A news article caught my eye today and reminded me of the tragedy at the University of Utah in August 1999, when my good friend Scott's little sister, Amy Quinton, was brutally murdered in her home. She was a student at the university and her murder shocked the community and devastated her family. I had only met Amy once and she was a sweet young lady who had the whole world in front of her. Scott asked me if I would write a poem to be used in the funeral program print-outs. I was honored to do so and this is the poem I wrote. To this day, Amy's murder is still a cold case waiting to be solved. 

 

Amy’s Song

 

There has come a time, there’s no explanation,

I find nothing to say, my language is broken.

A loss of words, A flow of emotions,

That is often felt, but never spoken.

 

To give an example, just think of me

And ask yourself - what I think of you.

 There’s no spoken answer, it leads us to wonder,

How something untold could be true.

 

But then deep inside with a swell and a tingle,

I know that our love is beyond words.

 Such beautiful lyrics of the family I love,

Is like singing the song of the birds.

 

That wonderful sound that’s heard from the trees,

To some is just talk that birds know.

 But I believe it’s love being sung from above,

If we listen, the way it will show.

 

And knowing that song is like knowing my love,

It is sent from Heaven above.

And nothing is greater, than the feeling you’ll get

When you learn that God’s song sings my love.

Big Brother

Being an older brother has been one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. I’ve always tried to set a good example—imperfectly, perhaps—but with all my heart. This photo brings back a flood of memories and emotions. It was taken on my 16th birthday in July 1985, during a summer spent in Alaska with my older sister Melinda and a few of my youngest siblings.

Though I missed the rest of our family back in Idaho, I felt something that summer I truly needed: peace, joy, and a sense of belonging. I didn’t know then how much would change in the months ahead.

Not long after this picture was taken, Melinda left to live with friends. And the following July, our family experienced a tragedy that would reshape my life. At just 17 years old and entering my senior year of high school, I found myself stepping into a caretaker role for my younger brother and two sisters. With my dad working hard to support us, I became the one holding things together at home.

It wasn’t easy, and I grieved the normal experiences I missed out on. But looking back, I’m deeply grateful for the bond that formed between me and those three little ones. The love we share is something I treasure to this day. I carry it with me always.

John, Heidi, and Rebecca — thank you for bringing so much light and happiness into my life. Thank you for your patience, your love, and for sticking with me through my mistakes. Being your brother is a true honor. I love you all dearly.

Barbed Temptation

 "Barbed Temptation"

A shimmer dances on the stream,

A silver flash, a waking dream.

It spins and dips with practiced grace,

A thing of beauty, false in face.

Feathers tied with careful hand,

Threaded lies to help it land.

Glinting hook and tinsel thread—

A promise sweet, where danger's spread.

The trout below, with cautious eye,

Surveys the drifting, dancing fly.

It mimics life—enticing bait,

It stirs a hunger, tempts a fate.

So too in life, the lures are cast,

By currents deep, both slow and fast.

Temptations gleam in every shade—

In gold, in power, love betrayed.

They twist and tug on want and pride,

With flash and flair they pierce and hide.

Yet once they're bit, the truth comes fast:

The hook sinks deep. The die is cast.

But wisdom waits like deeper pools,

Beyond the shine, beyond the fools.

To know the lure, and not the bite,

To swim past glitter toward the light.

So be the trout who learns to see—

That not all shining things are free.

For beauty oft is just disguise

For hooks concealed in hollow lies.

My First 50 Years!

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been around for half a century now. What a journey it has been. Lots of ups and downs, with sudden turns and thrilling speeds. Much like a good long roller coaster.

I have experienced so much that it’s hard to fathom. I’ve witnessed everything from the creation of home computers to cell phones, Walkman cassette players to Discman CD players to mp3 players. Brick mobile phones to hand held mobile phones and pagers. Flip phones to smartphones. DOS systems to Windows. PC’s to Laptops to Tablets. VCR’s with BETA or VHS to DVD players to streaming movies and TV. From rabbit ears to cable TV to Satellite TV to IPTV. From encyclopedias, dictionaries and phonebooks to Google, Yahoo and Bing search engines. From Commodore 64 with floppy disk drives to Pentium processors to iPads and Tablets. From Pong, to Atari 2600 to Nintendo to Playstation, to XBOX to Wii. From Pac-Man and Asteroids to Mine Craft and Halo. From Bell Bottom Jeans to Yoga pants. From Sears and K-Mart to Walmart and Target to Amazon. From Taxis to Ubers. From Station Wagons to SUV’s to Electric Cars.

I remember prayers in school. As well as yardsticks on knuckles and paddles on behinds. I remember chalk erasers upside the head. I remember big hair and Aquanet spray.  I remember cabbage patch kids and pound puppies.  I remember AM radios and 8-tracks. I remember the America’s Top 40 Countdown every week. I remember the launch of MTV and ESPN. I remember Elvis Presley and John Wayne. I remember Michael Jackson and the moonwalk. I remember Nixon, Ford, Carter and Reagan. I remember the Vietnam War and the tearing down of the Berlin Wall. I remember Magic Johnson and Larry Bird. I remember the Miracle on Ice.

Six days after I was born, Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. I remember the Space Shuttle Challenger exploding on live television. I remember drive in movies with speakers on our windows. I remember Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader and Star Wars. I remember Muhammed Ali and Rocky Balboa. I remember Drakkar Noir and New Coke. I remember the first Chicken McNuggets and Air Jordans. I remember the eruption of Mt St Helens and the assassination of John Lennon. 

I remember a shark called Jaws and a sick kid named Ferris. I even remember the Rubik’s Cube.

I remember Lassie and Beaver and Little House on the Prarie. I remember Sunday nights with Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom and the Wonderful World of Disney. I remember the Muppets, The Electric Company  and the Bloodhound Gang. I remember Knight Rider and Manimal, Different Strokes and Welcome Back Kotter. I even remember who shot JR.

I’ve seen a lot more in my 50 years. I have seen the world advance faster and faster as each year passes. I’ve seen my life change from boy to man, from single to married, from a couple to a family. I’ve watched my family grow a whole new generation. I’m grateful to know that I touched the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, 2000’s, and 2010’s. Such wonderful memories in each era. To have been born in the summer of ’69 is awesome. I grew up in a world of ever-changing technology and mind blowing inventions. I experienced the greatest eras in music, movies and television. I grew up before technology could interrupt or replace the magic of playing summer baseball, swimming in the city pools, gathering the neighborhood for football games, building forts and other “get out and do things” activities.

I’m thankful for my health. Grateful that I can still play basketball and hike and fish. Here’s to the next 50 years. I hope I’m able to live to see twice as many new things as I’ve already seen to date. With the love of my life by my side, and with my kids and grandkids too, I plan to watch it and live it to the fullest. Bring on decade #7!! 

The Tracks Of Life

When I was born, you sat under shade of a chôm chôm.

Fighting for our country, in the jungles of Vietnam.
You returned to the nation you love, and to the family you'd been missing.
Though I knew you not, you picked me up, and plastered me with kissing.

We moved around as you searched for work, managing the great Red Steer.
You let me choose my own drink, mixing Dr. Pepper with root beer.
In the mountains we spent much time. You taught me the fishing knot.
You showed to put upon the hook the grasshoppers I had caught.

You tightly held my banana seat as I learned to ride a bike.
You cheered at my achievement. I'd no longer need a trike.
You taught me competition, and how to throw a ball.
You encouraged me to always, get up if I should fall.

You showed me when mistakes are made, if some we do offend.
That even though it hurts, we must quickly make amends.
So many years have passed, into a man I now have grown.
Today I am found raising, a young boy of my own.

My journey has but only started, there is much that lies ahead.
Happiness and hardships, yet forward I will tread.
The pathway windily traverses, adventure it never lacks.
Sometimes our load is lightened, sometimes heavy on our backs.

I look forward to what may come, to the future how it lay.
For this father and his son, will together make their way.
Tracks of life behind us. Before us endless more.
The rails keep us moving, toward our heaven's shore.

By Horace R Hallenberger II

“Wolves never lose sleep over the opinions of sheep.”

I love this. A wolf is smart. He knows what he wants. He makes a strategic plan and then, with exactness, executes the plan with the help of other wolves in his pack. He doesn’t let anyone distract him from his goal.  He lives without fear. He never fails. He may have setbacks along the way but he will never quit and thus ultimately always wins.

Listening to all the many sheep would make him a follower, succumbed to a life of being chased by dogs nipping at their hooves during the day, herding them into groups and keeping them within imaginary fences. Then they spend sleepless nights trembling in constant fear of every noise in the night.

If you know what you want, just make a plan and execute it. Don’t get caught up in the opinions of others. Especially if they aren’t living their own dreams. If your goal would bring you happiness and purpose, then all that matters is finding a way to accomplish it.

Dream big. Dream often. Find a pack of like-minded “wolves” and make your dreams come true.

My Grandma and Those Damn Yankees!

 

This baseball postseason, as the Dodgers made their way into their first World Series in 29 years, had me thinking a lot of my sweet Grandma Hallenberger. My Dad's mom loved baseball. My Grandpa played semi-pro baseball and I loved the stories they would tell me like when he batted against the great Satchel Paige. But it is my Grandma that I credit her for feeding my passion for the Los Angeles Dodgers. Not the way you might think however.

My Grandma was a die-hard Yankees fan and absolutely hated the Dodgers. She remembered the Dodgers residing in Brooklyn and the many World Series battles they had against her beloved Yankees.

The Yankees were the most powerful team of her day and beat the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1941,1947, 1949, 1952 and 1953. Two of those series went the distance with the Yankees winning in 7 games. The Dodgers finally broke thru to beat the Yankees for their first World Series Championship in 1955. It took all 7 games to capture the title.

In 1956 the Yankees reclaimed the throne, beating the Dodgers in a thrilling 7 game series in which the Dodgers had a 2 games to none lead. This was the series that saw the Yankees' Don Larsen in Game 5 throw the very first no-hitter in World Series History.

The next year the Dodgers moved to Los Angeles and the rivalry continued as the two clubs met yet again in the Fall Classic of 1963, where the Dodgers would crush the Yankees in a 4 game sweep.

This brings us to the 1977 classic. I was 8 years old and my Grandma tried her best to get me to like her favorite team. She would tell me all about the great history of the New York Yankees. From Babe Ruth to Lou Gerhig, from Yogi Berra to Mickey Mantle to Jo Demaggio. In 1977 all she talked about was Reggie Jackson. For me, I loved her passion for the Yankees. I loved the stories she would tell. But I loved to tease my Grandma and at the tender age of 8, I began the art of trash talking. To my own Grandma.

I was relentless in talking up the Dodgers. They were going to destroy the Yankees. Keep in mind that I actually knew very little about the Dodgers, besides the fact that Grandma loathed them.

Well, as it turns out, Grandma's Yankees won that series in 6 games. And it was Reggie Jackson fueling the victory with a Game 6 clinching performance of 3 home runs. Grandma was all kinds of happy and even did a little trash talking of her own towards her cocky grandson.

In 1978 it was on again! This time I dialed up my assertion that the Dodgers would pound the Yankees. I have to hand it to my Grandma though, she didn't flinch on her confidence that her team would prevail. And once again, the Grandma was right. Yankees beet the Dodgers in 6 games.

It would be a few years before the two teams would meet again in the World Series. The 1981 series was one that I actually remember well. I was a full Dodgers fan now because I loved how it got my Grandma going. I was quite a bit more knowledgeable of the game at this time too, so my trash talking was more valid. This year I would get her as the Dodgers beat the Yankees in 6 games.

Since that 1981 series the Dodgers have only won a single World Championship. That came in 1988 with the famous Kirk Gibson home run that sparked the upset against a powerful Oakland A's team. The Yankees on the other hand would go through a rough patch for many years until returning to glory in 1996. They would again win in 1998, 1999, 2000, and 2009. My Grandma was still around for each of those victories.

This year, I was thinking of Grandma as we were so very close to another Dodgers vs Yankees World Series. Even though it was weird to be rooting for the Yankees in game 7 against the Astros in the ALCS, I sure would have loved to rekindle this great World Series Rivalry. I know my Grandma would be watching every game as well. And she would be smack talking from heaven and I would feel it for sure. And I'm sure I'd have shouted out to the skies as well, letting her know that I bleed blue!

Today I'm thankful for baseball. And I'm especially grateful to my Grandma. Thanks for instilling in me a passion for baseball and competition. Thanks for teaching me what it means to be loyal to your team. Even when the Yankees were in the dregs of Major League Baseball, you always wore your stripes with pride. I have taken that gauntlet myself and am a die-hard faithful fan of my Dodgers, Lakers, and Rams. I love you Grandma! I miss you!! I hope you enjoy watching me as I cheer on the Dodgers in the World Series this year! GO DODGERS!!