Cancer Stick

“Ya, I turned over and satisfied my wife last night.”

Cancer Stick is a nickname we gave a SSGT in the Air Force. He always had a cigarette in his left hand and a Coke in his right. He was about 5’ 10” and maybe 130 pounds. He reminded me of those photos’ I had seen of WWII prisoner of war with their sunken chest and bulging eyes. He was not very intimidating for a Security Policeman and he had longed to be a bricklayer of all trades. Maybe that trade would beef him up. He in fact did cross train into one of those fields. I never heard how he made out.

Cancer Stick was not an attractive fellow and his wife, whom was equally unattractive, was a perfect match for him. (I hope the never produced kids-yikes) She too was sickly thin and it seems that they were both beat repeatedly and severally with an ugly stick.

My friend Fred Black and I use to get him to talk about his sex life. One time we were driving to another post with the three of us up front on the truck bench seat. I can still see the area of the base where we were driving as if it just happened two days before the day after tomorrow. We kept jeering him on and it didn’t take much to get him talking. What he was not aware of was the fact that I was holding the talk button down on my radio so that the whole flight could hear our conversation.

“Ya, I turned over and satisfied my wife last night.” He would boast. We would laugh and ask him what else he did. With his chest puffed out, he would brag about his sexual adventures with his wife. I’m happy he had a good sex life but the mental image I was getting in my head of them two doing the nasty was nauseating.

Sadly, the drive was short and we had to depart ways but we sure had a great laugh over it. I don’t think he ever knew that we did that-and more than once.

The Owl

"...must have been seven feet tall with long, sharp talons that would rip my chest apart and eat my beating heart..."

Life in Iowa was pretty good. I lived in many cities in Iowa and always seemed to find the wooded areas in which I would explore. I loved to be out on adventures, usually by myself, sometimes with a friend or my brother Brad. The woods were like home to me. It bought a peace to me that I would often just sit, listen and observe God’s creation.

One Saturday I went exploring again. The wooded area I went to was very large with many hundred acres. This is where I would hunt squirrels or set traps for what ever I could trap. On this day I went much further than usual and got lost in my adventure, paying no attention to the time. The deep woods hid the dimming sunlight so telling time by the sun was difficult.

As I explored I finally decided to check my watch. Yikes! It was getting late and I didn’t know this area well enough to get home in the dark and I was not too excited about spending the night here. My mom would kill me. So off I went, back to base camp, which was my bedroom of course.

Well, here lies the problem- I was lost. Double Yikes! I continued to walk only to walk in circles. As I walked I began to hear things, strange things that made strange noises. Noises that cause a young teenager to get a bit scared. I would see movement in my peripheral vision. Triple Yikes! Big foot!? Boggy man!?

I then saw the source of the weird noise and movement-a very big owl. This thing must have been seven feet tall with long, sharp talons that would rip my chest apart and eat my beating heart.…okay, maybe not that tall but it was a good eighteen inches. I guess I wasn’t that scared but these kinds of thoughts enter the mind of a teenager with a very active imagination.

Then the sensible part of me kicked in. “Stop, and think.” I thought to myself. It didn’t take me long to figure out how to get out of this ever frightening situation. “Follow the river.” I thought. Duh, of course. The Iowa River ran down from where I lived. If I would find the river and follow it up I would get back home and maybe in time to see Laugh In.

So that is what I did. I found the river and set forth to find my base camp. It wasn’t long before I started to recognize things. Different area’s I explored, trees I climbed and mud holes I jumped in. Then sure enough, home sweet home.

I open the back door and my mom just happened to be by the door as I walked in. “Hi mom.” I said as I passed her by as if nothing had happened. She then spoke up and said. “Are you hungry? Dinner is almost ready.”

My mom never did know about this particular adventure. I thought I would save that story for a time when I was grown up and would not get that…speech. I don’t think I ever told her. Probably better that way.

Where’s my son?

"Your stomach aches with pain, your heart is tacacardic, blood pressure rises and sweat is fast soaking your clothes."

We lived in Hawaii, on the island of Oahu. My wife was stationed at Scholfield Barracks Army post in Wahiawa, Hawaii. The year was probably around 1985 and it was a little before Christy was born with Chris being a toddler.

Chris and I use to go for a walk around the block, he riding tall and proud on his tricycle, me walking behind him to make sure he stayed on course. We both loved these walks and looked forward to them.

One day I was busy with something and I guess Chris got a little impatient with me and wanted to go on his bike ride and he was not going to wait. So off he went, without me or anyone else to watch him. A few minutes later I notice he was missing. I looked around, concerned but not with any panic. He was probably hiding from me I thought. The more I looked the more panic rose in my inner being. He was nowhere to be found.

There is no feeling like that of not knowing where your kid(s) may be. Your stomach aches with pain, your heart is tacacardic, blood pressure rises and sweat is fast soaking your clothes. Panic had set in as I ran outside to search, tears wealing up in my eyes. This kid is God’s gift to me and there is no way I am going to lose him.

I look out front- no Chris. Out back- still no Chris. I check the playground- again, no Chris. Tears are now running down my checks. I hear someone yell something. Are they talking to me I ask myself, listening more intently. “Are you looking for your son?” they ask. “YES!” “He’s over here riding in the middle of the road, just riding in circles and crying.” Thank God!

I run over, probably smashing my 100-yard dash personal best time, elated and angry at Chris for taking off like that. I carry him back to the house, Chris in my right arm on my hip carrying his tricycle in my left hand. After he and I calm down we have that talk, “Chris, don’t ever ride off by yourself again. Okay?” “ Okay.” He says. Then with a kiss and a hug he is off for another adventure in the house.