When I was growing up in Concord, CA, my dad worked for Wonder Bread. He was the Office Manager at the bakery in San Fransisco. We only had one car in those days and Dad took the Greyhound bus to and from work everyday. In order to get to work on time, he had to leave pretty early. My mom would take him to the bus stop every morning, and then pick him up every evening after the ride home.
One evening, Mom was cooking some hamburgers in a frying pan when it was time to go get Dad. She put a lid partly over the meat and turned the heat down when she left. I must have been in my room or somewhere not too far away. I can't remember if I heard something in the kitchen, or what, but I came into the kitchen and found flames shooting up from the frying pan. Apparently the grease had caught fire and the flames where rising up to the fan housing over the stove. I had just had a lesson in Cub Scouts about putting out different kinds of fires. I remembered learning that you can't put water on grease fires because it just causes it to spread. I remembered learning that baking power was a good thing to put on a grease fire to stop it. I quickly found the baking powder and sprinkled on the frying pan until the fire was out. I'm sure my mom was surprised to find her hamburgers covered in baking powder when she got home. I don't know how serious the fire would have turned out if I hadn't stopped it, I am glad we didn't have to find out. Mom was so grateful to the Cub Scout leaders that she baked a cake and brought it to our next meeting.
I have often wondered if our kids ever listened to what we taught them in Family Home Evening lessons, or Sunday School lessons, or Scout lessons. Sometimes it seems like they are bored and in another world. I was probably the same way, but somehow I got the message about grease fires. I'll bet our children get more out of what we teach them than we think.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
I wish I had stuck with piano lessons
My sister, Patricia, and my brother, David are both excellent piano players. When we were growing up we had a piano in the house and were given the opportunity to take piano lessons. I think my piano teacher was a woman named Magleby. If I remember right, her husband was a mortician and they lived next to a mortuary (or maybe their house was part of the mortuary?). Once a week my mom would take me to the mortuary for my piano lesson. I think I was about 10 years old. To get good at playing the piano you have to practice regularly. I hated to practice. I was more interested in playing baseball and other outdoor sports. Playing the piano didn't seem "manly" enough for me. Anyway, I finally got my parents to agree to let me stop taking piano lessons (maybe after about 2 years?). I don't remember how much contention there was about the manner, I just know my progress in being able to play the piano stopped.
I did play the trumpet in Intermediate School and in High School. I can read music. I can sing. I like music. And now I regret that I can't play the piano any better. We have a piano, and I have continued to teach myself a little bit at the time, but I am not good enough to accompany anybody. I can play most hymns, but as soon as somebody signs along, I get all flustered and goof up. I guess I have not been willing enough to pay the price (practice time) to get better. You will never regret it if you learn how to play the piano. If you get the chance, I encourage you to stick with your piano lessons until you can play well enough to at least play the hymns while people are singing. A little practice now will pay off for many years to come.
I did play the trumpet in Intermediate School and in High School. I can read music. I can sing. I like music. And now I regret that I can't play the piano any better. We have a piano, and I have continued to teach myself a little bit at the time, but I am not good enough to accompany anybody. I can play most hymns, but as soon as somebody signs along, I get all flustered and goof up. I guess I have not been willing enough to pay the price (practice time) to get better. You will never regret it if you learn how to play the piano. If you get the chance, I encourage you to stick with your piano lessons until you can play well enough to at least play the hymns while people are singing. A little practice now will pay off for many years to come.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Paddling is easier when you let the hills block the wind
It didn't take long for us to dread every portage. One time, we noticed that there was a stream that connected the two lakes and the portage trail ran alongside this stream. Rather than carry our canoes over the portage, we decided to try and pull them through the stream. So we got out of the canoe, stood in the stream, and one of us pulled the tow rope in the front and the other of us pushed from behind. As I recall it was tough going. The water was swift and we were going against the current. But it felt so good to not have to lift the heavy canoe over another portage. In reality, we probably worked harder by pulling the canoe through the stream.
The last full day of our trip we had to paddle the length of the longest lake of the trip. And there was a pretty stiff head wind making it doubly hard to paddle. I remember being out in the middle of this wide lake with wave after wave coming straight at us. I was afraid that if our canoe got turned sideways the waves would dump us over and our gear would sink to the bottom. I worked very hard to keep us headed straight at the wind. It was very tiring and we were not making much progress. Then we noticed another group of canoers passing us by on our left. They knew something we didn't. They knew that if you get your canoes over by the shore on the leeward side of the lake (the side of the lake where the wind is coming from) the hills along the bank block the wind and the paddling is much easier. We immediately made a beeline for the shore on our left. We soon noticed that the wind was much less stiff, the waves much smaller, and the paddling much easier. We began to make headway and eventually made it to the end of the lake where we camped for the last night of the trip.
In life, when the going is tough, it is ok to rely on others to help you make it through. You don't have to stay out in the middle of it all and take it on all by yourself. The going is much easier when you have the support of others.
The last full day of our trip we had to paddle the length of the longest lake of the trip. And there was a pretty stiff head wind making it doubly hard to paddle. I remember being out in the middle of this wide lake with wave after wave coming straight at us. I was afraid that if our canoe got turned sideways the waves would dump us over and our gear would sink to the bottom. I worked very hard to keep us headed straight at the wind. It was very tiring and we were not making much progress. Then we noticed another group of canoers passing us by on our left. They knew something we didn't. They knew that if you get your canoes over by the shore on the leeward side of the lake (the side of the lake where the wind is coming from) the hills along the bank block the wind and the paddling is much easier. We immediately made a beeline for the shore on our left. We soon noticed that the wind was much less stiff, the waves much smaller, and the paddling much easier. We began to make headway and eventually made it to the end of the lake where we camped for the last night of the trip.
In life, when the going is tough, it is ok to rely on others to help you make it through. You don't have to stay out in the middle of it all and take it on all by yourself. The going is much easier when you have the support of others.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Portage is a dirty word
One summer when I was Bishop of the Louisville 2nd Ward our Varsity Scouts went on a high adventure in the Boundary Waters area of northern Minnesota. I went along for the trip because both Ben and Joe were in the group. Brother David Beers was the scout leader who put most of the trip together. We had a 50 mile canoe trip planned. The Boundary Waters Canoe Area is very strict and limits the size of a group that can canoe at any one place. We had too many in our group to all go together so we divided into 2 groups. We had a circular route planned. Half of the group went clockwise and half went counterclockwise. That meant we would pass each other one time halfway through the trip.
The trip began with a long car ride from Louisville to the starting point in the far northern part of Minnesota. As I recall, it took about 18 hours of driving. We had made arrangements with an outfitter to supply the canoes, so all we had to take was our packs with clothing and food and sleeping bags. We made it to the outfitters without incident and they took us to the starting point. One group started out to the left and one started out to the right. Our planned route involved canoeing the length of many different lakes that were close together in an end to beginningl arrangement, much like the holes on a golf course. The map made it look like each lake was very close to the next one. Each lake was connected by an overland trail that was called a portage. We soon learned to hate the word, "portage." At the end of the first lake we came to our first portage. Here we had to traverse the trail twice, once to carry our backpacks and other supplies, and a second time to carry our canoes. This involved turning the canoe upside down and resting the bottom on top of our heads. There were two of us to each canoe and it took both of us to carry it across the portage. It was a little difficult to see with the canoe hanging over our heads. Sometimes we just held the canoe at our sides and held it off the ground as we walked. Neither way was all that easy. The canoes felt pretty heavy once they were out of the water. To make matters worse, the trail went through thick woods that were infested with hungry mosquitoes. We would spray ourselves with Deet and that would keep the mosquitoes away, but as we walked and sweated the mosquito repellent would wear off and the attack would begin. Some of the portages were short and some were way long (I think the longest was about 1 mile). Canoes were obviously made for moving through the water and not so much for carrying across land.
We were in bear country. At each campsite we would tie ropes around our packs and haul them high up a tree to keep them away from the bears. The very first night we had a bear attack. We were awakened in the middle of the night by the sounds of something pulling and ripping at somebody's backpack. I remember feeling pretty scared, but also thinking about needing to protect the scouts. I had a flashlight that also had an emergency siren included and thought that I could maybe scare the bear away by turning on the siren. So I opened my tent and turned on the siren. As I did this, the thought occurred to me, "Well, you just let the bear know where you are." I can't remember how, but we finally got the bear to leave our camp. In the morning, we found out that Brian Haynes had his backpack taken and destroyed by the bear. Apparently, Brian didn't pull it high enough off the ground. The bear was able to stretch up and get the pack. It was all ripped up. Brian had a squeeze bottle filled with honey that was totally trashed. I remember we could see holes in the bottle from the bear's claws. That morning while we were eating breakfast we saw a bear (we think it was the same one) up the hill a little way from camp. It was a black bear. Luckily, it stayed away and left us alone. That was the only bear sighting we had the whole week, but it sure was memorable. More to come...
The trip began with a long car ride from Louisville to the starting point in the far northern part of Minnesota. As I recall, it took about 18 hours of driving. We had made arrangements with an outfitter to supply the canoes, so all we had to take was our packs with clothing and food and sleeping bags. We made it to the outfitters without incident and they took us to the starting point. One group started out to the left and one started out to the right. Our planned route involved canoeing the length of many different lakes that were close together in an end to beginningl arrangement, much like the holes on a golf course. The map made it look like each lake was very close to the next one. Each lake was connected by an overland trail that was called a portage. We soon learned to hate the word, "portage." At the end of the first lake we came to our first portage. Here we had to traverse the trail twice, once to carry our backpacks and other supplies, and a second time to carry our canoes. This involved turning the canoe upside down and resting the bottom on top of our heads. There were two of us to each canoe and it took both of us to carry it across the portage. It was a little difficult to see with the canoe hanging over our heads. Sometimes we just held the canoe at our sides and held it off the ground as we walked. Neither way was all that easy. The canoes felt pretty heavy once they were out of the water. To make matters worse, the trail went through thick woods that were infested with hungry mosquitoes. We would spray ourselves with Deet and that would keep the mosquitoes away, but as we walked and sweated the mosquito repellent would wear off and the attack would begin. Some of the portages were short and some were way long (I think the longest was about 1 mile). Canoes were obviously made for moving through the water and not so much for carrying across land.
We were in bear country. At each campsite we would tie ropes around our packs and haul them high up a tree to keep them away from the bears. The very first night we had a bear attack. We were awakened in the middle of the night by the sounds of something pulling and ripping at somebody's backpack. I remember feeling pretty scared, but also thinking about needing to protect the scouts. I had a flashlight that also had an emergency siren included and thought that I could maybe scare the bear away by turning on the siren. So I opened my tent and turned on the siren. As I did this, the thought occurred to me, "Well, you just let the bear know where you are." I can't remember how, but we finally got the bear to leave our camp. In the morning, we found out that Brian Haynes had his backpack taken and destroyed by the bear. Apparently, Brian didn't pull it high enough off the ground. The bear was able to stretch up and get the pack. It was all ripped up. Brian had a squeeze bottle filled with honey that was totally trashed. I remember we could see holes in the bottle from the bear's claws. That morning while we were eating breakfast we saw a bear (we think it was the same one) up the hill a little way from camp. It was a black bear. Luckily, it stayed away and left us alone. That was the only bear sighting we had the whole week, but it sure was memorable. More to come...
Sunday, July 10, 2011
"Joe's Going Off the Road!"
One summer when we lived in Louisville, we had a road trip planned to visit Utah for summer vacation. Our friends, Mike and Roxanne Jarvis, had recently moved to Utah and had left their little Datsun pickup truck behind, and asked us if we could drive it out with us. We had four drivers in the family, Kathy and I, and Ben and Joe. We decided to rotate drivers through our van and the pickup and make the trip straight through without stopping at a motel.
Things got started as planned. We strapped our car-top carrier into the bed of the pickup truck and had two riding in the cab and the rest in the family van. It was a hot summer day and the windows of the truck needed to be rolled down because there was no air conditioning. Things went as planned until we were almost to Kansas City. Joe was driving the truck and Betsy was in the passenger seat. I was driving the van and was in front of the group. I remember periodically looking in my rearview mirror to make sure all was right with Joe and the truck. One time as I glanced back I saw the truck move off the road onto the right shoulder. I remember saying something like, "Joe is going off the road." As I watched I saw the truck come back onto the road and thought all would be ok, but then the truck continued across both westbound lanes and pitched into the median on the left. Apparently a bee had flown into the cab and Joe was trying to brush it away from Betsy when he went off the road to the right. When he came back onto the road and moved to the left side, we think a tire blew and caused them to pitch into the median. I will never forget the scene as I viewed it in the mirror. The car began to roll head over tail down the median, over and over. It finally came to a rest in the median, on its left side, pointing back toward the east.
It took me a few seconds to get the van safely stopped and then we all piled out and started to sprint back down the median toward the truck. Poor Kathy was about 8 months pregnant with Caleb. I remember wondering what we would find when we finally got to the truck. It seemed like it took forever to run that few hundred yards. I remember that other people were already there to offer aid. I remember that the engine was on fire and the the first person on the scene had a fire extinguisher with them and put out the fire. I remember seeing Betsy's head pop up out of the right side of the car, through the window that had been broken out. I remember seeing Joe roll out of the driver's seat through the back window of the cab that was also broken out. His window was down against the ground so he couldn't go that way. Both had their seat belts on and were not ejected from the truck. The roof of the cab was smashed in in the middle, but both sides where their heads were were not smashed. There was a troop of boy scouts who stopped and several with emergency response training who stopped. They helped us get Betsy and Joe away from the truck and called 911 for help.
As far as we could tell, they both seemed ok. They had some cuts and scrapes and Betsy appeared to have a bloody mouth. On closer inspection, we found that she had red cardboard from the cover of a hardback book stuck in her braces. Apparently she was reading the book when this happened and it flew up against her face and her braces took a piece of the cover. The ambulance arrived and Joe and Betsy were both strapped to boards so they could be safely transported to a nearby regional hospital. We strapped the car-top carrier onto the roof of the van (it had been thrown out of the truck bed, but was pretty much still intact), piled into the van and followed the ambulance to the hospital. The doctor there examined Joe and Betsy, took a few X-rays, and concluded that there were no broken bones or significant injuries. About three hours after the accident we were on the road again. Now all crunched in the van, but all alive.
When I think about that accident, I marvel that neither Joe nor Betsy was hurt (beyond scrapes and bruises). They had to have been going at least 65 mph as they pitched into the median. I hear all the time about fatal accidents when the cars were going much slower than that. Sometimes I look at Joe, now 35 and the father of 5, or Betsy, now 31 and the mother of 4, and thank Heavenly Father for preserving their lives. I think about that person who had the fire extinguisher and want to thank him, but I don't even remember him being around during the aftermath. The only thing that died that day, was the Jarvis's yellow Datsun pickup truck. It was totaled and we left it in the median of Highway 70 waiting for a tow truck to come and haul it away. It was a hard phone call to make when we had to let Mike Jarvis know that we had totaled his truck.
Things got started as planned. We strapped our car-top carrier into the bed of the pickup truck and had two riding in the cab and the rest in the family van. It was a hot summer day and the windows of the truck needed to be rolled down because there was no air conditioning. Things went as planned until we were almost to Kansas City. Joe was driving the truck and Betsy was in the passenger seat. I was driving the van and was in front of the group. I remember periodically looking in my rearview mirror to make sure all was right with Joe and the truck. One time as I glanced back I saw the truck move off the road onto the right shoulder. I remember saying something like, "Joe is going off the road." As I watched I saw the truck come back onto the road and thought all would be ok, but then the truck continued across both westbound lanes and pitched into the median on the left. Apparently a bee had flown into the cab and Joe was trying to brush it away from Betsy when he went off the road to the right. When he came back onto the road and moved to the left side, we think a tire blew and caused them to pitch into the median. I will never forget the scene as I viewed it in the mirror. The car began to roll head over tail down the median, over and over. It finally came to a rest in the median, on its left side, pointing back toward the east.
It took me a few seconds to get the van safely stopped and then we all piled out and started to sprint back down the median toward the truck. Poor Kathy was about 8 months pregnant with Caleb. I remember wondering what we would find when we finally got to the truck. It seemed like it took forever to run that few hundred yards. I remember that other people were already there to offer aid. I remember that the engine was on fire and the the first person on the scene had a fire extinguisher with them and put out the fire. I remember seeing Betsy's head pop up out of the right side of the car, through the window that had been broken out. I remember seeing Joe roll out of the driver's seat through the back window of the cab that was also broken out. His window was down against the ground so he couldn't go that way. Both had their seat belts on and were not ejected from the truck. The roof of the cab was smashed in in the middle, but both sides where their heads were were not smashed. There was a troop of boy scouts who stopped and several with emergency response training who stopped. They helped us get Betsy and Joe away from the truck and called 911 for help.
As far as we could tell, they both seemed ok. They had some cuts and scrapes and Betsy appeared to have a bloody mouth. On closer inspection, we found that she had red cardboard from the cover of a hardback book stuck in her braces. Apparently she was reading the book when this happened and it flew up against her face and her braces took a piece of the cover. The ambulance arrived and Joe and Betsy were both strapped to boards so they could be safely transported to a nearby regional hospital. We strapped the car-top carrier onto the roof of the van (it had been thrown out of the truck bed, but was pretty much still intact), piled into the van and followed the ambulance to the hospital. The doctor there examined Joe and Betsy, took a few X-rays, and concluded that there were no broken bones or significant injuries. About three hours after the accident we were on the road again. Now all crunched in the van, but all alive.
When I think about that accident, I marvel that neither Joe nor Betsy was hurt (beyond scrapes and bruises). They had to have been going at least 65 mph as they pitched into the median. I hear all the time about fatal accidents when the cars were going much slower than that. Sometimes I look at Joe, now 35 and the father of 5, or Betsy, now 31 and the mother of 4, and thank Heavenly Father for preserving their lives. I think about that person who had the fire extinguisher and want to thank him, but I don't even remember him being around during the aftermath. The only thing that died that day, was the Jarvis's yellow Datsun pickup truck. It was totaled and we left it in the median of Highway 70 waiting for a tow truck to come and haul it away. It was a hard phone call to make when we had to let Mike Jarvis know that we had totaled his truck.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Deep Sea Fishing
I remember going on a deep sea fishing trip out of Monterrey, CA, when I was a teenager. I know lots of men and boys from our ward went, but I can't remember if it was a scout activity or what. I remember we piled onto a fishing boat and headed out to sea. The boat was fairly big. It had a deck all around the outside with a guard rail and it had a spot below deck where people could sit inside and eat and talk. The seas were calm at the beginning, but as we headed further out to the west they started to get pretty wavy. I remember the boat would sink to the bottom of a swale and we could see the next wave ahead higher than the whole boat. The boat would then rise to the top of that wave and then sink down. The boat was tossing and turning and giving us a fun ride. I started to notice that many of the people on board were hanging their heads over the guard rail. When I got closer I could see that they were all throwing up into the ocean. I guess the bumpy ride was making many of us sea sick. I was lucky. I didn't get see sick during this part of the ride. I remember there was one guy on the boat who had been in the navy and wasn't the least bit sea sick. He was walking around with a sandwich in his hand and whenever he sat by someone and took a bite, it just made them all the more sea sick.
I think the boat captain had a fish finding device, because at one point we got the word that it was time to fish. The idea was to catch as many fish as possible while we passed over a school. The trip was fairly expensive and some on board were hoping to catch enough fish to supply meat for their families for the whole next year. We used these stout deep sea fishing poles and dropped the line straight down the outside of the boat. A large weight was at the very end of the line and three treble hooks with fake squids for bait were located up the line toward the end of the rod. We just dropped the weight until it stopped and then waited a minute and then reeled the line back in. On the end there would be one to three large fish (maybe 2 feet long) hooked. There was no fight like when you catch a trout; they just hung there. The fish were pulled up over the guard rail, unhooked and left laying around on the deck. The line was immediately dropped back into the water to catch more fish. Only after the run across the top of the school was over did we put the fish in the large sacks for collection. I think we made several different runs over the school until everyone had full sacks. I only started to feel sea sick during this fishing part. Something about looking over the edge and down at the waves made me nauseous. But I never threw up :)
When we got back to shore it was interesting to watch the fish getting prepared to take home. Most of the fish we caught were cod. I guess only the thick slab of meat on either side of the fish is good to eat. This part is called the fillet. Men on the pier with knifes would cut off the outer skin and then slice off the thick fillet and put that in a bag that was on ice. Then they would turn the fish over and repeat the same maneuver. Most of the fish (maybe 75%) wasn't usable and was just discarded. I sort of remember that they just threw this back into the water as waste, but I may be wrong. I do remember there were lots of sea gulls around trying to get a free meal from the waste. I don't remember how much fish I finally ended up with. Some families that were hoping to provide food for the rest of the year ended up with quit a lot. Deep sea fishing was great fun.
I think the boat captain had a fish finding device, because at one point we got the word that it was time to fish. The idea was to catch as many fish as possible while we passed over a school. The trip was fairly expensive and some on board were hoping to catch enough fish to supply meat for their families for the whole next year. We used these stout deep sea fishing poles and dropped the line straight down the outside of the boat. A large weight was at the very end of the line and three treble hooks with fake squids for bait were located up the line toward the end of the rod. We just dropped the weight until it stopped and then waited a minute and then reeled the line back in. On the end there would be one to three large fish (maybe 2 feet long) hooked. There was no fight like when you catch a trout; they just hung there. The fish were pulled up over the guard rail, unhooked and left laying around on the deck. The line was immediately dropped back into the water to catch more fish. Only after the run across the top of the school was over did we put the fish in the large sacks for collection. I think we made several different runs over the school until everyone had full sacks. I only started to feel sea sick during this fishing part. Something about looking over the edge and down at the waves made me nauseous. But I never threw up :)
When we got back to shore it was interesting to watch the fish getting prepared to take home. Most of the fish we caught were cod. I guess only the thick slab of meat on either side of the fish is good to eat. This part is called the fillet. Men on the pier with knifes would cut off the outer skin and then slice off the thick fillet and put that in a bag that was on ice. Then they would turn the fish over and repeat the same maneuver. Most of the fish (maybe 75%) wasn't usable and was just discarded. I sort of remember that they just threw this back into the water as waste, but I may be wrong. I do remember there were lots of sea gulls around trying to get a free meal from the waste. I don't remember how much fish I finally ended up with. Some families that were hoping to provide food for the rest of the year ended up with quit a lot. Deep sea fishing was great fun.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Be careful what you eat
When I was in high school I had a good friend named Clint Chew who was Chinese. He helped me get a job working in the Chinese food restaurant in food court of the Sun Valley Mall in Concord, CA. About three days a week I would work there after school. We had a steam table with different foods for the customers to choose from. There was fried rice, and chow mein, chow yuck, sweet and sour shrimp, egg fu young, and many others that I don't remember. Customers could get a 2-item plate or a 3-item plate. They would tell me which food they wanted and I would spoon a serving of it onto their plate. Egg fu young came with a choice of gravy. So, if a customer asked for egg fu young, I asked them if they wanted gravy with it. One night, a customer wanted egg fu young and I asked, "Do you want gravy with that?" As I opened my mouth to speak, I drooled all over the food on the plate. Nobody saw it, and I was embarrassed so I didn't say anything about it. I just finished the order and gave the customer his plate, drool and all. It was probably the best egg fu young he had every eaten.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)