Rex Liked: Meridian Magazine Article, August 2005

Click here: Meridian Magazine :: Articles : Making the Grade: Study Pointers for LDS Students

Dear Girls,
I thought that this guys approach to "learning" was very interesting. His story about being just an average student in high school rang a bell with me.

I know my mind is capable of much more than I make it do.

His story is encouraging that I can improve my mind and my way of learning and digesting knowledge.

There are 4 or 5 more parts to this article which will be on this website over the next few days. I hope this strikes you as something worth pursuing and looking into. At age 51 I see how much more I could have done (or learned) if I had just attempted to stretch myself. I also see that those who learn how to "learn", end up making more money and that as you well know, is BETTER than making or having less money. Knowledge opens more opportunities, for sure.

D&C 130:18 - Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection.
v.19 - And if a person gains more knowledge and intelligence in this life through his diligence and obedience than another, he will have so much the advantage in the world to come.
v.20 and 21 are also very interesting.


I love you girls more than you will ever know,

dAd

Rex the Pack-Rat: Yahoo Answers

Question asked: What foods should I get rid of in a pantry moth infestation?

Answer by McBrex:

Sometimes, the idea of throwing otherwise usable food away seems wasteful. Especially if you are looking at large quantities. You certainly do need to get things under control. After the cleaning of the cabinetry, I've had good luck with re-packaging the items then freezing for fairly long periods of time in the deep freeze. If there's room, that is. The freezing process will end most life cycles. Gross as it may seem, you can still use many grain based products unless you allow the "Princess Factor" to stay in your head. If you are too queasy about it and the idea of minor issues with insects being in your food is repulsive, that's your call. There are some things I'll just decide I can tolerate. But then I'm a bachelor. There's probably impurities or bugs in it we couldn't see anyway when we brought it home from the store.

Rex the Scout: November 2005

Sent: Sat 11/12/05 1:59 PM
To: idispatch4911

Rado, Seeing your California pix brought back memories of a fun few days. Just wasn't long enough for me.

We (Rick F., Floyd S., Craig E. and I) took the Scouts and our bikes to San Francisco. The Tiberon Ferry floated us over to Angel Island where we rode the bikes around the island, about a 4 or 5 mile loop. It's an old military location from the beginning of the Civil War. Now it's a state park. Floyd and I pushed our bikes about a 1/3 of the way. I took some pictures on a funky throw-away camera. Haven't taken the whole roll yet. These cameras are a big disappointment after using digital stuff.

Craig pedaled the entire ride on a 3 speed bike! He has been using a exercycle in his house daily. Rick is 47, Floyd is 47, Craig is 48... and my excuse is that I'm 51! I also used the "cancer-death-bed" excuse too, ha!

This next weekend the Scouts are going on a 15 mile bike ride/campout. We'll camp at Caswell State Park in Ripon and ride our bikes from there to Modesto (Dale Rd. Chapel). Early next month we'll try crabbing at Dillon Beach if I have my steering on the boat fixed. Have all the parts, just need to spend the time now that my energy is coming back a little.

I'm here at Gma's and was going to change a few tires but gave it up. I miscalculated on tire size for the Mercedes. Hope things are going well for you and Heidi.

Love, dAd

Essay by Rex: August 2004

The Lumps...

I first noticed it in the shower in 1993 while performing the normal exploratory functions with a sudsy washcloth and a spray of water. That walnut sized lump in the right armpit was an instant attention getter. I knew it was more than an ingrown hair because it appeared to be deeper, larger and closer to the upper ribcage. It was firm and there was no soreness. It was something that I'd keep track of almost subconsciously afterwards like one might keep checking a chipped tooth or an ugly hair growing out of a mole on one's face.

I even had Hurricane feel the lump. Hey, she was a registered nurse and certainly more familiar with the anatomy than I was. For all I knew it was a collection of old pizza stored in a humongous fat cell. Her advice was to have a doctor check it out. Good advice from someone who hadn't as yet earned the nickname I would later give her.

My visit with the surgeon, who was also head of the large medical group next to the large medical center in town was less than I expected. A quick exam by him and he said I shouldn't worry about it. If it bothered me, he was willing to remove it. At the time I did not see it as a threat although I was having some strength, muscle control and numbness problems with that arm and shoulder. Two years later, in 1995, the two symptoms would be linked by two surgeries performed within 3 weeks of each other. That first surgeon's casual lack of concern for the lump would become a costly oversight. To me, not him.

Anyway, I figured if he wasn't worried, then I shouldn't be worried. I equated it with me being at his house on a home repair call. If I advised him to get the dry rot fixed ... he would consider it. If I said not to worry, that it appeared to be dormant or already treated and under control somehow, then maybe he wouldn't worry. ( Maybe the analogy doesn't work but I tried.)

Note: I don't mean for this to be a "lump by lump" description of my medical history ... like a sports announcer describes the back and forth pounding two boxers dish out on each other. I really am trying to set up an experience that took place last year which rattled my comfort zones and someone else's.

During 2001, another lump started ... in my throat this time, below the jaw line, left side. Pea sized at first, I grew a beard to hide it as it got visibly noticeable. Dumb, You say? You're probably right.

There was no money for health insurance as I was dealing with the District Attorney's Family Support Division office who didn't like deadbeats to get behind in child support. Stiff penalties are meted out to those who mock the system or genuinely don't have the kind of money coming in to support two separate households. I know this through experience.

The summer of 2002 my employer offered me medical coverage which I jumped at. After locating a good primary care physician (PCP) that autumn, I was set up with a surgeon to do a biopsy, labs and eventually my PCP referred me to the oncologist. Radiation followed over the holidays of 2002/2003. Then it was "sit and wait" to see if the diagnosed lymphoma would respond.

As you might imagine, I had by this time begun to equate "lumps" as being ... problematic, ...prone to painful procedures ... and costly. I tried to be aware of any new lumps that might show up. Last year one did and I was not thrilled with it's location.

Setting up an appointment with one's PCP isn't difficult until the young lady on the phone starts asking too specific questions about the reason for making the appointment.

"Well, uh, I've located another lump." Now she doesn't know me from any other male caller she's dealt with that day but gives me a day and time.

Once in the exam room, days later, the anxiety is ramped up a bit. A nurse takes the vitals and asks what I am seeing the doctor for.

"A lump. I have a history of them."

"Where is it?"

"Uhhh, the...uh... (my high school biology and anatomy terminology is a bit rusty) ...the scrotum."

She makes a note, quickly mentions the doctor will be right in and leaves. I am not anymore comfortable when Dr. Yee comes in, asks the reason for the visit, and asks me to drop my pants to check things out. I jokingly tell him it seems that I have gained another 'family jewel'. The rubber gloves go on and he says that considering my history, this needs to be checked out by a sonogram at the hospital. He would set one up. He asks if I've had a prostate exam lately, plunging me into a near state of panic which I tried not to show.

"Nope. Never had one". I was just about to turn 49.

He said "Let's do it." Apparently I hesitated because he asked if I wanted to think about it a little. I really did want to get the heck out of there but had already passed thru a couple levels of comfort zones. Refusing ... and having to go thru this again just to be probed seemed dumb. After all, I had showered before coming, Mom would be proud that I was wearing clean underwear, and at the moment they were around my ankles anyway ... Go for it.

Assuming the position, I was surprised that there was no foreplay but, in retrospect, didn't know what foreplay might consist of during such a procedure. He said it felt fine. I said that was only his opinion, not mine. He said to be glad he didn't have larger fingers. I was just glad it was over but for the rest of the day it felt like I'd been in to Quik Lube for their $49 oil change and lube job special.

Arriving at the hospital for the sonogram had me a bit stressed. I had also heard the word 'ultrasound'. Someone was gonna be checking out "my boys" with a machine I was unfamiliar with ... and taking pictures besides. Sure, the machine had been rolled around on my wife's belly during pregnancies but that was a much bigger target. The procedure never did show a little guy with a 'johnson' in those pictures. I had fathered all daughters. I was also worried about just how photogenic I might be.

My name was called after signing in and I began following a cute little brunette, 27ish with very long hair, down the halls towards wherever this was going to take place.

"Hi, my name is Kiersten." followed by a bit of small talk. The small talk was hers, not mine. I was busy passing thru mental comfort zones as we walked. Some doctor guy would soon be taking my picture and it wasn't going to be a "glamour shot" either.

She looked at the clipboard and said "Ok, we are going to be taking an ultrasound of your....... skuh......(a pause)... skuh...rotum." All I could say was "You?" Now, if this had been a blind date I'd be thrilled, but it wasn't ... and I wasn't. Apparently she wasn't either.

She was very professional as she reviewed with me the steps of the procedure about to be done, maybe for her own benefit as well as mine. Neither of us really wanted to be there at that moment.

The machine was turned on and there was a blanket of sorts for modesty. She produced some towels and a lubricating gel, warmed for comfort. Awkward attempts were made to let her have the best angle with the handheld scanner being rolled over my privates. My focus was to think very generic thoughts and not react to stimulation. I succeeded in spite of everything mentioned.

After about 10 minutes of searching for the '3rd jewel' she admitted she wasn't having any luck and it wasn't showing up on the monitor. I said it tended to make itself more available when I was standing rather than lying down. This was a problem. She then asked if I "could find it" and help her to locate it. So now my hand, her hand, warm lubricant and a wand thingy was down there. The comfort zones whipped by like traffic signs on a freeway.

Eventually, it appeared on the monitor and she was getting the pictures. She then said a doctor or someone else should look at this. 'No snickering' was a request I thought to myself. She left and soon a tech guy or doctor type with a white smock came in, studied the monitor a couple minutes and said they'd better try to get some color pictures of what they were seeing. I think to myself "they can do that? take color pictures? I couldn't imagine. Maybe I misunderstood. They both left... (for some instamatic film from Walmart perhaps?) Then she came back in to finish up the new series of pictures.

She offered me the towels and apologized for the mess she made. By that time I'd been celibate for almost ten years and I may have forgotten some things. To break the tension ... an "R" rated question popped into my mind. "Did we just have sex?" ...Gosh, I'm glad I didn't ask it out loud.

I've been writing these experiences partly for my own therapeutic reasons, maybe to gripe or to vent. Sometimes to just to enjoy laughs with those who read them. I also wish to offer these experiences to educate readers of the challenges one may go thru in the grind of medical procedures. A diagnosis may take many return trips to a doctor who will order tests before something might be found. Keep after it.

A casual conversation with Craig Ewert once re: 'lumps' and the one he found is something to get checked out. He did and I'm glad for his sake and for that of his family.

My advice is to take any lump you may find or other symptom seriously. Also, in my case a second initial opinion may have saved me a lot of grief or at least gotten me an earlier diagnosis.

Something else which may have aided me and the doctors in finding lumps sooner would be to watch your weight. If you get too portly, the lumps from consuming pizza, burgers, that late night dish of spumoni ice cream ... or even your wife's RS homemaking night inspired good cooking may hide that lump that isn't merely a fatty tissue deposit. (Whew, sorry for the long sentence.)

Now that my diagnosis has been fine tuned a bit from Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma in general to Mantle Cell Lymphoma I told my oldest daughter Rachel just what I had. She did a search on Google and called me back a day later giving me a few details of what it was. She was not very cheery about it but we had a good conversation. One of those daddy/daughter conversations that I cherish. That night I looked at 2 or 3 websites dedicated to MCL. It came close to crushing my positive outlook on the treatments.

My doctor has not mentioned anything like how much time is left but early on he said people live for years with this condition. That would be comforting except for the fact that I already have been living with it for years. More or less since '93. Just where on the timeline am I?

I will say that the treatments are most unpleasant but I can deal with them. The increase of swelling in different areas is distressing. Painful. This disease will eventually get me, I guess. Everyone dies from something. I know that my attitude and the faith and prayers of my friends and family will sustain me for however long I'm supposed to be here. Only Heavenly Father knows how many more years of Scouting I am going to see. Or if I'll live to see grandchildren. How many buckets of KFC I will get to buy or the number of worms I'll drown not catching fish.

I have all the confidence anyone can have in my doctor, Dr. Mehdi. A really great, kind man. Eventually, relying on medicine though, is a bit like relying on "the arm of flesh" isn't it? Any thoughts?

I have not been writing much in the past months. I am not in a concise groove of wordy expression yet. I promise to be more brief. I really need to get back to chronicling all the cranky nurses I get to contend with. All these treatments expose me to plenty. Somehow I just bring it out in nurses. Dr. Mehdi put me in the hospital for 5 days the last week of July. The nurses outvoted him and decided I should leave after 4 days. I couldn't have agreed more.

Rex H. McBride

Sunday, Aug. 8, 2004

Dad's Testimony - Sent May 2005

Dear Rachel, Aubrey and Heidi,

Hi girls,

It's getting late Sunday evening and I'm pretty tired of deleting junk email.

I just wanted to tell each of you girls before I go into this next 2 months of medical unpleasantness that I really love each of you. You each have talents and strengths I admire. Each of you are good people, fun to be around, with much to offer others. You each are a credit to society and to the McBride and Carson families. I'm proud that each of you is striking out on your own to live life, develop your talents and skills and be more rounded personalities. You'll each have challenges ahead but that's what makes life interesting.

I've often wished we could have grown up closer together, had a more gospel based family life and that we'd have logged many more hours, days and years of experiences together by now. This has been a gnawing regret in my life and really don't know where I could have done things differently under the circumstances we faced (except to have been a better example of what a husband, dad and a priesthood holder should be). I have always wanted to be closer to each of you. You each should have had better. My hope is that what you've been through will not sour you too much as you face the challenges of adulthood. I'm proud that each of you will watch out for each other.

I go into these medical procedures buoyed by the strength I feel from each of you. It may be a bit selfish but I want many more memories with each of you, individually and together. I go into the UC Davis Medical Center willing to face all they can throw at me ... and more, if necessary to be able to see you girls farther into your adult years.

If, though for some reason things don't come out the way we expect, I must say this one thing. There were a couple of things I did correctly in relation to you. Your Mom and I saw to it that you were blessed and given names as infants in the Lord's Church by proper priesthood authority. I entered the waters of baptism with each of you and used my priesthood authority to perform that most sacred of saving ordinances. It is so critically important an ordinance that even Jesus, the most perfect person to ever walk the face of this earth sought out someone with the proper priesthood authority (John the Baptist) and submitted himself to be baptized. Any question or doubt how important the ordinance is?

I laid my hands on each of your heads and confirmed you each members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. You were each given the gift of the Holy Ghost, a gift to use as you see fit. Live by the gospel teachings and the gift will be a great blessing in your lives. Your conscience is the "Light of Christ" mentioned in the scriptures. Ignore it and the gift will fade away little by little. But, if you call upon it, it can be a help and a companion to you in times of making personal decisions or even in times of danger. Nurture it as if you would nurture a seed to grow and it will be a guide and bloom into something of great worth throughout your lives. These ordinances were the best things I could have helped you to experience. They were not gifts I could offer to you myself. I have no power myself except that I was ordained to be able to do these things by the power of the Holy Priesthood.

Heidi mentioned once that she could barely remember the experience of baptism and so felt it had little meaning for her. She has a good point, and it is a fair and understandable observation. I happen to remember mine because I was 14 and a half when I was baptized.

At the age of eight it could be very easy to be just doing what the family considered acceptable. As your parents, we should have helped Heidi (or each of you) to better appreciate what she was going to experience. That she was baptized at 8 years old and the divorce took place when she was 9 years old tells us that other stresses were on each of us and we perhaps "dropped the ball" in guiding her at a critical time.

We all got "beat up" in the divorce in one way or another. It does not however make Heidi's baptism or anyone else's less valid. Each of us still has the responsibility to guard our membership in the Lord's Church by living the Commandments to the best of our ability. We all will stumble and we all can resolve to do better. It's part of the repentence process.

You've heard these words before but they are nevertheless just as true. There is a true church on the earth. A church that is guided and organized the way Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ would have it done. Joseph Smith was, and is the prophet who was the Savior's representantive on earth to do the job.

There is a man living today who serves us as the current prophet for our times. Gordon B. Hinckley.

If we keep an ear to the Lord's prophet today, we can be assured of not being lead astray from the critically important things in this life.

The Book of Mormon is a true record of a people who lived centuries ago on this American continent. It is a record of God's dealings and teachings to these ancient people through prophets who left their words and testimonies for us to consider. If you have any doubt about whether the Book is factual, you are offered a promise and challenge to find out for yourselves of it's truthfulness. I've accepted Moroni's challenge (Moroni 10:3-5) many years ago and know for myself. I may not be the best example of how to live a righteous life but I know it's true.

I challenge each of you girls to become familiar with the Book of Mormon. Take Moroni at his word and find out for yourselves what all the commotion is about. It's either true or it's not. If it's not, if all this true church stuff is a lie, Heavenly Father will warn you off such a crazy book. If it is true, (and you find this out by reading, pondering and praying to find out) it will be the most important discovery in your entire lives.

Love always,

dAd

A Tale of Six Boys

Hi Girls,
This is an interesting story. Gpa McBride also fought on the island of Iwo Jima in February and March of 1945. The battle lasted about six weeks including the "mop up" (rooting out the last of the Japanese soldiers hidden in tunnels and foxholes after the main fighting was over).
He told me once that he was not close by as the flag was raised because his unit was fighting farther away from that location. But, he told me he was able to look over and see that the flag had been raised. He had been busy doing his own fighting with his unit. He did see it after it was up.
Think about it ... Gpa was in close proximity to one of the most historic events of the battle. He was 19 years old and wouldn't turn 20 for another 7 months. He had already been in the Marines since he was 17.
Both of your Grandfathers experienced amazing challenges as young men.
I know they love each of you in their own way of being able to express those feelings.
I hope that each of you girls know that I love you. You don't know how much that is because it is hard to place a "quantitative value" (ability to measure) of how much I love you. Just know that I do. I wish there was a way to express it in such a way you might be able to see or know.
I'm proud of each of you for your accomplishments. I'm proud of you for your potential. I'm proud of you for just being the enjoyable and interesting personalities that make up your ... "you".

Love you,

dAd

A Tale Of Six Boys

Each year I am hired to go to Washington, DC, with the eighth grade class from Clinton, WI. where I grew up, to videotape their trip. I greatly enjoy visiting our nation's capitol, and each year I take some special memories back with me. This fall's trip was especially memorable.
On the last night of our trip, we stopped at the Iwo Jima memorial. This memorial is the largest bronze statue in the world and depicts one of the most famous photographs in history -- that of the six brave soldiers raising the American Flag at the top of a rocky hill on the island of Iwo Jima, Japan, during WW II.
Over one hundred students and chaperones piled off the buses and headed towards the memorial. I noticed a solitary figure at the base of the statue, and as I got closer he asked, "Where are you guys from?"
I told him that we were from Wisconsin. "Hey, I'm a cheese head, too! Come gather around, Cheese heads, and I will tell you a story."
(James Bradley just happened to be in Washington, DC, to speak at the memorial the following day. He was there that night to say good night to his dad, who has since passed away. He was just about to leave when he saw the buses pull up. I videotaped him as he spoke to us, and received his permission to share what he said from my videotape. It is one thing to tour the incredible monuments filled with history in Washington, D.C., but it is quite another to get the kind of insight we received that night).
When all had gathered around, he reverently began to speak. (Here are his words that night).
"My name is James Bradley and I'm from Antigo, Wisconsin. My dad is on that statue, and I just wrote a book called "Flags of Our Fathers" which is #5 on the New York Times Best Seller list right now. It is the story of the six boys you see behind me.
"Six boys raised the flag. The first guy putting the pole in the ground is Harlon Block. Harlon was an all-state football player. He enlisted in the Marine Corps with all the senior members of his football team. They were off to play another type of game. A game called "War." But it didn't turn out to be a game.
Harlon, at the age of 21, died with his intestines in his hands. I don't say that to gross you out, I say that because there are generals who stand in front of this statue and talk about the glory of war. You guys need to know that most of the boys in Iwo Jima were 17, 18, and 19 years old.
(He pointed to the statue) "You see this next guy? That's Rene Gagnon from New Hampshire. If you took Rene's helmet off at the moment this photo was taken and looked in the webbing of that helmet, you would find a photograph. ...a photograph of his girlfriend. Rene put that in there for protection because he was scared. He was 18 years old. Boys won the battle of Iwo Jima. Boys. Not old men.
"The next guy here, the third guy in this tableau, was Sergeant Mike Strank Mike is my hero. He was the hero of all these guys. They called him the "old man" because he was so old. He was already 24. When Mike would motivate his boys in training camp, he didn't say, 'Let's go kill some Japanese' or 'Let's die for our country.' He knew he was talking to little boys. Instead he would say, 'You do what I say, and I'll get you home to your mothers.'
"The last guy on this side of the statue is Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian from Arizona. Ira Hayes walked off Iwo Jima. He went into the White House with my dad. President Truman told him, 'You're a hero.' He told reporters, 'How can I feel like a hero when 250 of my buddies hit the island with me and only 27 of us walked off alive?' So you take your class at school, 250 of you spending a year together having fun, doing everything together. Then all 250 of you hit the beach, but only 27 of your classmates walk off alive. That was Ira Hayes. He had images of horror in his mind. Ira Hayes died dead drunk, face down at the age of 32. ...ten years after this picture was taken.
"The next guy, going around the statue, is Franklin Sousley from Hilltop, Kentucky. A fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. Franklin died on Iwo Jima at the age of 19. When the telegram came to tell his mother that he was dead, it went to the Hilltop General Store. A barefoot boy ran that telegram up to his mother's farm. The neighbors could hear her scream all night and into the morning. The neighbors lived a quarter of a mile away.
"The next guy, as we continue to go around the statue, is my dad, John Bradley from Antigo, Wisconsin, where I was raised. My dad lived until 1994, but he would never give interviews. When Walter Cronkite's producers, or the New York Times would call, we were trained as little kids to say, 'No, I'm sorry, sir, my dad's not here. He is in Canada fishing. No, there is no phone there, sir. No, we don't know when he is coming back.' My dad never fished or even went to Canada. Usually, he was sitting there right at the table eating his Campbell's soup. But we had to tell the press that he was out fishing. He didn't want to talk to the press.
"You see, my dad didn't see himself as a hero. Everyone thinks these guys are heroes, 'cause they are in a photo and on a monument. My dad knew better. He was a medic. John Bradley from Wisconsin was a caregiver. In Iwo Jima he probably held over 200 boys as they died. And when boys died in Iwo Jima, they writhed and screamed in pain.
"When I was a little boy, my third grade teacher told me that my dad was a hero. When I went home and told my dad that, he looked at me and said, 'I want you always to remember that the heroes of Iwo Jima are the guys who did not come back. Did NOT come back.'
"So that's the story about six nice young boys. Three died on Iwo Jima, and three came back as national heroes. Overall, 7,000 boys died on Iwo Jima in the worst battle in the history of the Marine Corps. My voice is giving out, so I will end here. Thank you for your time."
Suddenly, the monument wasn't just a big old piece of metal with a flag sticking out of the top. It came to life before our eyes with the heartfelt words of a son who did indeed have a father who was a hero. Maybe not a hero for the reasons most people would believe, but a hero nonetheless.
We need to remember that God created this vast and glorious world for us to live in, freely, but also at great sacrifice. Let us never forget from the Revolutionary War to the Gulf War and all the wars in-between that sacrifice was made for our freedom. Remember to pray praises for this great country of ours and also pray for those still in murderous unrest around the world. STOP and THANK GOD for being alive and being free because of someone else's sacrifice.
REMINDER: Every day that you wake up FREE, is a Great Day

Rex the Gardener: Yahoo Answers

I recently found this answer Dad wrote for a question someone asked on Yahoo Answers about saving tomato seeds to plant for the next season. I found it interesting.

Written in 2008

Question: Is it possible to save tomato seeds for later planting?

Answer by McBrex:

Yes, I've done this. Saved some seeds from tomatoes I've especially enjoyed the flavor, texture, or size of. I've done this even from restaurants. I'll simply wrap some seeds up in a paper napkin, writing basic info on the who, what, where, when characteristics of the fruit and put it in a zip lock bag. Then keep it with my other seeds and garden supplies. If the tomato is an old standard variety, sometimes known as an "heirloom" you should have success. If the tomato is of a hybrid variety, you will be disappointed. The plant will grow... it may bloom... and even bear fruit but chances are the tomato will be different from what you remember the dining experience being. You will have invested a lot of time, energy and garden space for not much of a payoff. Whole cherry or plum sized, salad bar varieties have worked for me. One variety I loved would grow as a volunteer every year in my garden. It would just be in a different spot, where ever the seeds had ended up during fall clean up. I'd have to keep an eye out for the little plants while prepping the soil each spring.

At my craziest, I had 30 tomato plants growing, several varieties. After a while my neighbors didn't even want to answer their door because I was giving away bags full. You may be bordering on being a nut... like me about gardening.

Information Source(s):

Sites? Well, my garden sites at my various homes over the last 54 years. Credit or blame goes to my mom who, in her mid 70s still needs to "garden" every year. She made me help in the garden as a kid. Guess I caught the bug from her. I still have to help her which is fun. Then there's my own garden if there's time and also help my grown oldest daughter who is a gardening nut when not caring for her one year old twin daughters. Her husband doesn't speak 'garden' like some of us.

Letter From Dad: Favorite Movies and Haircuts (January 2003)

Hey. I saw an ad on TV at the Wandviks last night. TNT channel... whatever that is. Ted Turner? A new (made for TV) movie spread over 3 nights...

"from the makers of LONESOME DOVE"

Starring...

Tom Selleck, Isabella Rossilini......... then one of the Wandvik kids screamed and I took my eyes off the screen. Never did see or hear the name of it. But the Cowboy Western flavor of the ad was intriguing. Check out if you can find it.

Your Mom always liked Tom Selleck in Magnum P.I. ........Hence, that is why when I was asked 'how I wanted my hair?' by whomever was cutting my hair, my response was to make it look like Tom Selleck. It never worked.
Why is it that when a female went in and asked for a Princess Di, or a Jennifer Aniston cut or whoever is the current trend of the week ... THAT is what they get. By the way, just what IS the current trend?

Back in the day, during the married years, I'd ask for a "Tom" and all I get is a stare. Even now, younger hairstylists just ask "Who?" Explaining 'who' Magnum P.I. was, becomes a problem for most hairbabes mid 20s or younger. Don't these gum chewing, tattooed, over-coiffed, over-pierced, and sometimes over fed 'professional' mallrat hairstylists ever watch daytime TV? I know Magnum is still on somewhere. I know he is more "OUT" than Hootie and the Blowfish but just who is "in" these days? Enrique Iglesias? Is he in? Ricky Martin? Him? Tom Cruise? I don't even get a "Tom" Cruise haircut offered to me.

Would I get a better cut if I asked for a BRAD PITT? Then, would my guy friends come up to me at the construction site and say "Oh, you got a Brad cut. It looks dreamy." ....I DON'T THINK SO.

I guess I should be just glad that my hair is shorter when they are done with me, and that I'm not bleeding anywhere.

whoa..... sorry Rachel... I almost went off on a tangent. It's good that I caught myself before doing any real harm.
Better close and say I love you. (and your sisters too)

dAd

To Dadio, Love #3

Dear Dadio,

I’ve been meaning to call. I miss you. It’s been too long since I heard your laugh. I think I forget how it sounds. I miss making you laugh.

I get so mad sometimes, people bringing you up in conversation and reminding me that you’re gone. The pain of remembering you died is unbearable, so I prefer to think, man, it’s been too long since I’ve called Dad. I should call him, pick his brain about something, ask him about that one thing, listen to his stories I’ve heard 1,000 times and still laugh just as hard as I would if it were the first time.

I feel like I’m rambling. I don’t know what else to do. My thoughts aren’t as organized as they would be if this were a paper for school. Emotions flood my heart, knot my stomach and tighten my throat. There is no way to process them.

I miss you every day, every moment. You are always in the back of my mind. I hate when people talk to me about random things or complain to me. I have no patience for it. Oh, I’m sorry you only got a 10% tip off that table…? Poor thing! Well, My Dad died…so shut the Hell up.

It’s hard to concentrate. Everything I do, no matter what I do, my mind is drowned with my memories of your face, your words.

How do you get to the point of acceptance? When will my chest stop feeling like it’s caving in?

Remember the time you painted my toenails? I couldn’t stop giggling. We picked out a couple different colors because you said you were going to make a design. We laughed so hard when it turned out to be sloppy big blobs of color. I sported my Dad pedicure, I was proud of the ugly blobs. They were beautiful to me, and they made me smile.

Remember Van Sushi night? We couldn’t just get the small platter of sushi from Costco. You always went big. We had enough to feed five. We laid the massive tray in the middle of the front seats in the van on that wooden center console thing you painted white. The tray barely fit. I ran into the In n Out and got us a couple sodas. We sat in that parking lot, listening to the AM radio talking, laughing, eating sushi with our hands. When we were both full of VanSushi we looked down and saw that we had barely made a dent in the tray. We drove to Grandma’s that night. You kept falling asleep, I took my eyes off the road a few times to make sure you were still breathing. Remember how we forgot to tell Grandma there was a huge tray of leftover Vansushi in her fridge? She went to open the fridge door the next morning and the oversized tray crashed to the ground. You know how toast always lands butter side down? Well, apparently the same rule applies to Vansushi. Grandma was so mad. Hehehe.

Remember the AM vs FM radio battle? You listened to AM constantly. I was the one that was driving you everywhere, so I finally said to you, “Dad, if I have to listen to Rush, or Savage Nation for one more minute, I’m probably going to drive us off a cliff!” I cracked a smile, so did you, we laughed. After that we alternated days AM, FM, AM, FM. Any time is was my turn, you made fun of the lyrics or asked me if this was REALLY music. I’d tease back telling you that you were just old and didn’t understand. Anytime it was your turn I’d softly sing a song about how I was going to drive off a cliff. It would make us bust up laughing.

I can never find the right words to express my sorrow, anger, sadness.

I used to tell you all the time…I’m 24, you’re 54, that’s too young! Way too young! I told you it wasn’t fair. You agreed. I caught you in a very lucid mood one day, we made Banana splits together, I asked you, “What will I ever do with out you?” You folded your arms, leaned back on the kitchen counter and thought for a moment. You said, “We’re gonna do what Dads and Daughters have always done. You’re going to face it, and hope for a better day.”

I can’t face it Dad, it’s too hard without you. The aching never stops, It doesn’t let me breathe even for a second, but I’m doing my best.

I will love you forever,

Your favorite 3^rd Daughter

Your Punky Princess

Your Deeders

Your World Traveler

Yours.