Hitting the Road and Putting on the Ritz

     In March of 1985 I was in the middle of my sophomore year at Highland High School in Pocatello, ID.  My sister, Melinda had come to visit from Alaska the summer before but had spent all her money that she was to use to get back to my Dad's house. So she was living with us and was miserable. She was pretty upset that she had to go to school in Pocatello and most of her anger was towards dad because he wouldn't pay to fly her back. While she was living with us she tried to set her own rules and agenda and it wasn't playing out real well with mom and my step-dad. This led to lots of fighting and eventually led to a major blow up. Things got physical and I recognized the situation was worse than normal and so I stepped in and helped my sister get away and out of the house. We went to our Bishop and he called dad and told him that something needed to be done or they would call in social services and have them step in. The next morning I was at Highland High School collecting my things. Was not able to say good bye to my many friends as I was in a hurry to get to the airport. Melinda and I were soon on a plane heading to Salt Lake City. That would be our first stop on our way to Alaska. Dad had found a way through the help of some church friends to fly us up to live with them.

    I had never flown before and I was pretty scared. Melinda did her best to try and calm my nerves but I was still white-knuckling the arm rests the entire flight. The second leg of our flight was a little easier. Partially because it was a larger plane and partially because I met some pretty cool guys on the flight. The Portland Trailblazers were flying with us. They had played the night before in Salt Lake and were heading home. I was able to meet Clyde "the glide" Drexler, Kiki Vandeweghe, Sam Bowie, Terry Porter, Caldwell Jones, Mychal Thompson and even coach Jack Ramsey. They thought it was pretty interesting how much I knew about their team. They thought it was pretty funny that I was trash talking them as well. You know I had to let them know how great the Lakers were!

Finally, late that night, after a full day of flying, we arrived in Anchorage. We had to wait for a bit for my dad to come pick us up at the airport so we wandered around and looked at some of the Alaskan art and displays. One display had a huge Kodiak Grizzly bear. It was the biggest bear I had ever seen! Even larger than the huge Polar Bear in the Karcher Mall in Nampa, ID. In one area I was able to watch a video on Alaska tourism safety. It warned us to stay clear of wildlife like moose and bear. One segment showed the strength of the Kodiak Grizzly as it stood up on its hind legs and with a mighty swing knocked a full grown horse to the ground. The horses neck looked like it was made out of rubber as it took the blow and fell to the ground. I've been around horses many times and I know just how large a horses neck is. To see what that bear did was devastating. I was convinced that I would avoid the bears no matter what!

     I was so excited to see my dad when he finally arrived.  It had been over 3 years since I had seen him last. We talked the entire 4-1/2 hour drive home about all we had missed. We got to his little home really late and Becky and the kids were in bed. We quickly did the same. I drifted off to sleep with the days events replaying over and over in my mind. I couldn't believe I was in Alaska. I was with my dad.

      The first morning when I awoke and saw the kids and Becky I instantly felt loved and accepted.  Whatever negative feelings Becky might have had from our previous time living together was undetectable.  The kids were great also.  John was four now and had grown into the cutest little guy.  He reminded me of the kids they would put in commercials on television.  He didn't remember me but did remember Melinda and seemed OK with her return.  Heidi was two years old and was the life of the party.  She seemed to know when all the attention was on her and she liked it a lot.  She had a little pug nose and short dark brown hair.  She was definitely a Hallenberger. Rebecca was less than two weeks old and was so tiny.  She was the only one in the family who wouldn't feel the pressure of all these people in such a small home.

     After we dressed we drove twenty-two miles to Homer where we would be going to school.  The drive was beautiful and the last couple of miles were breathtaking.  As we approached town my jaw dropped as I beheld the most beautiful view I'd ever seen. Majestic mountains surrounding an ocean bay and a small town that had a piece of it stretching for a few miles into the bay. I was in heaven.

Homer was a nice little town.  Population was only about 2,500 and seemed like a peaceful community.  We went to the High School and registered for classes.  Surprisingly we started school that very day.  Most of the students I met were very friendly.  A couple of my classes would be challenging as I had missed a couple of weeks in the new semester and would need to catch up.  I didn't get to see the band class the first day and was anxious to see how that would go.

The next day Dad woke us up early so we could get to seminary in Homer by 6:15 AM.  I was used to having released time during school hours at our Idaho schools for seminary so it was a little strange to have it so early. My seminary teacher was Nancy Seljestad.  I found out that she was the bishop’s wife.  She was very nice and everyone I met in class was very friendly and welcomed me warmly.  I would enjoy seminary no doubt.

After seminary I hitched a ride with some of the other students and we drove over to the High School.  My first class was band and I was surprised that the band wasn't much smaller than Highland’s.  For the size of school Homer was I was expecting a band that was half the size of Highland’s band.  I was introduced to the class and was directed to a side room where I could get one of the school tubas to use.

There was only one tuba player playing and I found a seat next to him.  The director had everyone pull out some music and began counting down to begin.  I ha
d not warmed up yet so I just blew some warm air through my instrument and listened to the rest of the band play.  I couldn't even hear the other tuba player except for a couple notes here and there.  I decided to join in after the first stoppage of play.

When I began playing I was concentrating on the music a little too much because I had never seen it before.  Sight-reading was never something I was too good at.  The director cut everyone off and I was one of the last to notice.  It was like déjà vu when I realized he had stopped the band from playing for the same reason that Mrs. Leeds had stopped my junior high band.  It was as if they had never heard a tuba before.  Everyone was turned to the back of the room and staring at me.  The director didn't say anything to me but he told the other tuba player to put his tuba away and rejoin the trombone players.

After class there was a number of students who sought me out to say “Hi” and introduce themselves.  It was as though I was the most popular guy in school and it was only my first full day. And I was just a tuba player.

After school I caught the bus home with Melinda.  It took about 45 minutes to an hour to get home with all the stops.  When we got home I told Becky about my day and she seemed genuinely happy for me.  Melinda had a great day as well and I could see how pleased she was to be home. When Dad got home we quickly ate dinner and then we had to leave again to go to Mutual, which is a weekly Young Men and Young Women activity sponsored by the church.  Members and non-members alike, ages 12-18 are invited.  So we headed back into town.

When we arrived I was really surprised to see how many people were there.  Far more than had ever showed up for Mutual in Pocatello.  They were practicing a road show that they would be doing in a competition about five weeks later.  Dad introduced me to everyone and a few of the kids said “Hi” and patted me on the back.  I was given an assignment where I was to participate in the road show and we began to practice.

It was a lot of fun and I had a good time learning the skit, which was a group dance to the song “Puttin’ on the Ritz”.  Sister Seljustad wrote and choreographed the entire show and it was quite professional.

I quickly fit in and could see that I would have many friends from this group.  One guy in particular was Tony Darling.  The guy was hilarious and he was the Teachers’ quorum president.  I could see that everyone liked him and that he was flamboyant and outgoing.  He was dressed like he was a member of music duo Wham who was so popular at the time.  He was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt with a sort of salmon colored suit jacket.  His shoes were Converse Hi-Tops that I think he had colored green himself.

Tony was very friendly to me and I hoped we would be good friends.  He was kind enough to introduce me to the rest of his friends, Ron Carroll, Nelson Swett, Reuben Sherwood, Sandy Titjen, Andrea and Elizabeth Carroll, Karen Maloney, and Matt Degraffenreid.  He also introduced me to his own sister Jenny Darling.  They were all so nice and I could tell they all enjoyed being together.

Another person I met that night was Ginger Howard.  Ginger was a couple of years younger that me and had a different group of friends.  She caught my eye much the same way that Diana had in Pocatello.  She was a shorter girl with beautiful tan skin and and dark eyes and wore her hair similar to Princess Diana of England.  She seemed to draw a crowd of friends herself.

Needless to say the night was wonderful.  In fact the only aspect of the entire evening that didn't sit well was the reaction by my own sister Melinda.  She seemed upset and standoffish with her friends.  I couldn't understand why as she had been welcomed with hugs by everyone.  They were so excited to see her.  She was excited to see them as well but apparently not so excited to see them so welcoming to me.  I think she may have felt ignored though I didn't think she was at all.

The next day I got to go to the “mall”.  It was not like the malls I was used to but for a city of Homer’s size it was very nice.  Becky took me to a place where I could get a jacket, as I didn't have anything but a heavy coat that she felt looked ridiculous.  I picked out the coolest black zipper jacket.  It had the look of some of the “parachute” clothes that people were wearing at the time.  The “Michael Jackson” look is what they were going for.  We then went and met Dad who took us over to the DeGraffenreid’s home.  Dad had done some work for them and he needed to pick up some money.  While we were there we also picked up a purebred Chocolate Labrador named Pepper.  The DeGraffenreid’s couldn't keep her anymore and had offered her to Dad.  She was a beautiful dog with a shiny brown coat.  John and Heidi were ecstatic to take her home.

We then went back to the mall which I learned was owned and operated by Ray Evarts.  Ray was a counselor in the bishopric at church and was a very successful businessman with businesses in Alaska and Washington.  Dad did a bunch of small construction projects for Ray and they were good friends.  John and Heidi knew Ray as “Papa Ray”.  In fact Heidi’s middle name, Rae, was after Ray Evarts.

When we arrived at the mall, Becky took the kids and went home while Dad and I stayed to talk to Ray about a remodel he needed for the Fried Chicken/Ice Cream shop that was and connected from the inside to his Grocery Store.  He wanted Dad to add a wall and remodel the ice cream display case.  It was a fairly easy project as far as the actual remodel was concerned, however the time frame that Ray wanted it completed in was going to be a challenge.  He said we needed to start it that afternoon and have it finished first thing the next morning.

Dad agreed to do the project and we quickly began to put some plans together.  Dad had most of the materials we would need so we only had to pick up a few items from the hardware store.  Within an hour we were smashing out the old walls and the display case.  It was going to be a long night and we knew we wouldn't be able to waste a minute of time.

I had never done any carpentry or any type of construction work before so I could only do whatever Dad asked me to.  I believe I was a huge help and Dad didn't have to pay me but it would have been a much quicker project if he would have had some experienced help.

It was a great experience though.  I learned a lot about applying math and algebra in figuring measurements.  I learned about how to structure walls, run electricity and use power tools.  The best part of the experience was working with my Dad.  This is something I had never had the opportunity to do before.  We had a great time.

We listened to Oldies country radio the entire night.  We heard songs such as “Bony Fingers” by Hoyt Axton and “The Battle of New Orleans” by Johnny Horton.  We sang along with the ones we knew and just enjoyed the others.  We only broke for a short time to eat a late dinner and then kept on working.  Around 4:00 AM we were starting to run on empty and I was beginning to zone out of our conversations.  I had to keep getting up and walking outside so the cool air could invigorate me a little.

We finished the project around 7:30 that morning and it turned out great.  I decided to go to school even though I had not slept at all.  I didn't want to get behind in any of my classes that I had just begun.

The day was long but I made it through OK.  I slept the whole way home on the bus and luckily someone woke me up at my stop.  I walked home, chopped some wood, ate dinner and went to bed early.  4:45 AM came pretty early and I knew I would be tired if I didn't get to sleep early.

The next few weeks were busy and full of activities.  I spent many evenings at the church practicing for the Road Show.  The days were filled mostly with school.  When I was home I was either working on homework or outside chopping wood.  I chopped a lot of wood.  Dad said that we soon would not be using much of it everyday but we needed to stockpile it for the coming winter.  That was a number of months away but it didn't bother me to get it done.  It was the one chore that I had ever had in my life that I enjoyed doing.  I would create challenges for myself to see if I could chop more logs each time than I had the previous outing.  I began to get pretty good at it and I soon noticed that I was building some upper body strength that I had never experienced before.

I finally had to ask Dad for a heavier ax head so it wouldn't be so easy to swing. This made the chopping much quicker however as the heavier weight would force its way further into the logs causing them to split with fewer swings.  I would often lose myself in my wood chopping while listening to the Beach Boys and before I knew it a couple of hours would pass.  Becky would call me in for dinner and I would have to hurry and eat so I could still get my homework done.

At the Road Show I was feeling more and more comfortable with the program and with everyone involved.  I also had found out that Ginger Howard liked me the same way I liked her.  She wrote me a note and called me “Ace” and signed it “Digger”.  This was her nickname and “Ace” would become my nickname from then on.  The infatuation that we had with each other definitely made the Road Show that much more enjoyable.  I looked forward to each practice and it helped relax me from the stress of being the new kid.

As the Road Show approached, we all felt good about the practice that we had put in, and that we had an opportunity to place at the competition.  Homer had never fared that well at these shows and we were determined to do well. Our costumes were spot on for the program. We were all decked out in tuxedos, top hats and each of us carried a cane as part of the ensemble. We looked like a bunch of little Fred Astaire clones!

The Road Show was to be in Anchorage on a Saturday so we had a special recital for the Homer ward during mutual on Wednesday night of the same week.  Our performance was flawless and we received a standing ovation from the ward.  We tried not to let it go to our heads however by remembering that a number of the audience was our own loving families.  We were aware that they truly enjoyed the program however, as their joyful faces could not lie.

The trip to Anchorage was a lot of fun.  We were scheduled to stay with some families in Anchorage on Friday night and most of us from my age group stayed together in a large house on a hill.  The house was elegant and spacious and the couple that lived there was an elderly couple who were very nice and welcomed us warmly into their home.

Tony and Jennie Darling, Nelson Swett, Reuben Sherwood, Karen Maloney, Andrea, Ron and Elizabeth Carroll all joined me at this home.  We had a great time.  Most of the evening we played games and I listened to everyone try to get me to get the courage to actually talk to Ginger.  They all thought we would be a cute couple and though I agreed with their sentiment I just couldn't get the courage to make anything happen of it.

The next day we had a short rehearsal before lunch and then went and watched as all of the other groups began their shows.  We were scheduled to go last which was nerve racking and as we saw how good some of the other groups were, we were worried that if we weren't perfect we would not achieve our goal to finish in the top 3.

Finally we went to get ready during the second to the last performance.  We said a simple prayer as a group and then took the stage when our ward was called.  It was so exciting.

The curtain opened and we were all looking down at the floor in our various positions.  I could feel the heat coming from all of the directional stage lights that were pointing down upon us.  It was really neat when the music started and we began our show.  The lights made it so we couldn't see anyone in the audience.  This helped us relax and concentrate on each other and our skit.

The performance was the best we had done.  It was better than our performance in front of our families.  We received a standing ovation and the curtains closed.  We all hugged and before I realized it I was in the full embrace of Ginger Howard.  Though I'm not positive, I like to think that she sought me out specifically.  I held the hug longer than she likely anticipated but she didn't try very hard to pull away so I didn't find much motivation to let go.

We then were escorted back to our seats where we anxiously awaited the judge's results.  After the 3rd and 2nd place teams were announced, we all hung our heads.  We had watched both of those groups and they were amazing.  There was no way we could compete with them.  We were still pretty happy though because we knew that we had done our best and that the audience had loved our performance.  Just as we had accepted our fate the winner was announced.  Pandemonium ensued as the "Homer" group was called to the stage to accept the championship trophy.  I was as excited as everyone else and enjoyed the way everyone shared in the celebration. My joy was probably even more enhanced as the hug from Ginger was still on my mind!

Who was Washington?

Who was Washington?

Where did his legacy go?

I’ve asked my friends and neighbors,

Nobody seems to know.

Two centuries have past and more,

Since George was leading men,

Those who wanted liberty,

For freedom which they’d defend.

He led a Nation from the ground,

From the oppression of a king.

He overcame a mighty Navy,

The best the world had seen.

He led them with great courage,

With faith in God above.

The same God that led Moses,

When His people had endured enough.

A promised land was the goal,

Just as in the ancient script.

A leader would be so needed,

With great character equipped.

There was no other at the time,

With the skill and will combined.

Of the greatest general in the land,

Or of the world you’d ever find.

He lived his life with honor,

In total service to his nation,

They revered him so dearly,

He would never leave his station.

Without him every person,

Who live in this great land.

Would be living different lives today,

They’re indebted to this man.

For the freedom that they now enjoy,

Would only be a dream.

They wouldn’t have the luxuries

Or the best of everything.

For without that very freedom, 

Our progression would have stalled.

For freedom to succeed in life

Creates the greatness in us all.

So when you stop and realize,

That your life is pretty grand.

And the country that you live in,

Is still worth taking up a stand.

Think of General Washington,

The one who made it so.

And do not let him wonder,

Where his America did go.

And when someone asks you,

Who was this Washington?

Let them know the answer,

He’s America’s greatest son.

Trina's Song

Some of you may not know, but I love writing poetry. Most of my works are centered around the love of my life, Trina. I don't sit down to think of things to write. The words will come to me in dreams or during a moment of reflection or sometimes when I am enjoying nature and the great outdoors. It's times like these that I know that there is a God and he loves me and he blesses me beyond my ability to describe. I love these little reminders that help me know that he has provided me one of his precious daughters to spend eternity with. I hope you enjoy this little morsel that I wrote about 16 years ago.

Trina's Song

There has come a time

There’s no explanation,

I find nothing to say,

My language is broken.

A loss of words

A flow of emotions,

That is often felt

But never spoken.

To give an example,

Just think of me

And ask yourself

What I think of you.

There’s no spoken answer

And it leads us to wonder,

How something untold

Could be true.

But then deep inside

With a swell and a tingle,

I know that our love’s

Beyond words.

Such beautiful lyrics

Of the family I love,

Is like singing the song

Of the birds.

That wonderful sound

That’s heard from the trees,

To some is just talk

The birds know.

But I believe it’s love

Being sung from above,

If we listen

The way it will show.

And knowing that song

Is like knowing my love,

It is sent

From Heaven above.

And nothing is greater

Than the feeling you’ll get

When you learn God’s sweet song

Sings my love.

Happy Birthday Dad!

I've written lots of stories about me and my Dad and I have many more to tell. Many of the stories are filled with fun and adventure. Many are filled with sorrow. Many are flat out hilarious. All of them are true and all of them are precious to me.

Today I just want to say Happy Birthday Dad! I know life has been a roller coaster for you at times and sometimes it seems too hard to bare, but you have never given up. You have always leaned on your faith and trusted that God would hold you up and even carry you if needed.

You are not perfect, I know this. However your love for me has always felt perfect and for that I cannot thank you enough. Through the years we have remained close friends and I am so grateful for that friendship. I love that at anytime I can pick up the phone and we can talk about anything. I love that you will call me in the same way.

I can't believe all of the things we have done together considering how much of my childhood was spent away from you. I suppose that is one more example of the time you were willing to give when I was around. You taught me to play catch, dribble a ball, swing a bat, wrestle, ride a bike, catch a fish, shoot a deer, how to camp, fix a car, hammer a nail, drive a stick shift, appreciate the constitution, and even how to shoot a basketball. All of these skills have been of great worth to me. Still the greatest skills that you have given me are how to love and to be thankful.

I am very thankful. I have been given much. I have a great family, wife, children, home, parents, and most importantly a relationship with my savior Jesus Christ. And I love all that I have been given. They are all that matters.

So Dad, I hope I have been a good son. I hope that I have showed you the love that I have for you. I hope that I have made you proud. I thank you for looking past the broken fishing poles or the time I hit you with the car and pinned your knee between a couple of bumpers! Or the time I got into the garage and opened up the brand new race car track that you were hiding so you could surprise me with later. Or the time you took me to the Jazz game and I became a Lakers fan. I'm sure there were many more too.

Dad, you are still my hero. You are a testimony of perseverance and rock solid faith. I love you more than you will ever know. This world is a better place because of the 69 years that it has had you here. So let the earth give one back to you this day. Kick your feet up on the banks of a river and do what you do best, catch a big one!

Happy Birthday!

Your loving son, Horace

Happy 100th Birthday to the Original Horace Hallenberger

Horace Ronald Hallenberger - Aug 22, 1914 - Jan 15, 2002

This week I honor one of the greatest men I ever knew. My Grandpa, Horace R. Hallenberger. Born Aug 22, 1914. Next Friday would mark his 100th birthday. Grandpa was a very rare individual. Why was he so rare? Because in over 87 years of his life he never made an enemy. I was 32 years old when he passed away. In those 32 years and in the 13 years since I have talked to many people old and young who knew my Grandpa and each of them had the same thoughts of him, he was one of most kind people knew. Never even heard of him arguing or raising his voice at another. For me, Grandpa was more than a great man. I was born during the Vietnam war and my father was deployed with the Navy at the time.

Because he was not around for the first 6 months or so of my life, my Grandpa was given the responsibility to give me my name and blessing. The greatest honor I could have ever have received from him was to be given his name. He blessed me by the authority of the priesthood he held and promised me great things in my life.

Horace, Horace II and Horace III

I have tried to live my life in a way that would make my Grandpa proud. I hope that I can emulate the kindness he showed to each and every person I meet. I also tried to honor him further by naming my own son after him as well. A year and half before his death he stood in the circle as I gave my son a name and a blessing. It was a tender experience that I will never forget.






Growing up I spent lots of time with my Grandpa. He and my dad taught me how to fish. Grandpa showed me how to make whistles out of a willow tree limb. He taught me how to play different marble games and to shoot the marble with my thumb. He even taught me how to treat a lady.
Grandma was his most important person in his life. He treated her like a queen. He took care of her in every aspect of the word.

Grandpa's sweetheart, my Grandma

Grandpa was full of stories. My favorite was of him playing semi pro baseball in Missouri. His team

Leroy "Satchel" Paige

challenged a team from the Negro leagues, the Kansas City Monarchs, who had traveled into town for a game. The Monarch's opponent had not shown up and Grandpa's team was practicing on the field. The Monarch's decided they could use a tune-up game and accepted the challenge. Grandpa said it was not much of a challenge for them because out to the pitcher's mound strolled a tall fellow they called "Satchel". Grandpa was familiar with the name as was the rest of his team. Everyone inside the Negro Leagues and outside the leagues knew who Satchel Paige was. Many said he was the best pitcher in baseball, regardless of race. Grandpa described his 3 at bats the same. He stood in the batter's box and listened to 3 pitches smack into the catcher's mitt. Grandpa barely saw the ball and he walked back to the dugout. Satchel showed great sportsmanship and later started lobbing some balls across the plate so that Grandpa's team could put some balls into play. Grandpa would tell us he never saw another man who could throw a baseball like Satchel.

Grandpa also taught me the importance of having a sense of humor. The last 15 years of his life were in and out of hospitals. Kidney failure, quadruple bypass surgery and other ailments. Grandpa never showed the pain he was in. In fact he would often find ways to make the family laugh. Once while lying on his hospital bed just a day after his quadruple bypass, he was describing the procedure to some of us in the room. I asked him how his legs felt after they removed some of the veins to use around his heart. He said they didn’t do anything with his legs, just his heart. The nurse in the room told him that they had actually surgically removed the veins from his legs and pulled the blanket up over his feet and up to his knees. Grandpa looked down and saw the bandages around his lower legs. He looked up and exclaimed, “Well it shows you what I know, guess I should be more observant!” We all laughed hard.

We loved hearing Grandpa laugh too. My favorite was when he was watching the Road Runner and Wile E Coyote show. Grandpa would laugh so hard he couldn't breathe. His laugh would become a raspy squeeky sound and his face would turn red. His laugh was so infectious that we would all be laughing at him laughing.

Grandpa was a master mechanic. Spent his career as the head mechanic for Garret Freight Lines in Idaho. He was so good at it that if you drove your car onto his driveway, he could tell you any problems your engine had. He could just hear it. This helped him take care of many of his cars for years longer than the normal vehicle lifespan. When I was first married, Grandpa sold me his 1972 Plymouth Fury. It had 305,000 miles on the original motor! He gave me the keys and told me it would go another 12-15,000 miles for me. I drove it 12,350 miles when I heard a bang under the hood. The motor stopped and I coasted down I-184 heading into downtown Boise. I came to a stop and shook my head and smiled. I walked away from the car knowing that there would be no fixing it this time. Grandpa knew the car like the back of his hand and it was time to let it die.

When we were finally notified that Grandpa was nearing the final days of his life, the family gathered at the hospital to be with him. There was little the doctors could do for him other than keep the pain down so he would be comfortable. I was given the honor by my dad and my Uncle Ron and Aunt Lela to give my Grandpa a final blessing so that he could rest comfortably and finish his earthly journey quickly and knowing of the love of his family on earth. It was one of the most special moments of my life as I reflected on the contrasting experiences of him blessing me as I entered this life and me blessing him as he was leaving his. I cried as I told him how much I loved him and how much all of his family loved and adored him. I remember feeling calm and peaceful as I told him that he had done all he could do in this life and that it was time for him to be with his Father in Heaven again.

Grandpa and Grandma

After his final blessing he gave me a hug and then said to everyone there that he loved each of them so much. It was so sweet as he took his sweetheart into his arms and the kissed one last time. I will never forget the love he shared and showed in his eyes. Within moments he closed his eyes and fell into a coma and soon after took his final breath.

Grandpa, I hope you know how much I love you. I still want to be just like you. Thank you for being the man you were and for allowing me to share your name. People have made fun of my name most of my life and I have never cared because I know it is a name that only you, me and now my son share. There is no other name I would want. Next week on Aug. 22nd I will celebrate your life. I will remember all the things that we did together. I am sure that I will cry as I still miss you so much. But I will also smile as I think of you and Grandma together in Heaven waiting for me to be with you again.


Happy 100th Birthday Grandpa! May the rivers of heaven be filled with fish for you today!
Love, your grandson, Horace Ronald Hallenberger II

Grandpa with Grandma and their 4 kids, Ron, Lela, Jim and Michael 

Grandpa and my Dad - 1948

Grandpa and Dad - 1949

Grandpa and sister - 1917 (Grandpa on the right)

A Boy's Best Friend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eagor?" I questioned.

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

I liked that. He truly was my faithful companion.

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

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

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

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

My Hero - My Mom

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

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

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

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

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

Mom, Melinda and I

My Mom pregnant with me.

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

Me and my Mom

Mom, Melinda and I

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

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

Robert

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

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

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

My Family August 1977

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

Eric

Trudy

                                                                                           








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

Kelli

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

Benjamin

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



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

Halloween 1981 - Me, Michael and Mom

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

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

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

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

Matthew

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

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

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

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

Family photo 1984

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mom and I at my HS Graduation

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

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

Mom and Vee