The Joys Of The Teenage Aging Process

People who knew me growing up were very aware of my lack of musical talent outside of my tuba skills.  Though I considered myself a master at the tuba, my singing was not nearly as easy on the ears.  I had the unique ability to sing an entire song using just one tone.  They call it monotone.  It is very boring and to be honest, not very musical either.  Well, when I started going through puberty and my voice began to change, all of a sudden I was able to hear my voice better and was able to correct the monotone syndrome.

This made me more willing to sing in church with the rest of the congregation but I still did not have the confidence to sing by myself or in an organized choir.  Then one day I was messing around at the piano in the music room with my friends Tony Darling and Jimmy Holderman.  Jimmy's mom was the choir director and Jimmy was obviously trained well as he could sing tenor beautifully.  Before the end of the previous school year I heard him at one of the school concerts.  He and three other guys had put a quartet together and did a rendition of "Bobbie Sue" which brought on a standing ovation.

As we were singing and playing on the piano we were unaware of Jimmy's mom standing behind us enjoying our little musical playtime.  When we did finally noticed her, she walked up and introduced herself to me.  I told her that I knew who she was and she said she knew who I was as well. I was surprised by that and asked her how she knew me.  She said that the Band Director couldn't stop talking about his new tuba player.  I smiled at that and tried to show some humility.  "I'm glad he likes me" I said.

She asked me if I was going to try out for choir to which I chuckled and shook my head.  "I'm not much of a singer" I said.

"Says who?" She asked.

"My dad for starters. My sister, brothers and probably my mom, though she would be nice about it.  I can play an instrument but the voice is not impressive." I implied.

"Horse manure." She nearly yelled. "You have one of the most beautiful tenor voices I've heard from a young man your age. And it is natural which is even better.  Jimmy has a beautiful voice but he has had to work very hard at it.  With a little training you could be an All State Choir member."

Surprisingly, Jimmy didn't flinch at that comment.  In fact he seemed to be supportive of what his mom was saying. Jimmy was really good, too. I didn't think I could ever be as good as him.

"I doubt that", I said.  "I really have never sang much. Actually until a couple of months ago I was completely monotone."

Mrs. Holderman gasped.  "You're kidding."

"No Ma'am, until my voice changed I was completely tone deaf when it came to my own voice."

"Well all that matters now is that you can hear it today and I want you to try out for a tenor position in the choir."  She said firmly.

Tony patted me on the back and said it would be great to have me in the choir with him.  Jimmy also chimed in and said it would be good to have another tenor besides himself that could hit the high notes.  I shrugged my shoulders still tentative on the idea, but agreed to anyway.  "What do I need to do? I asked.

"Stand next to the piano and we'll do it right now." She said.  "I will play some notes and I want you to mimic my playing with your singing."

I agreed nervously as I wasn't at all comfortable doing my "try out" right in front of Tony and Jimmy, both of whom were exceptional singers. Mrs. Holderman played some runs that went up and back down and then jumped from here to there to check my hearing.  I followed along singing the best I could under the circumstances.  She would every once and a while correct my posture and showed me how to sing from my diaphragm for more power and to open my mouth more for more sound.
When we were finished five minutes later, she grabbed my shoulders and told me that I would be a 1st Tenor in the Choir sitting right next to Jimmy.

The next few hours I was in a bit of a stupor.  I never imagined singing in a choir and now with little thought or preparation it was going to happen.  When I told my Dad and Mom that I was going to sing in the choir, my Dad was nearly as shocked as me.  But he congratulated me and was happy that I would be able to add to my musical talents.

Melinda was not as excited when I told her.  She was already in the choir and had been singing her whole life.  I guess she didn't feel I had earned it like she had. Melinda would have her moment of glory however during our first concert. Unfortunately it would come at my expense and not due to her own personal performance.

It was the first concert in the new Homer High School.  I had been volunteered by Jimmy Holderman to do the solo for "The Lion Sleeps Tonight".  It wasn't hard to convince his mom either because I was the only male singer in the entire choir that could sing the main part so high.  There were three verses and I had the first verse all to myself.  The remaining two verses would be sung by the girls and by the entire choir respectively.  I have never been so nervous in my entire life and I practiced during every free moment of every day.  Later in the concert I would also have another part that wasn't for singing but was more of a funny thing and I was totally OK with that.  The singing part was causing me to nearly throw up.

I held it in however and gathered myself together as we filed out in a line and assembled as a choir on the bleachers that had been set up in the cafeteria area.  It was a large open area that had a second story with railing so you could overlook the cafeteria all around the perimeter.  People were lined up along the railing looking down upon us.  The rest of the cafeteria was set up with rows of folding chairs that covered the majority of the floor space.  These seats were completely full and there were people standing all around when they couldn't find a seat available.

I looked out into the audience and about half way down the rows on the left side I saw my Dad and Mom with John, Heidi and Rebecca next to them.  Though I wanted to make them proud, my nervousness elevated even more and I again held back the convulsive gag reflex and urge to spew.
The music began for our opening number and I tried my best to carry the tune with my fellow performers.  I knew already that the solo was at risk.  The first two words out of my mouth were barely noticeable as human.  I trudged ahead and tied my best to allow my vocal cords to warm up.  I figured that after a bit they would loosen up and I would be able to form real sound instead of the crackling warble that I so expertly released.

The first song finally ended, or should I said unfortunately came to an end, and Mrs. Holderman announced the second song.  "The choir will now sing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" with a solo by one of our Junior tenors, Horace Hallenberger."

I couldn't believe that she said my name.  What little of an Adam's apple I had at that age just about dropped into my chest cavity.  I stepped forward to the microphone in front of the choir and cleared my throat.  Before I could notify Mrs. Holderman that I was (or wasn't) ready, she cued the piano to begin.  My gut wrenched and I felt the blood in my head drain down into my feet.  I was going to pass out.  I could feel it coming.  But it didn't happen.  Somehow I remained on my feet and heard the piano crescendo to my intro.  My heart began to beat rapidly and before I realized it I began to sing.
It was supposed to be "In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight".  I know for a fact that is what I was thinking and that my mouth was forming those words.  But the sound that I produced was not classified as singing.  I may have been able to attract an elk with that unnerving pitch but even then the elk probably would have attacked me just to stop the racket.  It was horrible.  Not like when I was monotone.  Back then I couldn't hear that I was bad.  I heard it just fine on this night.  I continued the unintentional yodeling through the end of the 1st verse and before I finished I caught sight of my family.  My dad was slowly sinking in his chair to where I couldn't see his face anymore. Mom had her hand over her mouth and her eyes were wide with horror.  The only good thing I saw was John and Heidi happily enjoying their time out of the house.  At least I hoped that they were not enjoying my personal demise.

I ended my solo on a high-pitch squeal similar to that of a balloon as the air is slowly let out from a tightly stretched opening.  The horrified faces that were looking at me from the vast audience reminded me of what people look like as fingernails are dragged across a blackboard.  My Dad had completely disappeared below eye level and Mom's cheeks were wet with tears.  Even John and Heidi had stopped what they were doing and were listening intently.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mrs. Holderman let out a sigh.  Finally it was over.  She could now put her trust in the choir to take it from there and hopefully erase the memories of the past minute of dread.

I stood there as the second verse began. I couldn't move, frozen solid where I stood.  The world seemed to slow to a near crawl.  The song continued to play but, to me, was completely unrecognizable.  It was like noise underwater.  It seemed like it would never end.  I would never be able to get off that stage and lose myself among my classmates.  After what seemed like eternity, the song finally ended. I didn't hear it end myself, but Mrs. Holderman's hand brought me out of my stupor and back into reality, back into my moment of sheer terror.  As I refocused on the audience in front of me, I realized that they were all still clearly focused on me.  I shrank before them and slowly absorbed myself into the bleachers full of my peers.  It was like oil mixing with water as I entered their midst.  You'd have thought I was a leper as my friends avoided any contact with me as I passed by.  Once in my position I turned and with my chin to my chest stood quietly as the concert continued around me like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

I would never be able to show myself in public again.  It was all I could do to keep from crying. However, that would have just magnified my humiliation.  I tried to listen to the rest of the songs but I had no inclination of participating.  I heard soloist after soloist sound like angels and my misery became more and more dark.  As I stood wallowing in self-pity, another song came to an end and I heard Mrs. Holderman's voice again.  "We will now have a special fun number that the choir has been excited to perform tonight. Many of you parents will remember The Purple People Eater from when you were kids."

The next words from Mrs. Holderman chilled my bones to the very core.  "Performing as the Purple People Eater is once again, Horace Hallenberger."

The collective shock from the crowd was not hid as a combination of groans and whispers permeated up through the columns toward the stage.  My Dad's head once again sunk below the line of sight, only this time it was like he was one of the moles that pop up and down in the Whack-a-Mole game at the fair.  Even the best at that game would have missed my Dad's noggin as it was seemingly sucked down like a vacuum.

Mrs. Holderman smiled at me and nodded for me to get ready.  To my surprise there began to be pats on my back from the choir encouraging me to go.  So as planned I sat down on the bleachers where no-body could see me and I placed the cornucopia on my head like a hat.  Then I placed the glasses that we had attached a giant eye to on my face.  Some angel wings were then strapped to my back.  Before the concert I was excited about this part of the concert.  I thought it would be fun and make people laugh.  Now I didn't want to be seen even with a disguise.

The song began and I knew what I had to do.  Would my body obey the commands coming from inside my brain?  What if I clammed up?  The thoughts ran rampant through my mind.  As I thought of all that could go wrong, suddenly it came to me.  What else could possibly be worse that what I already had experienced.  How could three minutes of acting the Purple People Eater be worse than singing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" like a dying raven?

Before I could rethink it, the first verse came winding down and my choir mates lifted me from my seat and launched me back out on the stage.  I raced around the stage and into the audience sniffing and acting like I was looking for something to eat.  As far as singing I didn't have to do much.  During the second verse I had to say in a hi-pitched voice "I wouldn't eat you 'cause you're so tough!"

The crowd really ate it up and I began to hear some clapping and cheers during the song.  It was such a relief that came over me that my energy level increased quickly and before the middle of the third verse I was hamming it up with the audience.  I danced around and jumped up and down and then I would say my line at the end of each verse.  "We wear short shorts" and "I like short shorts".  I sang them clearly and with gumption.

When the song came to an end the crowd erupted and we received a standing ovation.  Mrs. Holderman motioned for me to take a bow and the crowd was really behind me.  My Dad was even applauding my performance. For an instance I forgot all about that sleeping lion.

Oh Deer, I've Totally Fallen For You

The last time I went on a real hunt was before I left on my mission. It was October of 1988. Dad had planned out a weekend and we took my little brothers, Michael, Robert, and John, as well as my stepbrothers Mark and Josh. We had two deer tags and Michael, Dad and I were all licensed and carrying rifles. The rest of the boys would be along for the experience and to assist in carrying the deer back to the vehicle.

We drove up northeast of Boise a ways into our designated area. We grabbed some snacks and loaded our backpacks along with some drinking water. Everyone was dressed warm and had on good shoes and socks. We left the vehicle and walked across the street to a fence that we climbed over and began hiking up into the hills. After a couple of miles we were into a good place that we could split up and scan a larger area. The younger boys were buddied up with the older boys and dad, and we made a plan as to where to meet up later. We discussed what to do if a deer was sighted and the direction we should try to send the deer if needed.

Robert went with Michael. John and Josh went with Dad. I took Mark with me. Mark was the oldest of the younger boys so he and I decided to hike to the furthest point we had planned. It wasn't really that far and we were at our location in a matter of 10 minutes or so. We located a nice hiding place that allowed us to see the majority of the landscape. I made note of the locations where Michael and Dad's groups were.

Mark and I opened up our backpacks and had a bit of our snacks and some water. We whispered as we talked but soon sat in complete silence as we both scanned the territory for any sign of life. We saw some squirrels and a raccoon. We even saw a couple of foxes out hunting. This waiting went on for about an hour and a half. Then I saw a nice buck walk out from the treeline. It was a ways out but was not too far from where my Dad was positioned. I was hoping that Dad would see it.

I stood and began to wave my bright orange hat hoping that my Dad would see my signal. I was in a position that kept me from sight of the deer. Mark continued to watch the deer and it began to walk past my Dad's position and closer to where Michael was stationed. At about that time another deer came out of the same treeline. This was a smaller doe. The doe followed the buck for about a hundred yards and then they stopped and cautiously began eating the dry grass and brush.

We watched them for a couple of minutes and then we heard a gun shot. The deer bolted back towards the treeline. Another gunshot and the buck went down hard. A third shot and the doe fell just before entering back into the trees. I could hear hollering coming from my Dad's group.

Mark and I gathered our things and began to hike to the location we had seen the deer fall. When we got to the deer, Dad was already there with John and Josh. Michael was almost there as well. I asked Dad who got the kill. He said he had seen my signal but had a hard time seeing the deer. They walked completely past them and Michael and Robert saw them first. Michael got a shot off but missed. It sent the deer running back towards him. He got two shots off quickly both hitting their marks. The first being the buck and the second the doe.

All of us were pretty excited that we had gotten our deer. This would mean some good venison and jerky for all of us that winter.

Our excitement was short lived however as it was now time to clean the animals and haul them back to the vehicle. Dad, Michael and I gutted the deer and then we quartered the buck. Michael and Dad each carried a shoulder and Robert and Mark each carried a hind quarter. The doe was kept whole. We took the back legs and cut a hole in them right around the knee area. Then we took the front legs and threaded them through the holes of the rear legs. This allowed me to stick my arms through the legs and carry the doe like a backpack. The head was draped onto my shoulder. They younger boys took turns caring the head of the buck.


As we hiked the few miles back to the vehicle there were lots of ups and downs as there were many hills. We would stop every so often so that we could catch our breath. It began to get a little dark about the time we came to a little creek. Dad decided to lighten the loads a bit so we stopped and he cut out some of the bad meat from the buck. One of the shoulders was mostly bad from where the gunshot had hit the deer. This freed someone up so they could rotate the other quarters between themselves.

I was doing OK with the doe by myself. Even though it was now the heaviest to carry, it was made easier having it situated like a backpack. I would have to adjust it every 10 minutes or so so that the head was on the opposite shoulder.

We came to a small hill and we scaled it fairly quickly. When we reached the summit we noticed the opposite side that we needed to descend was quite a distance. Probably 100 yards or so. We didn't hesitate and began down the hill. about twenty or thirty steps in I stepped on a small rock that gave way and my foot slid out from under me. I felt the sensation of falling and tried to free my arms from the deer so that I could catch myself. It didn't work. I went down with a thud and right off of the trail. Before I could try to gather myself, my momentum carried my legs over me and then I went sideways.

I can only imagine what the next scene looked like to my family. I can tell you what I saw. First I saw dirt and rocks. Then I saw sky. Then dirt and rocks again followed by sky. This repeated itself more times that I felt necessary. Unfortunately I had little say in the matter. Between each view of dirt and sky I received a hard head-butt from the deer that somehow managed to stay on my back. I felt rocks in my side and on my legs. I felt bushes being trampled. I felt hooves in my belly and chest. I thought it would never end.

To be honest, I don't remember coming to a stop. My body was numb from the tumble and my brain was dizzy from the spinning. I do remember hearing a strange noise coming from the top of the hill. I turned my head towards the sound but all I saw was the open eyes of the deer staring deeply into my soul. As I gathered my bearings I slowly rolled over to where I could see where I'd come from. There was a trail of dust in the air that ascended to the place on the trail that I had recently abandoned. Near that point

I saw my family. They were also laying on the side of the trail. Had they fallen as well? No, they had fallen from laughing so hard. And the laughing had yet to cease.

Now I was upset. I could have been really hurt and they had the nerve to laugh at me?! I stood up and hollered back at them. "Yeah, well at least I'm already at the bottom!" With that I turned and continued hiking towards the vehicle.

It didn't take them long to catch up with me because I had trouble walking straight for a while on the trail. My Dad and brothers were still chuckling as we walked up to the vehicle. I couldn't help but giggle a little myself as they began to recount what they had seen. It definitely was hilarious from their perspective.

After we loaded the vehicle and we set out I turned to my Dad and said, "At least the doe will be nice and tender".

That sent all of us into a laughing fit again. We laughed most all the way home.

A little poem I wrote to my lovely wife about 11 years ago for Mother's Day. I gave it to her with a special necklace that had four pretty characters that matched our children to a tee. Hard to believe it's been 22 years since we started our journey together and that it's been 11 years since our family became what it is today. Love my little family and I love my beautiful bride.

You + Me = Them and Us

It started with me; I was looking for you.

And find you I did so then we were two.

Two was just fine but something was missing.

While we thought about what, somebody was listening.

Next thing we knew it seemed out of thin air.

Little Syveah was born, like a “mermaid” so fair.

So the two were now three and some thought it a crowd,

But to stop with one child was just not allowed.

Along came Amaya, she’s so eager to learn.

Now next to our mermaid we have our “bookworm”.

Now we thought we were done at least for a while,

But the stork called again and we could just smile.

Horace the third A.K.A Trey he is found,

Also answers to Trey-dawg, but to Dad he’s “Touchdown”.

So our family was buzzing like a little beehive.

Now busier yet as we grew six from five.

The addition of Jadyn makes our family so smug,

For all five adore our sweet “Jadybug”.

Eleven years later since we were just two.

Now we’re three times as many, four kids, me and you!

With each new addition my love multiplies.

For now that I see you through eight more bright eyes!

Yesterday - Poem of Jesus through His Mother's eyes.

YESTERDAY

Yesterday my son was born, a beautiful boy is He. 

Yesterday He smiled at me, and filled my heart with glee.

Yesterday I held His hand, so small and baby soft.

Yesterday I watched Him sleep up in our little loft.

Yesterday I watched Him pray to His Father up above

Yesterday He told me all about His Father’s love.

Yesterday I saw Him read, to quench His thirsty mind.

Yesterday I saw Him play with gentleness so kind.

Yesterday I heard Him teach about the things He knew.

Yesterday more people came, and He did teach them too.

Yesterday I told my Son, that I did love Him so.

Yesterday my son told me it was time for Him to go.

Yesterday I heard about my son in Galilee.

Yesterday I learned my son had caused a man to see.

Yesterday His letter came and silently I read.

Yesterday I thought of Him, as I beheld His empty bed.

Yesterday I missed Him so, and wished He were nearby.

Yesterday my selfishness did bring me down to cry.

Yesterday with little food, my son had thousands fed.

Yesterday a dear close friend, my son raised from the dead.

Yesterday He came home to me and slept here in my hold.

Yesterday He gave me strength thru love more precious than gold.

Yesterday He left again, yet I did wave and smile.

Yesterday my son taught me to go the extra mile.

Yesterday a friend approached and thanked me for my son.

Yesterday a stranger said, he knew my son’s the One.

Yesterday my heart was full of love for my son’s life.

Yesterday it broke my heart, for I learned of my son’s strife.

Yesterday the government asked my son to cease.

Yesterday my son did eat with friends a special feast.

Yesterday He prayed all night and bled from every pore.

Yesterday the sins of all, my son graciously paid for.

Yesterday my son’s dear friend betrayed Him with a kiss.

Yesterday His enemies did beat Him with their fists.

Yesterday they spit on Him, and whipped Him without cause.

Yesterday the wounds still fresh, yet the beatings did not pause.

Yesterday they sentenced Him, to death their judgment lacked.

Yesterday they threw stones at Him as a cross bore upon His back.

Yesterday they placed a crown of thorns upon His head.

Yesterday they cheered and jeered, knowing soon He would be dead.

Yesterday large nails were hammered deep in His hands and feet.

Yesterday His wrists were nailed, to insure His flesh's defeat.

Yesterday they raised Him up, high upon Calvary’s Hill.

Yesterday I saw my son hanging oh so very still.

Yesterday He looked at me and pierced me with His eye.

Yesterday I knew my son was not afraid to die.

Yesterday He spoke out loud to the Father whom He knew.

Yesterday He forgave them all, “For they know not what they do.”

Yesterday He closed His eyes and I did mourn for His sake.

Yesterday the sky grew dark and all the earth did shake.

Yesterday they moved my son, and placed Him in a tomb.

Yesterday I prayed for Him as I knelt within my room.

Yesterday I went to Him, to visit His resting place.

Yesterday I sought Him there, but He was gone without a trace.

Yesterday my son returned and glorious was His greet.

Yesterday my son lived again for I saw His hands and feet.

Yesterday my heart was full, for the mission of my son.

Today my soul rejoiceth, for I know He is the One.

Yesterday He died for us, and paid for all our sins.

Tomorrow if today’s lived right, we’ll live with Him again.

By Horace R Hallenberger

Kicking and Screaming

Home life at our house was always an adventure.  Having lots of siblings with different hobbies and interests caused many interesting discussions, arguments, teasing and even, once in a while, physical combat.

I was always one who chose to use words rather than get physical. I was “blessed” with a quick wit and exercised it often. I liked to tease and joke about just about everything. Mostly it was good humor and seldom was it mean spirited or hurtful. I perfected sarcasm and that was the one skill that my mom probably hated the most.

I recall one Christmas that I received a new boom box with dual cassette and AM/FM/Short Wave radio. It was one of my favorite presents ever. It was a shiny silver color and had all the bells and whistles including a bass booster, hi-speed dubbing and an external built-in microphone. I had a great time making mix tapes with recordings off the radio. Better yet was recording all my favorite songs from the cassette albums we had. Sometimes I would just record what was going on around the house using the built-in microphone.

One day I was being particularly obnoxious and sparking pointless arguments between my mom and my siblings. During the spats I had the recorder set and caught all the dirt on tape. Every so often I would chime in to keep the conversation going. When I did this the recorder would sometimes make a high pitched squeal like when a microphone is picking up some electronic interference. My mom would yell at me to turn it off and I would look at her and innocently ask “What?” She would start fuming and threatening me with punishments I knew she wouldn't follow through with so I just kept it up.

Years later I found that tape and though it was funny listening to the arguments I felt pretty bad for being a pill to my mom.

One argument that took place one morning was between my sister, Michele, and my brother, Michael. Michael was a terror to Michele so this morning wasn't too out of the ordinary. As usual the argument was pretty petty with Michael just trying to get under Michele’s skin. He was so successful that they eventually were both screaming things that were flat out mean. One comment from Michele was so piercing to Michael’s psyche that he closed his fist and punched her right in one of her breasts. The punch was hard and Michele was in pain.

Michael looked at her and had his fists up like he was in the boxing ring. Michele glared at him with cold eyes that were fighting back tears. Then without any warning she kicked her foot out like the strike from a rattlesnake. Her kick connected with Michael’s groin squarely and with force. Michael’s eyes got big and then slightly rolled back into his head. He grabbed his crotch and hit the floor hard writhing in agony.

Michele stood over him like Muhammad Ali stood above Sonny Liston, but with one hand clutching her breast. Michael didn't see her though. He couldn't even open his eyes. He just laid there in the fetal position crying.

After a few moments Michael was really wailing. Mom came upstairs and asked what was going on. We explained the situation and eventually arrived at Michele’s retaliation kick. Through it all, Michael remained in the same position crying hard. He said he couldn't move and when mom tried to help him get up he cried out in greater pain.

Mom decided she better take him to the hospital to make sure the injury wasn't serious. I helped get Michael to the car which I could tell was not pleasant for him. I've seen Michael hurt before from some of our “smear the queer” competitions but I had never seen him like this.

Mom left me in charge and quickly drove away. I went back in the house and made lunch for the kids. The next hour was uneventful as most of us were keeping to ourselves and silently thinking about Michael and hoping he was okay. Finally the phone rang and I answered it. It was my mom. She said that Michael was going into surgery for an appendicitis that was about to burst. She told me it had nothing to do with the kick from Michele other than it triggered the pain.

After we hung up everyone was asking me what Michael’s status was. I couldn't resist the opportunity to have a little fun with the situation. I told them that Michael was going into surgery because Michele’s kick had caused internal bleeding. I poured it on thick. Maybe too thick. I added that Michael might never be able to have children now. Michele was horrified and the rest of the family was very concerned.

The rest of the day was very solemn. Everyone was keeping to themselves and their thoughts. I heard prayers uttered and some crying off and on.


I made dinner and as we sat down to eat we heard mom come into the house. Everyone ran to her asking eagerly about Michael’s condition. Michele was hugging mom and saying how sorry she was over and over.

Mom told everyone that Michael was okay and he was resting at the hospital. She said the surgery went very well and that they were able to successfully remove the appendix before it burst. At that moment I received a glare from Michele that I had only seen once before in my life. The moment before she violently and effectively kicked Michael earlier that day. I instinctively protected my groin area with my hands and I smiled at her but tried to not stoke a fire that was obviously burning within her.

Needless to say the whole family was a little upset with me. I still think it was pretty funny but I do understand their point of view.

Over dinner mom told us that the doctor had saved the appendix completely intact in a jar because he had never seen one so large that had not exploded. At the end of the day I realized that Michael should thank Michele for her decision to kick him. If it hadn't triggered the pain, his appendix may have burst and thus causing a much more serious situation.

Moral of the story? As your mother always told you, don’t punch your sister in the boob.

One Mystery Solved

I am amazed at the concept of eternity. The possibility of endlessness. The fact that there is no beginning and no end to space. And how does God fit in? So many things that are so difficult to comprehend. My mind physically aches when I try to understand the mystery of space. Understanding God takes an even greater toll. I believe that understanding God helps reveal the other mysteries that are all around us, including space. I also believe that trying to understand nature and space ultimately leads us to God.



To me God is more than just a Great Spirit or presence. I believe that he looks like man, glorified and perfect. I believe that he is the creator of my spirit and of this world. I believe he is all knowing and that he has a personal relationship with each of us that existed prior to our earthly existence. I believe that my relationship with Him is waiting to be rekindled through the way I live my life. I believe that He loves me as much as anything He has ever loved.

People have asked, how do you know He loves you? How is it possible to love everyone on this earth so personally? It’s one of those mysteries of God that unveils itself beginning with the creation process. As a parent of four beautiful children of my own, I have experienced the miracle that is creation. I have also experienced the immense love that a parent has for each of his children. Each of them different. With the limited knowledge and capacity of a man I feel love beyond measure for each of them. When my first was born I was filled with this love. It consumed me. When my second daughter was born I found my capacity to love literally doubled. My capacity to love in that way has grown each time a child entered my life.

If my wife and I had continued to have children there is no doubt in my mind that my love would not be divided between each child, but rather would be multiplied tremendously. Seems impossible when you think about it, but once you've experienced the phenomenon it becomes very real.

So back to that question of how does God, our Heavenly Father, have a personal relationship with each of his children on this earth? Well, my mind is as limited as yours so it confounds me to think about, but I believe that his capacity is far greater than ours. I believe that just like my own children, his love has been multiplied by each child that he has sent to earth.


I believe the personal relationship part is something that existed before we came to earth. Heavenly Father remembers us even though we do not remember Him or understand Him fully. Those of us that have sought Him out and recognized His existence and His hand in our lives have begun the process of rekindling that relationship. I believe that is why people feel so good when they first hear of Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation that He has so perfectly laid out for us. It’s because our spirits recognize what is being taught as it was taught to us before while in the preexistence. It makes us feel tremendous happiness when we begin to realize what we knew to be true before our earthly state.

I believe that God wants each of His children to feel His love again as they did before they came to earth as little children. Just like an earthly parent who longs for their child to feel the love that they have long after they have grown and moved away. Parents, like our Heavenly Father, never cease in their efforts to reach out to their child no matter the difficulty or pain that may be present.

As I think of my children growing up with so many influences that are contrary to what I believe our Heavenly Father would approve of, I often feel that pain. I think of the difficulties that life has presented to my own existence and the pitfalls that have seemed too deep to climb out of. It scares me to think that my children may not be strong enough or that they will not find God in their lives.

I know that I will never stop showing my children what my Heavenly Father means to me. I will always seek His help as I exercise my fatherly duties. The more that I turn to Him in prayer regarding my children and as I apply what He teaches me I see my personal relationship with Him become more and more like that of a father and child. The father being perfect in all His advice and direction. The child being innocent and humble in his Father’s guidance.

As I have grown to know my Heavenly Father more and more I have learned some very important lessons that have helped me understand situations that I experienced with my own parents and siblings.

My parents are both believers in God and for the most part tried their best to teach us what they knew concerning Him. They taught us how to pray and showed us the importance of God’s commandments. They weren't perfect. They made mistakes like everyone does. But they were good examples of loving others.

As my siblings and I have grown we have all taken many different paths as we have chosen what and who we have wanted to become. Along the way, some of us have chosen to seek out God in our lives and others have not. I know that this is difficult for my parents and they are often burdened with the thoughts of failure. It is painful for them.

Through the pain they have always maintained their love for each of their children. This love has been evident regardless of the relationship that each child has with God. It has been evident even when the relationship that my parents have with the child is weak. Their love has continued even when children have all but severed themselves away from them.

I know that type of love. My parents have always loved me. Through my ups and downs, through my good decisions and the ones that were questionable at best, my parents are always there if I need them.

I have that love. I will love my children through thick and thin. I will love them as far away from me as they ever travel both physically and spiritually. I will pray for them to find the happiness that I have found in knowing my Heavenly Father. I will most certainly celebrate with them when they do.

It’s the same exact love that God feels for all of us. Like space and eternity it is hard to comprehend. It’s beyond man’s ability to understand. It’s beyond what science can prove. It can only be of God. It is within us all and it makes itself evident as we feel and share love with our parents and children.

I thank God for the glimpse of His existence and His persona shown through His love for me and for allowing me to love others as He does. I hope that I am worthy of His love and I pray that my parents and my children will always feel my love for them, and, more importantly, that they will always feel the love of their Heavenly Father.

Home School??

Recently my wife and I made a hard decision regarding our children. It was a decision that for many years I had never even considered or had second thoughts about. Since this decision we have received many interesting reactions and some have even been so forward in their opinions that it bordered on bullying us. I thought I would share some of the things that I have learned and why we are very happy about our decisions to take our kids out of the public school system.

First, let me explain my views of the public school system. I have shared in prior blogging posts my affection for some wonderful teachers that I was blessed to have had the privilege to learn from. I have shared some of the differences that I have noticed between the ways schools are run today versus how they were run when I was a boy. Each time I have shared my opinions regarding schools and schooling I have been overwhelmed with the number of opinions and debates that are created. Personally, I like to hear others opinions and I welcome the debates. Some of the debates, however, have helped me recognize something very disturbing and it even frightens me a little. It is something that comes from the very core of what America was established upon. Freedom.

I will explain this later. First I would like to mention that I have asked a dozen people whom I know what their feelings are about what is most important in schooling their children. The answers included “to prepare them for college” or “to understand the basics” and “to get good grades” or “to have good teachers”. All of the answers had something to do with their children learning and being educated. All great answers and I would agree wholeheartedly. The most important aspect of school for my children is for them to learn as much as they can.

I then explained to these same twelve people that I had pulled my son out of school and was going to home-school him via a distance learning program and that I had also pulled my daughter out of high school and had her enrolled into college. These same people who had just agreed with me that schooling was for educating then exploded into opinions surrounding the huge mistake I was making. Their biggest area of concern was “what about their social life”.

The discussions at times became heated and I would just walk away. It’s not worth arguing about. How can anyone be concerned about my children’s social skills? My kids are happy and well adjusted. They have the ability to talk to anyone and they are very comfortable with who they are. In addition, our church provides a plethora of opportunities to socialize.

Regardless of what level my own kids’ social skills are at, the important thing that I take away is this. Why would school be the focus as to gaining social skills? Don’t get me wrong, I fully understand that kids naturally learn to associate with others in the school environment. But what are they learning? When is the last time you walked through a school hallway when classes are out and kids are all over the place? What do you see? What do you hear?

As part of my job I am required to be in schools quite often. I experience the “school” environment all of the time. It’s not the same environment that the schools I attended in the 70’s and 80’s. Girls didn’t dress like that. Kids didn’t talk like that. Kids of the same gender were not holding hands or making out in the halls. Kids did not flip off teachers and other adults. There was still some semblance of respect.

The language is the biggest eye opener. I am shocked at what I hear in a typical middle school. The words and topics I hear aren’t much different than what I would hear when I lived in California and was required to visit some of the projects or the “hood”. You hear things that would make Andrew Dice Clay proud. Every other word is the “F” word and nearly all topics are swirling around sex. Not to mention the amount of bullying that runs rampant in the schools even with all the stop bullying campaigns. I was absolutely floored a couple of days ago when a young woman of about 15 or 16 years old walked by me, in the halls of one of the Meridian, ID high schools, wearing a t-shirt that said "ADMIT IT: You'd Go To Jail For This".

This is the “social” life we are expected to use to teach our kids? Seems to me that we need to rethink what environment our kids are learning their social skills. If that’s how it is in the home too, then I can see why there would be no concern for what kids are experiencing at school.

To me, public school is one of the last places I want my kids to experience from a social aspect. Then there is the classroom aspect. This is where all that “learning” is supposed to be taking place. I also have a lot of concerns in this area.

First, statistics show that the United States has fallen well behind. Once atop all of the rankings, we now find our country mired in mediocrity at best. Currently, according to Pearson, in the “cognitive skills and educ
ational attainment” category, the U.S. ranks 14th. We are well behind the likes of South Korea, Japan, Finland, the UK, Canada and Poland to name a few. In the literacy category, we rank 24th. In Science we fell to 27th. In math we are a disappointing 35th.

How have we fallen so far from the top? The government has increased spending on education tremendously but it continues to produce negative results. They’ve tried different policies like “No Child Left Behind” which was a total failure. I think the premise to make sure that every child made it is good. The implementation and process of the program however, was a complete disaster.

Do you remember watching Little House on the Prairie? Remember the way the children were schooled? All of them met in a single classroom regardless of age or education level. There was no segregation of classes. Why did this all change? Who made that happen? It wasn’t done because of poor education levels because the United States dominated at the top all the way into the 1950’s and 60’s.

Some key factors that I see in the fall of our country in education; First, the federal government. Before the federal government began regulating the public school system all was well. The classroom environment was better. Though we may not understand it, the single classroom worked for a number of reasons. It allowed interaction between older and younger students. Older students often helped the younger students. Younger students had older mentors to look up to.

Second, teachers were also better. Now don’t get me wrong we have some amazing teachers still today, my lovely wife being one of them. What sets the teachers of the past apart from today is the freedoms that they had in teaching. Teachers were not hired by school officials, but rather by the communities in which they were teaching. They were held accountable by the parents and the towns. Discipline was administered by the teachers. Students were held accountable.

Today’s teachers are in a completely different environment. The bad ones are not held accountable and therefor do not care for the students or the progress or lack thereof. The good teachers are shackled by so many regulations and programs that they cannot show what they are capable of. They cannot truly adjust their direction based on the real needs of their students, individually or as a whole. The no child left behind program sounded great. But it put all the focus on the lower level students and kept the students who were already at the level or above, held back in their learning.

The government did finally recognize this error and so is now implementing “Common Core”. I don’t really want to get to deep into this as I feel there is good and bad in this program as well. The good comes from the higher standard that students are required to achieve now. The bad comes from some of the content being taught or the lack thereof. But that is another debate. All in all, I do not see this making a major improvement in our country’s overall performance because history has shown that the federal government doesn’t have the ability to do so. And it will cost the taxpayers more billions of dollars to experience more failure.

I mentioned earlier that there was something that frightened me. Well, the one factor that I haven’t mentioned yet that has the biggest impact on the failure of our education system is the reason that we made the change with our own children. We are the factor. The parents of students have the biggest impact. The scary thing in public schools is how the school has slowly become a “day care” center instead of a “learning” center.

So many parents fail to take part in the learning progress of their children once they have dropped them off for their first day of 1st grade. Most parents never attend the parent teachers’ conferences. Most parents never discipline their child for bad grades or missing assignments. Most parents do not even know what their children are being taught. Most parents do not get involved in the voting process for the local school boards. Most parents do not even know who sits on the board.
These same parents try to hold the teachers accountable for everything. They send scathing emails to teachers or call them and berate them or call the principal and complain. As if the teachers have the time and ability to sit with each individual child and make sure they are doing their work and understand the work.

Combining students that aren't held accountable with parents who are not involved and the results should be expected. Most of the successful students in today’s schools have parents that know what is going on, have a relationship with the student and the teacher, and hold their children accountable for their actions.

So what is my fear and what does it have to do with freedom?

I fear that the government has taken too much control in our school system and the regulations take away our freedom to choose what is being taught and how.

I fear that the social life that our children are exposed to takes away my freedom to protect them. My children are not allowed into a rated “R” movie yet they experience beyond rated “R” in the very schools that we are sending them to.

I fear that the majority of people do not get involved with their kids and it is going to affect their freedoms later in life. Education is vital to keeping our country free. It helps us control our government rather than the other way around. It helps us stay atop innovation which creates dreamers and jobs and wealth. It helps us understand our history and what made us great as a nation. It keeps us from making the same mistakes again.

I am choosing to be involved in my children’s’ education. I am choosing to show them other social skills. I am choosing to teach them respect for others and the importance of education. I am choosing to monitor the content of the learning. I am choosing to make sure they are learning at an acceptable pace. I am choosing to invest in their well-being.

Once my children have achieved what the “public schools” consider completion of high school education then I will choose to place them in higher education or help them enter into work programs.  If this happens when they are 18, great. If it happens when they are 15 or 16, super.
At the end of the day, we all agree that school is for learning. It’s not really for social skill building. So if you take this into account, perhaps you will be more understanding of our decision. This was not an easy decision. I didn’t think there was a better way. I didn’t think we had the resources to make it happen. It’s been some sacrifice, but it has been worth it.

Just like it was worth it for the parents or Thomas Edison, Asel Adams, Susan B. Anthony, Alexander Graham Bell, Pearl S. Buck, Robert Frost, Blake Griffin, Taylor Swift, Tim Tebow, Albert Einstein, Benjamin Franklin, Ray Kroc, Colonel Harland Sanders, Dave Thomas, and 14 other men who became President of the United States, just to name a few.

It is not the path for everyone and I would never fault anyone for leaving their kids in the public school system. My wife teaches in public school. Regardless of where you choose to educate your children, I would hope that you would, as a parent, be as involved as much as possible. It will make all the difference in the success of your child. The more success they have under your tutelage will provide them with more freedom later. Freedom to become whatever and whomever they desire to become. Great leaders, doctors, lawyers, scientists, teachers, etc. Most importantly great parents to raise the next generation of greatness.