The Twelfth Year - 1991

I'm throwing these pictures up just because I have them. I don't really remember much from this year of soccer - I don't even know what year this was (sometime after my tooth got chipped though). If I didn't have this picture I probably would have even remembered being on a team with my sister Risa. I do remember being on a team with Corey Lizaraga (and this could have been the year). His parents are the coaches holding the sign (and Corey is the dark kid right in front of his mom). Corey was a great soccer player - it was in his blood. I loved having him on my team. In a later year he was on another team and I hated him. He scored more goals than anyone any of us knew. Not only that, he always made it into the end of the year AYSO highlight film reel. We went to closing ceremonies one time - I think they were held at the Show Low High School auditorium - and I wasn't in the video a single time. The video played with Billy Idol's "Mony Mony" and to this day, every time I hear it, it makes me a little mad that I wasn't in that video a single time; I thought I was good enough to be in it. But, life went (and goes) on.




By the way, that red-headed smiley guy is Dustin, the kid I would sing Little Mermaid songs with the summer between 3rd and 4th grade and David Miramon (the one who "married" Alexia and I) is the one with his hand on the soccer ball.

Shane Sirois. Shane, Brent Pullin and I were like the three musketeers... especially after school on Wednesdays. Every Wednesday we'd walk from the school to the church for cub scouts. The three of us were among a great minority of LDS boys at our school... our age, that didn't live in the country club. Shane lived across the main road of town from me, then Brent lived about the same distance from him if we cut through the forest between their houses. Shane was in horizons with me, and although he would never admit it, he DID get in on his own intelligence. He was a smart kid - too smart sometimes - and usually not for good. Shane was poor like me. His father died when he was young and he was the man of his house; he lived with his mom, younger brother and younger sister. Shane was a few months younger than me but he was strong and I looked up to him. So when he had the idea to stop by the gas station store on the way to scouts every Wednesday to get a Dr. Pepper I was in... the fact that he always got a free one was nice too. Yes, ill gotten in deed. Dr. Pepper seemed to always be doing that "one in six wins a free Dr. Pepper" - look under the cap - game. So, he would open every bottle in the store until he found a winner (or two) and would buy it then get a free one right then. We'd split the cost of the one we had to pay for - as if we ever needed the caffeine.

The summers Shane and I would spend playing among my grandpa's construction equipment. We always played this on-going "game" - it was really more of a fantasy world - where he and I were brothers. I was the older, brainier yet weaker brother, and he was the younger stronger protective brother. The imaginary setting of this world was usually some sort of battle field. Like most young boys, it's hard to play some fantasy game without guns and killing stuff. I don't think either of us would have ever left that fantasy world we lived in if we didn't have to. But, work and other responsibilities usually kept us from playing very much. I don't think my parents really liked him much either, probably thought he was a bad influence - he was; but he was a good friend. Even when he got around Robbie Hansen and ALWAYS did a 180 on me and acted like he hated me. We had some serious fights during those times - one time, he got me in a head lock and all I could do to get out was bite his leg (the closest thing to me) as hard as I could. He had a bruise the shape of me teeth for weeks. He had a 22 rifle he got from his dad. It was old and probably never cleaned. We took it out shooting once (shooting birds) and it was my turn to shoot. I didn't really know how and I put my face right up next to the hammer - when the gun went off my ears started to ring like never before. I thought I was going to be deaf. I dropped the gun and started to run around in circles holding my ears. Shane started yelling at me (not that I could hear him) and got mad that I dropped the gun. After he assessed his gun was fine and I could hear, we both just laughed about it - he never let me live that one down.

I think the summer I turned eleven (1991) I went with my dad (scoutmaster) and the older scouts to hike the Grand Canyon. We hiked Bright Angel Trail on the south rim; started early in the morning and headed down. We hiked to Phantom Ranch on the other side of the Colorado River and then up the north rim a bit. Then we turned around and headed back up the way we came. Me and two other boys went ahead of the rest of the group - we passed up three mule trains on our way out. The hike took us a total of eleven hours. When we got to the top I started to make dinner for everyone else. Night came while waiting for everyone and I feel asleep before eating. I woke up in the morning and my dad had saved me some of the beef stew I made the night before. To this day, it was probably the best tasting thing I've ever had - it was the hunger affect, the hungrier you are when you eat the better the food tastes.

Fifth grade. Mr. Green's class. Mr. Green lived just down the street from me. He was a straight shooting no bull, no frills, teacher. My kind of guy. Angela Lee was in that class for about half the year. She was also in my fourth grade class. Part way through 5th grade she moved to Taylorsville, UT. As a class assignment we all wrote her a letters. She ended up writing me back and we kept in touch clear up until I enrolled at BYU years later. Lisa Robinson was in that class. She was that annoying girl that was always running her mouth off. Mr. Green didn't stand for it and one day hurled an eraser at top speed across the room at her - just missed to, by an inch. Then he told her "that's once mule." It was his way of saying three strikes and you're out. He ran a tight ship, but one time he had a substitute. Matt Davies decided to try and lead a riot that day and lifted up his desk over his head when the sub stepped out for a second - he just started yelling "together!" Not sure why... but I still think of it every now and again - just a random memory. Near the end of the semester, Mr. Green did an oil drilling game. He had a huge pin board on a table that we got to put dowels in to "drill" for oil. I don't remember how turn order was determined or who won, or how I did, but it was a fun game, and I think he was teaching us math. He was also big into chess. We had a chess club. I think I was the best, I don't ever remember losing - but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.

I think it was that year for Christmas my family went to Mexico with the Whatcotts (their mom was my dad's sister). Both our families had children about the same age. Heather was closest to my age. On the way down she and I played chess - I beat her once with the three move checkmate. It was amazing, but I don't think she was very happy about it - after all, she was (and probably still is) much smarter than me (also a member of Horizons). We went to Hermosillo, Guaymas, Kino Bay and San Carlos. It was a long trip - but SO much fun. I may be getting Mexico trips mixed up in my head, but I think this was the trip we dug up clams on the beach at Kino Bay with John Lofgreen (family friend) and ate them raw - that may have been a trip we took with my aunt and uncle Jim and Tammy Borrego. That was also the same trip that got cut short because by brother Nephi nearly shot his eye out with a cheap Mexican sling shot (really not his fault since it just broke and snapped him in the eye) but still, we didn't let him live that down for a long time, "you'll shoot your eye out!" We ate some street vendor food in Hermosillo. They were some small tostada type food on a soft masa hand pressed patty with a little meat (cat?) and Mexican cheese (is there any other kind down there?) and tomato. Simple, yet DELICIOUS. Maybe the best thing I ever ate that wasn't induced to be yummy by starvation. We even tried to mimic the recipe when we got home - you can't duplicate Mexican street vendor food. Whenever we went to Mexico, we used to always buy fireworks and those nasty little cookies with marshmallows on them (although I used to love them back then).

The more I think about the past (this far back) the more jumbled my memories are... but they're in there.

The Eleventh Year - 1990

The end of the 80s. Good riddance. Quite possibly one of the worst decades for style; EVER! The fact that many of the styles, like hideous skinny jeans *yak* *puke* *barf* are coming back "in style" is pretty sickening!!!

Okay. To be honest. When I was so much younger and impressionable I was just as stupid... Okay... worse than stupid. One time I couldn't find any pants to wear to school - our house constantly was covered in a layer of dirty clothes and... well... junk really, and finding clothes to wear usually proved a challenge. Most everything I owned was stained and ruined from working around construction equipment. Plus, whenever I wasn't working I was usually still back at the "shop" (my grandpa's construction shop) taking something (like my bike) apart or just getting dirty like boys know how. Anyway, back to the story of needing pants for school - I found a pair. Little did I know, they were my sister's pants (skinny ones at that). I think this actually happened in 5th or 6th grade - but at any age, no one wants everyone at school pointing out what you're wearing; and of course, that's just what everyone did. However, now, I could wear the same pants and be pretty darn cool... in the Emo crowds.

The thought of taking apart my bike (which happened a lot) reminds me of my first bike. I'm pretty sure I got it the Christmas after Andrew died. I don't know if it true, but I think I remember hearing he was the only one of my siblings that ever had life insurance - that means, for a while my parents had some money to play with. We all got bikes that Christmas. I know we went to Disneyland around that time (the next summer maybe) too, but I don't remember when exactly. The only thing I really remember about D-land was riding Space Mountain with Tevia - I was so scared I (tried) to scream the entire ride... but no sound was ever able to escape my mouth. I was terrified of roller coasters for the longest time after that.

Back to the bike(s). My siblings (and cousins and friends) and I rode our bikes EVERYWHERE - but our favorite location was probably the trails in the forest behind our house. There were SO many trails! And we kept finding and making more. Many of them had jumps in them. I had my share of wrecks on those jumps... I was sure I'd be sterile for life after some of them - apparently, I'm not. We (my siblings and I) made up several ghost stories about those woods. One about a beating duck heart in a tree. Sometimes, I would go to where the tree was and scare myself to ride away as fast as possible - and riding through a dense forest on a small winding trail made it that much more exciting.

We did so much in that forest. I don't think I can count the forts we built. From tree forts made of wood boards to wigwam style forts made from small trees we would fall and cover with pine needles - like an igloo made of pine trees. One time, I went to visit a girl I liked in a daycare that was at one edge of the forest not far from our home - there was a big oak tree just outside the fence of the daycare that I climbed to show off. Well, the show turned ugly when a swarm of bees, living in that tree, deemed me a threat and started stinging me. I was covered in stings! Ever since then, I was so afraid of bees that I would use the "I'm allergic to bees" card anytime I got around one.

That forest was a sanctuary. More than once, after getting in trouble (which happened a LOT really) I would "run away." Of course, I never stayed long since I knew I'd HAVE to return eventually and when I did, I knew I'd still be in trouble - usually more than I would have been originally.

Yes, trouble always found me - or I would find it. Either way, about this year, life really got frustrating for me. For those of you who have read the Harry Potter books, from here till about the time I went to Texas my life was book five.

I remember killing a bug around my Borrego cousins - yes, probably just showing off, and partly because I hate bugs - HATE bugs - and my dad found out. I hid the small corpse, incriminating evidence, and I knew what kind of punishment I could expect. Well, my dad gave me the lecture of "not killing animals unless it's for a good cause" - like food or self defense. I can understand if it was an ANIMAL - not an insect. Anyway - as punishment, my dad made me find another bug (a grasshopper) and eat it - alive. It wasn't that bad. Tasted like grass smells, and I'm CERTAIN it was better then the dung beetle would have tasted that I originally killed.

I had a habit of not finish my cereal. This was when I was much younger (kindergarten - 3rd grade-ish). Well, one time my dad had enough and didn't let me eat ANYTHING else until I finished a bowl of cereal I had already served myself. It sat all day long. ALL DAY. It was Honey Nut Cheerios. I ended up eating it probably more than 12 hours later. It was the NASTIEST thing I have ever been forced to eat to date. To this day, the thought of Honey Nut Cheerios makes me gag. *gag* I just thought of them.

My dad often took me on long rides with him (probably because my mom didn't want to deal with me). He often had T-shirt orders to deliver - my parents acquired a T-shirt (screen printing) business somehow around this time of my life - I don't remember exactly when though. One trip in particular we headed out and I was STARVING - I was always starving - I was a growing boy. My dad got sick of me asking for food, so he stopped by the local Bashas' (grocery store) on our way out of town and went inside. Moments later he came out with a half gallon of strawberry ice cream. To this day, I have no idea what compelled him to get that (I know HE likes strawberry ice cream - but I never really did). He handed me the carton and told me to eat it before it melted. Guess what kind of ice cream makes me sick now, just thinking about it. Yes.

Every Sunday was my parents' "day of rest." I never understood, as a child, why they - or anyone - would want to take a nap during the day. No need to explain that concept to me NOW. But back then, any time I wasn't working, or at school or church, I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to play. My siblings felt the same. We would play house, or city, or whatever. ANY noise would get my dad SO mad. We always wondered how the heck he could even hear us from the bottom floor (we were up stairs). Understanding the physics of sound travel and shoddy construction, I understand - NOW. More than once we all had to line up and grab our ankles for a good old fashioned spanking; often cushioned by the stuffing of newspapers or toilet paper down our pants before he came up to lay into us - we thought we were so clever, but looking back, I'm sure my dad had to know.

Cleaning seemed an endless chore in our home, which never seemed to improve its appearance. One time, we were all told to clean the upstairs bathroom. This bathroom was nasty. Nasty beyond nasty. Ninety percent of its life, the toilet was covered in brown. Not poo - just brown. I don't know how it got so gross... okay, we were afraid to flush because it was like playing roulette with a toilet - you knew it was just a matter of time (felt like a one in six shot) that what you flushed down was going to come back up. That usually meant the nastiest things that went in, sat there the longest - for fear of it coming back at you and all over the floor. One time we were "cleaning" this nightmare of a bathroom and discovered the joy of an indoor slip n slide. We covered the floor with soap and water and slid back and forth on it. It was a small room but big enough for what we were doing - and what we thought we were doing, was just making work fun. Needless to say, and I really don't blame him for this because I would do the same now, my dad wigged out when he saw what we were doing. Grab your ankles time, again.

Without a doubt my worst punishment, and I have to say my most unfair, I ever got (imposed by family) happened the summer of 1990. I was ten years old. Quentin was almost eight. Remember, I HATE bugs - ants included. One day I was out torching them with hair spray and a lighter. I started out in our garden; I was sick of them crawling on me while weeding so I decided to dispose of them. Burning in the garden lead to burning more in a wood pile just behind our house - the same wood pile we would have to pack wood in from every winter to keep our house warm. Quentin and I burned ants for a while, then went off to do other things. All was fine. Until about nine that night, we woke up to the lights and sirens of fire and police vehicles. The wood pile erupted in flames. Not such a big deal, under normal circumstances. However, being older (maybe wiser) now, I can understand the urgency of that particular circumstance. Remember, my grandpa had a construction shop just behind our house, and thus, just beyond that wood pile. He had underground tanks of diesel fuel and the ground was pretty saturated with grease, oil, gas, and diesel as well. It didn't take long for Quentin to come forward naming me as the cause of the fire. Next thing I knew, I found myself in the back of a police car, getting my rights read to me. Yes. I know. A ten year old. Perhaps my parents and grandparents chose this method of punishment to impact the severity of playing with fire to me. After all, it was a dangerous setting, and my dad did lose a brother to a house fire when his brother was playing with matches when they were younger. However, a talking to (and the nonstop singing of Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start The Fire" by my cousins) wasn't enough in their eyes. I spent the rest of that summer doing community service hours - sweeping the sidewalks around the Blue Ridge Schools. I had to go with a group of other juvenile delinquents, but I was by far the youngest. We all sat around at lunch and talked about what we were "in for." As if being a ten year old in juvey wasn't enough of a joke to all the other high school kids, when they heard why I was there they they just laughed more. I can't help but think those eighty hours of service only made me worse. I learned more that summer than any ten year old should ever know - things I probably shouldn't even have known as a high schooler. In a way, I think that was the summer I lost my childhood and any trace of innocence I had.

Fourth grade started that fall. Back to the bottom of the totem pole. Alexia Wood moved to our school that year. It was love at first sight for me. We started "dating," as much as two forth graders could date. David Miramon was "dating" Alexia's best friend Victoria. One day, after school, David married Alexia and I on the "book of the holy mice." It was some kids book, like "If You Give A Mouse A Cookie" or something like that. Regardless, in the eyes of that book and with David and Vicki as witnesses, Lex and I were married. She gave me a cassette tape of Bon Jovi's "Lay Your Hands On Me" that I remember listening to with head phones - over and over again. To this day, it's the only way to hear it. We kissed a few time on the playground, but I don't think it took long for her to be done with me and by year's end, we were "divorced." I got the official news at Woodland Park on field day. I was devastated. Absolutely torn apart inside. I remember Dirk Neil trying to comfort me as I let my hurt out by beating up trees. And yet, life went on. Aside from that - the school year was a good one. Mr. Scrignar was an excellent teacher. We read "A Wrinkle In Time" as a class and played "city" the last part of the year. I don't remember how it was set up exactly, but there was "money" we earned by doing our "jobs" and our chairs were "cars." The last day of class Mr. S did an auction of a bunch of prizes with the "money" we earned during the year.


Sentences. This was the year Mrs. Day, the music teacher, and I decided we hated each other. Okay, I don't think she decided that - and to this day, she only describes me as being "pesky" back then - according to her aunt JoLynn. I had to write sentences SO many times in that class, it still hurts me to write for more than a minute - thank goodness for computers!! I pretended to hate that class, but in reality, I loved it - and writing sentences as punishment for being disruptive was better than my classmates knowing I liked Phantom of The Opera and West Side Story. To this day, I still consider Mrs. Day (Jeanie) one of my favorite teachers.


I don't remember exactly when this happened either, I always thought it was when I was about seven years old. I was walking the ridge of a dump truck (playing in the construction yard) and I fell off - landing on my face. I chipped my front tooth. My parents took me to a dentist (first and only time until after graduating high school). The dentist couldn't reattach the tooth, but he sealed the exposed nerves somehow with a UV light - I think. Anyway, I had that chipped tooth well into college. I guess I should complain too much about it, it was my own dumb fault for falling off a truck, and my dad had the same chip in his same tooth from about age seven till just a few years ago.

Before

After

I was accident prone as a child... most children are I guess. I was tossing around a small stuffed bunny in our living room and running around to catch it. I slipped and fell head first into a window sill. Cracked my head clean open. My mom took me to the hospital with my aunt Tammy holding me and putting pressure on the cut. I got stitches... and a snoopy band aid.

Hard to see, but the scar is there... still have it too.

The Tenth Year - 1989

To be honest, I'm exhausted and not in the mood to type today - I just spent the last 15+ hours taking my physics final and then packing, cleaning and moving. However, 1989 was a pretty good year and there's lots to record... so....

I think it was the summer between 2nd and 3rd grade... maybe between 1st and 2nd, our family went to Mexico. I don't remember what town it was we went to, but I'm going to guess it was just Nogalas. I don't remember a lot from the trip, except for buying chiklets from the kids on the street and wanting to get a mariachi marionette doll.

Our family used to go on so many short one or two day trips all over Arizona, and even into New Mexico and Mexico. We would stop at museums, ghost towns and do short hikes wherever we went. I have specific stories about those later - this blog will be long enough as it is.




I think this was about the time I started AYSO soccer too... maybe a year earlier. I loved soccer from day one. We even used to go out as a family and play at the park. There was one LDS missionary, Elder Winkworth, from England who would come play with us too. I can still picture his and his companion's faces - his comp had a baby face. One time we were out playing and Winkworth jumped a short 3 or 4 foot chain link fence. I thought he was so cool and could jump so high - children were easier to impress back then.


Come to think of it, this may have been the previous year - since Brenden Philips is on my team here - dead center front row. He was my best friend in first grade I think, then he moved away. Katy Sprotte is the girl just to the left of him - remember that for the story just below.

Third grade. Mrs. Ellison's class. She's actually my dad's cousin and she taught all six of us Thad and Monica Webb children. She was an excellent teacher. Made learing, or at least going to school, fun. I think this was the year I was tested for Horizons; an accelerated learning program for smarter-than-the-average-bear type students. I got in, but think it didn't start until the following year.

I was best friends with Dustin Grant in third grade. We were pretty much inseparable and more trouble than any one school, much less a single teacher, should ever have to deal with - but Mrs. Ellison handled us just well. The biggest shenanigans we actually got into was probably just being hyperactive and picking on Billy Bob Adams. His name fit him well. A rather large toothed kid with over-sized nerd glasses and a cowboy hat and cowboy boots. We teased him without end. A few times he tried to retaliate and hit me with a rope he brought to school (I probably deserved it) but then I got right back at him and chased him down and tripped him. He ate dirt pretty hard. To this day I still feel bad for how I treated him - not that it makes up for any of it, but I got my share of what I gave him in the years to come.

Yes, third grade I felt like I pretty much ran the school. Elementary was K-3rd grade - so I was literally at the top of the school food chain. Speaking of food, this was the last year I really remember my mom consistently going all out to make me lunch pretty much every day. When she wants to she can really pack a good one!

Mrs. Ellison put on a huge production with our class and a few other 3rd and 2nd grade classes. I'm pretty sure there was a part that Quentin's class was in even. It was about Native Americans and cowboys, I think. There was a song we sang about a whale, and we also did square dancing. Katlin Wessel was my square dance partner. I actually liked it but good luck trying to get me to admit to it then! Part of the whale song went, "wise whale, pretty whale - of the water!" I don't remember all the words but I'd probably give a pizza to anyone who can get me a copy of that play on video... I'm sure there are several out there. Parent's used to bring those ridiculously large video camcorders to all the school productions... I think my dad even recorded it - but I doubt he still has it.

We went on a field trip to the fish hatchery. On the way back, I had my first "real" kiss in the back of the bus. Katy Sprotte. We pulled up under a jacket and smooched. It was kind of on a dare (or at least some peer pressure from Dustin) but really, I was wanting to do it anyway.

Disney's The Little Mermaid came out in November of '89. By the end of the school year it was on video and we got to watch as a class for one of our year-end parties. That summer (I know, I'm getting into my eleventh year) I would ride my bike to Dustin's house and he and I would sing the songs from Little Mermaid while riding our bikes. We'd ride down to the gas station to get candy, then back to his place to play Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on his awesome Nintendo!

The Ninth Year - 1988

Nineteen-eighty-eight. I had a small crush on my friend Cari in '88. I remember this because to this day, the only thing I remember about my baptism that year was that I sang a song for it, and she was there. She gave me a tie tack too - it was a CTR one. I thought it was cool and was pretty excited to get a tie to put it on.

The summer of '88 doesn't hold any particularly specific memories for me. Like I've mentioned before, I went to work with my dad a lot in the summers... one tended to bleed into the next. There was a summer that I went to work with him doing a job at a boy scout retreat - but there weren't any scouts there at that time. I don't remember where it was exactly, but we were there for a week or so - staying in one of the cabins on site. He was doing ground work, excavating, road grading and bulldozer type stuff - I think. The work isn't what sticks out in my mind - it was the cabin and the time we spent there together. I know I was pretty young, could have been this year, maybe earlier - and I think my uncle Eric was with us too - just the three of us. We found some baby mice behind (or under) the stove in the cabin. They were SO tiny.... still hairless. My dad wanted to just kill them, actually throw them in the fireplace or out the door - something like that - and I couldn't understand why anyone would want to kill such a tiny little creature. Since then, I understand and have taken out my share of mice (one way or another) in my days. During one of the days there we took down a huge old oak tree. Inside was a honey bee hive oozing with honey. It was the coolest thing I'd seen up to that point in my life. I don't remember how we got it, but we were able to manage to get several jars of honey and honey comb. Some of the honeycombs we put above the fireplace - I think to help it give up some of its honey. I always wanted to go back to that place, just to see it again.

Summer wasn't ALL work though. My brothers and I used to go fishing at Brewer's pond (at least, that what we called it because it was near their house) - just beyond my uncle Karl's corn fields. We'd use corn for bait. Some days we'd catch so many bluegill we didn't know what to do with them. Some of them we'd take home and cook. My mom didn't want the mess (anyone who has scaled a bluegill before would understand) or smell inside so she made us make a fire in our back yard and cook it out there - ah, outdoor cooking just like camping. Literally, we'd make a camp fire (we didn't have a BBQ grill) and cook on a cast iron skillet (cast iron was all we had growing up, I didn't even know they made skillets out of anything else until I was in high school).

Summer also meant the annual Navapache Electric Company picnic. The picnics were a HUGE gathering of the employees and their families. They were held at Show Low park - at the big pavilion. My grandpa Borrego (my mom's dad) worked for them - that's how we got invited. They had big blue kiddie pools full of ice and beer for the adults and one full of ice and soda for the kids. I remember seeing the beer and not having a clue what it was or why we couldn't have any. There were all sorts of games and contests for children and adults - not that I remember what any of the games were for the adults, except maybe volleyball, which they'd never let me play. The children had fun things too though, my favorite was the tricycle races and the pie eating contest. I won a trike race and got a set of "Little Monster" books by Mercer Mayer. As for the pie eating contest, I think I won one of those once too (for my age bracket) but really, it wasn't about winning, it was about getting pie! One year, we got to take home SEVERAL of the extra pies. I think in any normal family, most of the pies would have just gone to waste, but I don't think very many of them even made it home (outside of our bellies).

Get a load of my shoes it that picture - that was typical of my footwear until about jr. high - next step after that was duck tape... it's no wonder I have a thing for shoes now.



Second grade. Mrs. Simingson's class. I was big into reading and drawing then. I was always in competition with Brent Pullin for who was the best artist in the class... that year I won... ever since then, it wasn't even a competition. I don't know where he learned to draw after that but it made anything I put on paper look like crap. He and I were pretty good friends and his dad was the principal - I have to admit it made me feel pretty cool being friends with the principal's son... now I'm married to a principal's daughter, so that makes me extra cool right? Brent and I took karate together at the Pinetop rec center. I don't know how I was able to go, but I'm pretty sure my parents weren't paying for the classes - not that it mattered, I didn't get to go to many of the classes, but I still remember the "correct" way to kick and punch from those classes.

As I said, I used to love to read. I read Indian In The Cupboard that year and I was chosen to go with a select group of students to meet the author! I was SO excited! I anticipated the event for weeks. The night before I was supposed to go I got the flu real bad. My dad gave me a blessing that night to get better, but by morning I was still weak and puking my guts out. I missed the trip and lost interest in reading. Looking back, I see it was only me that was hurt by that choice. I wish I would have kept reading - I've missed out on SO many good books. There are only so many hours in a day to read, and there are fewer and fewer of them the older I get and the more kids/responsibilities I acquire.

The Eight Year - 1987

First grade. For the life of me I can't remember my first grade teacher's name. I can see her in my mind, even my old classroom, but her name escapes me. We would have snacks in her class before recess - usually graham crackers, except for Joey, he was a round kid on a special diet, he usually got cheese sticks, carrots or celery. Like most first graders, I loved recess. Sometimes we'd have to count to 50 to the teacher on our way out the door - it wasn't an everyday thing - and I'm thinking it was a test of development or something; at least that's how I saw it, so I would count as fast as I could like it was a race or something.

Probably the best thing about first grade was the last day of school, it landed on my birthday so I thought the end of school year party was for me... however, now I realize it wasn't.

Whenever I'd go to work with my dad, he always packed a lunch which consisted of an entire loaf of sliced bread, removed from the plastic, made into refried bean and mayo sandwiches then put back in the original bread bag. There was usually apples... I didn't know there was any other kind of apple than Red Delicious until I was in high school - I think. We'd break for lunch at noon and eat while listening to Paul Harvey on the radio... never fail.

"And now you know, the rest of the story."

There were a few times my parents had people living in our house when I was younger. My aunt Marie lived with us for a while... that wasn't too strange since she's only a few years older than Tevia (it was like having another sibling in the house). But this one time, there was this strange guy who had huge scars around his neck. He stayed with us for quite a while. Who knows how my parents knew him, or if they did at all. He was a rough looking individual, but he was nice, and as far as I was concerned then, he was part of the family. I don't remember his name or know what ever became of him - but I can still see his face and the way he strained to turn his head; he never did tell me honestly what the scars were from, I know now they weren't because his head fell off.

My mom's sister Valerie had several random people stay with her too in my life - I think it's the Mexican hospitality gene or something. These two particular house guests were actually foster children; Apache indian boys, Joel and Daryl. They were older than Tevia, but not by much, so they seemed like cool older siblings to me - er, uh, cousins I guess. I remember they had a tape of this song that went "shut up, you talk too much, I mean you never shut up." It was the coolest song (when you're like five years old... or just a guy, then that never gets old. They queued it up and then played it really loud when Nephi came up the stairs one time - it was hilarious, but i guess you had to be there to really appreciate it, especially because Nephi never shut up.

The Seventh Year - 1986

Technically, I should have included the explosion of the Challenger space shuttle in my last post since it occurred during my sixth year of life. But, to emphasize what kind of calendar year 1986 was, I decided to group it in with this blog.

January 28, 1986: the space shuttle Challenger disintegrated shortly after take off. My actually memories of the events surrounding the event are blurred. For some reason I remember coming home from school and seeing my mom crying watching the news coverage of it. The T.V. (our 13 inch black and white) kept replaying the scene. I remember watching it over and over. I was told a school teacher was on board and it made me sad - although, I don't think I fully grasped the event at that time. The reason I think the surrounding memory is blurred is because I thought my kindergarten teacher had already died by this point and I was no longer in school. Either way, the following August, I was back in kindergarten.


The events surrounding my brother's death are also fuzzy. I've thought back on it SEVERAL times. For a long time, I blamed myself for it. I always thought I was supposed to be watching him that day. I was six, he was two. We don't talk about it much in our family - not that's it's the elephant in the room, no there's a different feeling to it than that - and not that it's a taboo subject either. I remember it as though I was playing at my friend's (Cameron's) house that day. Andrew was roaming the construction company parking area - we all used to, it was our playground as far as we were concerned. My dad's younger brother didn't see him and backed over him, a complete accident - no I was not around to witness it, Lord knows how much more screwed up I'd be now if I did. My dad says he got the news while out working. He knew before anything was said that something was wrong - and he knew it was Andrew. He raced to the hospital laying on the horn in his dump truck the whole way there. Again, I never saw him (Andrew) in that condition, but I remember being told he was pretty flattened... but still "alive." My father gave him a blessing to live long enough to be life flighted down to Phoenix. He did live, just long enough to donate (and again, I may be wrong on this) his eyes, some skin and his kidneys? I've often wondered who were the recipients, and if they're alive today. My granny (my mom's mom) was called over to watch the rest of us kids. I remember her getting off the phone when she got the official news that Andrew had died. She held me in her lap and sobbed. I cried too, but I wonder now if it was more so because I wasn't sure what was going on, but I knew it wasn't good - it couldn't be if granny and Tevia were crying so hard. A few days (or so) later, my parents came home and we had the funeral. I don't remember who was there except for my mom's brothers, especially David, Ben and Ezra. They were always the fun joking uncles that would come to our house and tie us up and "torture" us. It was hell as a kid, but the most fun at the same time - and they wouldn't stop even if we said "uncle." But at the funeral, there was none of that. Again, I don't think I understood fully that Andrew was never coming home, I just knew that something was wrong if my uncles were crying. I looked in the casket several times. He smelled. He didn't look dead. He looked pretty good - except his eyelids were sewn shut - the stitches were pretty apparent. The smell of calla lilies and carnations still take me back to THAT funeral every time I smell them. Especially the carnations.


Later that year our family went camping. I think it was for a family reunion out to Brown Creek. It was a regular spot for us to camp. We had even visited the ranger lookout station a few times in years past that was a few(?) miles from our camp. I think most of the roads in the area were old logging trails. There were no designated camp sites and I don't recall it ever being a busy or popular spot for other campers. One of the days we were there, I had an involuntary bowel movement in my jeans (I crapped myself). This was a fairly common problem and my dad was sick of it. He got upset and decided to take me away from camp so he could "cool off" a bit before punishing me. After getting a ways away, he took off running. As a six year old, my only instinct (scared already as to what my punishment would be) was to run after him so I wouldn't be alone in the forest. It didn't take long for him to be so far gone that it was apparent my yells and cries for him to come back were only heard by the dense forest. It was late in the day and getting dark. I tried to find my way back but didn't have a clue as to which direction to go. I decided to head up hill since I knew there was a ranger station at the top of a hill... somewhere. Night fell. I kept walking - taking only a few short breaks. Sometimes I sat with the moonlight shining right down on my new checker patterned canvas shoes - I remember thinking how stupid I was for being so proud of them earlier, and now would have traded them in a heartbeat to be safely back at camp. I walked almost the entire night, I think. I tried to stay close to the small stream since I knew everyone was camped by it, somewhere. I kept having visions, hallucinations, of my cousin's tent. I had never seen a dome tent before, so the image of his kept coming to my mind; I stepped in the stream and ran into a tree more than once during such hallucinations. Eventually, I decided I needed to sleep. I curled up in my shirt under a large pine tree and packed some leaves around me. Exhaustion took the best of me and I was fast asleep, despite my fear, in a matter of what seemed like seconds. No sooner than I had closed my eyes than it was day. Almost mid-day. I woke to a warm sun, well into the sky, and the most comforting sound (to this day) that I have ever heard. A diesel engine. I thought it was my grandpa. I ran to the sound. It wasn't him, but it was a familiar friendly face. I didn't know who he was at the time, but I knew I knew him, or was supposed to know him, somehow. He was my mom's best friend's husband, Ernie Sutter. He was out looking for me. Apparently they had quite the search team trying to find me, even a helicopter. I remember Ernie looking down at me from his big truck, warmly smiling and telling me to "get in, everyone's been wondering where you went off to." He offered me some food (granola bar, or a powdered doughnut) and a Pepsi. I gladly ate the food, but refused the drink; back then we weren't allowed to drink caffeine. He drove me back to camp. I remember my mom running to me and hugging me. Crying. I can only imagine now, what she (and my dad) were going through that night --- I was almost the second son in just a few months. I hear that my brother Quentin comforted my mom while I was lost by telling her, "don't worry, Andrew will protect him." I don't remember much else from the rest of that camping trip, but to this day, if I close my eyes and listen to the wind blow through a Ponderous Pine forest (yes, specifically) it takes me back. I can't explain why, but it's eerily comforting in a way.

That fall, I started kindergarten again. My teacher was Mrs. Hall. She was a younger teacher and not much taller than me - and she was beautiful. I had a crush on her the entire year. It made every "keepin-on-track" award I won that much more special. Keepin-on-track awards were a slip of paper that teachers would give to reward students. The student's name was put on it and it was dropped off in the Principal's office. Each week the office would draw a few slips from a box and the lucky winners would get a cool (crappy) prize. But, hey, in kindergarten (back before ipods and cell phones) everything was a cool prize! I remember the forever long bus rides home each day - our stop was near the end. One day I came home and gave my mom a card we had made in school. We were supposed to write something we liked about our parents (or something like that). I put that "my mom is cool because she doesn't get mad or care if I'm dirty." Just my luck, she noticed my hands were pretty dirty, as they usually were, and told me to go wash them.... I'm pretty sure she only said that because she had a visitor over - because, usually, she didn't care.

The Sixth Year - 1985

Kindergarten. Yes, like most five-year-old children I started school. I was in Mrs. Garrett's class.... I think. She died part way through the year and I was pulled from school. In all honesty, I don't recall much of anything about this first year of school, or life for that matter, but I have plenty of engineered memories about how it all went down.

I think I remember sitting in class one morning waiting for the teacher when the principal came in to let us know she wouldn't be coming in - ever. Next thing I knew I was done with school for the year.

I'm not sure when it happened, but I know I used to LOVE the seasons - yes, ALL of them. I know, those of you who know me can't believe I could have ever even tolerated fall, much less winter. But there was a time where winter meant playing in the snow. It used to snow SO much too! One year I remember it being well above my head (engineered memory?). It really did snow a lot more back then. My siblings and I built a snow fort (igloo) in the horse fields by our house one year - a feat which landed us, and our picture in the local news paper... wish I had a clipping of that.

Spring meant lots of rain. We used to get the biggest puddles. The roads (all dirt roads in our neck of Wagon Wheel) would flood and flow like rivers. Somewhere between our house and the "farm" water collected in giant puddles that got so warm in the sun. Throw in mass amounts of mud and *bam* instant boy joy!

Summer. What kid doesn't love summer. There was a HUGE - literally HUGE (several thousand gallon at least) - tank in one of the horse fields near our house. I think it was once an underground gas station tank. Why it was then above ground and in that horse field I'll probably never know. But my cousins and I used to play on it. We had a long board leaned against it that we would climb up. It was in the field next to the "main" road - a road my uncle Karl would drive down looking for kids to work for him... usually wanted us to "plant worms" in or weed his garden. Whenever we saw his truck coming we'd all scurry like cockroaches when the light goes on.

Fall. Halloween and holidays. What more needs to be said. My earliest trick-or-treating memories are actually of us kids going around the neighborhood (walking) and getting home made candies. Everyone in a 5 mile radius was related to me. Literally, grandparents, great aunts and uncles, regular aunts and uncles, and the numberless cousins - I still to this day haven't a clue how many first cousins I have, and that number could be growing still for all I know. My dad's parents almost always gave out home made popcorn balls. My mom's grandparents (yes, my great-grandparents), being Hispanic, gave out cough drops and dried up mini marshmallows.

The Fifth Year - 1984

Between packing up to move, finals next week and starting PT school the week after, these next few posts will be difficult to get through on time.

I remember just as much about 1984 as I do about 1981 - nothing - as far as I know. Most of my younger childhood memories are so jumbled I'm not 100 percent sure what happened when, even with some of the more memorable events.

One thing is certain, I think, my younger brother Andrew was born in 1984. I don't remember his birth, but I remember him - somewhat.





I remember we (my siblings and I) used to push his forehead down and sing the Transformers theme, because it made him look like a Decepticon. Andrew seemed to develop pretty quickly - physically. I think he walked early and he was able to climb out of his wicker bassinet he slept in at a young age too. I wish I had a picture of that thing. We had it for years - long after it was deemed unsafe for any use.

My grandparents (dad's parents) had a "farm" just behind our house (between their place and the construction company). They had pigs turkeys and chickens, maybe a cow? I know there was a goose too, I don't know who owned that, but I know I was afraid of it because it would hiss and try to bite me. As a much younger child, (maybe around this time of my life) I remember going down to the pig pen and catching the piglets and trying to ride the larger pigs with my cousins and siblings.

One year, I remember my uncle Loren (my dad's youngest brother) taking one of the pigs out to kill it for food. He tied it up and shot it with a 22 rifle. Needless to say, it took a few shots and I just remember that pig squealing to no end. My uncle asked me if I wanted to take a shot at it (so I'm guess I was older than four at the time) but I remember being too afraid - as I had never even held a firearm before then, let alone shot one - much less AT something... and even less so, a living thing. I can't say it was a traumatic experience, but I do remember it.

My grandparents also had a large holding area full of feed grain. We used to play in it - it was always full of grasshopper heads and legs (mixed in with the corn). I always wondered how they got in there and why they were there, as an adult, that mystery has been solved.

That "farm" was where I spent a lot of my time getting into trouble (playing in the feed corn, and stealing eggs from the chickens so we could try to cook them on a tin roof) as well as a lot of time paying for that trouble - weeding the garden. That was an endless chore. Back then, each row of corn seemed forever long, now that I think about it, they were pretty short rows. I could probably get through one in a matter of minutes... a task that took all day (if it got done at all) back then.

The Fourth Year - 1983

Growing up in Lakeside - technically it was Wagon Wheel (try and find that on any map) Arizona, had it's advantages and disadvantages. Our back yard was a construction company, and just behind that acres and acres of the worlds largest Ponderous Pine forest. Yes, I did say "construction company - it belonged to my grandpa. It was a company I later spent several summers working for.

As a child, even at three years old, climbing on and around tractor trailers, front end loaders, excavators and dump trucks was next to paradise. The endless forest beyond that was icing on the cake.

Growing up, I always thought my childhood was so hard. Forced to work, and go to work, with my dad every summer and pack wood from a huge pile just beyond our yard to our house every winter. Not to mention dishes duty we've already seen. Now looking back - there's no question about it - my life really was much more difficult than most children's. However, looking back now, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

My dad owned an old blue Datsun pickup, which we loaded up in every summer and went to the forest to gather wood for the winter. Yes, two adults and four children fit in that small pickup... safely?... not really, but we never died so stop judging. Society was different then. It was a time when it was fine to teach your children to work and seat belts were optional. If nothing else, it was family time. I loved that old Datsun. My dad let us sit on his lap and drive (steer) it sometimes. At that age, I never knew how poor we were and I really didn't care. Life seemed fun, even the work.

I AM A SAVERS SHOPPER :/

Ok, lets just get to the point...I bought Ellery some clothes at Savers the other day.  I've always thought of Savers as a place to get ugly disco clothes for Classic Skating, or halloween costumes, or ugly fake prom dresses.  But REAL shopping...I don't think so.  Well Ellery has been needing some new clothes, she is growing so fast!  All her previous clothes are usually from Target or Old Navy.  They have super cute clothes but I just don't think I can afford buying her ANOTHER wardrobe right now.  I figured since she grows out of her cute clothes so fast, I'd try looking at Savers for some cheap used outfits.  I had to search through aisles of smelly clothes and this is what I ended up getting...

3 pairs of shorts, 4 shirts, and 1 ugly fish shirt.  Ellery saw this one and fell in love.  She wouldn't put it down.  It was only $0.90 so I thought what the heck...a new PJ shirt i guess.  It came to a whopping total of $20.22!!  Not bad...So that'll do Savers, that'll do.

The Third Year - 1982

I look back over the last year (2009) and see what Ellery's third year of life was like. Since she was born in April and I was in May, our ages and the seasons (and holidays) correlate pretty closely... but even with that correlation, I struggle to remember anything about my third year.

Not only can I not clearly recall a single memory from my third year of life, I'm pretty sure I would have selected to block them if I had any. This was the year I went from being "the cutest baby in the world," to "Jacob, stop that you're bothering the baby!" Yes, this was the year Quentin was born.


Of course, he didn't come along until September, so I'm guessing I got to enjoy my last summer as the baby of the family. We did a lot of camping back then, and although my dad didn't take us fishing until I was in mid school (I think), Nephi and I tried our hand at it.... don't think we caught anything on this particular attempt.



Halloween 1982 was a good one... well, at least my costume was. They were good times, when a Mexican/White boy could dress as a black spokeswoman for a certain syrup company. Was this MY idea? Regardless... that's when Halloween costumes took more than running to Wal-Mart and buying some crap outfit. I have to admit, although I can't remember it, I'm glad I have a picture of how much my mom put into our costumes!


Looking back through the few pictures I do have (trying to spark a memory) I noticed that my first perm also happened this year, late 1982... that's Quentin in the background. The pictures were taken the same day. Thinking about it, I also recall loving "girl cheese samiches," only to find out they're not made with girls at all. Still, no better companion to a bowl of hot tomato soup!



So few pictures, and even fewer memories.

The Second Year - 1981

They say the first year is always the hardest... maybe that's so in a new business or some other endeavor taken on later in life, but for life itself, I can't help but think the first was probably the easiest - and I made it through mine.

After turning a year old, I would guess I started to get the swing of things a little better. I have no idea when I started walking (or talking) but I'm pretty sure I was perfecting my strut by the summer of 1981. That summer I spent going on camping trips with the family and getting pulled along in a wagon by Tevia.



October brought my first real Halloween experience - as a kitty.


November was a wild month. My first (and only, as far as I know) perm, a new toy backhoe for Nephi and I to share, and plenty of face time with dish duty; a thing I've since spent COUNTLESS hours doing.




The year came and went. If it weren't for the few pictures I have from it, it could have probably never happened and I wouldn't have known any different.

The First Year - 1980

Okay, so I'll be completely honest, I don't remember much of anything from my first year of life, but then who ever does. I'm sure it wasn't all that different from any other child's first year... to some extent. More than anything, it meant another year of less sleep and more dirty diapers for my parents. My older siblings and I are all spaced so closely together, I guess it's not too surprising that my parents took a little bit more of a break after me before having my next younger brother.

The story goes: I was born May 19, 1980 at 11:58 or 59 pm according to my dad's watch, but it was May 20, 1980 12:00 or 12:01 am according to the hospital clock. My parent's were given the choice of day and they picked May 19. I guess they allowed that sort of thing at the Navapache Hospital in Show Low, Arizona back then. I was about six and a half pounds and about 20 or 21 inches long.

I don't have many pictures of me as a baby... in fact, these may be the earliest ones in existence (unless Tevia has one stashed away somewhere). The writing on the back of each of the photos say they were taken in January 1981? (yes, with a question mark). But like I said... who remembers much of their first year anyway.




I'm the youngest one in each photo, in case you couldn't tell.

While The Girls Are Away, The Men Will.... Play???

So, some of you might have wondered what I did with all my "free" time while Millie took the girls down to Arizona... on the other hand, the thought probably never crossed most of your minds.

Well, whether the question tickled your interest or not... here's what I (well, my father-in-law and I) did to pass the time.















At this point, we estimate about 5 tons of rock on that fountain.... all of which was loaded, unloaded and placed by hand.

Doing this fountain was pretty much the final touch to the 2 year remodel of my in-law's kitchen and back yard. There have been a few kinks we've had to work out along the way, but for the most part, not bad for a first attempt by either of us.

It's still not complete but I'll post a final pict when it is.

Ellery's birthday, Easter, and Arizona.

Ellery turned 3 on April 3rd.  We had a party for her at mom and dad's house.  All her cousins left her to be in Arizona, so she was the only kid.  We had yummy hawaiian haystacks, she opened presents, and then had birthday cake and ice cream.  She got totally spoiled with presents this year.  Holy smokes, she got a lot!  Let's see.... crayons, coloring books, Hungry Hippos, Candy Land, Chutes and Ladders, a big doodle pad, puzzles, little doll house, Kerplunk, a bubble blower, 4 dresses, a new swimming suit, new panties, and a Peter Cottontail singing bunny!  She had lots of fun opening her presents and blowing out the candles on her cake.  She actually blew all the candles out on her own!  She's been practicing!

Here is her cake I made.  It's my first attempt with fondant, and tiered. I think it turned out pretty good, although there are a few messy spots. 

 Blowing candles out...

This black dress is from Katie...it's Ellery's favorite!

This one is from my mom and dad....

Also from my mom and dad...

Her aunt Tevia and Risa made this dress!  Aayla got one too!












 Katie, Abbie, Ellery, Aayla and I drove down to Arizona the following day.  We spent Easter in Arizona with my sister Annie and her family.  We watched conference, had an easter egg hunt, ate LOTS of candy, and went swimming!  It was lots of fun. The rest of the week in Arizona we visited the Bret and Tevia family, had dinner there, almost killed their hampster, swam some more, went hiking, visited with my in-laws, ate really spicy Indian food, played at a duck pond, and just enjoyed the warm weather.  It was nice to be down there, but good to come home to Jacob (he didn't come down because of school.)  sorry no pictures.  I forgot my camera and haven't gotten them from my sisters yet.

April Fools!!

Well... I guess we couldn't fool you all, but the reaction we got from Kim (Millie's dad) was good enough, even if not a single other person was fooled... Although, the jury is still out on how serious JoLynn's email response was.

The best thing about Kim's response was he opened it as we were talking about April Fool's jokes and the ones he had been playing at his school all day... then when we had him read our blog (yes we were present for it) he looked like he really was ready to be a grandpa all over again for number 3.... it was classic... wish we had a camera.

Oh well. Hope this new month brings great things to everyone, fools or not!

IUD = FAIL

Now preparing for the arrival of number three.... do you think it's possible to sue for a faulty IUD?