problem: Sarah's pesky brother Andrew (3). So they made the sign below, taped it on the door, and shut Andrew out.

Translation: "Plees knock, and say its and your name and wate a feu menets. No smoking!"

Melvin's Hat

In McDonalds, I walked over to Donice, sitting alone, drinking her senior coffee and reading the paper. Six months ago, she lost Melvin, her love of sixty years.

"How ya doin', Donice?"

"Oh, the house is so lonely. I am slowly cleaning up. Melvin was such a pack rat. He saved all the plasticware from this place--there are drawers full of the stuff. He saved all the McDonald's receipts--for the... paper. I guess it was from his Mennonite grandparents who escaped from Russia with nothing. Why throw away a perfectly good spoon?"

"It has to be tough to get rid of alot of that stuff--too many memories."

"Yeah," Donice said, "I haven't touched his hat on the back of the chair where he last hung it."

Rotorooter Tales

I walked into the men's locker room at the Y, where a plumber under the sink was snaking a Rotorooter cable into the stopped up drain. His labors brought back memories from my college summers when I worked at a plumbing shop. Fifty years had gone by, while I kept horrendous Rotorooter incidents bottled up inside--no one ever wants to discuss such things.

I told him of my past, and then we swapped stories of when Rotorooter jobs had gone bad--horribly bad. I told a gross story; he topped it; I told a grosser one; he topped that with the grossest Rotorooter tale of all times-- one I can never repeat.

Although I lost, sharing was great therapy.

Ice Please

Amongst the trees in our backyard, Lois and I ate lunch with our grandkids--Sarah age five and Andrew four. They love listening to stories about our encounters with local wildlife. It was also an opportunity to refresh what they should do if they happen upon rutting bucks, coyotes, cougers, bears and rattle-snakes.

Andrew asked if we had seen our perennial mother bear and cubs. "No, not yet," we told him, "When it is cold, they sleep in their den."

Later in the afternoon, I poured some juice for Andrew and asked, "Do you want ice with this?"

Andrew mused, "Yes, because bears don't like the cold."

What's the Word?

 As I walked back to electronics in Target, I passed an elderly clerk, about my age, who had just finished stocking an end cap display.

Looking at me, she said, "I can't bear to take off one more band aide."

I just saw a large pile of rubber bands. "Aren't those rubber bands?" I querried.
...
"Oh, yeah, I forgot the word....Rubber bands."

"Words are getting harder for me to pull out, too," I consoled.

We laughed.

Drive Through

"I want a Sausage McMuffin, orange juice and coffee."

"Okay, Sausage McMuffin, orange juice, and coffee. Please drive up to the window."

I go to the window and wait. There is a lot of activity inside. Then the red curtains open up on the playhouse window, revealing my grinning, five-year-old granddaughter Sarah.

"Here's your McMuffin," handing me a large wood chip; and here's the coffee," handing me a weathered insulated coffee cup.

There is no orange juice, apparently because she's short a second container.

"How much do I owe you?"

"One dollar."

"Here's five dollars; how much do you owe me?"

"Uuuugh..." she muses for a moment and then smiles:  "Four dollars."

She gives me my change: a handful of leaves.

I leave, only to return on request to place another order.

Take out coffee

A few mornings ago at around six, I drove to McDonalds to read the paper and drink fifty-cent senior coffee. My friend David was there, and as we sat and discussed issues that seniors discuss, Michelle, the chatty clerk who works the cash register, made the refill rounds and kept our cups full. As we both stood up to leave, Michelle brought us each a covered cup of coffee to take home.

I enjoy being there.

Morning at McDonalds

A few mornings ago at around six, I drove to McDonalds to read the paper and drink fifty-cent senior coffee. My friend David was there, and as we sat and discussed issues that seniors discuss, Michelle, the chatty clerk who works the cash register, made the refill rounds and kept our cups full. As we both stood up to leave, Michelle brought us each a covered cup of coffee to take home. I enjoy being there.

Cheese sandwich and tomato soup

When I came home for lunch from grade school, there was nothing better than Mom's open-faced cheese sandwiches, cooked beneath the flames of the under-oven broiler. When she pulled open the broiler drawer, there sat the perfect treat: a melted slice of Velveeta over a tomato slice sitting on a dollop of Mayonnaise on toasted bread with dark- brown edges--served, of course, with a bowl of creamy Campbells tomato soup.