Chihuahua Dog Sled Team

When I lived in Tucson, Arizona for a short time I went with my brother Brad to Sears to help him with his purchase of a large appliance. While waiting for them to do all the paperwork Brad and I struck up a fictional conversation knowing that the strangers around would listen intently because I was talking about a place that most people would never visit.

I had lived in Anchorage, Alaska for over a decade and saw many Iditarod Dog Sled Races “Last Great Race on Earth®” (FYI- the start in Anchorage is just for the public, the official start is in the Matanuska Valley).  

In the late 1980’s and early 1990’s John Suter ran a team of Standard Poodles in the race. So playing off of this knowledge of using a breed other than huskies I told my bother about the team of Chihuahuas that ran the race . They had to have about a hundred dogs in order to pull a loaded sled. I told him how funny it looked to watch them because all you saw was the sled but no dogs because their diminutive size was too small to see over the deep snow.

I told him about the challenges the musher and dogs had and was internally laughing so hard I wasn’t sure if I could continue my deceptive fictional narrative. Sadly, the team didn’t win but they did finish the 1,150 mile race. He, he.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see that people were listening but pretending not to. The place was silent with the exception of my jabbering. I can only imagine the story they had when they went home to tell their families. This was before the internet hit the general public so researching the validity of my amazing story would had been very difficult.

Of course I never let on that this was just my vivid imagination. What fun would that be?

The Russian River, Alaska

Here I am, stationed at one of the most beautiful places on earth, Anchorage, Alaska. With all this beauty comes abundant wildlife included game animals and fish...monster King, Pink or Cohoe Salmon.

In the summer of 1980, during the salmon run on the Russian River on the Kenai Peninsula, I was invited to go fishing for pink salmon. I rented a fishing pole from the base Recreation Center and the next day awoke early to load up my friends old Bronco with gear and other friends.

I sat down in the truck and heard a snap! Oh crap! I sat on my fishing pole and broke it! What the heck, I'll go anyway. It should be fun.

The trip was many hours to get there and my friend who was driving was very tired and gave us one scary ride because we had to wake him a number of times as he drove around bends over looking cliffs. Finally we made safely.

We all got out, the others unloaded their gear and went fishing. Me, I walked the bank and watched everyone else fish included the dozens of others there. This was called Combat Fishing because everyone was so close to each other on the banks that lines would get crossed and tempers would flare and most guys out there were armed for bear, literally.

So I walked and watched all day. Later in the day I was talking to my best friend Fred. He said he was about five yards behind me as I was walking and he watched fisherman watch me. The fisherman thought I was with Alaska Fish and Game and was there to monitor the fishing. Evidently as I approached fisherman the ones who snagged fish, which is illegal, threw them back into the Russian. I thought that was funny and wished I had known about that earlier because I would had a lot of fun with it.

Nike Hercules nuclear warheads

In 1979 I arrived at my first duty station at Elmendorf  AFB, Alaska in July fresh out of Adair Force basic training and the Security Police Academy. Just a short time later, the month eludes me, I was on the runway with every available Security Policeman to help secure the runway because the Nukes in the Chugach Mountains over looking Anchorage were being decommishined and being transported out right in front of me.

This is piece of an article I found about this.

With each Alaskan firing battery armed with 14 NIKE HERCULES missiles carrying a nuclear warhead with a yield ranging from 20 kilotons to 40 kilotons, the total nuclear yield of the Alaska air defense missile sites was more than 5 meta-tons of nuclear destruction.

The Anchorage sites were deactivated and closed in 1979, with the missiles, warheads, and equipment transferred to the lower 48.  Several buildings at Site Point were converted to a ski chalet facility.  Site Bay was used for prisoner housing and later demolished.  Site Summit was the last site deactivated and closed in July of 1979.  The remnants of Site Summit exist today and restoration of the site began in 2010.  The site is being preserved as a National Historic Site and once restored plans include a museum to be established and possibly guided tours to be given.
http://nikemissile.org/ColdWar/AlaskaColdWar/alaska_cold_war.shtml

What a way to start off my Air Force career field-helping to protect the most destructive device ever devised by man.

Tach

"Cee Ssss Cee, this is sextee. We are pullin ober a tuck for kossing ober da yeddow wine."

Tach is short for an unnamed airman in the Air Force that I was stationed with at Elmendorf AFB in the early 1980's He was a strange kid who grew up on Oahu, Hawaii but had never been to the ocean. How is that even possible?

Tach slept in his uniform, only removing his hat and web belt. I was out of the dorm by then but many told me they were going to give Tach a shower themselves if he didn't do it soon. Why he choose the Security Police field I don't know. He couldn't blame it on the draft because the draft had ended years before.

One other thing-I became his Fire Team Leader. Great! Just Great.

As a Fire Team Leader I had four guys under me. I was responsible for their on the job training after they arrived to Elmendorf AFB. This part I didn't mind because I was always willing to play and with this role I could make others play with me.

"Cee Ssss Cee, this is sextee. We are pullin ober a tuck for kossing ober da yeddow wine." Tach said into the radio. Yes, he had a lisp. (Translation- CSC. This is sixty. We are pulling over a truck for crossing the yellow line.) I was the leader on this two man team covering the main side of base with Tach as my member.

The truck we pulled over was near the hanger housing F-4 fighters. He was driving on the flight line and crossed the yellow line that was suppose to stop people from going any further. Once that line is crossed you belong to us. You're getting jacked-up (pulled over and placed against the truck to be searched and arrested).

I pulled him over on the road next to the flight line and ordered him to the front of the truck. I told Tach to stand to my right about eight feet from the man. Tach didn't move. I repeated my request to Tach. Again, he didn't budge. "Tach! Move over there!" Motioning swiftly with my hand. He finally reluntantly complied.

I search the man and cuffed him and then waited for transport to take him to the station for processing. After everyone were gone I called Tach over and said, "What the hell was that about? Why didn't you go where I told you to?" He said "I bidn't want to get inpo a cossfire." "What? A cross fire! We were close enough to beat him with the butts of our rifles. I wanted you there I case he bolted." I said firmly.

He looked down at his feet as if the answer to this dilemma was written on his boots.
I marked this up as a learning experience for Tach.

--------------------------------------
"Stop it! I hate it when you do that!


We had a certain amount of posts to fill each night so if we were over maned you would be placed on stand-by. If the night remained quiet you would often be released and allowed to go home.

I liked stand-by. Not because I got to go home but because that meant I was going out to play. Out to play meant to harass, ah, train, other Security Policeman. Training usually entaled me trying to sneak into their area without being seen. I was very good at that.

This particular dayTach was posted on the east side near the F-4 hangers. He always parked in the middle of the flight line so he had a lot of distance between him and anybody who may try to get to him. He, he.  He had me as a Fire Team Leader.

I parked unseen and got out of my truck. I made my way across the flight line without being seen by Tach. I snuck around the front of his truck as low as I could. I made it to his door and slowly got onto my feet, squatted and was ready to leap at my prey.

I then stood very fast and yelled "Tach!" His head about hit the roof of his truck with his fright and he said "Stop it! I hate it when you do that! I said "Tach, I'm your Fire Team Leader. One of my jobs is to train you and this is what I'm doing." He remained quiet but I could see he was still pissed.

I walked away knowing my job was done...for the moment anyway.

---------
You need to blow into the mic to clear the water off.

Tach was at a post that we not always had. I can't really remember why we were posted there. Old age I guess. It was next to the runway and with myself and my friend Fred being together it was a bad combination because we liked to give people a hard time.

We called Tach on the radio. "Tach, you need to turn on the runway lights for the B.1.R.D. And G.U.1.1." (Bird and Gull) He came back, "Quare are day?" We explained how to find them sending him on a wild goose chase. "Disregard Tach."

Later that night we called Tach on the radio again. Tach. We are having problems with water on the airwaves. You need to blow into the mic to clear the water off.

" "Phew. Phew." Tach blew into the mic. "Thanks Tach."

Now we didn't always just pick on Tach. We were an equal opportunity harassers.

In the Begining

In the beginning there was me (Tony) and my two kids (Chris and Christy) and life was good.  Then God said, "Let this man (Tony) meet this woman (Kathy) who is not crazy like the others Tony had dated after his divorce." Then He hintith to Mike (Tony's friend) "Invite Tony to be your best man at your wedding so that he may meet your new bride's friend who is engaged to a jerk." Thus saith the Lord. And it was done as God commanded.

So Tony meet Kathy and he thoughtith to himself, "Self, She be hotith! Grrrrr." So Tony pursued Kathy and she thought to herself. “ He's not badith, he has a big nose and is kinda old but what the heckith. I’ll give him a chance.” And the two were made as one.

Tony and Kathy were married on December 23rd, 1999 and stayed at the Elvis Room at a local Branson, Missouri motel and they consumed champagne in a whirlpool ...with bubbles.

They honeymooned in the great city of Mt. Carmel, IL at Tony’s brother’s house. Obviously Kathy didn’t marry Tony for his money or should it be, the lack thereof.

So now Tony and Kathy are a couple with Tony’s two kids Chris and Christy by Tony’s first wife. Then came Breonna on September 19th of 2000. They were blessed again in April of 2010 with their niece Caitlin who was a bouncing baby of five-teen years.

Can't we just stay put?

I know many people wonder why we are nomadic in our life style and this has many answers. When I meet Kathy I lived in Red Oak, Iowa and she in Waterloo, Iowa. I took a chance and moved to Waterloo to be with her. From there Kathy transfered with a promotion to the Coralville, Iowa Yonkers store where she became the Assistant Store Manager/HR Manager. 

Then she transfered to Kalispell, Montana which Tony was thrilled with because he loves the mountains. We both loved the area but both felt God calling us to Daytona Beach, Florida so we could be with dad in his final years as he battled  alzheimers. Tony actually put this off for a couple years wanting to avoid the heat and humidity he hates. God won!

What happened in Florida was not what we expected. Yes, we were able to help dad in his last years and he thanked me on every visit. Near the end of his life we pretty much had the same conversations on every visit but that's the crulity of alzheimers. But he did know who I was so that was easier for him. With the help of my sisters we were also able to help mom in her struggles.

We attended Oasis Christ Fellowship
 http://www.oasisfellowship.com/Oasis/home.html. with a great pastor and made many friends there. We also meet this large, scary looking, former biker and drug addict, tattooed guy and his pretty wife who pastored D.O.C. (Daytona Outreach Center). Through D.O.C. and Pastor Ray and his wife Susan we meet some fantastic men and women who were former homeless, drug and alcohol addicts. We also started to help feed a few men and woman who were in a discipleship program at the D.O.C. http://www.daytonaoutreachcenter.com/ We, with a few other couples from church, made home cooked meals once per month and bought it to them were we served them. Breonna and Skylar loved to serve them and usually made impromptu sermons behind the pulpit after they ate.

This was way out of my comfort zone because I had previously shunned people like this. God humbled me. We learned so much about God through people I once thought were not good for much. I guess I thought I was better than them-I was so wrong. I was the same as they were in God's eyes. They blessed us and I hope we were able to pass some blessings to them. (Editing this part was challenging because my eyes kept tearing up. Thanks Ray and Susan for your service to God because it has blessed many.)

Our marriage also grew stronger because we both grew closer to God. It goes hand in hand. If you want to improve your marriage search first for God's heart because there you may just discover your spouses heart. Put Him first and the complex puzzle called marriage starts fitting together.

On November 3rd of 2009 dad had a brain aneurysm- about thirty minutes previous I was let go at my plumbing job. It was not a good day for me. Looking back I can see how God had closed that door because dad would leave us three days later thus ending our reason for going to Florida.

I had no luck in finding a plumbing job in Florida (I was recently contacted by a plumber in Ft. Lauderdale wanting me to come on. We're not moving again so soon. I said no.) so took a chance on coming back to Iowa. Something we were not thrilled about but were running out of options. I went to a trucking school in Salt Lake City, UT taken a bus for a three day trip. All was going well until they drew my blood and said my blood sugar was too high and they were sending me home. God closed a door I never wanted opened. The thought of being away from my family weeks at a time was heart breaking just thinking about it.

God opening a door a few weeks after I got back from my truck driver adventure. I got a job doing what I've been doing for the last decade and a half-service plumber. I had talked to my office manager a few months ago and she said it was weird how on the day I called to inquire about a job is the same day she put an add in the newspaper for a plumber. She knew it wasn't listed yet but was a little perplexed at the timing. It was all in God's timing.

So here we are wondering what adventure awaits us in our future. Kathy is in college to get a BSN (Registered Nurse) When Kathy graduates college we are open to anything. What does God have in mind for us? Time will tell.

Dad

"A king, realizing his incompetence, can either delegate or abdicate his duties. A father can do neither. If only sons could see the paradox, they would understand the dilemma." -- Marlene Dietrich

Dad, born two years after the great depression, lived a long life often filled with rough roads with pot holes as large as one of the great lakes.  He took some of it in stride-and some of it with great pain and sorrow. He was not a perfect man or father. But in this life, not one exists.

But his struggles and hardships are over shadowed by his accomplishments. He had great success', often with tough grit, will power and perseverance. He was not an educated man and dropped out of high school to help his mother after his dad passed away when he was thirteen. He later proudly received his GED which was not necessary for life or work, but was necessary for his pride.

He had successful business’ and a comfortable retirement though not so much financially but in family. You see, dad’s greatest accomplishment, according to himself (and me), was his family- his kids. He didn’t need things for happiness- he just needed his family. That’s where his riches were proudly displayed on his walls and scrap books for all to see. He was so proud of each and every one of his kids whether they were biological, adopted or step. This is the biggest lesson that dad had taught me, passed on to me, and touches my heart so deeply today.

Now as a dad with four kids I can relate to the pride of your own kids. Yes, they often frustrate you and cause you emotional distress. But the overwhelming majority of the time they are blessings- gifts given from God. I understand dad’s love for us more now than as a child because I see it in my love for my children.

He always mentioned how much he loved his kids. We always knew we were loved because he told us so. He bragged on us to all to who would hear and if they didn’t want to hear it, he’d tell them anyway. His greatest struggle with Alzheimer’s was the thought of forgetting his kid’s names…or his kids. 

I miss dad. I miss his senseless humor-the conversations and the life lessons passed on by him. But mostly, I miss him because I know he loved me with an almost agape type of love and that is the greatest gift a father can pass on to his son.

Robert Augustus Wasion

BORN: June 7, 1927

DIED: November 6, 2009

LOCATION: Port Orange, FL

Christy is back!

Christy has made a long about journey back to Iowa via Arizona and Alabama. She made a short pit stop in Whitefish, Montana when we lived in Montana but that was only a few weeks. We are glad to have her back and pray that she finds good employment soon (she's now working at the University of Iowa Hospital). She had a temp job but it only lasted a month.

She’s hoping to go back to college this next semester for the Vet Tech program.  She already has many prerequisite from when she went to college previously.

She brought our grand-dog Alice who is a mix of Pit-bull and lab with her. I was not sure about a Pit coming to live with us but she is a good dog and she hasn’t eaten our other two ankle biters yet so all is well.

I now have all my kids back within two hours of each other. I’m a happy daddy!

3/29/12 An update on Christy. She is still with us but looking for an apartment for her and Alice. She is loving her job as a Nursing Aid at the University of Iowa and is contemplation going back to get her RN. 

The Miracle Man

“I deflected the sheet metal off my head, which could have done considerable damage to my neck, maybe even severing my carotid artery.”

On December 7th, 1941, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor Naval Station on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. What many people don’t know is that they also attacked Scholfield Barracks, an Army post in the town of Wahiawa and Wheeler Air Force base also in Wahiawa (they sit side by side). As the Japanese pilots flew in to attack these two bases they passed through Koli-Koli Pass. On one of the mountains was a very tall (about forty feet) cross. They shot down that cross which lies there to this day (as far as I know). A new cross was put up later in 1962. I just read that the Army removed the 1962 cross in 1997 because of the litigation cost of fighting for it to remain.

So what does all this history have to do with me? I shall tell you. On January 20th, 1985 I was 26 years old exploring the mountains in Koli-Koli Pass on Scholfield Barracks. My (ex) wife was stationed there at the time. There were old bunkers and debris from WWII which made it interesting for me (a future college history major).

This same day, Super bowl XVII was being played between the Washington Redskins and the Miami Dolphins. FYI-The Redskins won, 27-17. I was not into watching football (still don’t) on TV and would rather be out exploring and since I was a stay home dad of a toddler (Chris) I was ready for a day to myself.

Where I was hiking was a beautiful area! You could see the ocean and many tall sheer walls of volcanic mountains. To see the ocean, you overlook a navy base, which was the former Naval base in Barber Point.

I was exploring the side of the mountain, which separated the Army and the Navy. I went down the side of a mountain that had loose rock. I got to a point that would have been dangerous to go further so I turned around. This is when I made a mistake that would affect me for the rest of my life.

Instead of going up the way I went down, I decided to climb a steep portion that was pretty much straight up. As I ascended about ten feet I reached for a handhold that was a fist sized rock. As I pulled on the rock to pull myself up the rock broke free causing me to fall backwards. (It’s funny; in thinking back I can almost see this in slow motion. I grab rock-look at it perplexed-say a bad word-fall). As I was falling backwards I turned myself 180 degrees in the air so I could land face toward the down slope. When I hit the little ledge I was on I tucked and rolled to break my fall.

The problem with this strategy was the ledge was only about three feet wide so I went right over. The next 5-10 seconds are still pretty vivid in my head. Some people lose this kind of memory after a tragic accident like this-I've retained it. When I went over it was not a straight, over the edge, free fall base jump type of cliff. It was more of an uncontrolled, butt over heals, rapid tumble. If I were to guess the degrees of the slope it was around forty degrees.

That tuck and roll went on for about 700 feet by guesstimate of the Army medics who rescued me. I remember praying as I tumbled asking God to intervene and stop my rapid descent. That prayer was answered.

What a ride! When I stopped I was so dizzy that I could not see a thing. I stopped with my legs down hill, sitting on my butt. As I sat there, spinning like I was on the Round Up at a carnival I all of a sudden regained my vision. It was not a gradual- It stopped instantly! Then, something inside my brain told me to turn around, “NOW!” and look up the mountain. I turned just in time to see a piece of rusty corrugated sheet metal about 3 x 5 foot, charging toward my neck that I had knocked free in my tumble. I ducked and shoot my forearm up like a karate master would block a high punch. All this happened within a second or two.

I deflected the sheet metal off my head, which could have done considerable damage to my neck, maybe even severing my carotid artery. As soon as the metal was past me, my head continued it’s dizzy spinning. What the heck? Why would I regain my vision for a split second, look up from where I came from, just long enough to deflect the metal, and then start spinning again? As you will read, this is just the beginning of many miracles on the side of that mountain and in Tripler Army Hospital.

Gradually the spinning subsided and I could see where I was. Which itself was rather confusing to me because where I stopped was steeper than where I came from and there was no reason for me to stop where I did. But thankfully I did because facing me, about ten feet directly in front of me, were Volkswagen sized boulders. This could have, should have, been my introduction into head banging. Party on Garth!

Wow, another miracle! I then heard a voice from above. Well, it’s not what your thinking. It was not God but they were certainly sent by God to watch over the bonehead that was exploring on the mountain-that being me of course. “Are you OK down there?” I heard. I looked up and could barely see a couple sitting on a ledge peering down on me. “Ya, I think I broke my leg though.” I said as I played with what appeared to be another knee joint mid way down my left thigh.

The guy that yelled down to me was a young Navy Lieutenant with his girl friend. Thank God for romance otherwise I would have died on the side of that mountain. Did God place them there at that time on that day for a purpose? I think so. The Lieutenant raced to the guard gate that separated the two bases and had the MP call for help.

“Weird.” I thought as I moved my thigh up and down looking at my broken leg. Cool! My first broken bone! I then regained a little common sense and stopped playing with my broken leg. I learned later that I not only broke it but I shattered it (commuted fracture) in about 3-5 pieces. It’s amazing it was not a compound fracture (bones sticking out) after tumbling that far- another miracle? Are you keeping count? By the time I’m done I’ll make a cat jealous that it only has nine lives.

As I’m sitting on the side of the mountain playing with my broken leg it never really occurred to me at the time that I should be in a lot of pain- I wasn't. (A few years ago I saw a car accident. I was the first responder and assisted the fire department by securing a young woman’s head while they extradited her from the car. She was in a great amount of pain and I tried to comfort her as much as possible. She had an obvious fracture in her left femur near where I had broken mine. She was in a great amount of pain.)

About a half hour later I heard the sound of a Huey helicopter- having been an Army husband on an active Army base and previous active Air Force Airman I recognized the sound. Soon that helicopter was hovering over me as two medics rappelled out of the helicopter to get to me.

"Hey, how you doing?" the medic said as he approached me huffing and puffing from the climb up to me. "I’m OK but I think I may going into shock." I said. I had almost cut my jeans off around my thigh but decided that it may help in splinting and controlling internal bleeding.

They proceeded to hook me into the basket to be lifted up into the helicopter. I had to assist a little with my broken leg because they didn't splint it or my neck-not good on their part but all is well. No draim bamage.

I remember lifting my head to peer over the side of the basket as I was lifted up. I wasn't going to miss the scenery from this angle. I had always wanted to ride in a helicopter but not this way.

They flew me to Tripler Army Hospital in Aiea, HI. They then took me from the helicopter to the ambulance then a short drive to the emergency room.

As I lay on the table with doctors and nurses all around I thought of the movies you see were the camera shot is from the perspective of the patient- it was just like that. I was looking up at doctors and nurses all around you, working on different areas of my body with a doctor giving orders. Nurses admiring my muscular and chiseled body. (Well, not really but it's my story) IV inserted, catheter in place-still, I was still not in pain.

My wife (ex now) got the call about me from the Military Police and drove the hour to the hospital leaving Chris with friends. Christy was about eight months from being my first daughter at this time.

When Sue got there she assisted the staff by cleaning my numerous cuts and abrasions. That lava rock did a job on my back, right knee, and right arm. It probably looked like I had a fight with a cheese grater and lost. I also had to have several staples put in my scalp on the top of my head because of a bad laceration-still, no pain.

I was admitted and put on a ward with many others. I was scheduled for surgery to repair my shattered femur but developed complications that had me spend two weeks in ICU fighting for my life. I developed a fat embolism (pulmonary embolism) that went to my lungs. My lungs got tired of fighting and said, “Screw it, I quit”. They shut down so I was intubated and put on 100% oxygen. I found out a few years later that my heart also gave up-three times! But you can't keep a good man down and I survived the attempts of my body to quit. The staff told me later that my will to fight even amazed them.

They should had giving me a tracheotomy but didn't. With being intubated for two weeks I lost my voice when they took the tubes out. As I regained my voice I sounded like Barry White. Alas, I didn't keep my sexy male voice and start a singing career. I got the same one back. Dang it!

I was told by the doctors later that the severity of my pulmonary embolism syndrome should have ended with me six feet down under and I'm not talking about Australia. They even had the Red Cross call my mom in Tucson and tell her that if she wanted to see her son alive then she needs to get there ASAP!

While in ICU I remember a few things. One was a pretty nurse that told me I had a nice chest. That's good for recovery.

I also remember them sucking out my lungs. This did not feel good. Though I was drugged up on Morphine and Valium I still remember that pain. With the drug cocktail I was on I remember a dream I had. The nurses told me that I needed to use this device called a Spiro-meter to help my lungs. At the time the Bill Cosby show was on TV in which he played a doctor. In my dream, the good doctor said I didn't need to use that stupid device. So when I was woke up to use it I refused because Bill Cosby said I didn't need to. The nurses must have thought I had brain damage. I ended up getting intubated again because of that. One other thing I remember in ICU is a guy in a bed in front of me that broke his back or neck because they had him on this bed that flipped him. Other than that- I slept for those two weeks with drug assistance and don’t remember much else while in ICU. In-between moments of conscious I would watch my vitals and try to control them. I was able to lower and raise my heart beat a few beats per minute. This was my entertainment.

I finally made it out of ICU and my mom stayed with me for about two weeks. One time my mom was taking me for a walk throughout the hospital-  she pushed me in the wheelchair with my left leg out like a battling ram. (I actually used it that way later to get through doors. Little running start and Bam! Hit the door to open it.) I didn't need no sticking Handicap button for the doors.

During this walk I kept asking my mom to slow down because I was having hard time breathing. I thought she was sprinting down the hallway which would have been quit a sight itself. It felt like I had my head out the window of a car going 70 mph down the interstate.

X-rays showed that my left lung collapsed 50%. Two days later my right one went 30%. Yep, bi-lateral phemothorax. The surgeon came to my room to insert chest tubes. This was not fun!

They gave me Demerol but by this time it wasn't very effective because I've been giving it so often. I had to hold on to the triangle above my head so the surgeon could access the proper spot. My hands were sweating so much I had to wear rubber gloves. This is the process of inserting a chest tube. First you have to know whether it’s a phemohorax or hemophemothroax-the difference being blood-hemo. Then find the correct ribs-injection to numb the area-cut in-between ribs-put in rib spreader-spread ribs (yes, it hurts-a lot!) insert tube- put other end in water stop- go to gas station and pressurize to 75psi. Okay, the pressure part is not true.

Repeat these two days later for right side. I had them in 7 (right) and 10 (left) days, which I was told about twice as long as normal. I figure, why do things half way. If you’re going to get a bi-lateral phemothorax then do it right.

Well, my lungs finally filled back up so its time to remove chest tubes. One step I forgot is that they suture the area in a way that they just pull it shut after yanking the tubes out. This hurts, very, very much! It's like someone stabbed me with an ice pick. The stinging sensation sucked but only lasted a half a minute. Repeat for other side a few days later. Same pain sensation for removing drain tube from femur after surgery a few years later. OUCH!

Ever week I would be given a shot of Demerol and taken down to orthopedics to change my cast. They would wheel me down and I would lie there for hours until I got in. By this time the Demerol had worn off and I really needed it, as you will read. They removed my old cast reveling my atrophied leg and then proceed to put a new cast on. Simple you think- not quit. The doctor had to push on each side of my femur to try straighten the femur while the plaster dried. That hurt!

One time a nurse knocked over the water stop to my chest tubes and it shattered on the floor. I thought I was going to die but it was not big thing. Another time a half brain dead doctor was trying to figure out to move me from my bed to another bed with a post in the middle. She didn't want to lift my bad leg up. Finally I interjected and said, "If you wheel me to the other side I can lift my good leg over." Duh!

So now I've finally made it through all this and I'm still kicking...at least with one leg. I'm now lying in traction; a titanium rod is through my Tibia, which is connecting to weights to keep my femur straight. I lie there and lie there and lie there, day after day, week after week and month after month. Finally I tell the doctors that I have a family and I could just as easy lie like this at home as I could here in a ward full of other guys that snore and scream and use my pee pot as they walk by.

So I sign a constant form against the wishes of the docs and go home. Sue’s mother (my mother-in-law) flies down from Alaska and stays with us a while to help out. God bless her.

Since then I have had many surgeries repairing what I broke. A couple years after my fall I had an osteotomy on my left femur because the new bone had grown into my muscle and I could not bend it more than forty-five degrees. They removed part of my femur and inserted a titanium rod (called Russell Taylor Nail) and two interlocking screws near my knee. I had this in for a few years while the new bone grew in and then had it removed a few years later (I kept the parts).

A few years later I went for a check up with another doctor. Some of the staff had heard of me and what I had defeated. They had given me the nick name of the, "Miracle Man".

Many years ago I started to have left ankle problems so I saw a podiatrist where he discovered a previous break in my ankle that was not found at the time of my accident-it made since. Since then I've had many surgeries on my ankle to help with alleviate pain. One surgery removed debris-while in there the surgeon took a picture of a dime-sized hole in my cartridge. This only lasted about a year so I had an experimental surgery through the University of Iowa. They put an external skeleton device (external fixator) on my leg screwing into my Tibia in three places and put metal wires through my foot in six places to pull my ankle away from my Tibia. The idea was to form a gap for it to heal. It had worked with others but not me. But I did have a lot of fun freaking people out with the gross looking device on my leg.

A few years later I had the Talus fused (arthrodesis). This didn't quit do it either so a few years after that I had my whole ankle fused. This has helped the pain but I’m getting pain from different areas now. I almost had it amputated last time and sometimes wish I had.

I got Hepatitis C from all the transfusions and a few years ago did a six month treatment which got rid of the virus. This is another long story in itself.

You can call some of this luck, but the odds of all this happening with the unexplained things that happened would be hard to calculate. I call these miracles, just as my physicians did. They knew that it was out of their hands and that a higher power (God) was taken over.

So that was my story. I was one lucky man who God wanted to keep around for a while longer. For what, I don’t know.

The Eklutna Lakeside trail

The Eklutna Lakeside trail is 13 miles long with its designation, Eklutna Glacier. You can go beyond this point for longer hikes or whitewater rafting. Around 1995 I decided to hike the trail to the glacier. I also decided to carry as little as possible so I left my sleeping bag and tent at home and took a small pack with survival basics such as food, water and rain gear, though water was plentiful since the trail follows the lake for seven miles.

I had two days to do his hike even though it is recommended for almost twice that. I started out early Saturday morning walking briskly enjoying the warm (60 degrees) summer day and loving the back country with the mountains and lake near by.

Many bicyclists passed me as they scampered down the trail but I don’t recall seeing many hikers. Certainly I did not see any hikers near the end of the trail a half marathon away.

A half day later I was making excellent time though time was rather irrelevant to me at this at this moment. I was enjoying my time hiking in the state I loved and also enjoying my time alone away from the job at The Frameworks were I was a professional picture framer.

I didn’t stop much for breaks and come nightfall, if you can call it that at this time of the year in the land of the midnight sun, I decided to sleep for a while. As I said, I didn’t have a sleeping bag or a tent. I built a fire near the lake and heated up a bunch of large rocks which I buried in the sandy, rocky soil. I put on my rain jacket and pants and then laid on top of my warm bed to catch some much needed zzzzz’s.

I don’t remember how long I slept but I think it was just 3 or 4 hours. So since I wasn’t sleeping, I could be walking and that I did. Now it’s early in the am and I’m the only one on the trail. I didn’t see any large animals such as moose or bear- Just me, myself and I.

I finally made it to the glacier and boy was it worth it. Beautiful! I was also dead tired and my feet hurt. About a quarter mile from the glacier was a large bolder about 10 feet long and just as high. I decided that this was a great place for a nap and to break the morning chill. I built a small fire and lay between it and the boulder. It was nice and warm and evidently cozy because I feel fast asleep with my head on my backpack as a pillow. I think I got another four hours of sleep. I’m sure any approaching bikers may have thought that there was a bear beside that bolder growling because I’m known to be a loud snorer, especially when I’m very tired, and I was very tired.

I woke and ate a meal and decided it was time to head back to complete my marathon hike. My feet began to hurt a lot. I think I bought them a half size too small and with the swelling from the hike my puppies were barking. In desperation I tried walking barefoot. Nope, these wimpy feet couldn’t take that. I then tried with just socks-better but still a no go. I then stuffed my socks with leaves which helped but the leaves would not stay on the bottom of my feet and would work their way to the top.

I knew I would just have to tough it out so I put my boots back on. I’m sure my pace was half what it was the day previous not only from sore feet but from pushing myself so hard the day before. I was all but running the first day and back then I had a fast pace for walking and since this trail was mostly flat the whole way it was easy terrain.

I finally made it back to my car and was glad to be off my feet but not off the trail. I would have liked to go on like this for another week (with better boots) but responsibilities at home prevented that. I had a great time though and would recommend this hike or bike ride to anyone.

1980 Worldwide Security Polices Marksmanship Matches

Growing up in Iowa I spent a lot of time in the woods usually with my trusty Crosman pump-up pellet rifle. I was a pretty good shot with it and it feed me many lunches out in the woods- anything from squirrels to a sparrow: Yes I said Sparrow. I only pumped it up twice (normal is ten pumps) and only wanted to hit it. I ended up killing it and felt so bad I knew I had to eat it so the life wouldn’t be wasted. It was pretty tasty-both bites of it. I killed a mouse that way too. I didn’t eat it though.

I guess all the time in the woods shooting helped me when I joined the Air Force as a young Security Policeman because every time I shot the M16 rifle I scored expert. So when the announcement came for tryouts for the 21st Security Police team, I jumped at the opportunity.

The shooting consisted of M16 and .38 pistol at various yards and positions- I had never shot a pistol in my life. After some excellent instruction from SSGT Mizelle http://www.odmp.org/officer/9453-patrol-officer-louie-gordon-mizelle (who later was killed on duty as an Anchorage Police Officer) and SSGT Kilgore I shot all the matches very well. I had to place in the top five for first term airman to be able to compete for a position on the Elmendorf AFB team and if I qualified I could try out for the Alaskan Air Command team. I placed third with both rifle and pistol. Not bad for my first time out.

A few weeks later I tried out for the Alaskan Air Command team and also placed third in rifle and pistol. This let me advance to the worldwide competition at Lackland AFB, Texas competing against all the various commands and even a Canadian team.

I felt like royalty because we were given new jackets and hat with the AAC (Alaskan Air Command) logos and the base commander had us flown to Eielson AFB, Fairbanks, Alaska in his private eight passenger plane to where we hopped on a KC-135 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boeing_KC-135_Stratotanker that was flying straight to San Antonio on a mission.

The KC-135 is an in-flight refueling plane-basically a flying gas tank. It was cold and noisy in the body of the plane with the typical military decor, that being very basic...and green. About half way the in-flight refueling mission was cancelled so I got to lay down where the boom operator lies and view the earth as we flew over it. Later I was invited to the cockpit. That was cool. The odometer was like what we have in our cars but the miles rolled by instead of tenths of miles.

It was a long flight but I loved it. We arrived and settled into our quarters. The next few days were spent on the range in practice. What more does a guy need-shooting all day…for free, courtesy of the taxpayers, with his buddies. That was man heaven on earth.

On one particular shooting season we were in the prone position at 100 yards. My shots were all over the target, which was very unusually for me. They usually clustered tight at center mass. After viewing my target I figured out what happened. The guys on either side of me were shooting at my target on purpose. The next time I shot for the head instead of the chest and sure enough, upon checking my target I had a nice tight group in what would have been the forehead of a man. The rest of my target looked like it was shoot with a shotgun. We all got a good laugh out of that.

Later that evening I was initiated onto the team by glasses of beer being poured over my head. I don’t even drink! I felt accepted though so it was great. Even the Lieutenant was an active participant in that one.

Another bonus for me was that my mom drove from Tucson to watch me shoot. I was one of the only guys that had fans… well, a fan. She got to meet all my co-Security Policemen in Alaska and even spent evenings with us bowling or just going out to eat. She got close to SSGT Mizelle too and they both gave each other a hard time which was just like my mom and Louie. It was not embarrassing to have my mom there at all and in fact I think some of the other guys were jealous.

The competition lasted two days. The first day was M16 and the second, .38 special. Overall I did pretty good placing about 21st place for both rifle and pistol. I also beat both of the guys that messed with my target. He, he.

This was the last year for the Security Police marksmanship competitions. They changed it to a format that reflected more of what a Security Policeman does everyday. It was one of my greatest memories. My success on the marksmanship team led to being asked to be the number one marksman/sniper on the EST-Emergency Services Team http://www.americanspecialops.com/emergency-services-team/ that they were forming. It was a special operation unit similar to civilian SWAT. I had two jobs on the team. My main job being a sniper and secondary, when snipping was not practical, was in the number two positions on the entry team. The first guy went left; I went right to sweep the room.

Oh the memories.

Mike and Tony’s Big Adventures

Adventure 1

I love to ride horses and ride any chance I get. As a teenager I use to go to the stables near Sugar bottom in Iowa where I grew up to ride. This particular time I took Mike Daniels with me. I didn’t know if he had ridden before but I was about to find out.

The beginning of the trail was fine with no major incidents. Then Mike had to get off his horse because it let out so much air from its stomach that the saddle was getting loose and starting to list to the side making Mike list with it. He did what he could to adjust it with a little success. As he was attempting to get back on his horse it moved to the side, as Mike followed, it stepped on his foot.

So here is Mike trying to move this heavy horse off his foot in much pain. I tried not to laugh- I was unsuccessful. After a few attempts he finally succeeded and he mounted to get on our way. A little time later we had a nice flat opening so I decided this was a good time to race Mike.

I took off galloping at full speed with a good lead. As I was holding on, getting in my grove of the horse, behind me I hear a yell, “Awwwww!” Then a sound that sounded like a sack of potatoes being thrown to the ground. Thump! As I turned to my right to see what it was a horse came flying by me without rider or saddle. That was Mike’s horse.

Yep, that thump was Mike and the last half of the trail for him was a hike. Luckily he was not seriously hurt. I don’t know if he ever got on a horse after that.

Adventure 2

Mike and I often rode our bicycles all around Iowa City as kids and young teenagers. On this ride we were heading to the Coralville damn which was quit a long ride from our houses. He was on his Schwinn Sprint and I on my Schwinn Varsity and it was probably at least twenty miles out to the damn. All was well until we were riding along side the Iowa River across from City Park. For some reason, Mike crashed into one of the poles on the side of the trail. I guess that was the good part because if the pole had not stopped him the river would have.

So we continued on. About five miles further we were on a narrow bike path shared with runners and walkers. As Mike rode by a walker with his dogs he got tangled in the leases bringing himself to a quick stop.

We finally made it out to the dam with no further problems and Mike still on this side of the living. A little busied up maybe but still among the breathing.

The tree, and the Playboy Magazine

"With the thinking of a grade school boy which itself can be a swirl of confusing thoughts sees pictures of naked women it becomes a new adventure."

A boy’s curiosity is a never-ending adventure full of the mysteries of life. One of those curiosities is a girl. Girls can be beautiful and perplexing-something that does not change when they grow up. A woman is even more of a curiosity to a boy who puberty is just starting to begin. So when the trash mans truck broke down in our alley behind my best friend Mike’s house, which was full of some Playboy magazines, they quickly found a new home in the hidden corner of Mike’s garage.

With the thinking of a grade school boy which itself can be a swirl of confusing thoughts sees pictures of naked women it becomes a new adventure. We thought the best place to view our new find would be in the tree that bordered my house and Mike’s. Why the tree? I have no idea. Maybe we thought we wouldn’t be caught up there with the forbidden items.

As we started to climb my little brother Brad shows up and demands he gets one too or he will tell on us. So three little boy monkeys are climbing the tree and then we hear our big brother Wayne who is a young teenager. “Whatca got there?” he asks. “Nothing.” We stated. The problem with that is that Brad wasn’t as smart as we were by hiding the magazine in his shirt. His was flopping in the wind like an American flag on top a capital building.

To this day I still remember the grin on Wayne’s face when he saw what we had. It makes me snicker now thinking about it. The next part must have scared me because I don’t remember what happened next. I’m sure Wayne took them away from us. What he did with them I don’t know.

This was not the end of the Playboy adventure though. We opened a new chapter when we took them to the creek that flowed by my house-tore out the foldouts and dropped them off the bridge trying to see if we could make them land upright unfolded. Then watched them gentle flow down the stream sure to be found by a class mate so he could start his new adventure.

Christy’s Flattop Birthday

"But Christy is about nine years old at this time so dad, (me) has to carry most of the load for our overnight trip. Christy has a small bag with all her essentials, i.e. Teddy bear."

Flattop Mountain watches out over Anchorage, Alaska in the Chugach State Park, sitting at an elevation 3550 feet. From the trailhead it’s a three mile round trip with an elevation gain of 1252 feet. On a clear day you can see Mt. McKinley (150 air miles away) and Mt. Redoubt (Volcano) from the summit. It’s not a hard hike for a physically fit person. But Christy is about nine years old at this time so dad, (me) has to carry most of the load for our overnight trip. Christy has a small bag with all her essentials, i.e. Teddy bear. Me, I’m straining with my 3500 cubic inch backpack with food, water, sleeping bags and other goodies. I left the tent behind opting for just the rain fly since mosquitoes are not usually a problem that high. This saved me about ten pounds backpack weight and probably twenty pounds body fluid weight that I would have sweat out getting that load up the mountain.

This over night backpacking expedition is Christy’s birthday present. She asked for it as well as Barbie’s et. Kind of an unusual request for a nine-year-old girl but it wasn’t surprising. I use to talk about it all the time having spent a few nights up there myself. I use to run the mile and a half as exercise once a week with a goal of beating thirty minutes: my first time was close to an hour. The average hiker does this trail in two hours. I did make my under thirty minute goal with about five seconds to spare. I thought my heart was going to pound out of my chest and my lungs burst.

Most of the hike is a series of switchbacks going to and fro. The last part is the most difficult with a little vertical ascending involved. So me, my overweight backpack and a nine-year-old girl are trying to get up to the top. Did we make it? Of course we did. This would be a boring story had we not.

It is very rocky at the top with no vegetation and very few good places to lay a sleeping pad and bag. I found a nice place in-between some large rocks using them as a windbreak. We set up camp (which meant clearing small rocks out of the way that would otherwise stab our backs that night), hooked up the rain fly using rocks to secure it and then explored the top finally settling to bed in our warm sleeping bags in the forty degree air.

I think we were the only people to spend the night up there that night. We woke once and looked out. Christy was amazed that she was looking down on the clouds about two hundred feet below us with more all around us shedding their cool mist on us. She was thrilled!

The next day we ate breakfast and explored some more. We later watched people paraglide off the side of the mountain. Very cool! We watched Anchorage below us with the Cook Inlet on two sides. It was so very beautiful. We tried to find landmarks like our house, grandma’s house and downtown buildings we knew. It was one of those moments that a proud dad will treasure the rest of his life.

The trip down was not near has hard except for the initial climb down. It can be a dangerous trip and many people had been seriously hurt up there, even killed. We made it with no injuries and with a lifetime of great memories of a weekend with just dad and daughter.

Streaking

"Even at six a dare is a serious thing that is not to be taken lightly. You can’t back out of a dare- the completion of a dare is one of the steps to manhood."

“…and they called it the streak”

Ray Stevens made the, “Streak” a hit in 1974. I practiced years before as a small kid in Illinois. I was about six at the time. We lived in the village of Winthrop harbor, Il. My best friends were Frankie and Johnny who were about two or three years older than me.

We would often play in the fields and woods that were close to our homes. In the sixties we didn’t worry about being a little kid and child molesters that preyed upon them as we have now. At least I never had this problem.

On this particular adventure I was part of a dare. Even at six a dare is a serious thing that is not to be taken lightly. You can’t back out of a dare- the completion of a dare is one of the steps to manhood. Even at six I understood this.

This was the dare. Take off our clothes and run around the bushes. So as any boy who wants to become a man does- I took off my clothes. Frankie also did the same but Johnny didn’t. He had other plans. He grabbed all our clothes and ran.

I thought life would end then and there. I could not go home naked and I could not catch Johnny. So I did what any six-year-old kid would do in this situation. I balled my eyes out screaming at Johnny to give my clothes back. Luckily he complied and I got dressed without the humiliation of going home naked.

This was one of many such adventures with Frankie and Johnny. They were not a good influence on me needless to say so moving to Iowa when I was eight was a good thing.

Coke Bomb

“I’ve found what appears to be a bomb connected to one of the silos.”

“81 Bravo to 81 Alpha”.

“Go ahead.”

“I’ve found what appears to be a bomb connected to one of the silos.”

This communication started an event that is still very fresh in my mind. I was the leader of the patrol on that side of base that night. I was an Air Force Security Policeman stationed at Elmendorf AFB, Anchorage, Alaska. The year was 1981.

The area we were responding to was a very large antenna field that was used to listen to the Soviet Union. I knew the area well because that was my first duty station before the 6981^st and 21^st Security Police combined.

I raced to the compound with my partner hanging on tight. We drove to the guard shack that sat in the middle of the very large antennae field. The SP that manned the guard shack was talking to CSC (Central Security Control). He took me to the silo that had a suspicious object attached to it.

What I saw was a Coke can with wires coming from inside the can going to the silo. I doubted that such a small explosive device could take down the silo but I wasn’t taken any chances. I returned to the guard shack to call CSC taken the proper safety precautions with radio discipline. Being too close to a bomb while talking on a radio may set it off. I described what I saw to CSC, this set the ball in motion.

The Base Commander, Security Police Commander and EOD (Explosives Device Disposal) all responded. I stood back a safe distance while EOD inspected the suspect device. I was rather taken aback by the lack of concern by the two commanders as EOD worked. They were practically on the guys back peering over his shoulder. If it was a bomb and it exploded we would have been minus two commanders. The SP commander would not have been a great lose though. He was a jerk.

EOD disarmed the harmless Coke can and I headed back to the guard shack that Blade B occupied. Blade (Yes, his real name) seemed a little nervous. Not the kind of nervousness you may have in a situation like this though. I suspected what turned out to be the truth. He planted the Coke can and wired it up. He was an idiot.

They ended up tracing some papers inside the can to Blade. Blade then got a new duty station in beautiful Kansas- Leavenworth, United States Disciplinary Barracks. He was sentenced to six months hard labor and a dishonorable discharge.

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.