tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70549482024-03-07T02:48:05.547-07:00Sandal Wearing Adventurist"Life is a journey not a guided tour"Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05071937987378434358noreply@blogger.comBlogger200125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-80745342324189902022015-06-25T09:25:00.001-06:002015-06-25T09:25:59.958-06:00Suicide is Selfish.....Two years ago yesterday, I would have said that suicide was one of the most selfish acts there was in the world. But then two years ago today, suicide smacked my family directly in the heart and my view has changed. For some, it is an act of no control. And for some, it is an act of not being a burden. It is not a selfish act, for some it is a very bold act.<br />
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Two years ago, we flew to Dallas to hang out with family for a reunion. Uncles, cousins, in-laws, outlaws, and every one in between flew in from far reaches of the states just be together. We do it every few years in a different location. Each time, another 'sibling' puts the reunion on so it is often in a different location. And we have a blast. <br />
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We first get to be reintroduced, meet the new children and/or the new husband/wives, try to remember everyone's names, and settle down into some kind of routine. Breakfast and lunch on your own and dinner usually some planned activity. In between, we might go visit a museum, go river rafting, tour through Bass Pro, or just relax by the pool. <br />
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And after about a weekend, we've had enough of each other (not really), and we say our good-byes. Usually it is more like see you next reunion, see you in a few years, etc. And that is how it was 2 years ago when we had the reunion. However, none of us, well I can't speak for everyone, but me personally I didn't think it was the last time I would say good-bye to one. I didn't think it was the last time I would hug Josh, give him shit about something, and say good-bye. No where in a million years did I think that. I mean he had been void from facebook, but everyone disappears from time to time from there. I didn't think anything of it. <br />
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We flew back to Colorado. I will never forget where I was when I received the telephone call. I will relive that day for the rest of my life. I was at a stop light in Montrose on the way to get the morning chai when my telephone rang. Geez, I just saw my sister at the reunion what is she calling about. And then the words slipped from her lips and my world went white, black, and void. I hung up and my husband looked over at me knowing I was about to lose it, which I did. And I told him the news. Josh had left us. <br />
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Josh, my second cousin, the one I loved to give shit to about everything from smoking to get your ass studying had taken his own life. And it was then that my views of suicide collapsed. Throughout the day, I would have moments of glee knowing I had just spent a great weekend with him to moments of shear walls of tears. I of course screamed WHY WHY WHY a few times. I thought about the time I couldn't get the tv to work at his house and I posted on facebook to have one of his friends text him to call me because I couldn't figure out the system. I thought about the story of him saying that Nolan Ryan pitched to him at baseball camp (he lied, but he was little so I won't hold it against him). I remember all the great times we chatted on facebook. Yea, I look back not on this tragedy, but on the great life he lived and brought smiles to everyone's faces.<br />
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In the days following his death, I found out he had been suffering a mental illness and it was this disease that had pushed him to the brink of ending his life. Some will argue it is not a disease, but I don't give a shit what your opinion is because I know it took the life of a very young, fun loving, caring man from my life. <br />
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September is National Suicide Prevention Month. And I truly don't think a month needs to be set aside for it. Every day should be suicide prevention. If you know someone who may be suffering, whether mental illness, depression, etc. attempt to do something. And it may be that every thing you do doesn't work, but at least you will know you tried rather than looking back and saying "woulda, shoulda, coulda". <br />
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Josh, you are forever in our hearts, and I know that you walk with your family high and low every day. I know you look down upon your nieces (and will for others to come) with love and whisper stories as they sleep. You left us way too early, but will always be here. I love you!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05071937987378434358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-53232187285468152812014-11-30T20:07:00.002-07:002014-11-30T22:37:42.835-07:00Where in the world is RJF?You are a lost soul wondering through a world that can be all yours if you truly wanted it to be. But for some reason you have chosen a road that I cannot fathom could be that great to travel. To me, it seems like that road has had more bumps and troughs than highs and peaks. Of course <i>highs</i> is probably the wrong word because I'm pretty sure it has had plenty of <i>highs</i>. <br />
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You are my brother, not so much by blood, but by a promise I made to you over twenty years ago. That vow was that I would never step away and I would always be there. Obviously I can't be right where you are, but I've always been here for calls, texts, emails, and letters. I've always been right here. All you have to do is step up and say help. <br />
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I am not sure if you realize that anyone that's been in your life in a positive way would do the same as I would. And some of them have in so many ways. But you always slide back. But honestly, none of our help is going to change who you are unless you want to change yourself. <br />
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For those of us that have been with you from the beginning of this rocky adventure, we have watched with great hope that you are taking the right path. You were going to change. And for awhile you are the person we used to know. That caring, funny, and sincere friend we all went to school with. And then something happens. A little switch? Walking into the wrong room with the wrong people? Something happens and you run back down that dirty road. <br />
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I was there when you found the Lord Jesus Christ. Of course I'm probably one of the only person that knows really why you found the Lord Jesus Christ, but I will keep that part a secret. That was during high school when the rocky road started to get paved. Of those that were standing on the side of the road thought that possibly this would be a change in the right direction for you. And for a while it was. Off to college you went...to a 'church' college at that...but one night something happened and the world came screaming back to the dirty road. <br />
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When I could I would come see you and we would talk about the good life. When times slid to the downside, I would write or try to make a connection with you. And then you would eventually disappear for a while. Where you would go not many of us know. All I know is that you would go back down that drug induced hole and hide out for a while. And then something scary would happen to you and you would come crawling back to friends and family. And they would welcome you back with open arms because <i>this was going to be the time you could become the person we know</i>. <br />
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Of course that would only last for a short time before you would start those addictive tendencies and disappear on us again. You recently came back in full force and we all thought <i>once again</i> that you were back for good. You were going to be with us, become our friends again, laugh with us, cry with us, celebrate our birthdays, new babies, and everything else in the real world. You gave us photos from the old days and made us laugh. <br />
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And then again....<b>gone. </b><br />
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I do not think you realize how many people care about you. Over these last months of your disappearance, I've received text and facebook messages asking me where you were. And all I could say is "I unfortunately have no idea". And that hurts. You don't know how much it hurts to not know where a brother and a friend is? <br />
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And I am so scared that one day I'm going to have to tell our world...you are <i style="font-weight: bold;">GONE</i> forever.<br />
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When you find the time, please make contact with us. We love you RJF.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05071937987378434358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-46099654699933735632014-10-16T14:42:00.003-06:002014-10-16T16:16:06.326-06:00I survived the River<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I had been on rivers before. I've done some daily trips down the Colorado River out of Moab. My first overnight trip was in Costa Rica. We rafted down and stayed at a lodge with running water and flush toilets. I told Murray he had ruined me for ever using the groover (explained later if you don't know what it is). My second trip was down the Colorado through Cataract Canyon from Moab to Lake Powell. It was a two night three day trip and I used the groover just fine. And my last river trip before this one was 6 days, 5 nights. On that one I came close to ringing someone's neck. So considering I was going to embark on a 21 day trip with 12 people I did not know, I was a little nervous. </div>
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My nervousness had to do with not only the 12 people I did not know, but being a Hilton girl, I was not sure if I would survive the camping for 21 days. Twenty-one days without a proper toilet, shower, bath, or bed was going to be the test of my wills. But once we pushed off from Lee's Ferry there would be no turning back. And so we pushed off.</div>
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Prior to going on the trip, someone had told me to lose all my inhibitions during the trip. And so I went on this trip with that in my mind. I was going to have to get naked in front of people, crap in a can sometimes in front of people, and bath along a river where other people not on my trip were going to be floating by. That advice was the best I had received for the trip. I lost inhibitions for sure.</div>
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Was the trip lift altering? Oh hell yea! I keep saying I don't ever have to camp again. :) I told Murray I would never have to do another trip down the canyon again, but give me a while and I will probably say hell yes. I was 21 days without technology and it was awesome. </div>
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This was a private trip so we cooked, cleaned, packed/unpacked, set up, etc. by ourselves. There were five rafts with tons of gear from cooking to tents to chairs to cots. Every thing went in the same place every time we packed and believe me we packed a ton. And then unpacked. There were four cook/clean groups, two people who handled the groover, and one person who handled the food. We had hired a company to shop and plan our meals, but we cooked those meals and kind of went shopping in the coolers and storage containers. So the four groups were A, B, C, D. The first day Group A cooked dinner, breakfast, and lunch. Group B cleaned up dinner and breakfast. Then Group B would do dinner, breakfast, and lunch. And so on. It worked really well. Every couple of days, I would have a couple days off. Murray was in Group C so we would also have a day off of chores together. </div>
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Our days were pretty much the same every day. Get up, pack up, eat breakfast, load the boats, raft down the river, hike some, get to camp, unload, eat dinner, go to sleep. Again and again and again. We had three days where we laid over at a particular camp for a second night. The packing and unpacking is what really tended to wear on me. </div>
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During the day on the river, we might stop to hike or check out some rock art. Usually there were a couple of stops if there were big rapids for the boatpeople (boatmen) to scout the rapid to see what was the safest way to go. But again, it was the same, but different every day. </div>
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I was the only one to get somewhat sick during the trip. The tamales that we ate that night did not agree with my inners and starting at 2am starting removing themselves from my body. And it continued into the next day. This is where losing all inhibitions comes to full tilt. We were heading down the river, when I realized I was going to have to use the day groover. So let me explain the day groover....you take this box and head into the bushes, that is if you have bushes to head to. I did not. You open the box, take out a brown paper lunch bag and open it completely up, then make a nest with some toilet paper, crap, fold up the corners, and place that inside another brown bag. So where we pulled over, I had to scramble up the rocks and was in full view of everyone. That day it wasn't just us on that particular section of the river, but also a commercial group. And so I got to squat right in front of them. After stopping at the Doll House and going through the rapid there, I was pretty sure I was going to puke in front of the commercial group as well. But no need to worry because the next day while I was bathing in the mucky muddy water, they floated by again. </div>
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I believe it was a couple of days later when I would get my first (and last) chance to row the boat. You would think that having a husband who is all about rafting that I would have put my hands on the oars before this moment, but nope. I have paddled an inflatable kayak before, but never a raft. The day before when I was riding on another boat, the boatperson said well you should know a few strokes in case your boatman goes out of the boat. Unfortunately, it wasn't a good day for her to teach me those few strokes. But fear not, I got my chance the next day and remarkably kept the raft upright and off the wall. We scouted Crystal and were the fourth boat to go through I believe. We entered the rapid and as the big wave was coming, Murray yelled "HOLD ON" so I did. We, well I guess now I, went through it and I caught something out of the corner of my eye. When I looked over I saw Murray floating by. I did not hesitate and immediately jumped on the oars. Not because I knew what the fuck to do, but I thought it was the right thing to do. And somehow I pulled or pushed and struggled through keeping the raft upright and off the wall. A kayaker finally came, climbed aboard, and stroked three times to an eddy. </div>
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There were many highlights of the trip but I think the photos will describe those the best. I can't explain the river or what it did to me. I survived it and loved it and hated it and embraced it and cursed it. But it was all worth it. One day you might get your chance and if you do, I suggest you take it, but most importantly lose all your inhibitions. </div>
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I said I would explain the groover for those of you that don't know it....the reason it has the name groover is before the toilet seat went on it, you would just sit on the boat and get grooves on your legs. But today things are more sophisticated. First there is a bucket to pee in, and then the box to crap in, and then the hand washing station. And 99% of the time the groover has an awesome view. </div>
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The groover </div>
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The groover view </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05071937987378434358noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-22597845975323359132014-02-07T21:29:00.000-07:002014-02-10T08:46:44.034-07:00I'm going to tell you a story....For some of you, this will be a shock. Some of you will respond with "I had no idea about your mom". Some of you will truly question my non-belief in the Lord, Jesus Christ. And for some chills will run up your spine and tingle your toes. And some won't give a damn, but I don't care because it is my story. So there are three parts of the story...the beginning, the middle, and the foreverness. <br />
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Are you aware that when I was three years old my mother died of complications due to a hysterectomy? No? Doesn't surprise me actually because I know a lot of my high school now facebook friends had no idea. Yes, a sad event. I was only three but I have memories of my mom. And I know my dad and my siblings and my surrogate mothers and society did a pretty damn good job raising me. <br />
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From the earliest time that I can remember, three years old I guess, when I was laying down to go to sleep and the lights had been turned off, I would hear footsteps outside my room. They were pacing back and forth. When I was old enough to remember, those footsteps scared the shit out of me. When I was in junior high and they would pace the hall at the condo, I came to accept it as my imagination. When I was 24, I still heard those footsteps. Years later, I would realize what those footsteps were.<br />
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Flash forward to college. I went to NAU. The first couple of years I had roommates that I went to high school with, but as I grew sick of them, I put a notice on the bulletin board and got a great one. Her name was Jennifer and she was studying some theater crap or something like that. (Jen-do you even use your degree because I know I don't). We were roommates, hung out occasionally, but mostly were roommates. I met her mom once or twice. Today, Jennifer, her mom, and I are still friends and pretty damn close ones if I had to say. We both moved to Phoenix after college, ended up in the same apartment complex (Lynwood Place), started hanging out more and developing our friendship to what it is today. Jen's mom, Dani...she became one of those surrogate moms, but it wasn't until 1997. <br />
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Flash forward to 1997. Many of you on facebook from LHC's graduating class of 1992, will remember the year. Matter of fact, I used the same phone at work to receive the news of that tragedy and my enlightenment. But 1997 wasn't just shadowed with the death of a family friend, Nikki, it was darkened by at least 6 other people who died within my large grasping circle. Only one other year has been as tragic and that was 2007. Kind of scary that those years are 10 years apart. I'm a little nervous what 2017 has in store for me. Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked, but it is all part of the story.<br />
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I am working for a private investigation firm when the administrative assistance (secretary is what we called her) told me I had a telephone call. I was in the boss's office at the time and I stepped into the hall to take it. The caller was Dani. She said "Jen gave me your number and I hope you don't mind me calling at work". Again, Dani and I were only acquainted because of Jen. ACQUAINTED. Not acquaintances, but acquainted. <br />
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I probably said something like "um, ok" thinking in my head if Jen isn't dead what the fuck do you want. So Dani continues "I have something to tell you. Are you open minded?" In head-well if I'm not are you not going to tell me? I said SURE. And then she started to speak and by the end chills were running up my spine and tingling my toes. And Dani and I are no longer acquainted, but we are the greatest of friends and she is one of my surrogate moms. <br />
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This is where some of you will get skeptical. Some of you will relate. Some of you will once again wonder how I do NOT believe in the Lord, Jesus Christ. And some of you will think what you have always thought about me...I'm screwed in the head. And you know what...this is my story so I don't give a shit what you think honestly. <br />
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So Dani continues....I was waiting for Jen to finish her eye surgery (lasik) and I was walking through this strip mall when I noticed a psychic. Now I usually go to one once a year and usually the same one. But I saw this one and felt the need to go in. <br />
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Now let me sidestep here and say I've never been a believer in psychics. But I do believe there are mediums and after reading the book The Eagle and the Rose by Rosemary Altea, I believe in them even more. <br />
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And Dani continues....so I was inquiring about a career change when the lady stops mid-sentence and says "Do you know someone named Sara" (again, remember Dani and I are acquaintances at this point). Dani answers "yes". The psychic then continues "and her mom died when she was real young?" Dani answers "yes".<br />
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Now I don't know what Dani was thinking right then, but as she was telling me the hairs on the back of my neck were standing straight up. <br />
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The psychic continues...I have a message from Sara's mom for you to give to Sara. (And yes I shit my pants at this point. Ok not really, but mentally). "When Sara can't grasp the feeling she is having or what's going on around her, that is just the presence of her mom. And Sara should always know her mom is there with her". Most likely I was speechless at this time. I probably mumbled a thank you and hung up the phone. <br />
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As I laid down to sleep that night, I strained to hear those footsteps walking the hallway. I have never heard those footsteps again, but I know that my mom is sitting right next to me as I type my story. <br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;"> My Mom</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05071937987378434358noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-62684240879130764012013-03-26T16:36:00.001-06:002013-03-26T16:36:56.341-06:00Hometown Visit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I received the call on Monday and by Saturday evening I back in the hometown. I have found that the only time I go back usually is for memorial services. And so this trip was no different. Family of family flew in from Hawaii and Ohio. And although it was for a tragedy, sightseeing was still in order. I mean why fly to London when you can some see the London Bridge in Arizona with its own English Channel. </div>
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The town has changed though. I know a lot of friends have moved back to raise their kids there, but its not the same place as when we were growing up. I mean when we were growing up, it was 30,000 when I left at 18. Today, friends tell me its 60k. What I never realized as a child, but absolutely realized it this trip was that town is at the bottom of the slope and all the houses are at the top. So I guess in one sense that is nice that there isn't a starbucks on every corner, but then again I was getting aggravated driving down the hill every morning to find something to take the edge off. </div>
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And although the town has changed, there are still things that bring back that home feeling. Like Ed's Deli of course. I've yet to find another place like it and sorry Vegas folks, Cappriotti's doesn't even come close. It could be that they get their bread from <i>someplace special</i>. The other place that is a hometown favorite of mine is Taco Hacienda. Again, I've yet to find a cheese crisp as greasy and delicious as TH's. The place I miss the most is Havasu Frozen Yogurt. There have been some that have come close, but never have the right cookie crumbs. The place on the corner by Smith's was darn good with carob chips though. </div>
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Usually when I am in town, I try to get around to see friends, but this time really didn't allow such a thing. I through out an invite to a chosen few to meet at DM and several of them arrived on short notice. </div>
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What I've taken away from this last visit is <i>life</i>. And to live that life to the fullest. Don't hesitate to tell people in your life that you love them. And I'm not talking about your family. I'm talking about your friends that you've been around since Bumble Bee, the ones you talk to regularly, see on a weekly basis, talk to monthly, etc. Don't let those moments slip by you because when shit hits the fan you are going to be saying...shoulda, woulda, coulda....and now its too late. And I've taken this lesson as well...if I was to die today, what would happen? Are my affairs in order so that my spouse could handle everything from the funeral (which I'm not having one except you are to party like rockstars) to the finances. If you can answer that question with confidence that everything is in order, you are one step ahead of the game. If you can't...get a will, life insurance, and prepare for the unexpected. Because folks tomorrow may never get here for us. </div>
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Love to all who reads this....</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05071937987378434358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-54077183591823214122013-02-24T09:34:00.001-07:002013-02-24T09:34:15.077-07:00To Tithe or Not I've never been religious. I mean I have tried to find this so called Jesus person. I've attended church and churches. I was born Catholic, but I went to a few others to see if I could find <i>something</i>. In 2000, I was turned onto Tao and Buddhism and I found <i>something</i> in nature. That is where my peace has always come from. When I'm out hiking through unknown canyons, that's where I feel the most at ease. I like to call that my religion. The bonus of this religion is that I don't have to tithe all that often. Sometimes where I hike there is a fee so I consider that a tithing, but for the most part, I don't have to lay down more than gas to get to the location. <br />
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I was recently approached by an individual who asked for me to help out with....um, how do I put this...a church? Primarily to support him while he works towards creating a church for an already established congregation. I don't understand that part since why recreate another church right down the block when there is already one there. I had questions about this and so we talked over chat. I got to ask all my questions. I told him I would pray about it. He knows damn well that isn't going to happen. <br />
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The main question that I have that he wouldn't be able to answer is "what am I getting out of this agreement?" When one goes to church and tithes then he is getting the pastor or priest up there preaching to them. And he is getting the building that he worships in and blah blah blah. But if I decide to tithe to this cause, what exactly benefits me? I don't attend that church, I don't believe in God, Jesus, or the Holy Spirit, and I balk at religion and religious figures all the time. So why would I go through with this?<br />
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I've asked myself that about a million times since being approached with this concept. <br />
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Around 1993, I met this individual for the second time. I say the second time because we went to school together for sometime, but I never really knew him. We were introduced by another religious friend. Honestly I think she introduced us in the hopes that he would convert me into accepting the Lord Jesus Christ. I remember those weeks I spent with him prior to his leaving for Croatia. I remember them like it was last week. I remember writing to him and sending him care packages while he was over there. I still have his letters. I remember his phone call to me on his way back to the states. He used his last monies to call me. Why, I often ponder, why? This individual and I never were romantically involved. We were just friends. <br />
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And although I've balked at religion a zillion times where he prays to the Lord Jesus Christ every day, he has stuck by me through it all. When I ask a religious question, he answers with a challenge. When I ask why God would allow children to be raped, murdered, and abused, he answers with a bible verse. And I read it to humor myself or may be humor him. But sometimes those verses do answer the question. But still I am no closer to finding the Lord Jesus Christ. And I think in some sense he's come to accept that as much as I've come to accept he is all about the Lord Jesus Christ. <br />
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He's not a pusher though. He does not push his religion on me. In his own way, he tries to get me to find the Lord Jesus Christ, but never pushes it like some other religious zealots. I often have called him my guru because I go to him for every religious question I have. <br />
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And so in reality I guess I have found what I am going to get out of this if I go to the site and plug in my money donation. I'm going to get a godly friend who will guide me through my hardest times, laugh with me over the stupidest things, and pray for me even though I don't believe in the Lord Jesus Christ.<br />
<a class="g-profile" href="http://plus.google.com/105983658828401193965" target="_blank">+Steve Stutler</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05071937987378434358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-18828743932503088532012-11-02T16:23:00.001-06:002012-11-02T16:23:54.654-06:00It's Movember...it's what?Lately it seems that every month I'm getting hit up for some donation....breast cancer, relay for life, girl scout cookies, susan g. run, etc. And November is no different. But that's ok as it is always for a good cause in my book. So November is MOVEMBER month. And you ask what exactly is that? Well, straight from their website, here it is....<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">During November each year, Movember is responsible for the sprouting of moustaches on thousands of men’s faces, in the US and around the world. With their Mo's, these men raise vital awareness and funds for men's health issues, specifically prostate and testicular cancer initiatives.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Mo Bros effectively become walking, talking billboards for the 30 days of November. Through their actions and words they raise awareness by prompting private and public conversation around the often ignored issue of men’s health.<br /><br />At the end of the month, Mo Bros and Mo Sistas celebrate their gallantry and valor by either throwing their own Movember party or attending one of the infamous Gala Partés held around the world by Movember, for Movember.<br /><br /><strong>The Movember Effect: Awareness & Education, Survivorship, Research</strong><br />The funds raised in the US support prostate cancer and testicular cancer initiatives. The funds raised are directed to programs run directly by Movember and our men’s health partners, the Prostate Cancer Foundation and LIVE<strong>STRONG</strong> Foundation. Together, the three channels work together to ensure that Movember funds are supporting a broad range of innovative, world-class programs in line with our </span><a href="http://us.movember.com/about/vision-goals/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">strategic goals</span></a><span style="color: #cc0000;"> in the areas of awareness and education, survivorship and research.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: black;">So this year, I've had the opportunity to see at least three guys I know or know of that have taken on the cause. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDIOiaVXpKp57NgNyuHZqGJi5PEEmz5XJUVRMBzI7AlJ9T6CnWYSEoWNuCfQsct4B3WA0i1vnjZ86obdl_3fvt7j9Hk_yAqsgJhVuYj9Y71hU5sqPX7Snc6QQb0RJgGCEVw5wc/s1600/1aec91c28d1a54db8ac89c410a42e754-5087f6d5e8d9f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="height: 99px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 129px;"><img border="0" height="200" qea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDIOiaVXpKp57NgNyuHZqGJi5PEEmz5XJUVRMBzI7AlJ9T6CnWYSEoWNuCfQsct4B3WA0i1vnjZ86obdl_3fvt7j9Hk_yAqsgJhVuYj9Y71hU5sqPX7Snc6QQb0RJgGCEVw5wc/s200/1aec91c28d1a54db8ac89c410a42e754-5087f6d5e8d9f.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://us.movember.com/mospace/2833213" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Marc Montini</span></a></span></span><span style="color: #38761d;">-Marc's motivation: I was diagnosed with testicular cancer on Oct 11, 2011. Two surgeries and 12 weeks of Chemo later, I am cancer free. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHQc5g-H_glOsGIYeO1Gc4Ye-gd0NwuRYarjUG-ov_S12FkBKZ-T5EdfHQOYWUrU324n6wSNmKeeoEPHnW6LzhWp51VKQm66b2HIJ_KP0Bg7ZegfE0sH5J8fERPWhG5uu52n6_/s1600/7622bb27f534ec233cf63a234c3ca29e-4eaa109b5deca-hero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><img border="0" height="153" qea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHQc5g-H_glOsGIYeO1Gc4Ye-gd0NwuRYarjUG-ov_S12FkBKZ-T5EdfHQOYWUrU324n6wSNmKeeoEPHnW6LzhWp51VKQm66b2HIJ_KP0Bg7ZegfE0sH5J8fERPWhG5uu52n6_/s200/7622bb27f534ec233cf63a234c3ca29e-4eaa109b5deca-hero.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://us.movember.com/mospace/1658854" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Michael Babbitt</span></a><span style="color: #38761d;">-Mike's motivation: Prostate Cancer took my Father's life and I don't want my newborn son to have to ever have to worry about this F*$k#d up disease. Lets have some fun, grow a stache and raise awareness. Everyone knows about the save the boobies campaign and wearing pink. Now its time to give the boys their due. Save the Huevos. In Memory Of David B. Babbitt </span><br />
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<a href="http://us.movember.com/mospace/4084337" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Scott Scherbinski</span></a><span style="color: #38761d;">-Scott's motivation: to become involved and raise awareness. NOTE: This is the first time in 13 years that Scott has shaved his beard. </span><br />
</span></span><br />As Michael said, 'everyone knows about SAVE the BOOBIES campaign and wearing pink. Now its time to give the boys their due. I'm not sure exactly what BOYS he's talking about, but nonetheless, it's a great cause.
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Over the years, I have donated to a lot of causes. And I have donated to a lot of people who I had no idea who they were, but a friend asked for help with donations so I donated. Primarily, that is what I am asking you. Give up starbucks for a week, for some of you that's $50 right there. And donate to one or all three of these individuals. </div>
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Thanks. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05071937987378434358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-85354858204992565572012-10-19T08:04:00.000-06:002012-10-23T19:12:25.236-06:00Another food blog postThere are so many food blogs out there such as <a href="http://www.thatskinnychickcanbake.com/">Skinny Baker Chick</a> (that's what I call her) and that is where I get a lot of my recipes like the stuffed pumpkin from last year. And I'm going to make that in the next week as well. But that isn't the point. People are always saying I have the best recipes, but I hate to break it to you folks, I steal most of those recipes. I get them from Skinny Baker Chick, Allrecipes.com, Sunset magazine, and a host of other sites. If I have something I want to cook-lets say beef ribs-then I just Google (because how else do we get information these days) beef ribs and start looking at recipes. Or I send <a href="http://www.cheflarryyonda.com///" target="_blank">Chef Larry</a> a personal message and get the low down. It pays to have people in the food business.<br />
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I work in the middle of nowhere as most people tell me on a daily basis. At anyone given time, there are 4-10 people living in our little park community. And I love to cook, but cooking for one is so difficult so I often invite the neighbors over for meals. Usually I use them as guinea pigs to some meal I am trying. Last night was no different. My husband always suggests I try the recipes on him before inviting the entire housing community over to try the food I'm about to attempt to make. That was definitely the crepe incident at PINN, but they eventually turned out alright....right gang? <br />
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Anyway, we have a cookbook called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Southwest-Slow-Cooking-Theresa-Howell/dp/0873588568/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1350651623&sr=8-1&keywords=southwest+slow+cooking" target="_blank">Southwest Slow Cooking</a> we sell in our visitor center. The photos alone make you want to purchase the book. <br />
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On a daily basis, given we have 5 visitors, at least 5 people will pick up the book and look through it. I used to tell visitors that if they purchased the book they were required to bring back a meal they prepared out of it for taste testing. Then I picked it up, looked through it, and bought the book. Shortly thereafter, I went out and bought a slow cooker. And I've been testing the recipes in the book. Last night was Flautas De Pollo (photo above) and after posting the above photo on FB, someone wanted the recipe so I'm now sharing it. <br />
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Now you are probably wondering how those were made in a slow cooker. Well in reality, only the chicken and vegetables portion was in the slow cooker and then I prepared the flautas and put them in the oven. <br />
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You'll need if you can find the following items:<br />
1 jalapeno, seeded and chopped<br />
1 white onion, chopped<br />
5 cloves of garlic, finely chopped<br />
3-4 boneless chicken breasts<br />
1 tablespoon oregano<br />
1 tablespoon black pepper<br />
1 teaspoon chili powder<br />
24 (6-inch) corn tortillas<br />
1 block ranchero cheese, crumbled (I couldn't find this so I went with pepper jack)<br />
Nonstick cooking spray<br />
Corn oil (I used vegetable oil as that's what I had)<br />
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Place the jalapeno, onion, garlic, and chicken in the slow cooker. Stir in the oregano, black pepper, and chili powder. Cover and cook on low for 5-6 hours. (I went with about 5.5 hours). <br />
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Turn oven to broil. Spray a baking pan with nonstick cooking spray. Remove the chicken and vegetables from the slow cooker. Shred the chicken with a fork and mix in with the cooked vegetables. To each tortilla, add 1/2 tablespoon of the chicken mixture (I didn't measure) and a 1/4 tablespoon of the cheese, and then roll tightly. I interrupt here for a very helpful hint: To keep your tortillas from splitting when rolled is to place 3-4 in an unsealed plastic bag and microwave for 30 seconds. Put a toothpick through the center of each tortilla to hold it closed and place on the baking pan. Repeat with the remaining tortillas and mixture. When finished, brush each tortilla with a little corn oil and place the pan in the oven for 3 to 5 minutes. Remove when the tortillas are golden brown on top. <br />
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I served them up with some corn bread (I made that in the slow cooker the night before), black beans, sour cream, and salsa. Although mine didn't come out looking like the photo above, I have no doubt they tasted the same. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-11267296984880755362012-01-17T21:33:00.000-07:002012-01-17T21:33:32.188-07:00The Small Town LossI grew up in what I consider a small town. Well, at least it was when I was growing up. I moved from a midwest state into a small, but growing town. I moved there in 1974 when I was one and the town did not become incorporated until 1978. We can battle back and forth, but the population at that time was between 5000 and 15,000. Yep a big difference, but all in all it was small. <br />
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The community technically started as a Army Air Corps rest camp during WWII, but the real start in my eyes was when Mr. McCulloch brought over his manufacturing plant and began to start the growing town. There was already the lake there dammed up by the Parker Dam, but other than that it was primarily a piece of desert next to some water. Mr. McCulloch had to bring in people in order to start this wonderful community. <br />
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<span>McCulloch had purchased 11 Lockheed Electras, and formed McCulloch International Airlines, to fly in prospective buyers from all over the country. Splashy magazine ads enticed snow-weary would be customers to take a free flight to <place><span class="style19">Paradise</span></place><span class="style19">. When they arrived, they were greeted by one of the Holly salesmen, who taxied them around in the trademark white Jeep. In all, there were approximately 40 identical vehicles in the fleet, said to be the largest contingent of white Jeeps in the world.--<a href="http://havasumagazine.com/history_of_lake_havasu_city_3.htm" target="_blank">Havasu Magazine</a></span></span><br />
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<span><span class="style19">Many of my friends' parents arrived in Lake Havasu that way. Now, I'm not exactly sure if my father came way of the Electras, but I have to assume he did. He came out to look at a redi-mix plant since that's what he was doing back in the midwest. Bet he kicks himself all the time for not purchasing it. Well, if you know me, then you know what he ended up buying. Gotta say I enjoyed that rather than I would have a redi-mix plant. </span></span><br />
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<span><span class="style19">For the most part, I went to school from kindergarten to 12th grade with the same bunch of people. Granted some of them went to those other lame elementary schools, but we were all together from 8-12th. I know some people moved away, but to be honest, we really did not feel your loss. What I mean by that is that today with facebook, it seems you were always with us. There were those of you that entered our lives between those 12 years and after putting you in your place, we welcomed you. </span></span><br />
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<span><span class="style19">But we have had our share of losses. And to me being from what I consider a small town, I feel we have had too many. We have had too many that have died before their prime. There are too many that have died prior to their 40th birthday. Crap there were too many that died before their 30th. And a few before their 20th. </span></span><br />
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<span><span class="style19">My question of why will never be answered. But for a city that supposedly grew by 1,000 each year from 1964-ish, that is too many for a town of roughly 30,000 by the time I graduated. And may be other towns have the same number, but I guess when it is your hometown, it hits home. </span></span><br />
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<span><span class="style19">The first classmate's funeral I attended was for Nikki. I remember sitting at that funeral surrounding by friends and enemies (enemies is not the right word, rather people I clearly didn't care for). I remember that day perfectly like I was sitting there right now. I remember realizing that I needed to make those enemies my friends because there was only a few thousand of us. My graduating class was 221/222, which means roughly the entire school during my four years was probably no more than 1200. Crap some high schools today have that in one graduating class. </span></span><br />
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<span><span class="style19">I'm not saying I knew everyone in my high school. I definitely wasn't friends with all of them. Because like most schools, there were the clicks, chicks, and jocks. But in some weird sense, I did know them. And what I have found over the years is that I've become to know more and more of them because we keep meeting at these memorials. </span></span><br />
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<span><span class="style19">I have 364 friends. Almost one for each day of the year. Seems like after each one of these memorials, I add a few more. It isn't that I don't like adding new friends, even though only 120 wished me a happy birthday, but I am sick of doing it after memorials. </span></span><br />
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<span><span class="style19">Those that have gone before us watch over us constantly and I am somewhat grateful for that, but I sure in the hell wish they were watching over me standing next to me in person. Jeff's brother recently wrote-don't forget him. We won't and we won't ever forget the others as well. </span></span><br />
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<span><span class="style19">Am I the only who thinks for a small town, we've lost way too many?</span></span><br />
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<span><span class="style19">Stay safe my fellow classmates, stay safe.</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-86077317124219560162012-01-05T20:12:00.000-07:002012-01-06T08:02:42.438-07:00The Big ChillI believe one of the greatest movies ever made is the Big Chill. I realize some people don't think so, but I love the movie. One of those I could watch over and over. Do you know Kevin Costner is in that movie. He is Alex. In the beginning of the movie, the group of friends receive telephone calls and then start preparing to go to a funeral. <br />
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As many if not all of you know that I wear the green and grey to work every day. I will admit that during the winter, I rarely change my shirt, and hell in the summer I just spray febreze on it. It is called laziness. Otherwise I have to take off the name tag, badge, and all the stuff in the pockets and move it all to another shirt. Um, yea like a 2 minute project, but as I said laziness. <br />
<br />
Every time I prepare my uniform shirt for my Monday after my weekend or a vacation, the beginning of the Big Chill always rolls through my mind. I do not know why but it always has. <br />
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As you know on January 1, 2012 the National Park Service lost another fine Park Ranger, Margaret Anderson. I did not go back to work until January 4th, which if you are still a friend of mine on fb, you know it is the greatest day in the world or my birthday. <br />
<br />
As I dressed that day for work and slipped the black elastic band over my badge, I thought back to the beginning of the Big Chill. I stood there getting dressed looking out the the window to the most beautiful scenery. The words that flashed through my mind at that moment were not what I expected...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><em>"This might be my last"</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It wasn't really a mordid thought, it was just a truth. However, I do not think Margaret woke up January 1st and thought that. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I have decided for my birthday and for the rest of my life, I will celebrate every morning that I wake up. Life is a celebration so CELEBRATE while you have it. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Peace<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFSBNkpa0os">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFSBNkpa0os</a> - The grey and green</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-78394196430830680072012-01-01T20:13:00.000-07:002012-01-01T20:13:06.237-07:00Envy My Job?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwL0dSWkfkA2dC9OkS2KlEeHzPbIDO_BQ1CndXC-mt-GtKmlZ1k-_cV08J37NALeOIwkjT5LoctcMaCpmvu2fWcXz-s-KCgrfyK6l7wVneK07rHfxp9ibFX-fXfrjRs_vFu6PFw/s1600/photo+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwL0dSWkfkA2dC9OkS2KlEeHzPbIDO_BQ1CndXC-mt-GtKmlZ1k-_cV08J37NALeOIwkjT5LoctcMaCpmvu2fWcXz-s-KCgrfyK6l7wVneK07rHfxp9ibFX-fXfrjRs_vFu6PFw/s320/photo+%25283%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I agree that I have worked in some of the greatest and beautiful locations in the United States. I can see why you envy my job at times. Most of the time I post the bonuses of my job...the hikes, the beauty, the quietness, the peace...well technically the good side. And most other rangers will post the same thing. <br />
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What we don't normally post is the law enforcement side of our job. We don't talk about getting yelled at by irate visitors because we pulled them over for traveling 60 mph in a 35. We don't talk about the high speed chases and taking out individuals at gunpoint. We don't talk about going into the marijuana grow and having shots fired at us. We don't talk about protecting the park, but in reality protecting the U.S. border (<a href="http://www.nps.gov/orpi">www.nps.gov/orpi</a>) We don't talk about having to handcuff, search, and take people to jail. We don't talk about having to search some of the most disgusting vehicles. We don't talk about having to do CPR on a person for 40 minutes knowing damn well that person is going to die.We don't talk about the 12 hour hike to attempt to find a lost person. We don't talk about the pucker factor. Those things aren't beautiful and peaceful to me or you. <br />
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United States Park Rangers handle calls just like the city officers. Some will say we don't deal with murders, but unfortunately we do....<br />
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- <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/21076-park-ranger-margaret-anderson" target="_blank">Rest in Peace Margaret</a><br />
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- <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/16353-park-ranger-kristopher-william-eggle" target="_blank">Rest in Peace Kris</a><br />
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- <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/15106-park-ranger-joseph-david-kolodski" target="_blank">Rest in Peace Joe</a><br />
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- <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/15332-park-ranger-steve-renard-makuakane-jarrell" target="_blank">Rest in Peace Steve</a><br />
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- <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/10420-park-ranger-kenneth-carmel-patrick" target="_blank">Rest in Peace Kenneth</a><br />
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- <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/68-park-ranger-robert-lewis-mcghee-jr" target="_blank">Rest in Peace Robert</a><br />
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- <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/2882-park-ranger-james-alexander-cary" target="_blank">Rest in Peace James</a><br />
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- <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/7021-park-ranger-karl-a-jacobson" target="_blank">Rest in Peace Karl</a><br />
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Please read each one and remember. They all hit a cord within me, but Steve's is always on the front of my mind when dealing with visitors for non-violent incidents. <br />
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I only listed the ones I could find in the NPS, but there are many more in the land management field (Forest Service, BLM, State Park Rangers) and honestly any other agencies. When Brody was shot one year ago, it was amazing how many agencies and individuals who had never met Brody sent him well wishes, prayers, and thoughts. Even today on Brody's facebook page, there is people who stop by to say a kind word. The law enforcement world, whether protecting a city or a park, is a family. The quote below says it all....<br />
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<br />
<div style="background-color: white; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; color: black; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;"><div id="tagline">"When a police officer is killed, it's not an agency that loses an officer, it's an entire nation." -Chris Cosgriff, ODMP Founder</div><br />
So I guess I ask again....do you envy my job?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-89669374878793981682011-12-05T09:56:00.000-07:002011-12-05T09:56:12.908-07:00December 17, 2001<em>I'm sitting at NH well aware of ME. Aware I'm sitting here ocassionally watching the game, catching a glimpse of a layup. Heads up when the rim snaps. Just aware. So aware of all the sounds and noise. Aware. Yea, just aware. That's what life must be. Aware and that equals being mindful. Today-that's what life has been. Just completely mindful of everything. From waking up to the quiet sun to doing my laundry to watching the movie. Tomorrow, not too far away, will I remember it all? A little, but why because it is yesterday and I'm only living todays now. Smile. Today, and what a day today has been. It has been all me. And so mindful. The weather was just perfect. Spending time with friends. Just quality time-talking life but mindful of that life. Just smiles of the day.</em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-8513718314700035292011-12-02T18:04:00.000-07:002011-12-02T18:04:41.032-07:00December 12, 2001<em><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">What is life? I need to know to live it, achieve it, be it. Guess I'm living it and somehow achieving it. Yea, I'm being it. Weird how your mind questions such trivial things. Life is breathing-waking up each morning, falling asleep each night, and going onto the next day-tomorrow. </span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Courier New;">A great philosopher once told me to just keep waking up and everything works out eventually. Funny how it worked. Think I even argued his point. But I did keep waking up even though quite difficult and one day everything hit, clicked. I'm not saying life is 100% on the up and up, but it is going up.</span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Courier New;">Sometimes I feel like I got life all figured out. And I'm living it right, properly. I'm living today. However I am dying as well. Each morning I wake up, a piece of me was left with yesterday. As I strive to live today, yesterday is just a diminishing memory. For the memory might ride with me to my death, but that is all it is. </span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Courier New;">Anyway, I realized waking up is a great thing even if quite difficult at times. Waking up is a key ingredient in my purpose. Kind of I guess. Because if I did not wake up then I would have ultimately achieved my purpose.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Courier New;">Always hear "you learned something new everyday". Yes, but don't you find the smallest things you learned, the most important? Well may not the most important, but you always say "I've learned something new today". And that might be something as simple as blocking your # on your cell phone. However all through the day you were learning and gathering, calculating, remembering, and storing. More or less, living and as more important information was stored, others were discarded to the grave-dead so to speak. Life and living it is a marvelous entity.</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-71937301921194558612011-12-01T20:04:00.000-07:002011-12-01T20:04:28.078-07:00My PurposeBetween 2001-2002, my writings were off the wall. I often consider self-publishing a book them. They were some of my best I believe. Of course that is my opinion and personally don't give a crap about your opinion. But nonetheless, I throw them onto this site. <br />
<br />
So why were they off the wall...many reasons I believe. In 2000, I gave up a ton of stuff and lifted a nonexistent elephant off my chest. I was exploring my spirituality, <a href="http://www.apa.org/topics/sexuality/index.aspx" target="_blank">sexuality</a> (click and read the ...has three stages), and life-ality. Primarily I was exploring life. During the next several posts, I am going to throw out those words I wrote.<br />
<br />
<b>December 3, 2001</b><br />
<i>I question what my purpose in life is. And as I sit here at NH I come to think life doesn't really have a purpose. Our, my purpose is to simple live and die. And through those two stages, I must learn and experience all I can. I must feel all I can-pain, sorrow, love, etc. And of course learn from the feelings. I will make mistakes and learn from it. And when I die if there is an afterlife, I will have these to learn and experience more. In yesterdays I was constantly searching for the purpose of my life. Constantly wanting the answer, but sitting here tonight the answer just blew through my mind. My purpose in life is to live. And I realize this must be fully. It must be lived to potential of tomorrow's </i><i>lessons but living only in this exact time, this moment. Not 5 seconds from now, right now. I must get back to being mindful. I'm sitting here writing, smiling. I'm sitting here living my purpose.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>The smile that was once shining so brightly and often and disappeared...its here tonight. Why? I think may be because I found my purpose but may be because life just seems right. Calm, peaceful, and quiet even thought I live in the noise-filled busy city. Just feels right! </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
What is your purpose in life?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-9920476285889984122011-03-03T18:53:00.000-07:002011-03-03T18:53:52.092-07:00I'm Searching....or may be wanderingThe year was 2000 and a conversation with a friend about an old school chum made me give away or sell off most of my life for a simpler life. And when I did so, I felt a huge weight lifted off my chest. The funny thing is that my life at the time was great so it is interesting that the elephant was lifted. I got rid of my cable, sold off over 500 cds, quit wearing a watch, and some how enjoyed life so much more. I got a tattoo of a symbol that stood for Simplicity. I started listening to Christian music which is very surprising because I am not religious at all. <br />
<br />
About this time I started exploring different churches. I was born into a Catholic family and had actually started going to the exercise session every Sunday. Then I decided I would try some other churches. I cruised over to the Black Baptist with my friend. I was not the only white person there, but I did crack a joke and asked if the white people did sit up in the balcony. I attempted to go to the Church of Scientology, but they were never open. I also dropped in at a Mormon church while working in Utah. That was interesting. I However what I found in all the visits was that they were primarily the same. <br />
<br />
But then the same person who I had a conversation about the school chum turned me onto Buddhism and the likes. And I started reading The Miracle of Mindfulness, books on Tao, and the Buddhist bible. That is when my spirit started to really soar. I even went out to a temple in Arizona, but I couldn't get myself into the lotus position. Shortly afterward I moved to Utah.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="buddhism" src="http://thumb2.webshots.net/t/64/464/2/93/27/2402293270101901062ozNQAN_th.jpg" /></div><br />
And then I started hiking to some amazing places and walking with the spirits of the ancients ones. And my spirit soared even more and I felt I was one with myself. And for me it was truly a religious experience. <br />
<br />
And then somehow I backed away from it all. Not that my life spiraled downward or anything like that, but I guess my spiritualness was lost. Left hanging out in the wings for me to find it. And so I'm starting to search for it. One of the reasons I am starting to delve into the religious realm again is because in the last several months I have listened to some people talk about theirs lives. Two of those people were officers that were shot during stops and in both incidents they credited their belief in their faith for getting them through it all. <br />
<br />
So in the last couple of months, I've been talking to my guru about it all. He is a wonderful friend who is religious in all senses, but can also hold a conversation without the mention of God once. Obviously, in our discussions lately we've been discussing what people call God and faith. Not once has he ever slammed his religious beliefs down my throat, but he questions, challenges, and throws out some ideas that make me think um, well, may be, or definitely not. So thanks Pastor or Reverend. <br />
<br />
Today on the all famous FB, I posted the question to friends about God. Of the 16 comments so far, 12 of you went with God or some form of it. To me, it was the seat belt, but thanks for your honesty. What I am curious about is why you believe so highly in God or a higher being? Comment on here or drop me a note either at FB or if you have my email. <br />
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On with my search.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-88760503961378825552011-01-30T18:34:00.000-07:002011-01-30T18:34:26.356-07:0029 Days InMy cellphone rang exactly at 8pm yesterday. I looked at the caller ID and wondered why she would be calling at this time of night. I answered with hello. I could tell she was hesitant. Her first words were "are you at home". My answer was yes. Her second statement was "are you alone". I answered with no. She asked "the dog". I said no Murray. She said "ok, I'll just come out an say it. Chris N passed away today. I said FUCK in my mind and then asked how. She went on to say he was hiking at his park and some visitors found him. In one sense you think, well at least he was out there doing what he loved. In the other sense, you just ask WHY. And unfortunately the WHY can never really be answered. I mean I suppose an autopsy will tell us something, but to me it still does not answer the question WHY.<br />
<br />
He was a great guy. He was a young guy. He was a great park ranger. He loved to golf, but I am not sure he was great. HAHA. He loved his wife, family, and friends. He loved fine dining and a great bottle of wine. But I am pretty sure he could rough it on the range as well. <br />
<br />
And in a blink of an eye he is gone from our lives forever. Yes, his memory will forever be with us, but his physical presence is gone. <br />
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I made it through the entire phone call strong until the very end when I let the tears fall. I handed the phone to Murray, told him Chris had died, and walked away. And then I started my phone calls. The park service is very small and if you know someone, they probably know someone. When I talked to Mel, she well I'm going over my list of people I need to call. <br />
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The worst call I made last night was to Pheebs. About a month ago, Pheebs lost some friends to murder. And I felt that she needed to hear this tragic news from a person and not facebook. Luckily the call went better than I expected. But nonetheless, making those calls are terrible. <br />
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The park service has had a terrible last couple of months if not last terrible 12 months. Park rangers throughout the nation have taken their last heartbeat. And the crazy thing is that most of them are dying from normal day occurrences, heart attacks, diseases, and in the case Chris the unknown. <br />
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Rest in peace Chris, give Gar-bear a huge hug for me, and enjoy the afterlife with him.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-53368957334824702822011-01-19T22:54:00.000-07:002011-01-19T22:54:48.206-07:00What We Remember<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I find that it is amazing what we remember as we grow older. What is the earliest memory you have? What age? If you read this blog, you have to comment. You should be able to do it anonymously. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Anyway, my earliest memory was when I was three years old. This is what I remember...I went in to show my mom something I drew or colored or something and she was crying. Then I remember my brother Mike and sister Lisa taking her outside to a car. And then I remember my dad, who was wearing blue tennis shorts and a tennis shirt, telling me on the golf course by the oleanders that god had taken my mom and she wasn't coming back. The one thing that I don't remember was that in between the hospital and death, my mom came home. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Ok, that isn't a great memory, but I have a lot more random memories that I wonder why I remember them...I guess in some ways some made a mark on me, but others I find that were just odd to remember. Why do we remember so much information that isn't at all important to our lives...</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I remember in first grade Michael giving me a thumb monster. I remember exactly what it looked like. In third grade I remember finding the missing snail under the table lip only because I grabbed it in the hopes that I wouldn't fall as I was tipping in my chair. I remember, gagging, Mrs. Crews sneezing into her hand and then sucking it back into her mouth. I happened to be sitting in the first row for that one. In junior high, I remember Mrs. McCormick and Mrs. Monteen calling me into the library in the hopes of straightening me up. I think the next week Mr. Olmstead called me into his office and called us Motley Crue. I remember Mrs. Ball actually calling us that when they called him in the teacher's lounge. I remember when Jill was being pushed in the wheelchair a little too fast and ate shit. I remember Mr. Wilson talking about his father for some reason and crying during class. I also remember him throwing an eraser at the kid behind me, but hitting my desk instead. I remember people hiring a belly dancer for Mr. Mullaly's summer school class. And there are many other random school memories. But for the life of me I can't remember that kid in my home-ec class that should crack an egg with one hand. I can see his face, but can't remember his name---anyone? But why. I mean some are life changing, but no offense Jill--why the hell do I remember when you ate it in the wheelchair?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And the reason I am writing this post is because when I was young, my sister Amy and I traveled back to Iowa. That is where we were born and we still relatives back there. Since Amy lived until her teenage years there, she also kept in touch with friends who still lived there. We went and stayed or at least visited her friend Liz. It was summer time and Liz was living in this dorm at the University of Iowa. My sister Amy said that it was possibly a fraternity. But I remember the place so perfectly. I mean I can see how the first floor was. But what I remember most is the coke machine. May be this is where my addiction to coke cola came from. The machine dispensed bottles. As Amy and Liz went out that night I think I might have conned whoever they left me with into purchasing me one after another. I thought they were so cool. But I remember it so perfectly like it was yesterday. this is liz: <a href="http://thatskinnychickcanbake.blogspot.com//">http://thatskinnychickcanbake.blogspot.com//</a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I remember weird things that should have no bearing on me living my life to any extent. For instance, why is it that I remember the time Amy's friend Wayne babysat me. Is it because I remember that his dog had puppies. Did one bite me? I just don't know why that one memory would stick in my mind so perfectly. I remember the time that Michelle and I were having a rock fight with the neighbors and they hit her in the head. They thought we had poured ketchup on her head. I remember the time that Michelle, Joe, and I destroyed the fort at Rocky Ridge in Tahoe. Some of the growing up things especially with the Stamm family will always stick with me since I've known them since I was three. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I understand why some memories are there---the moments I remember about teachers make perfect sense to me. Because they were some how shaping my life. And surprisingly somehow for the better I think. But sometimes when I remember a random memory, I think why in the heck do I remember that moment in my life so damn well. Why do I remember that dorm in Iowa like it was just last summer?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-67801269952584064752010-12-13T21:28:00.000-07:002010-12-13T21:28:51.526-07:00The Recovery Process<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Almost a month ago, I opened my web browser to read that a Utah Park Ranger had been shot. Within moments, I knew who the ranger was and I knew that my former coworkers and friends were out searching for the suspect. Each day I have checked in via a friend receiving updates and on facebook on how Brody Young was doing. Each day there have been ups and downs. When it first happened, I wrote this: <a href="http://mtnbkaz.blogspot.com/2010/11/it-is-family.html">It Is A Family</a>. When I wrote it I did not realize how big that family was. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Each day I check into the website, I receive some kind of update. But most importantly I get to read the comments that individuals have wrote on the facebook page. Of course there were family, friends, and church members comments encouraging Brody in the recovery process, but also sending their prayers and thoughts. Then there were others such as visitors who had contact with Brody during his course of work or people who love parks and have never met Brody before. And then there was the Ranger family: National Wildlife Refuge Officers Association, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="UIStory_Message">The Alabama Conservation Enforcement Officers Association, </span>Minneapolis Park Police and the Park Law Enforcement Association, Blue Ridge Parkway brothers and sisters, Nebraska Game and Parks Commission, Rangers from the ND State Parks, Rangers from Tennessee State Parks, and so forth. I would bet with a certainty of 99% that not one of those Rangers knows Brody. And most likely never will, but as I said IT IS A FAMILY and Rangers are Rangers no matter where we are working. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Besides the weekly updates, individuals in Brody's life coordinated auctions, music benefits, blood drives, and a donation account at Wells Fargo (Brody Young Benefit Fund). The goal for the benefit fund was $5,000, which was achieved. The auction brought in roughly $22,000. And 42 people came out to donate blood (</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hey Brody - They had the blood drive here in Moab today. My husband and I donated blood for the very first time for the both of us!) </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And all that is great...but what I think is great is on December 9th:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="UIStory_Message" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: small;">Latest update: still in ICU-critical, but progressing. Now has a trach to help breathe more on his own. Trach is too big to allow him to speak, but they will slowly decrease the size over next few weeks. With him covered from neck down, the kids got to see him-they were very happy! Brody still mostly sedated, but has b<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">een alert enough to nod head to questions. Nurses say he is more relaxed when his wife is there.</span></span></span></h3><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then today I log on to find this: </span></span></span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Brody is doing really good today. Today he was sitting up in a lazy boy type chair most of the day. He had two cups of ice today that he ate with a spoon. You would have thought it was Thanksgiving dinner, judging by how happy he looked when they told him he could have it.<br />
He wants to talk so bad and can't at this point with the tubes. Hopefully by the end of the week he will be chatting up a storm. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know that in the coming month(s) that there will be ups and downs, but it is part of the process. And with Brody's desire and will to fight, he will make a quick recovery. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My thoughts are with you every day Brody. Be strong. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I realize that Christmas is coming up and you are probably spending $$ on gifts, but if you each of you that read this can spare $10 and donate to the Brody Young Benefit Fund, it would be great. The first post I wrote I had over 100 reads which would equate to $1000 to the fund which will help in the recovery process. Thanks all who read my posts and happy holidays!</span></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-165319344631772272010-11-22T17:28:00.000-07:002010-11-23T18:20:24.156-07:00IT IS A FAMILYOne often hears that it is a brotherhood. What? The law enforcement world. I mean there is the Fraternal Order of Police (FOP). A brotherhood. <br />
<br />
However, in the world of Park Service, Bureau of Land Management, Forest Service, and state agency Park entities, we are a family. The reason? There are few of us. We usually work solo with backup often being more than 30 minutes away and that is usually close. <br />
<br />
I remember once when I made contact with a vehicle that visitors had been reporting as graffiti on Delicate Arch. After I ran the driver, the Dispatcher called a code to me indicating 'trouble'. I was still talking to the offender so I told Dispatch to standby. The Dispatch knowing the seriousness of the offender said 'I need any available unit to start towards Arches." The responding officers were National Park Service officers, Bureau Land Management officer, and a sheriff deputy. <br />
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When one works in a rural location, everyone backs up everyone else. Why am I writing all this? On Saturday morning I opened my browser to read: Park Ranger shot in Utah. Utah is a large state with 7 National Park units so the chance of me knowing the individual seemed unlikely. However, with park rangers, we are a very small family. You always know someone or at least a friend knows the individual. Anyway, the park ranger shot on Friday at 9pm worked in Moab. The shooting was too close to home.<br />
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I read further into the article and found out it was Brody Young. The name rang a familiar bell, but it wasn't until they posted his photo that it became even more personal than it already was. I had went on a river raft trip once and we met up with Brody during the trip. He made the dutch oven cake that night. (The title IT IS FAMILY is the link to an article, as you look at photos realize the boat is park service, Brody works for Utah State-primarily, we are family).<br />
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I check the website over and over in the hopes that they caught the suspect. I hope they catch the suspect without another shot fired because as I said we are family. The rangers I have worked with in the past are out there helping to track down the suspect. They are now in the line of fire, however; I know they did not hesitate when the call for help went out. Every officer working was heading Brody's way. That is how it works in our family. Besides the other park rangers in the area, 140 officers in total are searching for the suspect. <br />
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If Brody wasn't laying in a hospital, he would be out there as well. He was shot in the arm, leg, and stomach. The important thing is that he is alive and that even being shot he was able to make a radio call, talk to medics, and get out important information. He is in critical but stable condition. <br />
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I leave you with this comment that was posted on one of the articles...as you will notice this person did not know Brody, but read what he puts in the last line. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><i>As a 30 year veteren former law enforcement officer my respect and admiration for these Rangers and rural Peace Officers is very deep and I am very proud of them. Doing a peace officers job with back up seconds away or even just a few minutes away is still extremely trying and risky. That they work alone and miles from help is more than those without experience in the field will ever know. My prayers are with my brother and his family. God holds a these men and women who serve so valiantly below the threshhold of most peoples awareness as very precious. My brother in arms and his family needs your prayers.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><i>NOTE: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">A fund has been set up at any Wells Fargo branch in honor of Brody Young. He has a wife and several children. Please help out if you can!!!! Happy Holidays.</span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-22316426126833474292010-11-16T19:07:00.000-07:002010-11-16T19:07:33.775-07:00Grand Canyon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKK-PNJ8l_tTiSmJrakcUHq4-6PtQNFyNrw_mgvVUnF5rCErpvQqjd7C2uknk9Cet2iJsGO_fBlnX9rHcoGnFUF05ZQh_y-CHoCuDAUGsnze6degf4RBn7ysPle6MFcHJQ29XnA/s1600/IMG_6751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKK-PNJ8l_tTiSmJrakcUHq4-6PtQNFyNrw_mgvVUnF5rCErpvQqjd7C2uknk9Cet2iJsGO_fBlnX9rHcoGnFUF05ZQh_y-CHoCuDAUGsnze6degf4RBn7ysPle6MFcHJQ29XnA/s320/IMG_6751.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">I stand out on the edge of a point. And I think...what would it be like to jump? Don't panic! I am not suicidal, but I have often wondered what it would feel like to just jump and soar. With no worry about the pain that would ensue when I hit the bottom. What would it be like to jump? Well as you can tell by reading this, I didn't answer my question this time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">I have been to the canyon numerous times as a child, college student, and now as an adult (really am I?). I might joke about it being a really big hole, but each time I have peered over the edge and into the abyss this time I around I have been awed. I have tried to look over at different points, but even when I was looking from the same location I saw something new. But still always just amazed me. As with many National Parks, I find it interesting, disheartening, and foolish that people that live in the state have never been to the Grand Canyon. Hello, it is one of the 7 wonders of the world. And you live a short ways away. Pack up the family and get your ass up here so you can ask yourself as you peer over---what would it be like to jump?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">I've brought two things of importance to the canyon almost every time I went to peer over. First, as many of you have looked, I brought my camera. And I have taken photo after photo of the same geological formations. But you know what? Well before you answer I am going to tell you....no matter how much you comment on my photo and say how beautiful they are...those photos do not do justice to what I saw with my own eyes. The photos doesn't capture what I am seeing. Honestly, I don't even look back at the photos because I do not what them to taint my view. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Second, I brought a journal I call 'My Book of Law'. It is from a book by Miguel Ruiz (The 4 Agreements Companion Book). As I opened it recently I noticed my last entry was 04/09 and now it is 11/10. WOW. So I figured what a better place to get reacquainted with the book. Guess what? Again the answer...I have barely opened it. Because when I get out on the rim which I think is going to bring me inspiration to write in it, the beauty surrounding me takes my breath away. This is all I could come up with....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><i>I sit out on a point watching the sunset. Quiet. The raven calls out. Peace. The chill warms my body. Silence. The canyon howls as the rocks explode with fire.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">And with that I leave you with the challenge. Go to www.nps.gov and look up what parks are in your area. Heck search out your state parks as well. And then go there and sit in the quietness and find peace from that hectic Monday everyone is always complaining about on facebook. </div><div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-82581132310406895562010-09-09T22:59:00.000-06:002010-09-09T22:59:03.599-06:00Uncourageous MurdererI have never understood murder because in all sense it does not accomplish a damn thing. In most cases, the killer gets caught and ends up spending time in jail. Another lost cause along the road of life. And no one grieves for the killer. I mean when the killer shoots the quiet victim and solves whatever conflict there was, the killer didn't only shoot the victim, but every person in the victim's life will forever be changed. And in all actuality, the killer also affects every person in the killer's life. <br />
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I grew up in a small town where you always say, shit like murder doesn't happen in our town. But it did. Back when I was in high school or may be a freshman in college, Kevin S. was murdered in our small little town. I am sure there might have been others before Kevin, but I remember it as my first 'real life murder victim' that I knew.<br />
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In 2009, I returned home from a wonderful weekend on the coast to find posting after posting of "I'll miss you Matt". And then I was told Matt who. I remember saying to my boyfriend that a friend of mine was murdered. He immediately offered up his free ticket and I made arrangements to go to the service. I have a picture in my head how it went down. I can see Matt standing at the door with the guy. And then BLAM. I do not remember the dickhead who shot him, but he is the most uncourageous, ball-less man in my book. Because after shooting Matt over a trivial matter he should have cleared up by other means, he went home and put a bullet to his own head. Leaving behind a wife and child. However, Matt left behind not only his daughter, brother, parents, and other family, but 100s of people from all walks of life who loved him with all their hearts because that is how he loved them. Matt still has his FB page and we still drop by to say hi to him, tell him we miss him, and ask for him to look down upon us and make us save. We still love him, cry for him, and wish every day he was here. <br />
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I was laying in a hotel room watching the news when a flash of Lake Havasu hit the screen: <a href="ttp://www.havasunews.com/articles/2010/09/09/news/doc4c7bc69e1ca40336701400.txt">Six dead in shooting</a>. WHAT THE FUCK! The worst tragedy in Lake Havasu history. Well, unfortunately Havasu is not the small town it once was. I didn't know any of the victims, but it doesn't matter to me. This is more about the murderer. See what Brian Diez did was walk into a home where six adults and two children were celebrating a birthday and shot all six adults. One survived and was able to make the phone call to police. She is in the hospital in critical condition. Brian then kidnapped the kids and drove to California. Where he then put a bullet in his head. WHAT THE FUCK! Did you solve by killing the children's mother and then killing yourself, the father? So not only did you affect the entire lives of an entire community let alone the family and friends of who you murdered, but you've left two innocent young children without parents. And I hope that neither child had to witness what took place in that house because if they did, they will remember for the rest of their lives. Two children who will grow up not fully knowing their parents. <br />
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And all this out of jealously. None of these murders solved a damn thing in life, but to cause more tragic in the lives of so many. <br />
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Rest in Peace all and please look down upon us as if we knew you forever!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-42191699350603929492010-07-22T11:44:00.000-06:002010-07-22T11:44:13.122-06:00Good-bye PINN, Hello LAROHUH? Good-bye <a href="http://www.nps.gov/pinn">where</a>, Hello <a href="http://www.nps.gov/laro">where</a>. The NPS has developed a system of acronyms for everything. Each park has a four letter cord. Primarily it is either the first 4 letters of the name or the first 2 if the park has two words. For example, Arches National Park is ARCH and Grand Canyon National Park is GRCA. Of course there are funny ones like LAME-Lake Mead National Recreation Area. All confusing, but once in the system actually pretty easy. <br />
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So I am heading up to LARO to start a new job. Technically I started on Sunday, but I was still on vacation and then I had two days off and the movers don't come until tomorrow, Friday. To answer your question...No, I did not get transferred. In this case, I am making a lateral move. Primarily, LARO had an opening and my boyfriend wanted me a little closer so he told them I worked in law enforcement. I sent up my resume and they hired me. So I am moving up to a new job and to participate in more bedsport with my boyfriend. I'm excited, nervous, and overjoyed. I'm going to freeze my ass off and hopefully some other fat portions of my body. <br />
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But I am leaving a park that has grown on my in several ways. There are definitely things I am going to miss and definitely things I won't miss. And most likely the things I won't miss will be present at my other job so I won't discuss them. What is it I'll miss....<br />
<br />
Well those times when the new intern/SCA shows up and I get to welcome them with my attitude and scare the shit out of them. Every intern that I've come in contact with has some story about their first meeting of them. Wimps! I know Jenna is going to miss them as well because it was them that always would watch her while I was away or take her for walks when I had to work the late shift. Sometimes I think they are going to miss Jenna more than me. But I am sure my new park will have some SCAs I can welcome.<br />
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Over the years I have made friends with visitors that have come back year after year. And I am going to miss their Thanksgiving dinners, cocktails, and good spirits. But again I am sure I might have the chance to meet some new (types) of visitors at LARO. I am going to miss stopping to show visitors a California condor fly overhead or to give my 10 minute informal Interpretation program on them. I am going to miss those good Mexican BBQs each weekend at the Moses Springs day use area. The carne asada always makes my mouth water.<br />
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I am definitely going to miss the people I have come to work with and gotten to know in the community. The housing area I lived in was a little community in itself. We were always having potlucks, or I was always cooking for the housing family, parties (too many damned themed ones), and just nights of fun. I am definitely going to miss the people of the community--the ranchers/homesteaders around the corners who allowed Jenna and I to run freely on their property, to swim in their ponds, and allow me to assist with eating the food at the brandings. Oh yea, I'll be back for the brandings for sure. <br />
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Yep, I am going to miss PINN in many ways. But I'm on to my next adventure in life. The vehicle is packed to the ground, the movers come tomorrow, and I'll be on the open road by Saturday. <br />
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Until the next park....Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-76164203892952551102010-06-10T09:01:00.000-06:002010-06-10T09:01:41.217-06:00Yiayia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfzX6VlubVHviAFw4bLXGMqVLV3n8rAZHwAFWGRWuuoceV1GL3vtpz1DsxFJD14FlegRyIXfrIVV7iibPVjL0lX2WLFjTfwlnIwCji_Scs2-2Xl55uMkQpqTXfli3wMFI5xTtudQ/s1600/yiayia2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfzX6VlubVHviAFw4bLXGMqVLV3n8rAZHwAFWGRWuuoceV1GL3vtpz1DsxFJD14FlegRyIXfrIVV7iibPVjL0lX2WLFjTfwlnIwCji_Scs2-2Xl55uMkQpqTXfli3wMFI5xTtudQ/s320/yiayia2.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yiayia is the Greek word for Grandma. I just recently learned how to spell it, but for years I've been saying it in my non-greek accent. Yiayia is the grandma of my friend Margaret. Margaret lived up the road from us growing up and since my grandparents lived in the midwest, Yiayia became a surrogate grandma for me through the years. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Just recently after many years, too many damn years, I was able to see Yiayia while visiting Margaret. It was so great to see Yiayia and to give her a hug. She was a little different...a little skinnier, a little older, but still the Yiayia that I knew. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She was in the process of making sweet bread. I asked for the recipe, but I was told it was a secret. Margaret was supposed to fedex me some, but that never happened. I am going to have to search the recipe for it. But like my Grandma's cinnamon rolls, I doubt I will ever be able to make the sweet bread as Yiayia did. I think that Grandma's put in something special-love-that sometimes a typical person just doesn't add to their baking. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As Yiayia and I talked through her broken English and Margaret's translations, it took me back to the days of my childhood. I found it funny that Yiayia only thought it was my father and I and did not know I had 6 siblings. That was probably because most of the siblings had taken flight. But I think Yiayia took pity on that it was my father and I. She was always sending down sweet bread, baklava, and other sweets to our house. And of course it was all homemade, from scratch, with Yiayia love in the middle of it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I remember Yiayia and Margaret would come down and pick the olives off of our tree. We would help her pick the olives and the dates from the palm trees. I never knew why she was picking them until one Easter, it was the Easter after Margaret shot the golfer, my father and I were invited to their house for a traditional Greek Easter. I found out Margaret's grandfather made ouzo in the basement and it was a pretty amazing system. That Easter was one of my greatest memories of an Easter celebration. Everyone speaking in Greek, the goat/lamb (can't remember) on the spit out back, but everyone welcoming us like family. And I am sure that Yiayia sent us home with baked goods. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When I visited in March, Yiayia and I discussed my bread making issues. I was having the hardest time getting my dough to rise. And Yiayia took me into the kitchen where she was preparing to make the sweet bread. She had a large, and I am talking the kind you store your winter clothes in, full of dough that was overflowing the sides. Why, why can't my dough rise like that. She went to the freezer and returned with some yeast and put it in a bag for me. (I was hoping TSA wouldn't wonder why I was carrying around yeast) Yiayia put some on a spoon and said use this much. I am Type A and everything has to be measured. She just shook her head, this much. Then back into the kitchen with me and through a little English, sign language (kind of) and Margaret's translations, I got my lesson on bread making. But still the recipe was not divulged to me. The most important thing I took away from that lesson was to always, always sift my flour. When I returned to my state, I immediately bought a sifter. My bread and all my baking (cinnamon rolls lately) have been coming out beautifully.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was pained the other day to see that Margaret had posted that Yiayia had a mini-stroke. Damn I thought...I had missed so many years of seeing her and learning her secrets. It is because of her and Margaret's family that I've always wanted to travel to Greece. Well and the fact that Margaret still has family over there to shower me with hospitality. I am so glad that I got to see Yiayia this past year. Although a little older than the last time I saw her, she was still Yiayia through and through. I hope for a speedy recovery because I am hoping to hang with her at the Greek Festival in September if I can get the time off?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love you Yiayia....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXp1QyX4hFEDaBz7sOy5kDahPlHouv3U6k8vEpSxqtx6vc-u5tGM5SiJBT7EHsyNa4tel3rP0Y5bObZAdAqacwlgw2mMh2fnR8-lEG0SRNxCtJudN2BABUL1zQ_v30IuCZGbezCw/s1600/yiayia3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXp1QyX4hFEDaBz7sOy5kDahPlHouv3U6k8vEpSxqtx6vc-u5tGM5SiJBT7EHsyNa4tel3rP0Y5bObZAdAqacwlgw2mMh2fnR8-lEG0SRNxCtJudN2BABUL1zQ_v30IuCZGbezCw/s320/yiayia3.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-84497304021535664282010-05-19T10:21:00.000-06:002010-05-19T10:21:16.958-06:00True Friendship<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="color: #333333; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">True friends can go long periods of time without speaking and never question their friendship.....and pick up like they just spoke yesterday, regardless of how long it has been</span></b></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">....(ganked from someone on FB)</span></span></h3><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">However, I find this statement so true. And so I will talk about my best friend....We've been best friends for over 33-34 years. Our friendship and our family's friendship is the only good thing I feel that came out of my dad's second marriage. Well, and Buckwheat, but unfortunately he passed on long ago. </span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We were around 3 or 4 years old when we met each other. I don't really remember this, but Michelle says the first day I met her I flipped her off. Yep, all my siblings are older and I learned things as a child that I probably shouldn't have known at that age. Oh well, that finger gesture sealed our friendship. HAHA. </span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Our families spent our summers in Tahoe and later in Brianhead. Her brother, Joe, a little older than us, Michelle, and I would wreak havoc on that condo project. I remember the time we demolished some other kid's fort. HAHA. Ok, it was mean, but fun. </span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Michelle and I went to different elementary schools, but she was always invited to all my birthday parties and my sleepovers. We went to the same junior high only because it was the only junior high. Although we had a lot of the same classes and we hung out together, we truly had different cliches. May be that is why we have survived all this time. </span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We entered high school and definitely went our separate ways with regard to friends and hanging out. We really didn't have too many classes together, but when we did we had a blast. I remember having Michelle in Mrs. Biekman's science class. Chad was in the class with us and man did we cause problems. On the weekends and when we found time, we hung out. </span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Our college years happened upon us and initially I went to another state, but returned to Arizona and spent the rest of my college days hanging out with Michelle almost daily on the benches of NAU. She was the one who was with me when I decided upon piercing my belly button. She was the one who attempted to put the new ring in, she was the one who attempted to repierce it, and was there years later when I almost passed out when I had it done a third time. During our college years, we probably were the closest in all aspects of our friendship. </span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We graduated from college and went on our ways both ending up in the Phoenix area. Michelle was the one who found me my first apartment, which I sometimes still wish I lived in. I was there on the mountain when she married Hector. I was there when her children were born. And vise versa, but I've been smart and haven't gotten married and pushed out children...but she's been there for me whenever I needed her. </span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And then I got the job of a life time and left Arizona. But since my family was still all there, I would often come back. And when I did, we always went out to lunch or spent time together. Usually with me handling her kids and giving her a break. And like the statement above says, it was like we had just seen or spoken yesterday. </span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">When I received the telephone call her brother had passed away, there was no doubt in my mind that I was flying to be with the family. And so I did. </span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We've lived apart for many years now. Only seeing each other about once a year. I live in a no zone for cell phones, but she somehow talked me into getting text messaging. And every week when I head into town for errands, we either text back and forth or give a quick call. Occasionally we will send each other a card that we find that fits our friendship.</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The last couple of weeks, we've missed each other. When we finally talked yesterday, she jokingly said 'Am I still your friend?". I said NO. And we both laughed. In the 33 years we have known each other, we have never had a fight of any kind. We've never stopped being friends like so many teenagers do over the course of school years. Her friends are so different from mine, but we all get along just fine when we hang out together. Michelle and I are quite bossy with each other and during a particular outing with her friends, Michelle was bossing me around as she usually does. (Which is funny because I am 10 days older to the hour). I can't remember the exact words, but one of her friends said something with reference how we berate each other. And Michelle just laughed knowing full well that this was just part of our strong friendship. </span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She is the truest of friends and I know in the coming months as I travel even farther away from Arizona that our friendship will not suffer and end in anyway. If anything it will just grow stronger as I think I might be in a cell zone. </span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So give your true friend a call today or drop a note just to say I'm still here and how are you....</span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7054948.post-88313534299663735662010-05-08T10:40:00.008-06:002010-05-17T23:36:03.688-06:00RELAY FOR LIFE<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In 2005, I participated in my first Relay For Life event in H-town in California. I came in second place in raising the most money for our team. But it wasn't about me. The money I raised went for cancer research. Check out this </span></span><a href="http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR?sid=1030&type=fr_informational&pg=informational&fr_id=20418"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">link</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> for more information regarding Relay For Life. The Relay monies help in the following ways:</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><strong style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Helping people stay well</span></span></strong></div><div><strong style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><strong style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Helping people get well</span></span></strong></span></strong></div><div><strong style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><strong style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><strong style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Finding cures</span></span></strong></span></strong></span></strong></div><div><strong style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><strong style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><strong style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Fighting back</span></span></strong></span></strong></span></strong></span></strong></div><div><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></strong></span></strong></span></strong></span></strong></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So far the Relay I am participating in has raised over $1500.00 and we still have 83 days to raise money. I think my </span></span><a href="http://main.acsevents.org/goto/bartels"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">donate page</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> gives a good indication as to why I do this year after year after my first one in 2005, but nonetheless I'll tell you more....</span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Kevin Ross was a classmate of mine in high school. Nope, he wasn't someone I hung out with and would even call a friend. Hell, to be honest I didn't realize he was missing from half of my classes until he returned to school after his treatment. I remember like it was yesterday (not 20 years ago) how when he stepped on stage at graduation, the entire class stood and clapped. It was a very emotional graduation to say the least. He is doing well last time I heard.</span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I have three sisters who have beaten the cancer bug. Supposedly my father was a carrier of a 'cancer' gene. My oldest sister who recently beat breast cancer went through some genetic testing and that is how we found out. I like to think I am going to be the black sheep of the family and not get any form of cancer. I could go get tested to see if I have the gene, but I refuse. Primarily because I already wonder constantly if I am going to get cancer. If I went and got the test and I came back positive for that gene, I think every time I sneezed I would almost have a heart attack thinking I have cancer. Some people would want to know, but I want to live my life not worrying more than I already do. </span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My dad's companion (AKA: Girlfriend) of over 10 years, battled a form of cancer that would go into remission and then return. I do not know how she endured the treatments every several years. But she was a strong lady. I know because she used to kick my ass in tennis year after year. </span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In 2007, a coworker, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a href="http://archesrelayforlife.blogspot.com/">Gary</a>, was diagnosed with Cancer. He under went surgery in April and upon opening him up, realized the cancer was far worse than they thought. Immediately, I organized a Relay For Life team called Gary's Condors. Since we had so many people they made us split into two teams, but in realty we were one. We raised the most money for the cause because they made us split into two teams. I think we raised almost 4,000 dollars. But to me that night was not about the money.</span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The first lap of every Relay starts out with survivors walking the lap. Gary, fresh out of the hospital, may be a week, walked that lap and he led the lap. He walked many more after that before heading home. Most of our team stayed all night, taking turns walking, chatting, crying, laughing, and making a difference. Tim Graham walked the entire time we were there. And half the time it was raining, but no one went home. We had tents set up but no one used them to sleep. The energy of Relays is amazing. I can't remember what time the final lap was, but Gary's Condors had an amazing turn out including Gary leading us once again around the track. As you can tell by his <a href="http://archesrelayforlife.blogspot.com/">webpage</a> he lost the battle. </span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I walk and raise money for many reasons. But I ask you to donate because I know you know someone that has either beaten the hell out of the disease or unfortunately has gotten beaten by the disease. And the more we raise, the less people CANCER beats. </span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">If you have made it this far in the reading, you might as well go to the site and donate. Thanks.</span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';color:#FF0000;">UPDATE:</span></span></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';color:#FF0000;">I reached my third goal of $700 so I bumped it up to $800. Now I am 88% away from reaching that goal.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0