A Boy's Best Friend

The past two weeks I have been home alone working on my house some evenings and during the weekends. My family took a vacation and because I couldn't go due to lack of vacation time, I was given a list of to-do's from my lovely wife. This was my apparent birthday present, time all to myself. "But make sure you get all this done."

They left our dog, Jake, with me to keep an eye on me I'm sure. Jake would rather have gone on vacation. Every time the drill comes on or my hammer hits a nail or I fire up the tile saw, Jake is buried in his kennel trying to block out the noise I make.

Yesterday when I finally finished my daily effort I sat down on the sofa and took off my shoes. People who know me well, know that I have very beautiful feet. They are sleek and are radiant from the many pedicures that I treat them to. Okay, I am exaggerating a little. I mean a lot. My feet are not desirable even to my socks. Most people suffer just seeing them.

As I peeled off my socks the aroma must have been to much for Jake and he instantly got off his bed and ran over to sniff the delicious odor. I was going to move my feet away but decided I'd like to see his reaction if he attempted to lick the athlete's foot infested toes. I know, I know, animal cruelty. But it was only done as an experiment. Besides, surely the smell would be too much for him and he would run with his tail between his legs at the taste.

So I let him sniff. Surprisingly I felt the cold wetness of his nose on the top of my toes. And then the unimaginable. His tongue slid out and quickly lapped one of the toes. As expected, an expression of unbelief and nervousness came over him. He looked up at me and then back at the feet. Then the unexpected happened. Hungrily he began to lick. I felt his tiny tongue all over my foot. It tickled as he sought out the good stuff in between the toes.

I briefly thought about pulling my feet away but I just couldn't deny him the pleasure and it sort of felt good to me too. As I enjoyed my little foot cleaning a sense of deja vu entered my mind and I was taken back to a time as a young boy.

I was 8 years old. I was a sad little boy. I was missing my dad. My parents had divorced earlier that year and I was living in a small farm-town called Homedale, Idaho. My mom and dad had each remarried and I was living with my mom and step-dad, Vee.  We were living in a small mobile home. It was very crowded with my 4 brothers and sisters and 2 of Vee's kids.  Mom and Vee made a bedroom out of the main living room and they slept there because the bedrooms were very small and the kids were in them.

I walked home from school as I did everyday. I liked the walk because I was usually by myself and I liked catching bugs along the old railroad tracks that ran from one side of town to the other. This particular day I wasn't in much of a good mood. I really was missing my dad and wondered how long before I would see him again. He was living in Pocatello so I knew it would be a while and it wouldn't be often.

I kicked a couple of rocks and tried to hold back my tears. I walked a couple hundred feet and then out of the weeds and onto the tracks bounded a tiny little beagle puppy. He ran up to me and excitedly tried to get some attention. I bent down and played with him for a minute and my sadness disappeared.  I looked around to see if there was anyone around who had lost their puppy. He was so young. Only like 5 or 6 weeks old. There was nobody around. There were no other puppies. There was no mommy dog looking for him. He was all alone. I didn't know what to do. I knew that he wouldn't be allowed at our home. We didn't have any room and probably couldn't afford to feed him either. I played with him a little longer and then tried to say goodbye and I walked away and continued home.

The puppy did not stay behind. He was right at my heels the entire way. As I got to our place I went inside and told my mom that I had found a puppy and that he had followed me home. She came outside with me and I showed her the cute little guy. She looked him over and then said that someone must be looking for him. He's not very old so we should be able to find the owners. You can walk around the neighborhood and see if you can find his home.

So after dinner I set out around town looking for the puppy's home. I knocked on so many doors I can't remember how many. Nobody knew anything about this puppy. Nobody knew of anyone who had just had puppies. It was getting dark and I began to head home. The puppy stayed right beside me.. His little legs must have been so tired.

When I got home I got a little plate and put some leftover dinner on it and some water and put it outside for the puppy. He hungrily ate. I left him outside and went in and did my homework and went to bed.

The next morning I got ready for school and as I opened up the door I was surprised to see the little puppy on the porch. He got excited and jumped up on my pant leg. I scratched behind his ears and then set off for school. The puppy never left my side. All the way to the school. I went in the school and made sure that the puppy did not follow me in. The puppy would have to find his way somewhere else.

School was uneventful and my mind wandered a lot. I would think of my dad. I wondered how he was doing. I wondered if he missed me as much as I missed him. A couple of times, tears welled up but I was able to hold them back so other kids wouldn't notice. Finally the school bell rang and I slowly grabbed my books and headed down the halls of the school. As I exited the building, much to my surprise, the little puppy ran right to me and began to jump around my legs. I was surprised that with all those kids walking around, it was as if he didn't even notice them. He wanted to be with me.

So he followed me home again. I got home and told mom what had happened. She was surprised and probably thought I hadn't even given the dog an option. I told her that I didn't encourage the dog and that I didn't think he would still be at the school when I came out. That made sense to her. She decided we should look for his home at some of the further out homes on some of the farms. We drove around for a couple of hours and not one person claimed the puppy. We got home and I put a little more food and water out for him and then went in for the night.

Mom told me that if he was still around after school tomorrow then I could keep him. I got a big grin on my face and I gave my mom a big tight hug. She had no idea how much that meant to me.

Sure enough the next morning the puppy greeted me at the door. Even with all of my other family members coming in and out the door, he always waited for me. He followed me to the school and then like a miracle he was outside the school doors waiting for me when school got out. He followed me home and my mom saw us coming up the road. She came out and said well we better give him a name. I threw out a couple of good ones like Ribsy or Rin-Tin-Tin. I liked those because I loved reading about them in books.

Mom said, "No, I think we should name him Eagor."

"Eagor?" I questioned.

"Yes," she replied. "You are the mad scientist and he is Eagor, your faithful companion."

I liked that. He truly was my faithful companion.

Eagor and I would have many adventures for many years. I loved him so much. I'll tell more Eagor stories later, but the one that had brought on my deja vu was this. Living in Pocatello, I used to collect night crawlers and I would sell them as fish bait. This was usually done later in the day after I was done with school and my paper routes. I would be so tired. I would grab a nice tall glass of lemonade and go sit out on the back porch and enjoy the light Pocatello evening breeze. I would take my shoes off and let the air sift through my toes.

Every time I would take off my shoes and socks, Eagor would "eagerly" (no pun intended) come over and lick my feet clean. His little tongue would feel so good and he would wet them just enough that the breeze would feel like air conditioning. I look down at him and smile. Then I realize that it is not Eagor licking my feet. It's Jake. Our faithful little beagle today. A lump swells in my throat as I ponder my little Eagor following me home that day in 1978. He was my best friend. He was just what I needed at that time in my life when I was feeling sad and alone at times.

I never found out where Eagor came from. It was such a strange mystery. He was much too young to be left alone. I like to think that someone above sent him to me to ease my pain.

So Jake, I'm sorry you had to taste whatever is between my toes. But I thank you for bringing me back such a tender memory of my childhood. I think Jake would have liked Eagor. They would have been great together. And I have two feet too. One for each of them.

My Hero - My Mom

So I’d like to take a moment to tell you a little bit about my mom. In my previous post I talked about my mom, Becky, who was my stepmother. Becky was an amazing woman and I’m so grateful for all she was to me. Today I would like to talk about my mom who brought me into this wonderful world.

MaryLouise Reynolds, my mom, was born on July 11, 1948 in Pocatello, Idaho. She is the eldest of 5 children. She grew up in the 1950’s and enjoyed all the crazes of the era including televisions, hot rod cars, the start of rock n’ roll, poodle skirts, James Dean and of course, Elvis Presley. When she became a teenager in the 60’s she attended Borah High School in Boise and graduated in 1966. Mom was a beautiful girl with a smile that would melt the toughest man.

Mom was excited at what life would bring her and had lots of big dreams for her future. Some of those dreams would become reality and some of them would never develop. Soon after high school there were many ups and downs for mom.

One of the downs for mom was when her dear brother Butch died from a diabetic seizure and she was there when he was found and nothing could be done to save him. This would trouble her for many years. Another trying time came when her parents separated and divorced. Though the family wasn’t always perfect it still hurt to see her family broken up.

Mom tried to stay strong, however and during some of these tough times she found love. She met Michael Hallenberger who was fresh off his mission in Guatemala. They were the cutest couple and were wed in 1967. They moved to San Diego and had their first child, a girl, Melinda on April 21, 1968. They were so happy and Melinda was the joy of mom’s life. After Melinda was born, the little family relocated to Boise where they bought their first home on Division St. Soon after, dad was deployed to Vietnam. Their first boy, Horace (me) was born on July 14, 1969 while dad was serving in Vietnam. It would be many months before dad would return home and mom did her best to raise her two young kids. She had some help from her sister, Sandy, as well as from her mom. Her mother and father-in-laws were also a big help.

Mom, Melinda and I

My Mom pregnant with me.

Dad finally returned from Vietnam and the family continued to grow. Another boy, Michael II, was born on April 16, 1971. After a while of dad working different jobs, he took a position with Red Steer in Walla Walla, WA. Red Steer was a popular hamburger joint and dad was moving up the chain into better management positions. They ran into some problems with the home in Boise and unfortunately lost it back to the bank.

Me and my Mom

Mom, Melinda and I

While in Walla Walla, mom had her fourth child, a girl named Michele, while at home on September 5, 1972. It is one of my earliest memories. I remember being sent to a neighbor’s house to get help because dad was at work.

Mom was very proud of her little family. Her kids were happy and healthy and she loved them very much.
Eventually dad was promoted at Red Steer and the family made another move back to Idaho. This time they landed in Pocatello. We moved to a cool little brick home near the Ross Park Zoo. Mom would take the kids over to the big park almost every day it seemed. Dad worked hard and his restaurant was doing very well. They decided to move a little closer to where he worked so we moved across town onto El Rancho Blvd. This was up on the hill and Dad had less than a mile to drive. We were there for over a year and then moved into a duplex on Holman Ave but were still on the hill.

Robert

On Sept 5, 1976, Michele’s 4th birthday,  they had their 5th child, a boy named Robert. In 1977, mom began to have some medical issues and they traveled to Salt Lake City to see a specialist to try to figure out what was the cause. My siblings were farmed out to friend’s homes while our parents were away. This was the week that Elvis Presley died.

When they returned home summer was almost over. Mom began to make preparations for school to start and dad continued to manage the Red Steer.

A few days after school started, mom’s biggest dreams were shattered. Dad had made the decision to leave and had told her he didn’t love her anymore. This was devastating for mom and all of us kids. Something snapped in mom and she had a nervous breakdown at the young age of 29 year old.

My Family August 1977

Dad took us kids with him to Boise and mom stayed in Pocatello until she was able to function properly again. She came to Boise about a week later and picked us up from dad and we rode the Amtrak back to Pocatello. We moved out of the duplex into some apartments at the base of the hill on Hiline Rd. The kids went back to school and mom was home with Robert.

Eric

Trudy

                                                                                           








A few months later mom met someone who was recently divorced as well. She began to date Vernon (Vee) Davenport and when her divorce was finalized in the spring of 1978, they were wed on May 6, 1978. They spent their honeymoon looking for a place to live. We ended up moving into a small trailer house in Homedale, Idaho. Vee had grown up in Homedale and his parents still lived there. Vee had four children of his own, Chris-16, Trudy-14, Kelli- 11 and Eric-7. Most of the time they lived with their mother but sometimes Kelli and Eric would live with us.

Kelli

Mom’s health never fully recovered. She began to suffer from rheumatoid arthritis and it was taking over her young body. She was pretty open about talking about it and though it weighed heavy on her and began to limit her ability to do certain things, she never stopped doing things. She was involved in her children as much as she could and she loved them unconditionally.

Benjamin

Vee worked for the Union Pacific Railroad and the family had a lot of fun participating in the events that his work put on. Right on schedule they had their 1st child, Benjamin, on May 4th, 1979, just two days before their first anniversary. This meant that there were 10 children living in the little trailer and we would need to move. They found a split level house in Caldwell and we were off.



Life was tough on the family as Vee’s employment didn’t pay too much and he was sending child support to his previous wife. It was a struggle with stepchildren and stepparents trying to get along. Many times this was unbearable.

Halloween 1981 - Me, Michael and Mom

At one point in 1981, two of mom’s children would run away from home to live with their dad. Melinda and I broke her heart when we left. She was torn between anger and sadness at that time.
Mom’s arthritis continued to worsen. Her joints in her wrists, elbows and knees had become nearly unusable at times. She was in and out of the doctor’s offices.

Later in 1981 they moved again back to Pocatello and rented a home on Meadowbrook Ln. Mom was active in her kid’s lives and she volunteered at Syringa Elementary as well. Vee continued to work at the Railroad but he was getting a little nervous if he would keep his job or not.

Good news came in March of 1982 when I moved back to live with them. Melinda had stayed with her dad and they would soon move to Alaska.

Mom did her best to help me be happy. She introduced me at school and at church. She helped me find babysitting jobs and a paper route. Things did seem to be a little happier than when I had run away. We moved again just down the road on the same street and then again onto Wayne Ave just a couple of streets over.

Matthew

In October of 1983 mom gave birth to her 7th child, Matthew. That made 11 kids between mom and Vee. When everyone was home it was nuts. Chris and Trudy were adults now and Kelli was getting close to graduating so they were not around too much. We all had fun with Matthew and Ben.

Over the years since mom was diagnosed with the arthritis, she would have different surgeries to try and help her keep some mobility. I can remember her having her wrists operated on because it had become so bad that they would not bend any more. Her fingers began to curl up and one of her elbows locked up. Her knees would get so bad that she couldn’t move. She stayed positive however and even would find the good in her ability to predict the weather. Whenever she felt the pain grow she knew that a storm was brewing. She was more accurate than any of the weathermen (or meteorologists as they are called today).
Mom did her best to make it to every event that her children participated in. I was especially fortunate because I was in the band. Mom would come to every concert I was in. She let me practice at home. She would brag about me to other moms.

Mom also worked with her hands doing things for others. Even though her fingers were frail and crooked, she would knit, crochet, stitch, needle point, make pottery, paint and whatever other craft she could find. She would do these for random friends or for birthday and Christmas gifts. Many she did for herself and her home displayed many of her creations.

Happiness was often found at home and other times it was far from it. This was very stressful for mom and I know she wished she could make it better, but she was so limited physically.

Family photo 1984

Later in 1983 or ’84, Vee would lose his job with the Railroad along with many others as part of a massive layoff. During the summer of 1984 Melinda had come to visit for the summer from Alaska. She was supposed to return before the school year but she had used up all her airfare money and was stuck in Pocatello. She would register for school at Highland High School along with me.

Melinda was not happy with having to stay and she was defiant in her attitude towards the mom and the family. This put additional stress on what was already a tough time for everyone. It eventually escalated to the point of a major fight at home and before you could blink Melinda and I were on the run again. This time we sought help from our Bishop who lived down the street. The next day we were on a plane to Alaska to live with dad again.

Mom and Vee continued to live in Pocatello with the other kids for a short time and then moved to Salem, Oregon in 1985. In 1986 they returned to Homedale.

They would move many more times as Vee struggled to find steady work. The kids grew and graduated from High School and slowly began to trickle out of the home as adults. When Matthew was 18 they were living in Hagerman, Idaho where they still reside today. Mom has had more surgeries than I can count. 37 of her 66 years she has been afflicted with that horrible disease. 25 of the 37 years she was having and raising her children. It hasn’t been a fun ride.

Yet if you have a chance to sit down with my mother you won’t hear much about the bad. She will tell you all about her family. She’ll tell you every event that her kids participated in. She’ll tell you about all the things her kids are doing now, where they live, where they work and, of course, all about her grand-kids. Over 30 grand-kids now and still counting.

She is a mother of fierce loyalty. She will fight for her children at all costs. As she has watched some of her children struggle in their own marriages, she will only see things from her child’s eyes and supports them no matter what.

I am my mom’s eldest son. I have tried to live a life of goodness to others. I have tried to make my focus on my family so that I do not have to go through what my parents did. I sometimes wonder if my mom ever recovered from my dad leaving. The emotional scars must be deep and long for her. She possibly still feels the pain sometimes.

Mom and I at my HS Graduation

I love my dad and there is so much that I have learned from him. Unfortunately none of us are perfect and we all make mistakes. Some mistakes can haunt us our whole lives. But hopefully we learn from those mistakes. Even if the mistakes were not ours. My dad’s mistakes have had great influence on my life. I could have followed him and made the same mistakes but I chose to learn from them and avoid the heartache. One of the things that I learned was to always find the good in my marriage. I cannot imagine inflicting pain like the pain that my mom felt. I’m sure it was much worse that the physical anguish that she lives with every day.
I am so thankful to have the mother that I do. We don’t see eye to eye on everything but I know she is always there for me. ALWAYS. I have never doubted her love for me. She has been a shining example of overcoming obstacles. She is a champion in life. She is beautiful inside and out. She is strong. She is courageous. She has never quit even when the others justifiably would have. Arthritis has taken many things from my mom, but it has never taken her spirit of love and compassion.

So today I say, Happy Birthday Mom! I love you completely. You are my hero.

Mom and Vee

July, Month of Red, White and the Blues

July has always been my favorite month. I love summer. I love the long, warm days. It is the month that I celebrate my birthday. It is the month that this great country, of which I am so privileged to live in, celebrates its birthday.
Since July of 1969 I have enjoyed many wonderful experiences. Growing up I spent most of the summers in the mountains with my family and grandparents. I remember Grandpa Hallenberger cooking ham-hock and beans. He would simmer it over the campfire all day. I can still smell the aroma as it floated throughout our camp. And oh the flavors. I have still never had beans that could compare to my Grandpa’s.
Grandma would take us up onto the side of the hills to pick huckleberries. We would eat as many as we put in our bags. Grandma and mom would make syrup or we would just eat them fresh with our pancakes. I remember one time eating a few too many and got sick. I went to the tent in the middle of the afternoon and laid down. It’s the only time in my life that I can remember throwing up. It came so fast that I couldn't even make it out of the tent. Just left a nice thick purple splatter in the middle of the tent floor. I called out to my parents and my dad came in and just started cleaning it all up.
We would stay up late every night and sing songs around the campfire while my dad played along on his guitar. I learned to love the music of Roger Miller, Hank Williams and Johnny Cash as well as many other classic country stars. Great memories.
One of the most difficult and trying times of my life also took place one July. I recall the memory in my mind often, but haven’t talked too much about it and have never written it down. But it is an important life altering time in my life that would test my mettle and shape my future.
In July of 1986 I was in between my Junior and Senior year of high school. Summertime in Homer, Alaska was beautiful and there was so much to do. My dad and I fished a lot and I camped out with my friends. Home life was the best it had been for many years. We didn't have much but we were so happy. Our little home was just a single room less than 450 square feet. It had an upstairs in the rafters of the roof where we all slept. The bathroom was an outhouse back behind the little home. For a bath tub we had an old horse trough. Located some 20 miles from Homer outside of a little town called Anchor Point, we were truly off the grid.
Despite our lack of luxury we found a way to be comfortable and happy. We loved being together as a family. Dad, mom (my stepmother, Becky) and my younger siblings, John 5, Heidi 3 and Rebecca 1. My older sister, Melinda had moved out earlier in the year. I loved being with them. Though having a stepparent is not always ideal, I had a special relationship with Becky. Most people didn't know that she wasn't my mother.
July 4th was a Friday that year and we spent most of the day at the Darlings house. We enjoyed a nice BBQ together with our best friends. In the evening we celebrated the birth of our country. It was a fun evening with some of the people that we loved the most.

The next morning Dad and I decided we would go fishing. It was good to live in the Halibut Fishing Capital of the World.  So I got my chores done early while Dad gathered the fishing gear. Once we were all loaded up, we grabbed a couple of sandwiches and hopped in the old white Dodge van that we had purchased from the Darlings. Dad had barely started the engine when Mom came out the front door and stood on the porch. She had a disgusted look on her face. I was completely shocked when she raised her voice and yelled at Dad. “Sometimes you are so selfish!” She quickly turned and went back into the house and slammed the door behind her.
Dad and I were stunned. In the entire time that I had known her, she had never raised her voice and anyone. Especially my Dad. She and Dad had a very special relationship. Dad looked at me and said, “I don’t think we should go fishing today.”  I nodded in agreement and we both exited the van. I spent the rest of the day chopping wood and playing with the kids.
As I chopped wood I listened to my favorite music from The Beach Boys on my Walkman cassette player. I ran the incident in my mind over and over barely hearing the songs playing in my headphones. What possibly caused her to blow up at Dad. It was so troubling to me. My dad just went on with his day as if nothing had happened but I knew he must have been thinking the same things as I did.
Early afternoon we decided to go down to the Anchor Point school and let the kids play on the swings and other playground equipment. We took some tennis rackets and balls as well as some drinks and snacks. Once at the school we played with the kids for a while and then Dad and I played a little tennis. After a bit Mom and the kids came over and we all played a form of tennis that was more laughing and chasing balls around everywhere. It was lots of fun. I saw a friend of mine show up with his basketball and start to shoot by himself on the old chain link basketball hoop. I decided to go over an play with him for a bit. His name was Lance Bailey and I was good friends with him. We were on the wrestling team together and he was the defending state champion at 105 lbs. He also played for the Homer Mariner basketball team. I was hoping to make the team my senior year and had been working very hard at my game. I was pretty confident that I would make the team too. The star center on the team was Gary Sneed and he lived next door to us. He was a 6’11” soon to be sophomore. He had a small indoor basketball court that they had converted from their old cabin. He would come over and invite me to play and I would play with him for hours. I was small and quick and he was tall. We were able to help each other’s games out and I was excited to see what we would do together for the Homer team that upcoming year.
Playing against Lance was much different. Lance was deceptively quick and had long arms that he could use to steal the ball if someone wasn’t very careful dribbling around him. We played a little one on one and I more than held my own. I considered Lance to be a good gauge on where my game was at. I thought that he and I and Gary would be great teammates.
It was nice and hot outside, at least by Alaskan terms. The temperature was in the upper 70’s and there were very few clouds in the sky. It was beautiful. I was quite sweaty and had played hard. Dad came over with the rest of the family and watched us for a few minutes and then he said it was time to leave. I told Lance “good game” and shook his hand. He patted me on the back and said he was excited to play more with me in the future.
We left the school and Dad asked if we should go get some pizza at the little pizza parlor in Anchor Point. My dad didn't really care for pizza much but he really liked that little place in Anchor Point. We ordered some pizza and some sodas and sat and ate as a family. We talked about the great day it had been and how much fun we had. Mom said she was impressed at how well I was playing basketball with Lance. My dad agreed. I was pretty happy that they had noticed and that they thought that I could play for the High School team as a senior.
After pizza we went home and got the little kids ready for bed. Then we gathered in the little family area downstairs and talked more about what a great day we had and that we were thankful to have such a happy family. Thoughts of what had happened before we took off fishing had faded. We held hands in a circle and said family prayer and thanked our Heavenly Father for the blessings we had been given that day and for allowing us to be part of such a wonderful family.
As we prayed I thought of my family back in the “lower 48”. My real mom and step-dad and my other brothers and sisters were living in Oregon. I missed them and said a little prayer of my own silently in my head and gave thanks for them as well. Life had been a struggle since I was 8 years old but I had also been blessed with so many to love.
After the prayer we sent the kids off to bed. Mom said she wasn't feeling real good and she went out to the outhouse while Dad and I dished up some ice cream and watched a little Twilight Zone on TV. When mom came back she looked a little pale and said she was going to bed. I gave her a hug and told her I loved her and thanked her for letting us have such a great day together. She smiled and turned and went up the stairs to the loft. Dad followed her up and then after a few moments came back down. We watched TV for about 30 minutes and Dad went upstairs again. I heard Mom crying a little saying her abdomen was hurting and she was nauseous. Dad came downstairs and told me it was probably time to call it a night. He went into the kitchen area and found some Pepto Bismol and took it up to Mom. I went outside to use the outhouse and then returned and went upstairs to my bedroom area.  I could hear my little brother, John, snoring like he was a little old man. I chuckled to myself and then laid down on my bed. I put my headphones on and listened to some Foreigner and tried to drift off to sleep.
I must have fallen asleep and I was awakened by some noise. I looked at the clock and it was about 1:30 in the morning. I heard my parent’s door handle and the door opened up. Dad and Mom came out and went downstairs. I asked if everything was OK and Dad said that Mom wasn't feeling well and she was going back to the outhouse to try to relieve herself. She must have eaten something that didn't set well with her. I felt bad for her and also for Dad. Dad was the Elder’s Quorum President at church which meant he needed to leave the house at 6:30am so he could be there for a 7am meeting. It didn't appear that he and Mom had gotten much sleep at all yet.
I put my headphones on again and drifted off to sleep again. I heard my parents come back into the house and up the stairs. A couple of more times thru the night I heard Mom crying and Dad going up and down the stairs trying to get her things to help her feel better.
When I awoke for good at about 7am it was obvious that Dad would not be making his early meetings. He was dressed but still trying to help Mom feel better. At about 8 o’clock I woke up the kids and got them dressed and fed them breakfast. Dad asked me to call Frances Darling and ask her if she would come over and help with Mom. Frances was one of Mom’s best friends and we knew that she would want to help. She also practiced home remedies for many ailments. She had a special kit with some homeopathy supplies. They were tiny little white sugary type balls. There were some for all kinds of sicknesses. So I called Frances and she said she would come right over.
When she got to our house she was with her son Tony, who was my best friend. She wanted Tony to take me and the kids to church with them. I helped get the kids out to his car but told him I wanted to stay and help Mom. I thanked him and then he got in the car and drove away.
I went back into the house and Frances was just coming downstairs. It was about 9:30 now and Frances went back upstairs and gave Mom some of her remedies. I went upstairs to get a book out of my room and saw my Dad leaning over Mom. He whispered to her that she should keep resting and that he would come back in and check on her shortly. I saw Mom drift asleep for the first time since she had gotten sick. Dad, Frances and I went back downstairs and Dad made some calls to church to let them know that he wouldn't be there today. At about 10 o’clock Frances said she was worried and thought we should probably call the hospital. Dad agreed and so Frances placed the call. Dad went upstairs and I heard the crying again. Mom was in so much pain.
I went upstairs to just to see if Dad wanted me to do anything. When I looked into the room I saw Dad holding Mom tightly. He looked up at me and said the words that would haunt me forever, “He took my Becky, He took my Becky! It wasn't Mom who was crying. It was Dad.
I didn't know what to do. I felt that I had been punched in the stomach by Ivan Drago. I couldn't breathe. I turned away from the scene and went downstairs. Frances was still on the phone with the hospital. I told her that it was too late and that she didn't need to call the hospital. She looked at me strangely and said that an ambulance was on the way. I told her that Mom was gone. She became angry with me and shouted, “Horace that is not funny, I can hear her crying!”
I told her “That’s not Mom. That is my dad crying.”
There was a look of horror come over Frances’ face. She knew I was not joking around. She put down the phone and went up the stairs and saw what I had told her was true. She began to weep with my dad.
A few moments later I heard the sirens from the ambulance driving down Lichen St to our home. They parked in the front and quickly grabbed some supplies and went into the house and upstairs. They asked Dad to let them help and so Dad and Frances came out of the room and downstairs. Frances and Dad began making some phone calls to the church to let them know what had happened.
At one point I walked upstairs and saw the paramedics frantically trying to revive my mom. She was laying on her back and they used the defibrillator to jump start her heart again. It was something I wish I had never seen. After a while they placed her on a gurney and took her out to the ambulance and they sped off to the hospital.
Soon after the ambulance left another car came up the road. It was Lee Garlock and Bishop Seljestad. Lee was a counselor in the bishopric and was also one of Dad’s cousins. I can still remember the embrace that they gave my dad and I in the driveway of our little home. They were heartbroken. They helped us gather some things and then we followed them into town. When we got to the hospital we went to a little room they had set aside for families that needed privacy. We went in and said a prayer together that we would all be able to strong as a family at this difficult time.
Afterwards we waited until the doctor finally came out and told us that there was nothing that they could do to save her. She had bled internally from what was called a tubular pregnancy. I hadn't even known that she was pregnant. Dad told me that they had just found out themselves and hadn't told anyone yet.
We decided to stay with Pat and Ray Evarts for a few days in Homer while we got things sorted out. Ray was like a godfather to my younger siblings. In fact Heidi’s middle name was in honor of “Papa” Ray. Ray also wanted to be the one to explain the situation to John, Heidi and Rebecca. Bless his heart he tried to fight the tears as he explained to little John how his mother was now in the spirit world and was waiting for the resurrection when she could be with her family and Jesus and Heavenly Father again. John’s capacity to understand seemed a miracle to me and he even sat down with Heidi and Rebecca and talked to them about where Mom was now. It was so sweet.
For me, I was just angry. For what seemed like the first time in my young life I had been truly happy. I was doing well in school. I had the greatest friends. I had a wonderful church family. I was ready to be a great wrestler and basketball player for Homer High. I had a home that was full of love and joy and harmony. It had all come crashing down around me. I felt that I was never to be that happy. Every time in my life that things were going well for me, it always ended in tragedy or disappointment. I was so bitter.
The next few weeks would be a whirlwind of emotion for me. I was angry with God and had become despondent to those around me. There were so many things that constantly reminded me of Mom and that was not helping me feel any better about the situation.  The day before the funeral, Pat Evarts asked me to go to the store with her. I didn't really want to go but reluctantly I agreed to. I loved Pat. She had let me hang out at her house many times when I had a school function or a wrestling match after school. She would give me snacks and we would watch WKRP in Cincinnati together. That was one of her favorite shows. The Evarts had a beautiful home just down from the High School and had a wonderful view of Homer. They also owned the supermarket across the street. As Pat and I entered the store I felt some déjà vu and remembered going to the store with Mom on many occasions.
Pat told me I could get a candy bar if I wanted. I stood there in the candy isle and looked at all the options. I kept asking myself, what would Mom get me if she were here? I picked up a Big Hunk and told Pat thanks and walked out of the store back to the house. I sat in the guest room and stared at the candy bar. I had no appetite.

The dreaded day of the funeral arrived. I shook a few people’s hands but didn't say much to anyone. I was a little surprised and the number of people who came to the church that day. It was obvious that Mom’s death had a great impact on that little community. The outpouring of love was supreme.
As the funeral began, they welcomed everyone and thanked them all for coming. They talked about how important the Hallenberger family was to them. Bishop Seljestad shared some thoughts and I was amazed at how touched he was by Mom during the short time she lived in Alaska. I knew how wonderful she was but I didn't realize that so many others had been blessed by her love as well.
After a couple of speakers, my best friend Tony got up to do a musical number with Pam Sherwood, another of our dear friends in Homer. The song was “I’ll Build You a Rainbow”. It’s about a mother who was dying and she was explaining to her young son that he shouldn't be afraid, that she would still be there watching over him. She said she’d build a rainbow for him to know she was there. It was heart wrenching to hear. I had heard the song many times but it had never pierced me as it did that day. Tony struggled to fight back the tears as he sang. I began to cry and then to sob. It was the first time I had cried over Mom dying. I felt Dad’s arm around me as my shoulders continued to shudder through the song. I had loved her so much and now it was sinking in that it was real. That she was gone. I also felt in my heart that she would be watching over me and building me a rainbow even thought I wasn't her real son. I felt a sense of peace come over me.
I remember that before the funeral we had the opportunity to look in and view Mom’s body as it laid in the casket. Something did not seem right. It just didn't seem like it was her. Something was missing. After the wonderful funeral service we again walked up to the casket before the lid door was closed. Our whole family noticed that her countenance had changed. It was almost as if she was now smiling up at us. This again brought us to tears.
As they closed the casket I whispered “I love you, Mom”.

Eight days after the loss of Mom I “celebrated” my 17th birthday. It was not much of a celebration. I didn't have much to be excited about. We spent the next couple of weeks in Boise with my Dad’s family. We had a second funeral service for our relatives in Idaho where we were all originally from. My dad occupied his time touring the Temples in Utah while John, Heidi, Rebecca and I stayed with my dad’s sister, Lela, and her family. My cousin Brenda tried hard to help me keep my mind occupied on things other than the sadness I was feeling. We did some work for my Uncle Blaine so we could earn some money for tickets to a Beach Boys concert. I had a lot of fun but definitely it was all on the surface. Deep down I was still reeling.
We finally returned to Alaska and my Dad told me that he had decided it was best for him to move back to Boise so he could be near his parents. I know that the memories that were around our little home in Anchor Point were more than he could bare. Dad knew that this decision to move would have a great impact on me. He knew about my aspirations for my Senior year at Homer High. He gave me the choice to stay and finish High School in Homer. There were a couple of families that had offered to let me stay in their homes during that time. I looked at my dad and my little brother and sisters and chose to go with them. I couldn't leave them. I felt that they needed me and I surely needed them at this time.
We began to pack our meager belongings and prepare for the long trip back to Idaho. We received a phone call from someone at church and they wanted to talk to my dad. After he hung up the phone he told me that I needed to pack a bag of clothes for a few days. I asked why and he said that they were coming to pick me up and take me to Youth Conference in Anchorage. I was surprised to hear this news. I had decided not to go to Youth Conference after Mom died because there was just too much going on and I wasn't really in the mood to go. They had told Dad that they were not taking no for an answer and that they were going to physically load me into the vehicle if needed.

Tony Darling

Me and Alan Otter

Jenny Darling

I reluctantly packed a bag and soon heard a car pull up to the house. My best friends, Tony, Nelson Swett and Ronald Caroll were there. I said a quick good bye to my Dad and I was on my way. We met up with all the rest of the youth from the church and began the 4 hour drive to Anchorage. I have to admit it was good to be with my friends. They were so kind and tried hard to uplift me as I struggled at the time. The conference was good. I felt so much love from everyone. Word had spread of my situation and I was encouraged by some of the leaders to speak to the youth about my experience. It was one of the most difficult things for me to do. I stood in front of the hundreds of youth from around Alaska. I became overwhelmed with emotion. I found myself thinking about Mom. I could feel her presence there with me. I looked around at the many faces who were focused on me standing at the pulpit. I could pick out a couple of my friends from Homer and they were all smiling at me with tears running down their cheeks. I realized that Mom had built me a rainbow. My rainbow was beautiful and full of color and brightness. It was made up of young people like myself who had become my greatest friends. It was made up of Tony and Jenny Darling. It was made up of Ron, Andrea and Elizabeth Carroll. My rainbow had Nelson Swett, Sarah Anderson and Kirsten Ballentine. Kim Willis and Lucinda Knopp were there. Matt and Wendy DeGraffenreid were there. Dave Seljestad, and my good friend Alan Otter were there.

David and Bishop Seljestad

Andrea Carroll and Kim Willis

Me and Nelson

There were many more. I felt love all around. I finally began to speak. I’m sure I was hard to understand because the tears were flowing freely as I expressed my love for my many friends and for my mother. It seemed like everyone in the meeting was crying as well. After I was done, I was enveloped in the arms of all of these dear friends. I was going to miss them all so much but I knew that because of them and others like them, that I was going to be ok. I was not alone.
I was no longer angry with God. Instead I was extremely grateful to him for all the wonderful blessings in my life.

My senior year of High School was nothing like I had planned. I moved to Boise with my family and played the part of “Mom” the best that I could throughout the school year. Dad got a job doing sales that had him traveling all over Southern Idaho. This kept him out of town on many occasions so it was up to me to keep the house in order. I gave up wrestling and basketball. I gave up many of the things that I was so excited about before. I was happy though. I received something that most boys my age never experience, the love of their younger brother and sisters. It was so important to me that they felt loved each and every day. Their mother had been taken from them in the most impactful time in their lives. I tried to keep her memory in the home. I told them how much she loved each of them and that someday they would see her again. My bond with them is still strong today. Like a mother, I feel their pains and their joys and they have grown up and become parents themselves.

Today is July 6, 2014. It’s been 28 years since Mom left us. I still miss her every day. I love her and I am grateful for the influence she had on me. I am especially thankful for the day that she yelled at my dad and I for being selfish as we were leaving for a day of fishing. I love to fish. But fishing would not have compared to that one last day with Mom. I like to think that she knew it would be her last day with us and she needed us to be together. It was a great day. It was the best day. Thanks, Mom!