Rex's About Me: 8 Finger Biscuits

I have always been fascinated with woodcarving, carpentry, cabinetmaking, furniture, tools/collecting them. 3 beautiful grown daughters living in other states. Twin grand daughters. Enjoy most outdoor sports. Boating, canoeing, fishing, camping, dutch oven cooking. My blog name is because in 1981 as a journeyman carpenter I lost 2 fingers to a saw. My dutch oven specialty is large buttermilk bisquits. Making them with now only a total of 8 digits, I called them "8fingerbisquits". Why? People remember them, one way or another.

Essay by Rex: January 2003

January 28, 2003. 2:55 PM Pacific Standard Time... 3:55 PM Mountain Standard

I held my cellphone as close to my head as possible without smashing the ear shut. If I was careful, held my head a certain way while plugging the unused ear with a finger, and if no construction workers happened to start a power tool within the next few minutes, I might hear the 'ceremony' take place.

I had about 16 hours notice via phone call from my baby, my 18 year old daughter Heidi, engaged for about 3 months to Nathan, an 18 year old, unemployed Catholic from Missouri. They had decided to move up their wedding day from June to January. Since it is at least a 10 hour drive in the best of conditions and with such short notice, I said I wouldn't be attending. I asked if there was "a bun in the oven." No? Good.
I would say that neither of my other 2 daughters were "overjoyed" at their younger sister's decision ... OR taste. My "ex" who I have nicknamed "Hurricane" for obvious reasons, apparently wasn't too thrilled either. Funny that her whole reason to move to Utah was to be around a better society of people with better standards. Oh, and to get away from me. Amazing that with all the Mormons in town, my daughter picks a Catholic, a backsliding one at that. I did get a bit of satisfaction when I sent Hurricane a rare email saying, "We are reaping what we have sown. Hope you are happy."

I was insulated from all the preliminary ceremonial stuff except for several phone updates from Rachel and ultimately assisting with the funding of the festivities.
There had been a frenzy of activity to pull this 'quickie' off. Getting a license, lining up a Justice of the Peace, going to a few places to get some decorations, refreshments, a cake. This event appeared to have the surprise of an elopement with all the hassles of a real, planned wedding. Just condensed down into several hours' time. Eliminate most of the guest list ... and voila ... two 18 year old kids who don't know a thing about life other than sensing the rage of hormones would soon be "one" in holy matrimony.

At the other end of the call, Rachel, my eldest daughter was pulling double duty by being Maid of Honor and holding the cellphone. If she was close enough to the Justice of the Peace the chances of me "being there" were greatly improved. Of course a mental image would have helped so Rachel served as my "color" commentator.
She said the blessed event, [scheduled for 4:00 PM Mountain Standard Time and taking place on January 28, 2003] was at the Justice's St. George, Utah home in the living room. He was wearing an official looking robe and because of his advanced age was standing in front of his 'walker'.
Those attending were the bride, Heidi, age 18, and the groom, Nathan, age 18 and currently/chronically unemployed. Debbie and Gary Elder, parents of the groom. "Hurricane" Carson, mother of the bride. Others in attendance: Rachel (Maid of Honor) and Aubrey, the bride's sisters. The groom's Best Man, Kaden, age 17 (and thus being a minor, unable to sign the papers as a witness. He HAS been able to 'witness' some hecka cool skateboard tricks done by the groom though.)
Also attending was Christy, the groom's sister and her significant other, Anna. Don't ask. Of the 4 younger adopted siblings of the groom, the two youngest, adolescent girls, were there. The two mid-teen boys are both currently in Detention, a.k.a. Juvenile Hall or they would have gladly attended.
It was like some bad TV commercial where a cellular phone service provider is trying to promote it's service as if "It's almost like being there!" In my head I could almost hear a crappy, upbeat music jingle. I could imagine the TV screen showing 'homey' surroundings, flower arrangements, lot's of smiling faces of family and friends. There would be a general excitement in passing around a phone so everyone can "participate", and a soul satisfying contentment felt by all. A Norman Rockwell moment, really...
Promptly at 4:00 PM the Justice of the Peace began. I could hear a distinguished baritone voice with that southern Utah twang in it. The man had probably performed dozens or hundreds of these ceremonies. Some probably within the walls of the House of the Lord a few blocks away. He spoke the words one normally hears at such informal occasions and offered some counsel and advice.
The "I Do's" were completed, then a kiss. The time was now 4:07 PM. I heard some sniffling sounds and figured it was allergy season in the High Desert. I could tell there was hugging and other stuff going on.
I stood by my tablesaw trying to realize that my youngest daughter was now married and that I was going to take a step back from her life and let her wobble off on her own as if she were on a two wheel bicycle for the first time. Now someone else was at her side.
A bitter disappointment came to mind because I knew I hadn't really been by her side for over 9 years. I wasn't allowed. Even when I really tried to be there in one way or another, obstacles were thrown in front of me. It will take a lifetime to sort it out in my head and heart. I will still try. That is all I can think to do. Only now, she has an additional resource (I sincerely hope) in Nathan. Maybe the two of them will be good for each other.
I was still on the phone listening to a family milestone event that normally is filled with joy, emotion and imprints itself in one's mind for all time. Rachel handed the phone to Heidi and I congratulated her and told her I loved her. She told me she was so happy and that she loved me too. I knew she meant it because for over nine years I had not heard it from her. For over nine years when I would say it to her upon a departure or at the end of a phone call, there was no response, in kind. For most of those years even getting her to come to the phone was near impossible. When they announced their engagement in late September we had a long chat and she finally said it. Since she waited so long I knew it was not a phrase she just tossed around lightly.
Later there was a small reception at the "House that Hurricane Built." In addition to those already mentioned, Heidi's Grandparents showed up and a couple other friends. Rachel told me later that she saw Nathan's sister Christy and her significant other, Anna in a quick "lip lock" on the couch at the reception at Hurricane's house. Ah, romance is in the air...
Nothing like a wedding to make everyone all mushy inside ... and especially so close to St. Valentine's Day.

Rachel suggested an ending to this essay and I thought it was perfect.

"Blank VHS tape: $3.00
Bouquet of fresh daisies: $25.00
Refreshments for 20: $76.00
Cake: $35.00
One Night Honeymoon including a Personal Chef: $185.00
Knowing your 18 year old daughter isn't pregnant and getting married anyway: PRICELESS.

From the Horse's Mouth....

Got a text (or seven) from Dad today:

Yeah, it's weird to wake up at 3am with my oxygen up on my forehead. I didn't adjust it back. Woke up again at 6am still no oxygen. None at all today. Waiting to see. Is it me adjusting to the increase of Lasix diuretic? That old idea of ...'hey, if some is good, more is better.' ??

(I asked if he increased the diuretic himself or if the doctor/hospice nurse suggested it.)

I increased it myself but it was mentioned that it could be done without any trouble. I decided to give it a try. Fluid retention seemed to be the 'problem' anyway. I'm looking for some relief from enlarged abdomen on the right side. It pushes my pants down, and with the wieght loss, there's no butt to help hold pants up. So, the next step is suspenders or overalls again. Still no oxygean as of 6:30pm but laying back makes me consider it.

Essay by Rex: February 2003

Midweek my parents came to town to have lunch and asked me to meet them there. Seems my Dad had watched so many TV commercials about "baby back ribs" he couldn't deny himself any longer. I knew I was going to be a bit late so I asked Mom to order me a large salad.

Oh, Pah-leeeze...

Don't think I've gone "gay" or anything by ordering a salad ... but since I have almost no ability to taste food resulting from the recent radiation treatments, there's no sense in me ordering something I ...WISH... I could enjoy.



There is a 10 year age difference between my parents. My dad is a bent, shriveled old geezer with a collection of canes, crutches, wheelchairs and electric scooters. He is staring at being 80 in a couple of years. His decrepit appearance matches his overall sour attitude and selfish outlook on life. I know him to have taken a rather casual approach to being a provider during the productive years. He has a very bad heart condition now which prevents him from 'tinkering' like he used to but allows him to fine tune the art of napping.

My Mom, on the other hand is an energetic, outgoing, fun woman who's nearing 70. There is no doubt who has put forth all the effort and made the marriage work all these years. She still takes good care of the ol' man but she works as a nurse just to get out of the house. Sort of a work release program during her life sentence.

At the end of our meal, my Mom excused herself to go to the Ladies Room. My Dad, who sometimes seems to be "losin' it, upstairs", leaned over to me and asked,

"Is her birthday this month or next month?" Hmm... A vague flicker of memory.

"It was LAST MONTH." I answered. I had reminded him of that fact once or twice before the actual date hoping on an outside chance, he would surprise her with some thoughtful gift or dinner out.

"Oh. Well... I guess I don't have to do anything then.", he said. He then changed the subject to his latest car trouble woes.

Forty-nine years, eleven months and about 20 days ago they had married in front of a Justice of the Peace. I came along 16 months later.

My siblings and I were planning a surprise Golden Wedding Anniversary celebration for the following Sunday. Lots of guests, lots of refreshments, lots of running errands and making calls. My sister, her husband and my brother were doing most of the set up. We, in fact, were doing it for Mom. Fifty years together and my Mom should be given some sort of Gold Medal for putting up with this incredibly thoughtless 'hump' I was sitting beside. He's my Dad and I love him but 49 and a half of those years should be credited to my Mom for reaching the milestone.



All three of my daughters came from Utah for the occasion and my youngest daughter brought her new acquisition... a husband, along. This was going to be a chance for me to get to know this kid that I am trying to learn to call a 'son-in-law'. He is 18, unemployed and still wet behind the ears, so I had yet to be sold on him as a "keeper".

If he was just a boyfriend, I would have crossed my fingers and pray my daughter would be fickle and soon lose interest in him. Maybe she would wait and find some guy with some "sand". A young guy with some substance. Maybe a guy who was in an apprenticeship program somewhere, or the military, or maybe going to college. But, all that wishing and hoping evaporated when she chose to marry him. On short notice.

Lowell Slade tried to comfort me by saying that I didn't have to live with him, SHE did. I really pondered those words ... looking everywhere for even a scrap of comfort.

Rick Fairbanks and I were considering our daughters and their futures once when he said something to the effect that it seemed singularly important that a young man who married a daughter should be considerate and treat her well, above all else. Not an earth shattering conclusion to arrive at but a significant, vital point to keep in mind.



I had a couple of conversations by phone with my new 'son-in-law' early on about him applying himself, working at any available job to discover what he really enjoyed doing which could turn into a career. I wasn't sure how much headway I made.

When I was 18, I was working 60 hours a week at an asbestos plant, saving money for a 2 year mission for my church. I didn't marry until I was 25 and a journeyman carpenter. I held off mentioning that I had walked to school everyday of my youth in waist deep snow, uphill, both ways. Figured I'd save the tough luck stories and other good stuff for later.

While the girls and Nathan were here in town I showed them around, taking in the sights of Modesto and it's surroundings. A trip to San Francisco and Fisherman's Wharf was a highlight. At one point, my cellphone rang and the call was Nathan's Mom in St. George. I handed over the phone and wandered off to look at something. A couple of minutes later I returned to see tears running down Heidi's face as she leaned toward Nathan who was still on the phone. She was really upset. He looked a bit concerned at what he was learning from the phone call. I asked what the problem was and heard Heidi's dog had been hit by a car earlier that day. The call ended and I saw Nathan filling Heidi in on the details.

What I saw next was something which elevated my opinion of this goofy 18 year old 'son-in-law'. He put his arms around Heidi and was comforting her and letting her know the dog would be all right inspite of a trip to the Vet and the loss of two toes on one paw. He helped wipe her tears with a napkin from the lunch we had eaten.

He could have acted like a Mr. Tough-Guy, say it was just a dog and brush off Heidi's concerns. Or, be like me and start griping about a Vet bill awaiting them upon their return, but he didn't. He briefly let us know what was going on and then focused on his wife and her fears.

Heck, maybe he is a 'Keeper'.

Letter from Dad: February 2005

Well Girls,
It's Sunday evening, I'm at Fairbanks and it has been quite a day!
At 6:30 this morning, someone stole my diesel van from in front of my
shop (the old shop). I heard it start up and they , he or whoever...
drove away just as I was running out the door with my 9mm locked and
loaded. I saw the rear of the van go around the corner of the building.
If I'd been even 5 seconds faster, I'd have been able to drill a couple
of holes in my van just for the fun of it. Or maybe even give the thief
something to remember me by. Anyway, I called 911 on the pay phone up by
the sandwich shop since my cell phone was out of charge. The sheriff's
Office located the van a couple hours later and had it towed. I won't get
to see what was stolen out of it until tomorrow. I'll have to pay $175
for the tow which was only a couple miles but being the victim of a theft
is only the beginning of victimization, I've learned. The thief nails you
then the law cause some grief with tow fees and paperwork. Lastly,
insurance usually gouges you after the fact some how. That is before I
even begin to learn about all the things missing. That is always a long
slow process. Well, I love all 3 of you. Take care and when I get my phone
charged up and can be in contact with you each, I will. Happy Valentine's
Day! I was going to try to send something to each of you but now the funds
will have to go to get my van out of the storage compound. Aubrey, I'll
write you. And will hopefully chat with Rachel and HEidi on the phone soon.
I go to UC Davis on Wednesday at 2PM. Gma may go along. Love you.
Later, dAd