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!

Baseball - The Game of Life

        My family and I moved to Homedale, ID right after my Mom remarried in 1978. I was 8 years old at the time. I caught the tail end of my 3rd grade year at Homedale Elementary School. I quickly made some friends at school and at church and was enjoying the small town country living. That summer I tried out for the little league team and, thanks to a life full of playing sports, had no troubles making it. It was kid pitch so I decided to see if I could become a pitcher. Normally I played anywhere they needed me. I was very fast and could catch anything thrown or hit my way so I was often at 3rd base, short stop or center field. At tryouts I learned that I didn't have the strongest arm, but I was by far the most accurate. That was enough to convince the coach that he needed me on the mound.

        Our baseball team that summer that was sponsored by John Deere, which allowed us to have uniforms; John Deere t-shirts and baseball caps.  I loved my John Deere baseball cap. It was dark green plastic mesh around the back of the head and a white pillow-like front with boldly printed John Deere in yellow letters. We provided our own pants, shoes and mitts.  We thought we looked pretty sharp and we thought we had a pretty good team too.
The first game would prove us wrong on both assumptions.  We played the team from Vallivue, which is over near Caldwell.  They came to town sporting uniforms that resembled the Los Angeles Dodgers of Major League Baseball.  And in my opinion, they played like the Dodgers too.  That was disappointing because that was my favorite Major League team.
       



I was chosen as the starting pitcher and I was nervous and excited at the same time. My family was there to watch and many of my friends on the team were encouraging me on.

        I stepped upon the mound and threw a couple of warm-up pitches. I was feeling good. I think the adrenalin had me throwing a little harder than normal but my control was still good. I liked the sound of the baseball as it smacked into my catcher's mitt.
        I signaled to the umpire that I was good to go and he hollered out that great American phrase, "Play ball!".

        Vallivue sent their first batter to home plate. I eyed him closely and he met my stare hard. I was insanely jealous of how good this kid's uniform looked. I looked down at my worn out Levi's I wore that were slightly too short and exposed a healthy amount of my white tube socks. Beyond that I saw my worn out Pro-Keds that purchased used at a thrift store. I was looking real good. Not.
        I finally gathered myself and threw the first pitch as hard as I could. The sound of my catcher's mitt echoed across the field as the ball slammed into it's sweet spot. Strike one!
        The second pitch also found the sweet spot. Only this time it was the sweet spot of the bat. The ball shot off the bat like a bullet and came straight towards me. I tried to uncoil from my pitch so that I could attempt to catch the ball. It was much to fast however and the ball cracked me right on my left wrist. Pain seared up my left arm.
        I shook my arm and wrist and tried to bare down on the pain. The batter was easily safe at first base. I saw my coach hurry out onto the field towards me. "Are you OK, Horace"? I just shook my head, picked up the ball and handed it to the coach aggressively. He looked at me quizzically. "I don't want to pitch anymore! It's way too close to the batter!"
        He knew I was serious and so he called in the 3rd baseman to pitch and sent me to third.
After a long first half of that inning we finally got them all out.  I remember my first at bat and I swung the bat three times and sat down.  I don’t even know what I was swinging at.  The ball went from pitcher to catcher so fast that I could have closed my eyes while swinging and had just as good of chance to connect with the ball.  My embarrassment didn't last however because, luckily, my entire team had the same offensive prowess as I did and we lost the game 17 – 2.  Our two runs were gimmies in the final inning so I don’t really even count them.
We were pretty embarrassed at our appearance and our performance.  We knew that the uniforms were not going to change so we worked on our performance.  We practiced hard and we slowly got better.  Actually we weren't a bad team to begin with.  We were just way out of our league with Vallivue.  After that first game we went undefeated the rest of the season.
In the league championship game we met the that same Vallivue team again.  They were not only undefeated still but they had been completely unchallenged.  In fact their closest game was the blowout of Homedale in the first game of the season.
They were strutting around in their immaculate duds and as they took the field we noticed that the same dominant pitcher we had faced before was stepping on the mound.  He threw a few warm-up pitches and quickly nodded to the umpire that he was ready.

My friend Ted was our lead-off batter.  He slowly walked up to the plate and crouched down into his stance.  The pitch came like a bullet and Ted held his bat out across the plate and placed the most perfect bunt we had ever seen.  The combination of Ted’s great speed and the confusion and disbelief among our competition allowed him to reach first base easily.  It was all my team needed.
The second batter hit a bloop single that advanced Ted to third.  I batted third and hit a drive down the first base line for a triple.  The fourth batter doubled me home and we had a 3-0 lead with nobody out.  We continued the 1st inning batting through the order.  I hit a double on my second at bat with two out in the inning to give us an 8-0 lead.  It was unbelievable.
Ted and I both finished the game 5 for 5.  I had two triples, a double and two singles.  After laying a 22-1 whipping on Vallivue for the championship I was co-MVP trophy with my friend, Ted. I think Ted should've had it outright because I don’t think we would have done what we did had Ted not laid that bunt down early.

After the game we all headed to the Frosty Palace for burgers and Pink Ladies.  This was our favorite place after a win. We were celebrating not only the win but also for avenging the only loss of the season.  It was awesome and I will never forget my first championship of any activity that I had ever participated in.
         I often think of the life lessons I learned in that baseball season. I learned to never give up when it seems like everything and everyone is against you. Our team, though devastated at the way Vallivue had manhandled us, focused inwardly on ourselves and became even better than that team. I learned that it didn't matter what our team looked like on the outside, we could play like a team and that our skills had nothing to do with our clothes. I learned that winning is not everything. But everything that we did to win taught me all about hard work, setting goals, working with others and overcoming obstacles.
          I feel sorry for the youth of today.  Most of the obstacles are removed from the games that they play. Everyone is a winner. Everyone gets a trophy. Then they grow up and enter the real world and do not know how to cope with failure and struggles. I'm so thankful I had the chance to fail. Those failures have made all the victories that much more enjoyable and sought after.

Fantastic Four Fishing Stories - Chapter 4

Time really flies by when you get busy! Finally posting the 4th chapter of my fishing stories. They have been fun to write and even more fun to remember. I get a little homesick for Alaska as I think of the many experiences I had as a teenager in Homer.

In the summer of 1985, we decided to take a couple days and go fishing around Sheep Creek. Sheep Creek is one of the rivers that feed the Kachemak Bay. The mouth of the river is about 30 miles from downtown Homer. We could drive about 20+ miles of it but then it was all wilderness after that. We didn't have any ATV's or horses so we contacted Lynn Tietjen, a good friend of ours who lived on the East End Rd which led the direction we were going.

Lynn was dating my older sister, Melinda, at the time. He was a great guy who like us, loved the outdoors. He and his family had some horses and he agreed to make the trip with us.

I was pretty excited as I hadn't been horseback riding much. This would be my first real ride. When we got to Lynn's house on a Friday morning, Lynn already had the horses gathered and fed for the trip. We went to the barn and fetched the saddles. Lynn then assigned us our horses. He told me I would be riding the "paint" horse. He was a gelding and was very well broken in for any rider. Lynn would ride his personal horse, which was a large muscular horse. It was a beautiful bay gelding. The last horse was a white horse with few black and grey markings. He was a stud horse and Lynn said he could be a bit of a handful at times. I was happy that my Dad would be riding that one!












We began our journey and rode about 5 miles or so up and down some hills and across a couple of large wide open spaces. We eventually came to an old abandoned homestead cabin. We decided to rest the horses and have some lunch. Lynn had brought up some homemade burritos that were double wrapped in aluminum foil. He started a fire and once there were some hot embers, he dug a spot in them and placed the burritos in. Then he covered them up with the embers he had removed. In about 6 or 7 minutes we had nice hot food. Best burritos ever! :)

After lunch we climbed back into the saddles and rode the horses down to where Swift Creek enters the bay. We turned the horses up the coastline towards the Fox River and Sheep Creek drainage. I remember seeing a bunch of old abandoned fishing boats along the coast. Many, we supposed, were probably taken by the seas and later washed up to shore. Some of them were obviously once owned by some of the many Russian natives that still live in much of Alaska today.

The horses were riding pretty well. Dad's stud was having his moments though. Once he sat down like a stubborn mule with Dad still on his back. Lynn tried all sorts of things to entice the animal back to it's feet. I honestly don't think any of his antics worked but the horse did eventually stand back up and we were on our way again.

At the head of the bay the landscape opened up with fewer trees and some grazing land. There was some cattle here and there but they paid us little notice. After a short while we came to the Fox River and Lynn told us we would need to cross it. There was a lot of water in the river at that time and I wasn't sure of the situation. Lynn gave us specific instructions on how to handle the horses in the water so that they could manage the river bottom with their hooves. He said he would go first and that the other horses would be more apt to follow once he was on his way.

I was surprised that the horses did just that. We followed him without hesitation. We were quite surprised at the depth of the river. I felt like the horse was swimming more than walking along the river bottom. I felt the cold water enter my boots and soak through my pants. Good thing it was fairly warm out that day, or we might not have ever dried out. It took a few full minutes to finally reach the bank on the other side. Dad and I both cheered as neither of us had ever rode across a river before.

After the river crossing we came to Sheep Creek. We followed it upstream for a few miles. The brush had become very thick and some of the overhanging tree limbs almost knocked me out of the saddle. I'm sure the horses were bothered as well but they continued to trudge through. After a couple more hours we finally came to a nice clearing that would be good for the tents so we made camp.

The area was beautiful and the Fox River and the Sheep Creek were flowing nearby on opposite sides of us. There were some large leafy trees where we tied up the horses to graze. We removed the saddles and let them cool off. Their backs were lathered in a sweaty foam!

We ate a quick dinner and decided that we still had a few hours of sunlight so we would start fishing. (One of the great things about an Alaskan summer!) We were hoping that the Sockeye salmon run was happening so we rigged our rods accordingly. We waded out into the Fox River and tried a number of techniques but to no avail. No salmon that we could tell. We caught one or two other fish, mostly small Dolly Varden, but nothing else.

We decided to call it a night and we would see if there would be better luck in the morning. I slept like a baby listening to the river flow and the howling wolves and the occasional snapping of branches as a moose or deer walked nearby. I just loved being in nature.

The next morning we arose and quickly ate breakfast. We had some good conversation and I mostly enjoyed Lynn describe his time in England as a missionary. He told a story of how he was sitting around the table with a family and when they offered him more food he exclaimed, "No thanks, I'm stuffed."  He said this caused a great laughter among the family and he was confused. They then told him that in England, when you say you are stuffed it means you are pregnant!" That was awesome!

After breakfast we gathered our fishing gear once again and headed to the river. It was the same as the previous day. Not many fish. I began to walk along the bank downriver from where Lynn and Dad were fishing. I came to a little stream that was feeding into the river. The water was slow moving and very clear. I saw something large move in the shallows. I looked closely and saw a fairly large Dog salmon, also known as a Chum. It was fat female that looked like it was at the end of it's life. I decided to try and catch it and show Dad. I knew he wouldn't like the salmon, cause he had said they weren't as tasty, but perhaps we could find some use for the eggs that it was getting ready to lay.

I took my fishing pole and stretched it slowly out over where the fish was setting. I dropped my small spin-n-glo down about 3 feet in front of its head. I let the water drift it slowly down until it was almost directly in front of the fish. The fish frightened me a little when it went from a very docile state to a flash of power and speed as it gulped up my hook. The fight did not last long. The salmon had obviously used it's energy getting to this part of the river and had nothing left to save itself.

I hoisted the fish up and checked the underside for eggs. I squeezed the body slightly and sure enough a bunch of little orange eggs appeared. I hurried back upstream and showed my Dad what I had caught. Sure enough he was not impressed with the salmon, but when I showed him the eggs, I could see the twinkle in his I and knew he was pleased.

We killed the fish and then slit open the belly, careful preserve as many eggs as possible. We then began to take the eggs and position them in clusters on our hooks.  We walked out into the river and cast them out hoping that our luck would change. And it did. In a big way. Let's just say we lost count as to how many fish we caught off of those eggs. But we fished until every egg was gone. We didn't catch any salmon, but we caught a lot of large Dolly Varden. The little ones were each over 4 pounds! Some of the bigger ones were 6-8 pounds. It was a blast!

The fishing lasted for hours until we were finally to hungry and tired to continue. We ate something, packed up, and headed for home. Completely satisfied with our triumph.

The ride home was much like the ride in. The river crossing was smooth and we were much more confident riding across. We decided to take a slightly different route once we hit Swift Creek. We climbed up the hill further and rode ac

ross the plateau above. We were able to let the horses speed to a full gallop. The wind against my face felt wonderful and I could smell the sweat from my horse as well as the grass and the salty air. I closed my eyes and felt the rhythm of the gallop. It was an amazing sensation.

We eventually arrived at a little ranch and we could see some people outside working with their own horses. Lynn obviously knew them and we rode directly onto their property. They greeted us and we told them about our little trip. They were very nice and brought us some drinks. We couldn't stay long so we finished our drinks and said our good byes. We began to ride along the outside of their fence when Dad's stud started to get all excited about something. I thought he was going to buck Dad right off the saddle. The stud jumped forward and then raised its head. He quickly lowered it and shook it back and forth. I thought he was crazed. Then we noticed what the commotion was about.

Racing from the other side of the corral was a big brown mare and she seemed to want to get to know Dad's horse. The stud was frustrated as the fence was blocking his access to her. She turned and backed herself up to the fence and to my surprise the stud lifted his front legs over the fence and onto her haunches. Dad was barely hanging on and I could tell he was more than a little nervous. Lynn tried to grab Dad's reigns and lead the stud away but the stud was not interested in going anywhere.

Luckily the owners of the mare saw what was happening and had ran down to help. They took the mare's harness and pulled her forward away from the stud. Before the stud lost her underneath him, he lifted himself back over the fence and onto the ground. He reared back a few more times and snorted heavily. The mare fought as well but with less force and soon was taken into a small barn. It took a little longer to calm the stud down, but eventually he did and Dad was able to control him. We wasted no time hurrying away from the location of the mare and getting to Lynn's home.

All in all it was another great trip with my Dad. Fishing is something that we loved to do together. Today we still enjoy it and try to go together often. Idaho fishing is awesome but there was some magic during my time in Alaska that will live with me forever.

Fantastic Four Fish Stories - Chapter 3

     The third fishing story is truly one that people would question if there had not been so many witnesses. My best friend Tony Darling, his dad, Jim, and my Dad and I went to a place called Halibut Lagoon across the bay from Homer. We took Jim's boat. It was larger and had an open bow. The main reason was because it had a real working motor.
 
 Halibut Lagoon was absolutely beautiful. It was a little inlet of water that you could only get into during the hi-tide and you would have a limited time before you had to head back or be stuck there until the next hi-tide. It was surrounded by gorgeous mountains all the way around except the small opening where the water came in. It was somewhat shallow and you could see the bottom very well.

     We could see flounder, lots of different crab and other fish all over the ocean floor. We were there to fish for Chinook or "King" Salmon however. At the opposite end of the lagoon from where the Ocean's opening
was, there was a small river that emptied into the lagoon. This attracted many of the salmon who would spawn in the fresh water. This was a great time to fish for salmon because they were still in the saltwater and had not yet taken on the harsh deteriorating characteristics that were caused by life in the fresh water.

     On this particular day the sun was shining and the temperature was mild. For Alaska it was the perfect Summer day. We were fishing with a little different technique on this day. We were "snag" fishing. Snag fishing is where you do not use bait but rather you cast out a heavy treble hook into an area where you believe some fish to be and you reel it in hoping to "snag" onto one of the fish. It is not easy to do and is not my favorite way to fish at all.

     Tony and I didn't really snag fish too much but rather we were content to use the normal "spin & glo" lure. After a short time my Dad was able to spot some large salmon thanks to the help of his fancy polarizing sunglasses. He readied his pole and with a small cock of his reel he catapulted the large treble hook to land just beyond where he had seen the fish. He then began to reel it in and after just a short couple of reel rotations the pole arched and a glistening salmon flipped out of the water. It was amazing. Even from a distance you could see the reds, blues and silver scales on the fish. It fought valiantly. It jumped out of the water many times, drawing ooh's and awe's from all of us. Dad was very patient and slowly wore the fish down. Finally he reeled it in towards the boat and Jim scooped it up with a large net.

     The fish was the most beautiful fish I'd ever seen. We figured it to be about 25lbs. Dad was so excited and said that this was the fish that he would have mounted and hung in the house. We admired the fish for a short time and it was good seeing Dad so happy. He gave it a kiss and then ran the cord through it's gills and set it down over the side of the boat. This would keep the fish alive and fresh until we were ready to leave.

     We continued to fish for a while keeping an eye on the time so that we wouldn't get caught inside the lagoon during low-tide. We caught a couple more fish on the lures but none of them were as nice as Dad's fish.

     When we finally decided to call it a day and head back we noticed the fish was frantically flopping along the side of the boat. We figured it had begun to die and was giving it's last fight to get away. We were quite surprised however when we turned to see a seal swimming away from the boat. Dad violently jumped towards the fish line and pulled it up. At first the fish looked OK until Dad turned it

around so we could see what had happened to his prized catch. There in the belly of his perfect fish was a perfect semi-circle bite right out of the mid section. Dad's face went white and I thought he would cry. But in no time at all, his face heated to an intense red coloring. I could see his jaw muscles were flexing as he bit down in anger.  He grabbed his pole and quickly flung the big treble hook towards the seal that was quickly swimming away. It missed by a couple of feet and Dad tried to reel it in as fast as he could so he could get off another try. Jim grabbed onto his arm and said "He's gone, Mike, just let him go."

 
 Dad was breathing heavily and slowly hung his head with his shoulders slumping.

     On the way home Dad said he really wanted to laugh because the whole incident was funny, but he just couldn't get the thought of that beautiful fish out of his mind. He relented however when Jim let out a roar of a laugh and Tony and I joined in. Jim said "I swear that seal turned around and smiled at you."

     Dad said, "That's why I wanted to snag him, he was mocking me!". Now all four of us were laughing!

Fantastic Four Fish Stories - Chapter 2

        Here is one of the great fishing outings I had with my Dad that was very eventful and another great bonding moment for my Dad and I.

I will start by saying that Dad and I were not the smartest guys to have ever challenged the great Pacific Ocean.  This story will more than prove that! One day this almost proved to be our doom.  The world's largest ocean will take full advantage of those lacking logic, common sense or as in the case of my Dad and I, a combination of the two.

One day we went out in our ginormously, huge 13-ft aluminum skiff that my dad had used for years.  It was pretty beat up and we used a souped up (how my Dad says jury-rigged) 10.5-hp motor that worked about 40% of the time.  Most people who had the privilege of seeing the motor thought that my Dad had actually built it himself out of a bunch of random parts he found.  It was something you might see a couple of young boys using to putter themselves around a small pond. To use it in the grandest body of water on Earth was quite..... remarkable. Yes, that is the word we will go with.

       We put our boat in the water near the mouth of the Anchor River. We took the traditional 15 minutes waiting for the motor to start and then putted out about 500-700 yards out off the coast just outside of Anchor Point.  We set the anchor and dropped our lines in hopes of landing a nice halibut. For bait, we were using pieces of Irish Lord, the ugly fish mentioned in my previous post. As we quietly floated we talked and enjoyed the cool summer air and the relaxing sounds of the ocean as it gently rocked the boat. It was a beautiful day and those moments in the great Alaskan outdoors were the ones I cherished the most.
After about 30 minutes or so, I looked out in the distance and saw a large black sailboat.  I thought that it was interesting that someone would use a black sail.  It reminded me of the pirate stories I'd read as a kid.  After a few moments of watching the sailboat we noticed that it went under the water line and didn't come back up for a while. When we saw it again it had moved a considerable distance while it had been under water.  This is when we realized it was not a sailboat at all, but rather a whale.  I normally didn't think much of seeing a whale in Kachemak Bay or the Cook Inlet but something was not right about this whale. It wasn't a big harmless krill eating whale. It was a meat eating Orca Killer Whale! Dad told me he had never seen a killer whale out there before.  It was pretty cool to see.  We were alarmed at how big the whale was for us to think that it's dorsal fin was a sail! We laughed hard at our mistake as it was a pretty funny goof.
It was only funny for a short time, however, as we began to realize that the giant dorsal fin had turned and was now heading directly for our boat.  At first we had no reaction other than continuing to watch it.  But it didn't take long for us to realize that the whale was getting closer than we were comfortable with.
"Pull the anchor!" my Dad said slightly raising his voice.  I was pulling the anchor before he even finished telling me to do so.  As I was hoisting the anchor rope as fast as I could my Dad quickly reeled in his line and began to prime the motor.  Of course it wouldn't start on the 1st pull of the cord!
I finished with the anchor and began to reel in my own reel while my Dad yanked the cord a second, third and fourth time.  When I finally had my reel ready my Dad was on the eighth or ninth pull.  In the mean time the whale had made considerable distance and was now only about 30 yards away.  Dad looked at me and I looked at him and then he said, "I love you, Horace."  I knew what he meant and the realization of what was about to happen began to envelop me.
We watched the whale submerge below the surface just 15 yards from the boat.  It seemed like forever as I braced myself for the inevitable.  I had seen the movie Jaws many times and this whale was much larger than that shark.  It could just about swallow the boat whole!  I was sure that it was shooting it self from depths of the sea up to our boat to devour us as if we were just a large blubbery walrus floating on the waves.
It was just when I was about to release my bowels into the bow of the boat that I saw the whale resurface on the opposite side of the boat.  It continued to swim away from the boat until we lost sight of it in the distance.
After a few moments of time our heartbeats slowed to an above normal pace and Dad looked at me in relief.  Then he said three words I shall never forget. "Drop the anchor".  He REALLY likes to fish!

Fantastic Four Fish Stories - Chapter 1

       One of the great things about Alaska was all of the fishing we did.  I had fished most of my life.  At least during the times I lived with my Dad.  Alaska fishing was different, however, because of all the fishing locations, amounts of fish and the size of the fish.  If you went fishing in Alaska and you came home empty handed, then you had better stick to buying your fish at the local supermarket.  That would be just as easy. Here is the first of 4 fish stories that I thought I would share from my time in Alaska.
The Anchor River ran very nearby our little home and we could go fishing in the evening and it would literally take us an hour to leave, fish, make our catch and return home.  This was nice because it wouldn't take up so much time when there was homework or other family things that needed done.
Dad had a knack for catching fish.  It was a trait that was handed down from his father and for the most part passed on down to me.  One time we went up to the Kasilof River where many of the large King Salmon were. The Kasilof was one of the larger rivers where fishing was more than a leisure activity. It was sometimes very dangerous. Which is why it was referred to as "combat fishing". People would line up and down the banks of the river pretty much elbow to elbow. This made it very important to follow the rules of the river. The rules were fairly simple to understand, somewhat difficult to follow, and downright suicidal to not concede to.
    The rule was to cast in rhythm and in perfect timing with all of the other fishermen. Everyone would pull their lines in, lift their poles slightly and toss their lines back into the water upriver about 10 or 12 feet or so. Then you would let the line drift past and then wait as everyone seemingly at the same time would pull their lines in, lift their poles slightly and again toss their lines upriver. You would continue to repeat this unless you heard someone shout "fish on!". If you heard that and you were upriver from the person who shouted it, you just continued on with your rhythmic casting. However, if you were down river, you needed to quickly reel in your line and back out of the water. This would allow the lucky fisherman to follow his fish as it fought to swim down river. Once he had past you, you could walk forward and resume your fishing. Sounds easy, right? Well you should see what happens when someone gets a snag and can't keep with the flow! Or if they cast out of time, throwing their lines up and over multiple peoples drifting lines. Let's just say that Alaskans are really nice people. Unless you get in the way of their fishing! Big, lumberjack looking dudes that would scare even your tapeworm out of you!

    This day was a bit of a blustery day, looking like it would soon rain.  That had never stopped us before and wouldn't on this particular day either. We arrived at our spot somewhat late in the morning, pulled all the fishing gear out of the Subaru and headed down to the bank of the river.  We passed along a number of fishermen and asked how they'd been doing.  They said they had only seen one fish caught in the past couple of hours.  That did not sound very promising but we continued on anyway.
We found a nice little area down near the end of the line of about 25 fishermen and began to get our poles ready.  It started to rain fairly hard and the other fishermen began to pack up to go wait out the rain in their vehicles. Dad smiled and shrugged at me and I knew he wasn't going to let a little rain stop his fishing.  We finished putting our "Spin & Glo's" on the end of our lines and I cast mine first.  My line no sooner began to follow the current than, BANG, my pole nearly flew out of my hands.
"Woohoohoo!" I yelled and gained control of my rod. I didn't have to yell "Fish on" because everyone had left the river.  It was a matter of seconds and out of the water jumped the biggest fish I'd ever hooked.  Dad started talking me through the process of reeling it in as I was inexperienced in bring in such a large catch.  He also did not want me to break one of his nicer poles either.
I fought the salmon for about 4 or 5 minutes and then was about to bring him close enough to the bank so Dad could net it when the hook came loose from the fish's mouth.  I sulked as I realized I had just lost a huge catch.  Dad said he figured the fish was about 50 pounds.
He saw that I was disappointed and encouraged me to recast.  "Trust me, Horace," he said, "there are plenty of fish in this river." Then he promptly cast his own line into the water.  Before I could get my second cast out I heard Dad again saying, "Fish On!"

I chuckled because I think he was only yelling it so that those that had left could hear him. He was more successful with his fish than I was and he actually landed his.  It was also around 50-55 pounds and Dad was pleased.  We had no sooner fetched the hook from the mouth of the fish when we noticed that everyone else had decided that a little rain would not be so bad.  They were coming back to the river bank almost as fast as they had left.
It took about another 15 minutes and then I was able to land my own fish.  Though only about 35 pounds it was fine with me and was huge in comparison to the fish the other fishermen were catching.  It was at least 35 pounds bigger!
We received a lot of glares from everyone when we packed up our gear and our fish and headed back to our car.  We had only been there for about 30 minutes and had only seen 3 fish hooked and only 2 that were landed.  They were the exact same fish that we were hauling up to our car and that didn't sit well with all those who had been there since the wee morning hours.
I often thought that there was some divine intervention that day.  What are the chances of my Dad and me going fishing among a group of ornery, tired, native Alaskan fishermen and arriving at the same time as a down pour?  It was like we were supposed to have the entire river to ourselves.  We quickly caught our fish and went home.  It was awesome.