"If music be the food of love, play on." William Shakespeare

A question for you all. Which of the following am I going to play this evening at my home?

Trumpet, Clarinet, Piano, Accordion, French Horn, Flute, or Xylophone. One of these musical instruments is more familiar to me than the others. I started learning how to play this instrument in 4th or 5th grade. Reggie Everett may remember when better than I do because he played the same at about the same time.

If you guessed (or already knew) the accordion you would be correct. I really wanted to play a horn but my pediatrician did not think it wise since asthma had become a part of my life and my parents agreed with him that I should not even try. My little brother had already expressed an interest in the piano so I ruled that idea out pretty quickly. Reggie showed me the accordion that he had just started learning to play and I was hooked. It looked fun, and I learned that it was a lot of fun to play. It also is a wind instrument though you deliver the air through the movement of bellows rather than from your own lungs.

They say that confession is good for the soul; so a little confessing is needed here. I worked hard at learning how to play for the first 2 or 3 years and then kind of just went through the motions with this instrument. I had discovered a talent for singing that required a lot less effort and was a lot sexier than strapping an accordion onto your chest (I had also reached an age when that was important). There must be places where this musical instrument is appreciated, but where I lived then and now it is not.

"One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain." (Bob Marley)

By the time my voice began changing I had kind of backed off from playing the accordion each day. I think I probably practiced on the day after my weekly lesson and maybe on the day before the following lesson. I know I was singing every day. In my bedroom, in the basement, in school (choir), in the back yard, in the car, anywhere music could be heard I was singing. By the time I was 14 I had pretty well stopped playing the accordion. I do, on occasion, pick it up and play some of those long forgotten, but easy to play with music in front of me, songs learned in my youth. My biggest regret musically is that I allowed the fact that my brother played the piano keep me from learning. I do sit at the piano from time to time and bang out a Hymn. But not well. Perhaps my time to learn is yet to come.

I still sing in the car, in church, and occasionally in my home. But, again, not as often or as much as in the days of youth. That needs to change. My children and grand children need to hear my voice and learn to have music as a very large part of their lives. Oh, their parents sing to them and with them so I know they have music in their daily example. Some of them even have parents who sing professionally so they hear music in their homes all the time. They even get to see and hear their parents on stage in and around Nashville, TN from time to time. But they still need to hear my voice and the emotion that it expresses regarding life. I'll keep working on that.

"Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent" (Victor Hugo).

A great truth.

I know for me emotion flows much more easily through musical expression than in any other way.

Thanks for checking in. More to come soon. See you then.  

"Aging can be fun if you lay back and enjoy it" (Clint Eastwood)

Recently one of the men that I associate with at church extended an invitation to participate in their weekly basketball workout in a neighboring community. I quickly assured him that while there was a day when I would have gladly joined them, it would not be happening any time from now until forever. Ah, to be young again.

When I was a young fellow I enjoyed extended physical activity. It was nothing for me to get on my bicycle mid-morning pedal to Big Salt Wash where my friends and I would pedal up and down the trails all morning long. We might ride home long enough to grab some lunch then ride over to the local pool for a few hours of swimming. And then home long enough to have a snack before heading over to the baseball diamond for a practice or evening game. Non-stop activity and seemingly never ending fun. Now as an older fellow I get tired just thinking about doing something like that.

Well into my twenties I remember being game for just about any physical activity - and having the strength and energy to participate fully. I could work hard on any day of the week and return home with enough left to play softball, basketball, ride a bike or strap on the roller blades and go for an energetic workout. Sometime in my middle thirties I realized that it had been a few years since I had participated in those kinds of physical activities and decided that I needed to make the time to "get back in shape".

Basketball was always my game of choice when I desired a physical challenge, and our Church had a somewhat organized league that the younger (and even a few older) men participated in. They were always looking for recruits so I determined that I would join them. Usually they held a practice on Wednesday evening at 9:00 pm with games each Saturday morning. The week I decided to give it a whirl I was unable to attended the weeknight practice, but decided that I would go play on Saturday anyway. I remember running down the court for the first time in several years. It felt good. I had forgotten how much fun it was to be part of an activity like this - part of a team. After we scored, the run back to the other end of the court was not as comfortable as the first time down the floor. After the other team scored I tossed the ball onto the playing surface and started to run back down the court, I looked down at my legs and saw that they were still there but they felt different. It seemed to me as if someone sneaked into the gymnasium and filled my legs with lead. It was all I could  do to slowly (and I mean slowly) lumber down the court to the other end.

As soon an there was a whistle stopping play I called for a substitute to relieve me for a few minutes. I sat on one of the metal chairs that served as our bench, turned to look at my wife for some sympathy, and saw her chuckling at what she saw. I said, "Its not funny, someone put concrete in my legs". She and her friends laughed all the harder - you see they remembered the much younger nearly invincible me from a few years earlier. I realized that those years of not participating because of work and other commitments had really taken a toll on me. As I watched my friends who had not stopped playing ball continue to run up and down the court I regretted the inactivity.

Oh, don't misunderstand me, it was still fun. The first time or two up and down the court each week were very enjoyable and the number of times that the court could be traveled without loss of feeling in my legs increased weekly. Just not a return to the youthful, strength-filled days. I just might have to give it a go again sometime in the future. I'm sure if I take the next few years to get myself in shape again I will be able to play with the young guys in Delta. Though I don't think I would bet on it.

Thanks for checking in. More to come soon. See you then.

This is the season!

John F. Kennedy is quoted as saying, "As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them."

We leave it to others to judge whether our lives reflect the wisdom shared in this quote.

I know others who do live by this precept, and recognize in their lives a greater peace than I sometimes feel in my life. I remember a day in our young married life, when listening to a radio program, someone made a comment during this season of the year that gave me pause. I do not recall who nor do I have the exact example shared but, I remember the feeling that we (my family) could do some simple things to express our gratitude for some of the folks who influenced our lives.

We discussed the idea a few days later and determined a simple note passed along to each of the teachers our school aged children encountered each day/week would be a good place to start. My sweetheart took on the task (at the time we had at least 2 possibly 3 in school) of writing an expression of thanks that would be shared with those charged with the education of our children. I read each as my name was added at the bottom of each card and realized that Cindy was far better equipped to express what we had discussed for each. 

I remember the first time I realized the impact of those simple expressions of gratitude. With several children in school we could not always meet together (as parents) with each teacher during parent teacher conferences - we had to divide and conquer, if you will. I met that year with Beth Knutson and as she realized whose dad I was she teared up and let me know how much the kind words meant to her at that time in her career. There have been others over the years but this experience set in my mind the value of this interaction.

"Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it" (William Arthur Ward).

Each evening as I return to our home I am greeted by a couple characters who are always so glad to see me. Grateful that I have once again returned to our shared domicile; where we care for and love one another. Their tails wag, their bodies convey every emotion they feel. The animals we have had in our lives have probably showed me some of the greatest examples of how to express, without reservation, love and gratitude. What a blessing to my family and to me. 

"If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans" (James Herriot). 

A short post today. Thanks for checking in. More to come soon. See you then.

Not sure why. Just feel this should be shared.

Following my By-pass surgery March 1, 2011 I had about a month of recuperation before returning to work. During that time I was reminded that there were many things that I had experienced in my life that I had not shared with family members as we grew up together. Not sure if I thought they were not important enough to record in a journal, or not significant to forming who I had become over the years; or if there was some other reason that led me to just keep them in the vault of my mind without concerning myself with recording them in any fashion.

Following the surgery in 2011 I tried to get into the habit of sending more frequent e-mails to my children and their spouses filling them in on the happenings at home and sharing an occasional tale from my younger years. One day toward the end of March 2011 I decided to indulge in a stop at the local Taco Bell franchise for lunch. After ordering I noticed a friend sitting alone at a table and walked over to greet him. He invited me to join him, so I did. We talked about my recent surgery and about some of the goings on in his (and his family) life - just enjoying a few minutes together as friends with many common interests.

One of the things I shared with him was the thought process behind the e-mails I had recently started to send frequently to my family. He said something that I will not soon forget with regard to those missives. He said "I hope they are saving those e-mailed stories, there may come a day when that is the only record they have of your life." He then went on to tell me this experience. (I'm paraphrasing now because there is to much) When he was 16 years old he was given an assignment to interview an older individual to learn about some of the things that had changed in the world in their lifetime. At about the same time of this assignment his Mother was diagnosed with cancer - so he asked his teacher if it would be okay for him to interview her instead of someone older. The teacher agreed. He thoughtfully prepared his questions and interviewed her using a cassette tape to record the interview so he would not miss anything as he wrote his report.

His Mom died within two years of that event and now the recording made as he interviewed her is the only record he has of her life and voice. He reiterated to me what a great idea it was for me to share those experiences with my family and expressed a desire to do something similar for his family.

Jim Rohn shared this quote often;

"Journal writing is one of the greatest indications that you're a serious student. 
Taking pictures, that is pretty easy. 
Buying a book at a book store, that's pretty easy. 
It is a little more challenging to be a student of your own life, your own future, your own destiny. 
Take the time to keep notes and to keep a journal. You'll be so glad you did. 
What a treasure to leave behind when you go. 
What a treasure to enjoy today!"

I hope there is value here for any who might read these words. I am not an expert in living a better life, but do know that we often touch others by our words and actions. Even small things might make a difference to someone. 

Thanks for checking in. More to come soon. 

Family life.

"In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future." (Alex Haley)

Recently the members of my family have been heavy on my heart for many varied reasons. Each of our children and their families have had the struggles and joys that come as they begin the adventure that is family life. I have again been reminded of a quote from November 28, 2012 The New York Times by Susan Engel, "When I was 24 years old, I brought my firstborn son, 3-week-old Jacob, to my childhood home on the Eastern End of Long Island to meet his grand parents. When I arrived, an old family friend and neighbor, Cora Stevens, happened to be sitting in my parents' kitchen. Cora, a mother to five grown children and grandmother to seven, grabbed my tiny Jake, put her face right up to his and started speaking loud baby talk to him. Then, as she bounced him on her knee, she turned to me and said, 'When they're little they sit on your lap; when they're big they sit on your heart.'"

I have known this to be true for some time, as have many of you. When they are growing the things that hurt or injure can usually be overcome with kind and loving thoughts and expressions. Physical wounds heal. Emotional hurts require a little more time, love, and patience; and they too, heal. It is when, as a parent to grown children, injury or hurt lingers for weeks, months, or even years (in some cases) that the weight on your (my) heart becomes very heavy indeed. We can no longer just put a band aid on it give the hurt a kiss and make it better. And as much as we might wish it to be so easy it really should not be.

They will experience many trials and difficulties just like we did with them, and this is only right. We all gain strength and understanding from those struggles. Thank goodness we can choose to smile and even laugh during those moments. And our children learn to do the same.

Ralph Fiennes is quoted as saying, "One of the things that binds us as a family is a shared sense of humor" and I heartily endorse that thought. I recall a day in the Mahan household, probably a Sunday, when there was a lot of bickering occurring in the house. There had been a lesson in church recently regarding the spirit of contention and how we should try to avoid letting little irritations become contentious at home. I remember listening to one after another of the children sniping and arguing with one another in the various corners of the house. One of our middle daughters (Holly) was sitting on the couch in the living room listening to all the chattering of her siblings and she very loudly said, "I think the spirit of contention is sitting on the couch laughing at us!" Cindy and I both started to laugh and very soon all the family was chuckling or smiling or laughing at the foolishness that had led to that moment. That laughter changed the mood of the day and as I reviewed the incident with Cindy, Lisa, and Holly I could hear the smile in their voices some 20 years after the fact.

Our children (I don't think I've established birth order here, so will do so now) Jennifer, Adam, Stefanie, Holly, Lisa, and Kelli have brought many smiles to many faces over the years. I learned from each. When they were small the time spent and activities shared always changed my outlook on whatever was happening in my life. I am now watching them learn the same lessons as they interact with their own as well as nieces and nephews (only nieces from ours but many nephews in extended family). "Give a little love to a child, and you get a great deal back" (John Ruskin).

I remember a day when Adam and I had gone home together for lunch. He worked near my place of employment and had walked over to see what my plans were for lunch that day and we decided to go home and have something there. I had recently received a Bill Engvall CD from my brother (Mitch) and we popped it into the CD player in the vehicle we were riding in as we headed back to work. As we drove across town on 136th Ave. we got to laughing so hard that I had to pull the truck over until we could stop. What a funny man and a great shared experience with that son of mine. We may not always see eye to eye, but we always laugh at things that are funny.

Kind of a rambling post here today. I'll try and do better next time. Thanks for checking in.

"Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read." Groucho Marx.

As many of you know we lost two of our most loved dogs over the course of this last year, or so. Cindy wrote about my buddy Hobbes in her blog (It's a Mahan Thing) a year ago; "On Saturday, Aug. 4, we had to put our sweet golden retriever out of his misery.  He lived with us his entire life, from March of 2000 until the day he died.  Many people will attest to the fact that you can't go wrong with a Golden for a loving, gentle, loyal family pet.  But Hobbes was exceptional.  He came to us as our children were primed to leave the nest...Jen was actually in college, but had moved back home, and Adam graduated from high school the year we brought that puppy home.  But Hobbes remembered, and loved, them all.  As the kids left home over these last 12 years, college, marriage, Marine Corp, he was never quite as content.  But whenever they came home, his world was complete."

And I posted on Facebook in March of this year, Very serious and terminal bone cancer in the left foreleg and shoulder of our great friend and companion of the past eight years (Lizzie). Even if they amputate the limb there is a 90-95% chance of the disease returning. We brought her home from the vet last night with heavy hearts so we could spend a few last hours with her to say goodbye. Kelli will come home tonight to share an evening with her also then we will return to the veterinary office tomorrow and say our final goodbyes. Lizzie has been a good dog with a very sweet and loving personality. I (we) will miss her when she is gone.

Many of the relationships that we have as part of the human family can be termed Love/Hate/Love. I have never had that kind of relationship with any of the many dogs that have populated my life over the five plus decades I have enjoyed thus far. I think the tally is up to eleven dogs over those years (am I really this old?). The relationship between man and dog, from my perspective, is one of love/love. We love them because they first love us. Charles M. Schulz is quoted as having said, "Happiness is a warm puppy." I agree. I know that when I have been involved in picking out a new puppy to come to my life I am not the one doing the picking out. The puppies I got right out of high school (Duke and Greg a pair of Golden Retriever brothers) chose me. They came to me and did not like it that I was showing an interest in any of their litter mates. Cindy and the kids have chosen all the other puppies that have come to our home and I am certain that the experience was similar.

Following the loss of Hobbes and Lizzie we were thinking that we would not get another dog to be companion and friend to Viva (Border Collie mix) unless she just could not handle being the only dog in the household. She did okay most of the time but would mope and be dejected from time to time as the weeks went by. The biggest concern in my little brain has been that Cindy will be returning to work later this summer and I worry about how Viva will react to being home alone every day once that occurs. We decided about a month ago that we would look for an older (four to six years) dog that needed a home. We figure that they could grow old together and likely approach death at about the same time. Then, if Cindy doesn't change her mind, we will go without. Too many family events that require travel around the country to worry about a dog left behind.

Cindy found a couple dogs that fit the description of what we were looking for and she even went and spent some time with one of the choices. Before she could go get Viva and return (along with me) to see how they would get along that dog had been adopted. That evening as we were out to dinner we discussed what other options we had and decided to contact the veterinary office we have used since we arrived in Montrose in 2006. She did. They pointed us toward a six year old Shepherd/Lab mix that was owned by a couple who had just been admitted to a care facility as they near the end of life. We introduced her to Viva a week ago and they, while hesitant, have become good companions. There are still changes to make in the training of this dog. But, she is very intelligent and responds well to the direction we give. I walked to the back door on a recent evening to hand the telephone to Cindy and as I opened the door I noticed that she was crying and I could not tell why. She wiped her eyes and came to get the telephone explaining as she walked over that the dogs were playing together - something we have not seen in months and the joy on Viva's countenance was very evident. Both are thriving so far and we are very pleased.

Sorry about two more serious posts in a row, Humor will return next week (I think).

Thanks for checking in. More to come. See you soon.

Words, Sentences, Books....

Carl Sagan is quoted as saying, "What an astonishing thing a book is. It's a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles. But one glance at it and you are inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years. Across the millenia, an author is speaking clearly and silently inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew each other, citizens of distant epochs. Books break the shackles of time. A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic."

For those of you who do not know I am married to a woman who works as an elementary school librarian. She loves books and she loves children of all ages so the job is a very good fit. She is constantly reading books that she is considering for the school library (or that have been purchased but are unknown to her) before putting them on the shelf for children to read. We also have many, many other books in our home library from a variety of authors and genres. We all learned to enjoy reading a good (or even not so good) book from early in life. I don't know much about the man who I am about to quote here but, I love the quote;

"At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book - that string of confused, alien ciphers--shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader." (Alberto Manguel, "A History of Reading").

I remember that day in first grade when my eyes were finally opened to the lifelong passion of reading.

I have seen in the eyes of my own children when the switch finally clicked closed and the images on those pages began to make sense.

The excitement of putting those characters together into words and again into sentences was mind blowing. Rudyard Kipling is quoted as saying, "Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind". And from Mother Teresa, "Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless." Not so kind words can also be easy to speak and, as much as we hope to still the echoes, they seem also to endure.

There are several times in my life when I have spoken unkindly of another person. No thought given to the comment, simply the first thought into my head escaping through my lips. Once I spoke of a boy whom I had known in school and church for several years. He was a classmate of mine and I knew that he was not in the room at the time. What I had forgotten is that his Mother was teaching the class that day. My friends tried to stop me as I started to speak those words (they knew what was coming) but could not communicate to me quickly enough to forestall the insertion of my large foot into my small-minded mouth. The look of horror on her face is etched into my memory like very few other images. Likewise the feelings of shame and embarrassment at my folly are clear in my mind even today.

I wish I could report to you all that I have not ever fallen prey to the same trap as I did that day in my young life but, alas, there is at least one more incident that occurred during my older teenage years. My Junior year in High School I enjoyed the opportunity to participate in several world history and government classes. Many of my classmates became good friends that year. I remember one day having a discussion with several of those classmates prior to the beginning of class. Someone at the table said something about another of our classmates that, while on some level true, was very unkind. I chimed in with a comment of my own that was deeply hurtful to the individual - who had just sat down at the opposite end of our table. She immediately started crying and ran from the room. Another memory that I will not soon lose. Tempered only by the fact that I was able to find her later that day with a sincere apology. She did not immediately forgive. But eventually she came to me and let me know that she had gotten over it and all was forgotten.

Words, Sentences, Books can all weave intended or unintended magic on us as individuals and on those upon whom we inflict our words and, by extension, thoughts. Whatever we think or say has consequences so maybe Mother Teresa had it right let's focus on kind words so that their echoes can be positively endless.

Thanks for checking in. Hope you enjoyed a more serious topic. More to come soon.

The victim of my own ego!

As mentioned a few posts ago I fell for the rollerblading craze of the 1990's in part because I saw the ease with which my teen-aged son was able to skate around the neighborhood. If you will remember my first experience on those instruments of torture was very exciting but not quite what I had hoped for. After a few outings I had become somewhat competent at moving around the neighborhood, though never with the ease and fluid grace the teenager displayed. When I had the most fun and gained the greatest comfort on those wheels was as I was following him. When he would skate in front of me and I could attempt to mimic his technique I could do very well; the problems arose when I was on my own.

I remember one fall evening when I went out to skate around the retention pond across from our home about dusk. I was the only person on the trail that circled the pond and I was feeling pretty confident as I was gliding around on the new concrete sidewalk that had been poured earlier in the summer. The one thing I really did not like about going out that time of evening was the clouds of gnats that appeared and swarmed around the edge of the pond. The project to beautify the retention pond area and make it friendly for local children and families to walk and have a pleasant outdoor experience had just been completed. The sidewalk all the way around the pond, several metal and wood bridges for pedestrian traffic, freshly planted trees and shrubs, and newly planted grassy areas with some mulch to help retain the seed until it could germinate and begin to grow. This was a much needed improvement to the neighborhood and we all benefited from the work that had been done.

As I was skating that evening I noticed that some of the mulch that had been scattered had made its way up onto the sidewalk in a couple of spots (in particular around the aforementioned foot bridges) and as I approached those areas I coasted so I could keep an eye on the sidewalk without worrying about trying to watch for wheel obstructions while skating. The distance around the pond on the sidewalk was approximately nine tenths of a mile, and if I circled around six or seven times I could get my heart rate up and get a good sweat going.

I enjoyed going out that late in the evening because I knew that I would not encounter many other people. I was alone that night enjoying the few minutes it took to skate around the pond in the near darkness. Each passing lap it was a little darker and my confidence on my feet was greater. The final lap I decided I would go all out and as I passed in front of the house I picked up the pace to my maximum effort. I was flying as I rounded the first turn and crossed the first foot bridge, I never slowed for the turn to the left that would take me across the backside of the pond, and I even tried to pick up the pace as I approached the second foot bridge. I was cruising like never before as I approached and crossed the bridge. As I came off the bridge my right foot struck a large chunk of mulch with a rock in it and immediately stopped rolling. When I bought the roller-blades I was skeptical of the need for the wrist guards and knee pads that the young clerk recommended I include with my purchase, after all I had been riding bicycles and skateboards without any safety equipment (all through my younger years) and had suffered no injuries.
That night I was really glad that I had put on those guards and pads along with a pair of thick leather gloves because when I landed flat on the sidewalk I was saved from injury. The only injury was to my pride (which, as many of you know, is substantial).

I rolled over onto my back and looked up at a young boy (11 or 12 years old) who had seen the crash.
Him; "Mister are you OK?"
Me;"Yeah, I'm fine"
Him; "Do you need me to help you get up?"
Me; "No, I think I'll sleep here tonight."
Him; "Are you sure?"
Me; "Yes, I'll be OK, thanks, though."

I started to laugh a few moments later as I thought about what had just happened. I had so carefully coasted over those foot bridges just a few minutes earlier because I realized the potential danger. I only lost my focus for a few moments of enjoyment and ended up there flat on my back the unfortunate victim of my own ego. I did, eventually get up and skate home where I shared the story with those assembled in the living room.

A few months later our family was visiting our extended family in the Grand Junction, Colorado area and Adam (my son) and I brought along our roller-blades so we could skate along a stretch of the Colorado Riverfront Trail from 24 Road east to Highway 340. Once again I let him take the lead and I attempted to mimic his fluid motion by focusing on his movement in front of me. We skated out to near the highway and then turned around to skate back to the parking lot at the 24 Road/River Road intersection. No problems out or back. It felt good to be skating with my son. I was able to match his stride for much of the skate and was very pleased with my effort. As we got back to the van we skated around to the back doors and I unlocked and opened them. We both grabbed our shoes and walked to the front of the vehicle to change into them. I looked over at Adam through the open windows and said, "I think I'm starting to get the hang...." I never finished the sentence because my feet had slipped out from under me, my shoes flew straight up in the air, and I landed flat on my back. I don't think Adam stopped laughing all weekend.

Thanks for checking in. More to come soon. See you then.

Little irritations.

So earlier today while at work my boss was sitting in his office asking me questions through the window in the wall of our adjoining offices. He had a salesman in his office and was also having a conversation with him regarding a deal they were working on together. If I thought the questions were directed at me I would answer - if I thought an answer was needed. My boss (Chad) started grumbling about the lack of response when I failed to acknowledge a comment he made about an out of state tax percentage that we would need to include in a deal headed my way. He asked me if I was mad at him? or, if there was some other reason that I was not participating in the conversation he thought we were having (my wife would probably chime in here with her own examples). I explained that if I thought he needed a response I responded; otherwise, not so much. He then stood in the window and asked me why I was being so mean to him (jokingly). I replied, "Because its fun!" He laughed out loud and wondered if he would ever get used to my humor.

This conversation got me thinking about a day not too long ago that began with both Chad and me in a grumpy mood. It seemed from the beginning of the day that we were going to be dealing with one disaster after another. Customer complaints, salespeople sniping at one another. The city dropped off a notice that his tenant had not paid their water and trash bill and service would be cutoff if not paid by the end of business that day, problems in the shop, problems with the manufacturer, problems with some lenders .... not that unusual for a Monday in the car business except for the volume and duration. By lunchtime we were both ready to lock the doors and send everyone home. Of course we couldn't, but we wanted to. As the end of the day approached we finally had put most of the fires out or, at least, had a solution working that should clear up the matter in question. Needless to say, I left for home quite anxious for some respite from the turmoil and stress of the day.

I sent a text to my sweetheart (Cindy) to see if she wanted to go out to dinner that night and received a reply that that would be a wonderful idea as she was having a stressful day (something in the air?) and could use a break. Upon arrival at home we got right back into a vehicle and headed across town to have dinner. As we pulled into the restaurant parking lot I realized that my wallet was in my briefcase back at home; I kind of chuckled to myself that I had forgotten it, but, figured that Cindy would pay with our bank debit card - no problem. As we were getting out of the car I mentioned that I had forgotten to grab my wallet and would need to pay with the debit card. She looked at me with a surprised expression put her purse down on the hood and commented that she really hoped she had put her wallet back in her purse after making an online purchase. She went digging (honestly girls, how much stuff do you carry in those things?) and quickly realized that it was not there. We climbed back into the car - one of us laughing (me), and one of us grumbling about how ridiculous it was that we both forgot and what a pain it was to have to drive all the way back home just for a stupid wallet that was sitting on the kitchen table.

I am pretty sure we stopped at every light on Main Street as we headed home and fell in behind every driver who felt the need to drive well below the posted speed limit. My recollection is that the bridge construction before the turn toward home also caused us a delay. I also remember that the grumpiness emanating from the driver seat was getting pretty humorous, though the passenger dare not laugh (at least in the moment). Once a wallet had been retrieved we returned across town to the same restaurant and a fabulous meal with some good conversation and the evening was saved. Minor problems, petty irritations, uncomfortable slip ups - it all can be overcome with a change in perspective. I look back on the day and smile at the memory.

We all choose how we will react to those little (or large) irritations each day and how we react often makes our day good or ill. It is our choice. Nothing revelatory here, just commenting on recent occurrences in the slow lane.

Cindy is out of town this week. Celebrating Tessa Sadler's first birthday with family and friends in Broomfield, CO. Wishing I could be there but someone has to hold our place in line.

Thanks for checking in. More to come soon. See you then.

Talk among fathers.

As you may or may not know our youngest daughter was married a few weeks ago in the Mount Timpanogos Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was a wonderful experience for all of the family who could be there (at least from my perspective). I only mention it here again to set the scene for a conversation I had with a young father who is a cousin  to my new son-in-law. There were a lot of young children at the reception following the ceremony so I am not completely certain how many were his but I know that he has at least one daughter and she is who we spoke about during the evening festivities.

I was sitting alone at a table consuming a little nourishment about halfway through the reception. The dancing had started and I was observing the interaction between all the family and friends who had gathered for the celebration. Cindy and our children and their families were involved in their own conversations and refreshment consumption and I was able to observe the loving interaction among my family but also among the extended Esplin family who came to show support and love to the newlywed couple. It was a moment that will live in my memory for many years to come. After a few minutes I was joined by this young family as they chose to sit and relax for a few moments. Father, Mother, and (I recall) three children. The kids were starting to get tired and a bit restless so Mom got up after just a few minutes and took them on a walk around the garden to keep them distracted, and to see others of their extended family.

Their father finished the food on his plate and turned to me and asked if I was the father of the bride? I indicated that yes Kelli is my youngest daughter and the last of my children to marry. He then asked with all sincerity "how do you do it?" "I love my cousin, in fact I think he is one of the finest people I know, but, how can you as her dad, let her go?" He went on to add, "I look at my daughter and I can't imagine how you can let go and allow her to lose her innocence and begin to live life as a married woman."

I looked at him and recognized the real concern in his countenance and knew that this needed a more thoughtful answer than I might give in this setting normally. I gave him a little background about this daughter of mine who he had only met that day. He needed to understand a little about who she is and what had brought her to this point in her life. I also reminded him that I have four other daughters who had made the choice to marry and begin family life in whatever form it would take for them. I told him that my answer if he asked me this question at Stefanie's reception might have been a little different than following the fifth daughter's marriage. Though, in retrospect, probably not as different as I was thinking that evening.

I also talked with him about our family history of parents, grandparents, and great grandparents who had married once and for life. Marriage is a commitment that our family makes very thoughtfully and seriously. And finally I shared the thought with him that when his daughter reached an age and time where she would make this choice; he would find that he also was ready to accept that choice. He would have watched her and her love go through the machinations of getting there, and that would help him to realize that the decision was not random or happenstance. He was not comforted by the thought but I hope he understood that as he and his children grow together over the next decade or two he will begin to understand for himself the truth of the conversation.

Fatherhood is an opportunity for a man to grow and become someone even more worthwhile than the sum of the gifts and talents he has developed in life. Each of us, as fathers, hope for our children to have a better existence than we have. Part of the process of helping them along this better path is letting go and even encouraging them to take baby steps or giant leaps to arrive at a greater destination. That young father will learn when to let them leap as they grow up together.

That is all for now. Thanks for checking in. More to come soon.

Life can be funny sometimes!

When our children were all living at home (it seems forever ago) we, of necessity, had a large 15 passenger van. Purchased by the company I was a part of for business use with the idea that we could also use it for personal transportation. We went everywhere in that monster. Many of our children also learned to drive in that extra large vehicle and I think they benefit still today from having learned how to maneuver such a beast into and out of parking spaces that were designed for much smaller cars. I remember one time we were all coming home from an event and my Mom and Dad were riding along with us. We pulled up in front of the house and everyone started to bail out the side doors of the passenger compartment and as I walked around toward the sidewalk I noticed my Dad struggling to exit I walked over to see if he needed any help and saw him turn back to release the seat-belt which had securely ensconced him in his seat. We laughed about that for many years (Dad also).

Many of you of my vintage will remember the days when rollerblading became a craze all over the U.S.. I fell into the trap of thinking that rollerblading would be a great way to get some exercise without the stress and strain on my knees, ankles (running), or backside (bicycle). My son Adam had recently gotten a pair of roller-blades and seemed to enjoy them and he said it was a good workout. I finally went to the old Gart Brothers Sporting Goods store in downtown Denver and tried on a couple pair until I found those that gave me all the support I thought I would need and that seemed to be solid enough to carry someone of my age and girth (I was not as large as I am now nor as handsome). I brought them home and put them on to go try them out. As I walked down the hallway in the house with them on my feet Adam noticed and ran to grab his  blades to join me. My first mistake was putting them on before going outside. You wouldn't think two small steps could provide such a major obstacle but, they did. Stepping from the carpeted living room onto a concrete step quickly showed me that this would be no easy task to master. My feet were uncontrollable. I have been a fairly athletic guy throughout my life but keeping both feet moving in the same direction was nearly impossible. After landing on my bum in the front yard I quickly figured out what the stops on the front and rear of those roller-blades were for. Sure you could use them for stopping, but, you could also walk on them if you were careful.

By this time Adam had his roller-blades on and had joined me. Watching him over the preceding months it seemed as if the roller-blades were merely an extension of his feet and legs. The grace, athleticism and speed with which he skated was what lured me into the thought that I could do the same. What a foolish man I was. I walked on the front stops over to the end of the sidewalk and onto the driveway where I rolled onto the wheels and down the steeply angled drive toward the sidewalk in front of the house. Never in my life have I accelerated to 60 miles per hour in so short a space or time. I'm glad there was not any traffic on the street in front of the house at that moment because I could not have slowed or turned to save my life. You may remember the Calvin and Hobbes comic strip from the 1980's and 1990's. In one strip I recall that Calvin is skating down the hill in his neighborhood unable to stop and he yells to Hobbes asking his advice. Hobbes yells turn into the gravel drive at the neighbors house. In the last frame you see a mangled and bruised Calvin walking back up the hill with Hobbes commenting that he did not say it was the best way to stop.

I did not have time to yell and the stops on the roller-blades did not seem to be working - so I fell onto the asphalt (also not the best idea) to come to a stop. I was not as mangled as Calvin seemed to be, though the bruises lasted for about a week. Adam rolled over and helped me get up, then helped me back up onto the sidewalk, then gave me some instruction on how to skate, stop, and turn. After 15 minutes or so I had had enough for one day and headed back inside.

I'm sure that my wife and children all had a good laugh over the next few weeks as I attempted to learn how to propel myself around the lake across the street from our home. I did eventually figure out how and spent many evenings skating around the lake for fun and exercise. There are many more funny stories associated with this adventure in rollerblading. I will probably share a few of them in an upcoming post.

Oh, I began with the seat-belt incident and then detoured to the roller-blades. I was reminded of the seat-belt incident recently when I had a similar problem. I had driven to work one morning recently and, in a bit of a hurry, upon arrival parked on the lot grabbed my briefcase and started to slide out the driver side door but got stuck about halfway. I scooted and scooted but seemed to be hung up on something. I looked down and realized that the shoulder strap of the seat-belt was still across my chest. I laughed and laughed - slid back into the vehicle and released the clasp.

Sorry kids, this one may be hereditary.

Thanks for checking in. More to come soon.

"Heaven give you many, many merry days." William Shakespeare

It has been almost two weeks since I posted here. Partly because life in the slow lane is at times more quick moving than I care to handle, and partly because I could not settle on a topic that I might address on this page. My stated purpose with this blog is to inform friends and family of events and happenings in life - both current and retrospective. Today will be more current oriented, I think.

Our youngest child (Kelli) will be married this Friday the 28th of June to a terrific, faithful, faith-filled man (Tyler Esplin) whom she fell for years ago ("we're just friends Dad") even if neither of them would admit to it. She had a goal to get through College and he desired to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints before even considering seriously being more than friends. Kelli has completed all her classroom work at Colorado Mesa University with a semester of student teaching ahead of her this fall and Tyler returned from the Houston Texas Mission about a year and a half ago. They have spent this time learning more about each other and about life and have arrived at this day still friends. I am pleased for them and wish them the best.

Because I am the Dad I will take the opportunity to share here some of my thoughts and feelings regarding the marriage relationship and what I believe it ought to be (at least some of my ideas).
In 1 Corinthians 13:13 it says; "And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity." in context charity is understood to mean love. When Tyler sat with me to tell me that he and Kelli were talking seriously about getting married he wanted me to understand that he loves her, and I am sure that he does. I also have watched them together and I observe that the feelings are mutual. I will tell them that what they feel now is a great place to begin - but the feelings that they will have 10, or 20, or 50 years from now will mean so much more and run so much deeper than they can understand today.
Shared experience, shared goals, trials experienced, and those quiet moments when it seems that their world may be falling all around them will deepen and strengthen their bond. They will be in this together and as long as they keep that thought in mind theirs is a marriage that will survive and thrive.

Tyler asked me that afternoon if there is anything I required of him. At that moment I had not had time to consider the question thoroughly (only her whole life) so I was not very forthcoming with wise words or specific advice (and I would add after 5 older children have married it has all been said). Today, a number of months later, I have had time to think about what I wish for them so I will share some of that now.
One of the leading Elders of our Church taught the following in a talk he gave during April 2013 General Conference, "I have observed that in the happiest marriages both the husband and the wife consider their relationship to be a pearl beyond price, a treasure of infinite worth. They both leave fathers and mothers and set out together to build a marriage that will prosper for eternity. They understand that they walk a divinely ordained path. They know that no other relationship of any kind can bring as much joy, generate as much good, or produce as much personal refinement. ... the best marriage partners regard their marriages as priceless." (Elder L Whitney Clayton).

The specific list of advice is short.

1.)   Love God.
2.)   Love her more than anything or anyone else (except God).
3.)   Pray together every day.
4.)   Make time to share in the scriptures each day.
5.)   Listen before reacting.
6.)   Never stop courting her.
7.)   Learn patience.
8.)   Hold your tongue (see #5 above).
9.)   Share your hopes and dreams with each other.
10.) Keep the relationship preeminent every day.

No great wisdom here just some practical advice that will keep you both aiming at the same end result.

"When you make a sacrifice in marriage, you're sacrificing not to each other but to unity in a relationship." (Joseph Campbell)

Cindy and I have made an effort to do these things in our relationship (sometimes with more success sometimes with less) and can vouch for their efficacy.

A simple list, given in love. You will learn that there is so much more to making it work. It is worth the effort.

More to come soon. Thanks for checking in.

The Challenge! Friendship!

Describe your best childhood friend and your relationship with them. 

I have given this topic a great amount of thought over the past week. My initial idea was to post something from each time period of my life much the same as the favorite teacher post in recent weeks. After some careful consideration I decided that I would, potentially, offend more of my friends by not choosing them to be highlighted here. There are many that I call to mind with very fond, and a few uncomfortable, memories. Many of you shared the same friendships and acquaintance that I did growing up in western Colorado. If you are like me (and I know I am) just the mention of someone will bring to mind some humorous story or a remembrance that often brightens your day for just that moment (or longer). For me those names begin with Mike Peterson, Tommy Means, Pat Macdonald, Carla Ray, LuAnn Paulson and her brother Lanny, Reggie Everett, David Cole, Scott young and his family, John Young, Mike, Scott, and David Hawks, Gary Doyal, Jimmy Etzler, Travis Mays, Paul Lister, Rich Idler, and many many others. Sorry - if I listed all who have impacted me as friends you all would be bored to tears.

The list is long.

There are two not included in the list above for different reasons. The first is my sweetheart Cindy Gray - whom I did not meet until high school and who I will not be writing about here today other than to mention that the friendship continues to blossom even after 36 or 37 years (34 married) of getting familiar with one another. No, I think most of you who really know me will agree that Mike Hoaglund was the best friend I ever had, outside my marriage.

Mike was a year ahead of me in school and I remember him initially at Shelledy Elementary. We only interacted on the playground there, as his class was coming outside from the lunchroom as mine was going back inside to try and learn something. His mom was a second grade teacher in the school and everyone knew he was her son. I don't remember ever interacting with Mike at Fruita Elementary School but once we got to Junior High School we became very good friends. Football, wrestling, and track and field brought us together as teammates and began to solidify the relationship. We also had the Church in common - we both attended the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints there in Fruita. We participated in the Boy Scout Troop there and spent time in the outdoors with other good friends (Reggie, Matt, Dennis, Jeff and many others). We rode our bicycles up and down the Colorado National Monument and all over the drainages and dirt hills in the Fruita area - just a grand time to be alive.

Mike's sophomore year in high school is when the friendship really took off. He got his driver's license and we could go into the outdoors to fish, and hunt, and just spend time hiking. We didn't catch many fish or have a lot of success in the field but that did not deter us from getting out there and having fun. As we graduated from school, in successive years, we continued to be friends and he was the first to know, besides me, that I was thinking about getting married. He always had an opinion on any given topic and he did on this one as well - which he did not hesitate to share with me (or anyone).

Mike and I worked together, played together, went to school together, and became friends through all those interactions. What a good man he became. Most of you know that Mike died from a self inflicted gunshot wound not long after his marriage began to unravel. I don't remember exactly when this occurred my recollection is sometime in the late 1980's though it could have been as late as 1990. As with many friendships we had drifted in different directions following marriage and living in different parts of the country.
He was a good friend. Always willing to back me up but not afraid to let me know when I was wrong (and I was wrong often). I'm not sure that all friendships have the strengths and trials that ours did - but I do cherish each of the experiences we shared.

The blog challenge has now ended for me, who knows what you will find here next time?

Thanks for checking in. More to come soon.

The Challenge! Gutsiest thing ever done.

What is the gutsiest thing you've ever done? One serious, one funny.

As I have been thinking about what I could share here this week I am beginning to realize that I have lived a very unexciting life. I suppose the things that some might consider "gutsy" have been done out of necessity not because of courage or adventure so I don't think of them in that (gutsy) context. Oh and don't misunderstand my meaning, we are not talking about anything like a first responder running toward an emergent situation or someone in the military reacting to a developing situation in a battle for life and liberty. I am talking about the daily grind we all experience were we occasionally find uncomfortable situations that require more effort and commitment than normal. For example; allowing someone whom I had only recently met to split open my chest and stop my heart so repair could be made that would allow a more full and energetic life. Some might call that gutsy - I call it unnerving, fear inducing, and life enhancing. Gutsy? Not so much.

Gutsy is defined by many as "marked by courage or daring; plucky, or robust and uninhibited; lusty. Not sure anything in my life can be defined as plucky or lusty. I think those who do gutsy things like climbing mountains, or jumping out of airplanes, or entering into burning, or collapsed buildings are amazing men and women. I don't see myself as being like them in any way. Could I be? Perhaps. I have always chosen not to follow those paths and have rarely found myself in situations where I did not have time to carefully consider all the options and make an informed decision. A good friend of my son Adam, (they met in the Marine Corps) calls this living a charmed life (Thanks Matt Thorne).

One exception; I was driving across Oxford Ave in the Denver, Colorado area with several other men riding with me. We were heading west and noticed a new Corvette turning in front of us into a large open space area. The driver punched it and accelerated very quickly to a speed beyond his ability to manage and the car slid beneath a thick cable that had been suspended between two heavy posts, thus limiting traffic access. The cable sheared off the A pillar on both the driver and passenger side of the vehicle and stopped the car. I looked at my companions and saw my thoughts reflected in their eyes; "what are we going to find when we get there?" I reached for the radio in the truck cab near my right knee and called our dispatcher to get emergency equipment headed toward the accident and we turned to see what we could do to help. Was that gutsy? Some would say yes, I would say that it was a normal reaction by any thinking caring man or woman. I remember being filled with fear and dread for what we would find upon arriving at the scene. We pulled up, jumped out of the truck, ran to the car, and found three young men (probably 17 or 18 years old), with the driver and front seat passenger pinned in their seats by the two inch diameter cable - without a scratch on either of them. My co-workers and I were able to pry the cable forward to allow the boys to get out of the vehicle and though they were shaken up they did not appear to be injured. Gutsy? I suppose it was. But really we had no choice but to assist in whatever way we could. By the way, the decision to help in any similar circumstance had been made years previous so I was compelled by that commitment to follow through. We did not need to decide in the moment. We just needed to act.

Confucius is attributed with saying, "Faced with what is right, to leave it undone shows a lack of courage."

John Wayne is quoted as saying much the same thing, "Courage is being scared to death ... and saddling up anyway."

When this topic was proposed for our consideration Stefanie suggested we choose something serious and something humorous. I am at a loss as to what might be shared here that is funny and gutsy. It was hard enough to come up with something serious. If an example comes to mind in the near future I will amend this post.

That is all for now. Thanks for checking in. Be back soon.

The Challenge! Your favorite teacher (all schools) and why?!

I am not ashamed to admit I was a pretty average student with occassional flashes of potential that were quickly extinguished by sports, other outdoor activities, and just living a great life.

As you can see from the title of this post we have been invited to consider who our favorite teacher(s) are from each school we attended. School was not high on my list of things that held my attention for long. Though there were a few teachers who could keep me interested for short periods of time and I count each of them among my favorites.

Shelledy Elementary school is where I attended Kindergarten, 1st grade, and 2nd grade. I remember my Kindergarten teacher, vaguely, and to be completely accurate I don't remember my 2nd grade teacher at all (my apologies to both). I do remember Mrs. Kasparik (might have C as first letter) for two reasons; first - she is the teacher who taught me to read, and second - her husband was a musician who primarily played the piano in clubs and bars (we learned this when he came and performed for the school). He also had a knife scabbard, with a knife in it, sewn into his boot and it was clearly visible as he played for us that day. He was really interesting to the group of 6 year old boys that were my friends and that made her all the more interesting, by association. Back to reading, I have always enjoyed reading. In school my choices were not that different from what I read today. Lots of action with occassional mystery and intrigue. She opened the world to me by providing me the foundation of alphabet, simple words, sentence structure, grammar, and spelling that are manifest in my writing today. What a way to change a life.

Fruita Elementary School was next. Here I attended 3rd through 6th grade. Mr, Yount, Mr. Johnston, and Mr. Linn all had profound influence on me in different ways. Mrs. Nagel, and Mrs. Jones also contributed richly to my life in those years. They all reinforced many of the moral lessons I was learning at home in addition to helping me learn the history, social studies, science, language, and other teaching that occured there. Mr. Yount was my favorite of all even though he was only there for my 3rd grade year. He was the P.E. teacher and he devised many ways to wear me and my friends out so we could settle down in the classroom and learn the more important things our classroom teachers were trying to teach. He also taught us how to play fairly and give everyone on the playground an opportunity to participate, which at this age is important. He also taught us that competitive sports are a good thing and we should participate if inclined to do so. What a good man, and a good teacher.

Fruita Junior High School came next; 7th through 9th grade. Two teachers stand out in my memory here. Ms. McKenzie (sp?), and Mr. Webster. Ms. McKenzie taught 7th grade science and, while I did not excel at the subject, she kept me engaged every day. In fact I looked forward to her class each morning of that year. I did struggle a bit mid-year with whatever topic we were studying and she let me know she noticed the struggle and wanted to help by having me come in early several mornings a week for some extra assistance. I think this is the best thing she could do for me. I don't think I understood how much those men and women who make this career choice care about the children in their charge - until then. It made me want to do better, and work harder - and that ultimately paid off with a pretty good grade.
Mr. Webster was my 9th grade science teacher. He was quite a character in the classroom. There was no question he wouldn't ask - even if it meant embarassing himself or anyone else in the classroom. He really only had two rules relating to classroom management the first was never, ever speak without him calling on you, and never, ever (and I cannot emphasize this enough) chew grape flavored gum in his classroom. He would even stop you if you walked past his classroom in the hallway and have you spit out grape flavored gum. He taught me that learning could be fun. His was another class that I looked forward to each day of that year. Learning was enjoyable and I had a great time in his care.
Fruita Monument High School came next; 10th through 12th grade. A lot of teachers influenced me here but two stand out. Mr. Thomas and Mr. Shepard. Mr. Thomas taught math at FMHS; he was the second teacher to really challenge my lazy study habits. He reached out to me early in the year to get me back on track by explaining that if I wanted to keep my grade up I could not fall behind with my work. He, the same as Ms. McKenzie, pulled me in early several days a week to make sure I understood what had been taught the day before. He double checked my work and explained where I had gone wrong with my effort. He lead me to double and even triple check my work to make certain I had it figured out. His class was usually very fast paced and I learned from him to always ask questions when I failed to understand. He was also the varsity boys basketball coach the freshman year so we interacted some on the basketball court as well. Please do not mis-understand, I was not on that team - sophomore and JV ball that year.
Mr. Shepard taught history - I had him for an American history and a World history class in different years plus, he taught a political comparison class that I really enjoyed. Mr. Shepard's influence on me was that, because of his utilization of outside materials I learned to look for learning opportunities everywhere. He opened my eyes to possible sources in print that I had not considered before. Newspapers, weekly and monthly publications, and personal accounts from those who had been there.

Others over the years have influenced me in various ways, I hope that none are offended by my imperfect memory of events and people. All teachers should be thought of fondly by those whose lives they touched - I know that my teachers are all remembered in this way. Thanks to each of you whether mentioned here or not. I am who I am because of your contribution to my education. And that is a good thing. Who knows how I might have turned out without your influence on my life?

More to come soon. Thanks for checking in.

The challenge! Childhood remembrances.

My sweetheart and daughters who have blogs occassionally invite one another to participate in what they call a "Blog Challenge". One of them (in this case Stefanie - "A Day in the Life of the Griffiths") recently invited them to write over the next few weeks about several different topics. They all decided that I should be included in the invitation so here I am again. We'll see how this attempt goes before determining to take on all four topics.

What is your earliest childhood memory is the current topic. I have carefully considered this all weekend and have had many different remembrances in mind for today, though I confess that I am not sure on the specific timing regarding any of them or if any would qualify for the actual earliest.

I have vague recollections of what must have been very dark days for my parents when my younger brothers were born and never made it home from the hospital. I also remember when my brother who did survive (Mitchell Darrin Mahan) did come home. While these are probably my earliest childhood memories they are very fuzzy and I just remember the excitement that was in the house with the new arrival and the sadness at the loss.

I also thought about a woman who I remember vividly from when my tonsils were removed. We always called her Grandma Sheetz. I can tell you she was wheelchair bound (I don't know why) and had the whitest hair and the brightest smile I had ever seen in my young life. I cannot tell you her real name to this day, but I remember her joyful attitude when she came into the room and how good she made me feel on that first visit and many other visits we had both in the hospital over those few days and later in her home as she proved to be a very good family friend.

I remember living across the street from the local Chief of Police (Richard Walker) when we lived on Laura Street in Fruita, Colorado. He was a very intimidating man to a young boy - I think he enjoyed the reputation of being a mean grumpy man. He and his wife had two full size dachshund dogs that were as grumpy as he seemed to be. He appeared to be a cigar smoker, though I don't recall ever seeing one lighted. He appeared to just chew on them - constantly.

I also considered writing about the two little girls that lived down the street that became good childhood friends. We played together in their yard (they had great trees for climbing) and in our yard whenever Dad had the sprinkler on in the front yard. Running through that cold water as the grass was being watered was a very fun time in my young childhood days. I no longer remember their names but I remember when their family moved away we all were saddened at the loss.

My Aunt Elsie and Uncle Tommy also played a major role in my young life and I have many fond memories of their home in Fruita and the many visits, family dinners, and other important events that ocurred during those years. I drove past their home in Fruita recently and noticed that many of the improvements they made to the yard and exterior of that property are still in place and appear to be well maintained. It seems a lot smaller today than I remember.

Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, my brother, the family pets, and many many friends make up the memories that I have of my young life. They all happened so long ago that I cannot narrow it down to which clear memory is the earliest. I think they all happened about the same time and make up only a small part of a wonderful childhood growing up in the western part of Colorado.

Thanks for tuning in. More to come soon.

Random thoughts on life.

I am learning that I should post here more often. This is just the second time I have made the attempt and finding something of value to share here is quite the mental exercise. There are many things on my mind that could be shared I'm just not sure that anything I might share is worth the time of anyone who might read these thoughts.
Yesterday was Mothers Day and we had a good day together (Cindy and I). A lazy start to the day with a very slow pace all day. Over all the years we had children in the home I did not always appreciate this holiday and never gave it the thought or effort that would adequately express to the funniest (and most fun) woman I know exactly what my feelings for her are. So yesterday was an opportunity for me to make the day a little more special than it has been in years past. Without a lot of detail I just want to put it out there that yesterday was a little more special. A nicer gift was shared with my sweetheart, a lot more thought and effort was put in to planning the meals and other activities of the day. Resulting in Mrs. Mahan (Cindy) having the reminder that my feelings for her run deep, and my greatest desire is for her to be happy.

In Nicholas Sparks "The Notebook" he gives expression to my feelings in a way that I cannot,

"You are my best friend as well as my lover, and I do not know which side of you I enjoy the most. I treasure each side, just as I have treasured our life together."

"We fell in love, despite our differences, and once we did, something rare and beautiful was created. For me, love like that has only happened once, and that's why every minute we spent" (spend) "together has been seared in my memory. I'll never forget a single moment of it."

Upcoming events in the lives of the Mahan family have me thinking about the love that develops between a man and a woman that leads them to make a commitment to one another. Kelli will be getting married in a few weeks. We are very happy for them. I have observed her and Tyler over the years they have spent getting to know each other and have several thoughts to share here. Their relationship is the catalyst that has brought me here but the observations have stretched over a little over a decade of daughters and son dating and falling for and in love with those they have married (or will marry).

In "The Four Loves" C.S. Lewis wrote,

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

As my children have begun to have the experience of dating and seeking to find someone to love, it has been my observation that they do become very vulnerable. Most of them have finally come to the realization that they should be good friends with someone before the romantic aspect of love should be explored. Some of them are still trying to figure out how to be friends with the one they have fallen in love with. Both roads are not easy, but the latter is the more difficult.

In "My Sisters Keeper" (no I have not read this - just love the quote) Jodi Picoult writes,

"You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not."

Only one has walked perfectly on this earth. We all have foibles and weakness and selfish natures. Sometimes it takes another to help us grow out of weakness into strength. Each of our children have had to overcome obstacles in their relationships. Sometimes of their own creation and sometimes that of their partner or another outside influence. I think all (including their dad) have grown in ways that are remarkable and each have gone down paths that are unfamiliar to me and have shown a resolve and strength that tell me that their Mother has done a great job schooling them and preparing them for life.

I'm done for now. You will find more new here soon. Thanks for dropping in.

I miss her every day!!

I miss her everyday!!

Several of my children, my mother-in-law, and her sisters have all inquired as to my well-being since my Mom passed away. I want you all to know that I am fine. When Dad died I actually did have one significant emotional outburst that was a very poignant, attitude adjusting moment, that occurred a few hours before his death. I was driving home from the hospital to begin preparations for grilling some steaks and bratwurst. Mom and Cindy were still at the hospital and I was alone. I started crying about 58th Ave and I25 and did not stop until well after I was kneeling next to my bed at home. As I was kneeling there that afternoon I knew without question that he would not be leaving the hospital. You all know the rest of the story. With Mom passing I had no such opportunity; instead, there have been many small moments before and since the memorial service where I have had small emotions flowing to the surface. 

They happen frequently. 

It has been difficult to go back into her house and begin the process of sorting and packing her things. She had indicated to Mitchell Darrin and me many things that she hoped would happen with her possessions though not many written instructions given. The first day I made the turn toward her home I could have lost it. But we had a task to accomplish and we focused on getting started. When I read the blog posts of my daughters who give tribute and share remembrances of their Gram I find my allergies acting up and my eyes beginning to water. In those moments when I would normally reach for my phone to call her and check in, I pause, and wonder (definition #1) at how often I actually reached out to communicate with her. 

Thankfully, life does go on. 

My thoughts are somewhat random today as I am writing them down. Sorry about that. 

I spoke at the memorial service about the events of that late night when we received word that Mom was having problems and that we should come to the hospital right away. It was about fifteen minutes after midnight the morning of the twelfth of January when my phone rang. I had a difficult time waking from sleep and they had to call a second time to reach me. I called Aunt Elsie and Uncle Tommy to let them know and they headed right over to the hospital. Cindy and I got dressed, gave the dogs a cookie, prayed together, and then headed to Grand Junction and St. Mary's Hospital. We left several messages for Darrin along the way as he was not answering his phone (he had gone to Silt to make the house ready for Mom to come home). Uncle Tommy called as we were headed up the hill out of Montrose to let us know that we did not need to hurry as Mom had died already. 

Each of our children were contacted, as we drove, to let them know what we then knew. Darrin finally called me so we could let him know what had transpired. 

We all finally arrived at the hospital and met with a terrific grief counselor. She shared what needed to and would happen over the next few hours and days and provided us with all the information we would need to make all of the arrangements. She took Darrin and me into the room where Mom had spent the last few days of her life, and where the hospital staff had tried to revive her. After we spent a few minutes saying our goodbyes and discussing what we were feeling, we returned to the family waiting area and Aunt Elsie, Uncle Tommy, and Cindy took their turn saying goodbye. Mitchell D. asked if we could speak to the nurse who first responded to Mom when she started to fail. He came and filled in all of the gaps in what we already knew. He had been in the room with Mom at the moment when she initially fell back on the bed; he immediately initiated CPR and other resuscitation efforts and other staff called the ER for the emergency room physician to come to her room and help. They worked to revive for about thirty to thirty-five minutes.

The day of her death, the days leading up to the memorial service, and the service itself are all a jumble of people, conversations, and emotion. I'm not certain that any or all of those days are really clear to me, but, I can see bits and pieces of each and have those reminders of the love of family and friends.

It has been interesting to reflect on the experience of those days as we move forward with life. To write here today and recall the emotions that I experienced over those days and since have brought to mind this thought. I have great faith in God's great plan of happiness, so my feelings have been somewhat muted because of the belief I have of eternal family relationships. 

I have great joy in the thought that Mom and Dad are together once again, enjoying the companionship that men, women and families can have in eternity.