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2003 Get-Together with No Sound

“Wanna see my butterfly playing an xylophone?”
— the kid introduces her latest drawing

Back in 2003 I brought a camcorder to a family get-together and shot some video. I later discovered I’d shot the whole thing with the mic input on zero. That meant no sound at all. Disappointed, I tossed the tape in a box and forgot about it.

While searching around in a closet today I found that old tape. It’s funny how time changes things. When I first shot the video I considered it worthless. Now, eight years later, I feel as if I’ve unearthed a little forgotten treasure. It was a very nice surprise indeed.

Music: “Like Someone in Love” from The Swinging Guitar of Tal Farlow by Tal Farlow.

Cats and Pools and Bikes

“Tell me a story Daddy, but keep your eyes open so I can see them!”
- Lucy getting her sleepy dad to tell her a story

Here are some pics of the kid from the past week. Every time I look at pics like these it always hits me how fast the kid is growing up.

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We had a nice get-together at my mom’s place last weekend. My mom has a neat backyard, with lots of trees and plants, squirrels and birds. The neighborhood cats love it. These pics show one cat in particular who’s always lazing around in the yard. Lucy and her cousins gave the cat rockstar treatment. The cat loved the attention.

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Jill and I had never used this pool before. However, the kid had never been swimming, so we packed up our towels and flip-flops and made the trek. It was actually pretty fun (and very refreshing) so I think we’ll make regular use of the pool until the weather cools.

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I’ve written before about how I like tooling around on weekend mornings while the girls are asleep. Last weekend I hit a few garage sales. My dad took me to lots of flea markets when I was a kid. I loved going, even enough to get up at 7am on a Saturday (that’s pretty early when you’re 8 or 9.) He’d look at old hi-fi equipment while I was on the prowl for comic books.

One of my fondest memories involves my dad getting me a big box of a beat-up comics for $2. I had enough to keep me reading for the whole summer! Talk about heaven.

I think that’s why, to this day I love hitting garage sales, flea markets, and thrift stores. Anyway, at one of the garage sales I hit, I saw a neglected little bicycle. I immediately shifted into flea market mode:

(look at everything except bike; before leaving, look at bike and ask out of curiosity…)

Me: “How much is the bike?”
Seller: “$10.”
Me: (pause) “Would you take $5?”
Seller: “I’d rather have $10.”
Me: “Well, good luck with that!” (interest gone, turn to leave)
Seller: “Howzabout $7?”
Me: “I’ve got my truck right here. I’ll give you $5 and take it off your hands right now. You won’t have to worry about it.”
Seller: “OK. $5.”

My dad would have been proud of me. So I got the bike home, scrubbed a couple of years of grime off, and voila!—the kid has a bike.

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Memorial Day

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My Dad spent over twenty years in the military. During that time, my family did a lot of moving around and life was a series of military posts (Fort Sill, Fort Huachuca, Fort Ord, etc.). When dad was stationed overseas, mom had to take care of the six of us. I see old pictures from that time, celebrations of birthdays and holidays. Dad had to miss many of those special times, and it pained him considerably.

thanksgiving_1968“Tell the kids to write me,” he’d tell my mom. My sister Cindy says he told her to write about everything that each person in the family was doing, because he wanted to feel like he was there.

She remembers dad sending us souvenirs from overseas, including a large spool of orange silk fabric that mom and all the girls made into matching dresses.

My family has lots of stories about that time. They’re full of love and perseverance. However, the best story was that my dad got to come home. Many families never got that happy ending. They got a visit from a stranger instead.

I can’t even contemplate how our lives would have changed had this happened to us. This is a day to give thanks to those who didn’t get to come home.

Dad Story

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My dad’s birthday was on March 30th, so my family has been passing a few memories around via email. Here’s one:

When I was a kid I loved the stories my dad would tell about the subpar (i.e., dangerous, toxic) jobs he held before he joined the army. One in particular I always think about:

Dad got a job at some type of harvesting/cannery plant when he was still FOTB in 1945. There were lots of odd jobs that needed to be done in the day to day running of the place, so he didn’t have a clear idea of what he’d be doing until he actually reported for work.

On the day he arrived for work, he was told to report to the manager in charge of the machines that helped harvest whatever fruits and vegetables were in season. Dad dutifully went to meet the man in charge of the machines.

I can’t remember if it was on a factory floor or in the actual fields (probably the latter) but at some point Dad came across a row of fearsome looking machines. Each machine was a noisy, complicated piece of grease and rusty metal. Each machine also had a group of men assigned to it. Their tasks involved scooping up produce and depositing it into the gaping maw of the machine. As they did this, the machine’s teeth would tear and gnash at whatever they touched.

At the end of the row of machines, a man waved at Dad and motioned him to come over. Dad immediately walked toward him, gliding past each machine as it whirred and chopped. As he walked toward the manager, Dad notice something peculiar about the men tending to the machines. They seemed to be missing an inordinate amount of fingers and limbs.

When Dad finally reached the manager, he extended his hand. The man extended his own, a scarred mitt entirely composed of three fingers jutting out at unnatural angles.

“Good to meet you,” the man yelled over the din of the machines. “Let’s get you on a crew!”

Dad quit the job very soon after and joined the army within a matter of months.