One Mystery Solved

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



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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home School??

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Favorite Teachers

     For those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know that my childhood was spent moving around from town to town resulting in attending many schools. There were good and bad aspects to all the moving around. I sometimes wish that I had experienced more stability in my youth. Yet at the same time I am thankful for the many experiences that came with moving so much and for the many friends that I made along the way.

     One of the downfalls was that I didn't become a very good student along the way. I never put my best effort into my studies. I always did well in school mainly because I was not really challenged. I don't think of myself as overly intelligent but I know that if I had truly applied myself I could have excelled. I suppose knowing that I would not be around long caused me to think I didn't need to give too much heed to my teachers.

     Don't get me wrong, I didn't rebel or anything. I wasn't disruptive and I didn't skip classes. I was always in attendance and I paid attention. But the homework was never a great priority. I did what I wanted to and it was always just enough. Always finished with about a 'B' in most classes. This kept me out of trouble with teachers and administrators. My parents never seemed too interested in what was going on unless there was a really bad grade so I didn't have to deal with that at home either.

    Every once in a while there was a teacher that I really liked or that challenged me somehow to apply myself without even knowing they were doing it. Liking a teacher is half of the battle, in my opinion. You put a pretty young teacher in front of a class who has a nice smile and a friendly personality and all the students, including the boys, will likely pay more attention. I had a teacher like that once in 4th grade at Homedale Elementary School. Ms. Neubauer. She was one of the nicest teachers I ever had. She was also the only one that I think I might have had a crush on too. Ok, there is no "might have". I definitely had a crush on Ms. Neubauer. I am sure I wasn't the only one. Her pretty blonde hair and blue eyes had captured the eye of every 4th grade boy in school.

     Ms. Neubauer's class was so fun. I remember always doing my best in her class. I know that I always wanted to impress her and there was nothing like getting praise in front of the class with her arm around your shoulder.

     Another teacher that seemed to bring out the best in me was Mrs. West in 2nd grade at Syringa Elementary in Pocatello. Mrs. West was amazing. Her class was so fun and she always made everyone in the class feel special. She used to show us her photographic memory and her speed reading skills. She seemed to know everything. We could ask her questions about anyone or anything and she could tell us all about it.

     Some teachers that I had, or should I say most of the teachers that I had were boring and uninteresting. I would fall asleep in some classes or lose myself in my imagination until the bell rang. I would dread going to these classes. Even if the subject might be of interest to me I just couldn't learn in that environment. Very few of the teachers brought an element of intrigue that would make us ask questions and want to know more.

    After I first moved back to Pocatello during my 7th grade year, one of the required classes at Alameda Jr. High that I was signed up for was Self-Esteem. I had never heard of a self-esteem class. Sounded weird to me. I thought maybe there were a bunch of odd kids with different challenges that would be in the class. Surprisingly I was wrong. Everyone in the class was just like me as far as I could tell. The teacher was Mr. Anderson. He was a tall and fairly good sized man. I was a little intimidated at first.

    The first day in Mr. Anderson's class he presented us with a scenario and an activity that to this day is the most memorable moment of my adolescent learning. Mr. Anderson provided our class with the most thought provoking lesson that took every student to the edge of their seat and fully interested and engaged in the activity.  He began by handing out a sheet of paper to each of the students. On the paper we found a person's name and below it an occupation, age, skill set, and health background. All of the girl students received a girl's character and all the boy's received a man's character. The character's ages ranged from young teens, about our age, to advanced elderly ages up in the 80's.

    Occupations ranged from dancers, teachers and professors to doctors, mechanics and farmers. Most of the characters were given a clean bill of health with a few exceptions like one of them had cancer.

     The activity we were given involved a great deal of thought and emotion. Mr. Anderson told us that there was one week left on earth before a nuclear explosion would cause life as we knew it to end. The local government had put a plan together that included the construction of a huge vault in the side of a mountain. This vault was built to withstand any nuclear type explosion and would keep any radiation out. It was made to sustain life for 1 year until the radiation levels had returned to normal on the outside. Inside the vault was food, water, tools, medicine and other necessities to sustain life for one year.

     The kicker was that the vault would only sustain life for 12 individuals. There were a total of 26 students in the class. For the next week we would be debating over which 12 of the 26 students would be allowed to enter into the vault. The rest would parish in the nuclear aftermath.

     For a bunch of 12 year-old 7th graders, this was quite the undertaking. Over the week that followed we would experience much turmoil and a roller-coaster of emotions as we considered our decisions.  It was amazing to see my classmates take their characters to heart and fight for the right to survive. Many discussions became heated as it seemed every argument to save someone was countered with a convincing reason not to.

     I was among a few of the boys who tried to be valiant heroes and volunteered to stay behind. But even we were argued about by those who saw the importance of our strength and abilities.

     It was amazing to see what became important over the week. Slowly we began to agree more and more and whittled our numbers down to the 12 we sought. The importance of procreation, trade skills, physical abilities and knowledge were all evaluated equally.

     On the final day there were tears shed as the final 12 were sent out of the classroom to "enter the vault". The other 14 stayed behind and the room was heavy with emotion. It was a life altering activity. We all came away with a better appreciation of the importance of all human life and for the importance of both genders and all occupations.

    As hard as it was, I loved that activity and I love Mr. Anderson for allowing us to share in that experience. It definitely improved my self-esteem.

    Today I get to spend my life with my favorite teacher of all times. She is my wife and she is one of the best teachers around. I think she has all of the things that caused me to want to learn by my favorite teachers. She is a knockout that I am sure all the 6th grade boys at Heritage Elementary School are eager to do their best for. She has the friendly personality that all the kids love and react to. She is willing to challenge them and allow them to think for themselves in ways that will impact their lives long term.

    I am thankful for the many teachers out there who do everything they can to inspire our children today. Especially those who can do it despite the government chains that bind them down and choke out their greatest strengths. It is you who will allow this great country to remain at the top led by those who were inspired in your classrooms.

To Spank or Not to Spank, That is the Question

Here is a topic that seems to really get some people fired up. Should we or should we not spank our kids? With all of the opinions surrounding Minnesota Viking’s running back, Adrian Peterson, it is something that I felt could use some discussion.

For those of you not familiar with Mr. Peterson’s situation, let me briefly break it down for you.

On May 18, 2014 Peterson disciplined his son after the boy pushed another one of Peterson's sons off of a motorbike video game. The Vikings running back used a switch (a thin branch or rod used for whipping) to discipline his child, resulting in bruises and lacerations on the boy's back, legs, arms and buttocks.

After the boy returns home to his mother in Minnesota, the bruises are discovered during a routine doctor's visit. The doctor says the injuries are consistent with child abuse.

Peterson did not deny anything and faced punishment from the NFL and later the criminal justice system. The latter of which he plead guilty to a misdemeanor charge. He remains suspended from the NFL.

Peterson claimed he was “disciplining” his child the way he himself was raised. He admitted that he had gone too far and never meant to harm his child in that way.

Now I don’t want to dive too deep into this situation but it does raise the question as to what discipline is acceptable and what is not. Obviously when there are lacerations and bruises, it falls into the not acceptable.

I have been listening to many debates over this on talk radio and sports talk radio. One commentator mentioned the differences in the part of the country that a person is raised which seems to make harsher discipline acceptable and normal. A person raised in the south like Alabama, Arkansas, Mississippi and other nearby areas are more likely to discipline their children more firmly using paddles, switches, etc. People in these areas have no problem seeing their neighbors disciplining their child in this manner.

However when you analyze people on the west coast or in the northeast you will find that it is absolutely forbidden to lay a hand on a child in any way.

So is one way better than the other? Is disciplining your child physically outdated and should it be removed from today’s society?
Let me offer my two cents and see if where you agree or disagree. (And I welcome all viewpoints.)

When I was growing up I remember spankings being pretty common. When one of my siblings or I had done something wrong we grew to expect a swat on our behind. Usually this involved the palm of one of my parent’s hands. On occasion a willow tree branch, pizza paddle, wooden spoon or hair brush was used.

My Grandma preferred a nice big pizza paddle. My brother’s and I used to do things just to see how fast she could acquire it from the kitchen. She would have us line up and bend over the sofa and she would take her best baseball swing. It hurt for a moment but usually the paddle would end up breaking and we would try to not let her see us laughing.

Once while my little brother Michael and I were jumping on the aforementioned sofa, my Grandpa was next to us rocking in his chair and reading the paper. He looked at us and gave us a warning. “You better stop before your Grandma sees you.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice that I had never heard before.  Before we could respond we heard the familiar sound of the paddle being lifted off of the hook in the kitchen. By the time we had jumped ourselves off of the couch, Grandma was making a b-line towards us with the paddle clenched in her hand.

Something was different this time. I couldn't quite figure out what it was. “Line up you little hellions!” she ordered. We assumed the position bent over exposing our derrieres. “You will stop jumping on my furniture!” she announced and took her best swing.

“WHAP!” I can’t explain the horror that I felt as I realized that something was different and was definitely not in my favor. By the time the pain seared throughout my backside a second swat was delivered. How had Grandma gotten so strong? How did that paddle not break? Before the thoughts were finished in my head I heard the sound of the paddle cracking against Michael’s own rear. I turned to watch as she took her second swing on him.

I quickly realized what had happened. Grandpa, always letting us do whatever we wanted, had gone and provided Grandma with a new weapon. I looked at him and he gave me a half smile that had “I warned you” all over it. I looked back at the paddle. Genius. Grandpa had drilled holes throughout the paddle face. Now the air passed through it as it was waved towards its target. A much faster, much harder impact was created.
Grandma stood over us with a smile, triumphant and gladiator like. I never jumped on her furniture again.

Now my mom had a whole other technique. Being inflicted with the horrible disease, Rheumatoid Arthritis, she was usually unable to inflict any physical punishment. Her hands were weak and her elbow joints were slowly freezing up. She was creative though and found that she could work a wig brush like the best of them. (I guess I was assuming there was some sort of wig brush competitions.)

Mom would take the wig brush, the type with the wire tines, and turn it so that the tine side was coming at us. Let me tell you, if you take a couple of those on the top of the head, you will stop doing whatever it is you’re not supposed to!

Dad, on the other hand, was a belt guy. Very effective as well. He was borderline professional in the way he could unlatch it and remove it from his waist. I swear that sometimes I would see his hands hit the latch and before I had fully turned to run I was already growing a welt on the back of a thigh.

When we were camping the belt usually stayed in place. Dad would pick out a nice willow or alder branch. We typically didn't get into much trouble camping as we didn't want to see that branch do anything besides cooking a hot-dog or marshmallow over the campfire.

Personally, I was not on the receiving end of too many spankings. I tried to stay out of trouble. Especially with my Dad. He had a way of looking at me a certain way and I would melt into a pile of mush. I hated that look.

I do remember one time that Dad skipped the look with me. July 10, 1976. I remember it like it was yesterday. I had been exploring in our garage and I came across a really cool racing set for Hot Wheels cars. It had a sweet track with loops and everything. My birthday was only a few days away and I knew it was for me. So I made the brilliant decision to go ahead and open it early. I played with it all day long. My Mom was not happy and she told me that Dad would be upset. I didn't listen.

Dad came home from work late that night. We were all sound asleep. Apparently the first thing that he saw when he came inside the house was the racing set all beautifully put together in the family room. He was not happy.

The first “spank” woke me and nearly killed me. It wasn't all that hard but my heart nearly stopped. By the third swat I was quite aware of my surroundings but it wasn't until the fifth or sixth that I grasped what was happening.  As tears flowed down my face and my posterior was searing I realized he had stopped. I looked at him through the blur in my tears. There I saw the look and it hurt more than any of the spankings.

I tell some people these stories and they laugh. I laugh too. I find humor in the mischief that I caused and in the way my parents tried to discourage my actions. Other people are horrified and saddened at the “abuse” that I received.

Now that I have been a parent for 19 years I have a different perspective. I see my children misbehave and now I have to figure out the best ways to discipline them. I admit that I have spanked my kids. I've never used a foreign object but I have threatened it for sure. The belt has been very effective for me. Never once came in contact with my kids but as I have removed it from my waist as quick as my Dad before me, I fold it over and grabbing both ends snap it together creating a loud cracking sound. My kids were so scared of the sound that I never had to follow through with the threat.

I have mastered my Dad’s famous look too. I love using that. There is something very satisfactory in looking at my child and seeing them realize the mistake they made and the disappointment they created.

I often would ask my kids “Who wants a beating?” and they would all in unison yell “Me, me, I do!” Mainly because my beatings consisted of tossing them around on the bed or among pillows and then tickling the laugh out of them. I used to get nervous that one of them would tell one of their friends at school about out their Dad “beats” them and I would be getting a call from social services!
So what is my opinion? I think parents should have the right to discipline how they see fit as long as there is no real harm inflicted on the child. In today’s society, I feel, there is a lack of discipline and accountability for today’s youth. I believe this has led to children being more and more disrespectful to parents, teachers and other authority figures.

I hear the stories my wife tells me about students at the schools she has taught in and the things that they would say to her. I cannot imagine what would have happened to me or one of my classmates had we said the things they say. Early in my school years teachers were still sporting paddles and yardsticks at the front of the classroom. Teachers would swat a kid or crack them across the knuckles right in front of the rest of the students in class. And you definitely didn't want to get sent to the principal’s office!

I’m not saying we should revert back to those days but there was something to be said for the discipline then. I don’t remember there being too many individuals getting out of line.
If there is no punishment or accountability for the crime then there is no reason for a child to think that there is anything wrong with what they are doing.

Even in sports and other activities that we encourage our kids to participate in has changed. Today a child receives a reward for just participating. Doesn't matter whether they win or lose. I don’t understand this at all. This is not how it works in the real world. Unless you join one of the many outdated unions. Today if you are not trying your best to succeed and produce then you are not going to have a job. Unless of course you count the government welfare system but don’t get me started on that.

I went to my daughter’s basketball game the other night and the announcer told everyone that they could not use any artificial noise makers. I thought that was a bit strange but then during the game as I tried to yell during the opposing team’s free throws I was quickly chastised and looked upon like I had the plague.

What college or professional sport will you see the away team’s players shooting free throws and the entire arena is silent? Why is it different in high school?

It’s like we cannot let our children experience failure and even if they do we label it as something else.

Imagine our great country without the rule of law. Imagine how our society would fall apart if we didn't discipline those that break the law. It’s already bad enough in some places even with the law enforced. Imagine if it wasn't.

So I say discipline away. Discipline your way. Don’t hurt them but make it clear that they have made a mistake and there are consequences.

I love my kids. Even when I am punishing them. I was punished often. Yet I know my parents loved me. Not very often did I receive discipline for something when I wasn't guilty.  I jumped on the sofa. I mouthed off to my mother. I got into the racing set. Each time I was quickly dealt with. Each time I remembered the action and the consequence. I learned quickly and I sought out activities that didn't result in a spanking.

Hmmm. That is probably what my parents were trying to accomplish.

The Boy I Always Wanted

     Many of you know that I have a passion for the sport of basketball. I've played it since I was old enough to know what a basketball was. I am a die hard fan of the Los Angeles Lakers as well as most NBA, college and high school games. Unfortunately for me I was and still am vertically challenged. In school I was always the runt of my class. Actually I was usually the runt of the school. Even my senior year when I stood mighty and proud at 5ft 3in tall and weighed in at a hefty 120 pounds. Luckily I was lightning quick and could outrun almost anyone and I had a great handle on the ball as well. Being short meant I didn't get many shots but I learned how to pass the ball from watching old video of Pistol Pete Maravich or watching my favorite Laker, Magic Johnson. I had a true feel for the game.

     When my wife and I had our third child I was so excited when I learned we were having a boy. I loved my two daughters dearly but there are dreams every father has playing sports with his son. I named my son after my grandpa and me, so we called him Trey because he was the third Horace Hallenberger.

     Ever since the womb, Trey has beat his own drum. Many times to music that nobody else can hear. He apparently did not like being upside down inside the tummy. He would always be in a sitting position with his head up. This was not a big deal early on but as he grew the doctors became concerned and decided to turn him over so he would be in position for birth. I remember the doc molding my wife's stomach and I could see the indentation from Trey's arms and legs. The doctor slowly manipulated him through the skin until he had flipped him over.

    A couple of days after that doctor's appointment my wife noticed that the baby was kicking very low in her belly. We decided to talk to the doctor about it again and set an appointment the following week. Sure enough, Trey had flipped himself back into the sitting position. The doctor told us that the baby was too big now to flip again and recommended that we come back in couple of days and do a c-section. He didn't want the risk of my wife giving birth to a baby who was breech.

    So Trey was born on April 25, 2000 via c-section and everything went according to plan. He was healthy and strong. The first thing I noticed as I held him for the first time was his hands. They were HUGE! Long fingers and wide palms. I began to have visions of my son's NBA greatness. I envisioned him playing like the Utah Jazz great point guard, John Stockton. (Though I pictured him playing for the Lakers).

    As Trey grew he was hilarious. Absolutely beside himself when it came to superheros and Disney characters. Woody and Buzz were at the top along with Shrek and the Incredibles. He was so fascinated with the characters that they consumed everything he did. He loved to draw. He never went anywhere with out his crayons and paper so he could draw all of his favorite characters. Even watching his favorite movies, he would be laying on his stomach with his pad of paper in front of him as he concentrated on his masterpieces.

    I tried to engage Trey in playing catch or dribbling a ball but he would lose interest very quickly. Especially if the ball happened to hit him on the head or shoulder or leg. He would immediately walk away. He was also the most noncompetitive boy I had ever seen. As soon as any playing became a competition he would just walk away and do something else. I remember him coming home from school and telling us that some boys had invited him to play football with them. Not knowing what football was he agreed and joined them. After seeing the first player get tackled, Trey had seen enough. I asked him why he stopped playing and he said "Why would I want to do that? Why would I want to get tackled? That's dumb!"

     When Trey was about 8 years old we thought it would be a good idea to expose him to sports so that he could get exercise and learn teamwork and the other great lessons that come from participating in sports. We signed him up for the local YMCA youth basketball league. Trey didn't really want to go but he decided it might be worth it because he had seen all the snacks that everyone got after his sister's games.

    So Trey became a basketball player......sort of. His first game was not good. When Trey was in the game he wandered around clueless as to the action going on around him. Nine kids would run from one end of the court to the other and somehow never ran over Trey in the middle of the floor. Trina and I chuckled as we watched. "It's only his first game" I thought to myself. "It's got to get better."

    I was wrong on so many levels. Every week was the same. Once during the game Trey walked off to the end of the court and got himself a drink from the drinking fountain. The only running Trey did was when he heard the final buzzer and he would run to the parent assigned the treats that week.

    Late into the season Trey was put into the game during a blowout. His team was actually pretty good even when he was in the game. The coach's son was one of the best in the league and could score easily against the competition of the YMCA league. During this particular game the coach's son had picked up his dribble and was trapped by the guy defending him and the guy who was supposed to be defending Trey but had no need to.

    Before I continue this story, I must first mention that Trey is what we like to call a "Mama's boy". And I mean in every sense of the word. He loves his mom even more than Buzz Lightyear and Woody. This unfortunately bleeds into everything he does including basketball.

     As the coach's son continued to struggle he glanced up and saw a wide open little boy near mid court. He started to pass the ball to the little boy and then the realization that the little boy was Trey stopped him. He glanced to the sideline and found his dad. His expression was the classic "Help me dad! What do I do?"

     The coach pointed to Trey. "Pass it to Trey!"

     The coach's son quickly obeyed and passed the ball to Trey. It went right to him. Trey fumble the pass and it bounced on the floor. Trey picked it up and began to run in what looked like a figure eight. All without dribbling the ball. The coach and I both yelled out at the same time, "Pass the ball, Trey!"  Trey stopped running, looked down the court towards his team's basket and then threw the ball. To nobody. It bounced a couple of times and one of the opposing players ran to it.

     Trey's reaction couldn't have been better scripted. It was as if he were Rudy winning the football game for Notre Dame. Trey's face was that of pure joy. He looked up and towards us. A big cheesy smile across his face. He spotted his mama and ran for the first time as a basketball player. As he approached his mom and I he asked "Did you see me? Did you see me with the ball? Did you see me make a pass?"

     Mom gave him a big hug and told him how proud she was of him. I smiled as best as I could. My dreams of a son playing for the Lakers was dwindling. I didn't know what to say to him except, "That's awesome, Trey, but you need to get back out there because the game is still going."  Trey turned and ran back into the game. People around us were no longer watching the game. They were laughing and telling us that was the cutest thing they had ever seen.

    So basketball was out. Let's try soccer. Trey joined a soccer team with his older sister Amaya. The results were similar. Amaya played her heart out. The team fought hard and was really good. Especially the brother and sister from Ecuador who could do amazing things with the soccer ball. Trey obviously liked the sister and using his mad flirting skills would let her know it. If he would only put that kind of effort into playing soccer!

     One game saw Trey's team playing a tough opponent. Back and forth the teams fought for scoring opportunities. As the teams ran to one end of the field, Trey stops at midfield and lays down on his back. The rest of the players continued to play. As the ball was stolen and the teams ran to the other side they passed Trey laying there. Amaya stopped and asked him "What are you doing, Trey? Get up!"

     Trey answered but didn't move. "I just got tired. I need to rest."  Amaya rolled her eyes at him and ran to help their team.

     As the season continued the team dominated the games. They were undefeated and virtually unchallenged. Everyone on the team had scored that season except for one. Trey. So they put together a game plan for one of the games. Trey would stay down near the opposing goalkeeper and the rest of the team would try to get the ball to him so he could kick in the goal. He got the ball a couple of times and kicked it out of bounds each time. Right before the end of the half the ball was again kicked right to him. Trey kicked the ball to his right and then reared his right leg back and kicked it as hard as he could. It went right past the goalie and into the net. I noticed the referee waving his arms that time had run out and that the goal did not count. Didn't matter. Trey was going to get credit from everyone else there. The whole team mobbed him and all of the parents cheered for him. Trey was beaming.

     Somehow that triggered something in Trey. He became the 4th or 5th best player on the team. The rest of the season he was playing defense and running and kicking goals and helping the team. I'm guessing it had less to do with the first made goal and more to do with the hug he had received from the pretty teammate from Ecuador!

     The next year, completely out of the blue, Trey told me he wanted to play baseball. This was an interesting development. Trey had never even played tee-ball. I told him it would be very hard because most of the boys had been playing baseball for years. He didn't seem to mind and said he really wanted to play. I told him I would take him to tryouts and we would see how he does.

    Tryouts were crazy. Hundreds of people there. Some were evaluating players, others were parents hoping their boys would do well and be chosen to play for a good team. Trey had his brand new mitt that looked like it was right off of the assembly line. He wore a hat that looked like my 1978 mesh John Deere tractor hat. His t-shirt and blue jeans completed the outfit and he looked like a misfit compared to the other boys.

     We got the information as to where Trey should go and they told us that there were three stations where they would evaluate him. The first station was hitting a ball thrown by one of the coaches. The second station was throwing the baseball. The third and final station was catching the baseball.

     We watched about a dozen boys get up the the plate and hit. They were thrown half a dozen pitches and then the were asked to run around the bases as fast as they could. When they called Trey's name he put on his batting helmet and walked to the plate. The coach explained the rules to him again and then threw the first pitch. Trey hit a hard line drive to center field. My eyes popped wide. "Where did that come from?" I asked myself. The second pitch came and Trey rocketed one down the third base line. The next on went all the way to the fences. Then another to center field and another just inside first base. My jaw was on the floor. I could see many of the scouts frantically looking for Trey's name in their charts and making notes.  On the last pitch the told Trey to run around the bases as fast as he could. This part did not go as well. Trey ripped the ball into the outfield and then began running to first base. He wasn't very fast and when he got to the base he stopped and started to take off his helmet. "Keep going!" the coaches yelled and pointed him to second base. Another coach waved him around second and another around third. It was not a very good time.

     They then sent him over to the next station. This did not go well either. Trey could barely throw the ball to the coach at that distance and he looked awkward doing it. At the catching station Trey would close his eyes and hope the ball would land in his mitt. Very few did.

     They told us they would let us know what league and team he would be on the following week. I told Trey I was surprised at how well he hit the ball. He just said confidently "I told you I could play baseball." Apparently he wasn't aware of how important running, throwing and catching were in the game of baseball.

     I received a call from the coach of the team who had drafted Trey. He said Trey was high on a lot of lists because of how well he could hit the ball. He told me that they weren't concerned about throwing and catching because they could teach him that easily. I asked what league they were in and he said AA. Not the best league but definitely not the worst either. Much higher than I would have pictured Trey playing in.

     Trey continued to hit the ball well during practices. He got better at throwing but still showed fear when someone thew the ball to him. He definitely would have a lot of work to do on his catching the ball. I was pretty excited that he was doing pretty well.

    The first game changed everything. Let's just say that Trey would go on to lead the league in one category that he would prefer not to.  It wasn't strikeouts. Trey led the entire league in "HBP" which stands for Hit By Pitch. Trey was a human backstop. He seemed to lack the instincts to get out of the way of the pitch. The ball would come and rather than jump out of the way he would look like he didn't even see it coming. The bruises were brutal. I worked with him often trying to get him to see the location of the pitch so he could know if it was going to hit him or not. The real problem became when he started to pull away from every single pitch. Including the ones in the strike zone. His fear had taken over his ability to swing the bat.

     About 3/4 way through the season I finally had Trey standing firm in the batters box. He was depressed and didn't want to play anymore. His teammates teased him because he couldn't hit the ball. I told him that getting hit hurts but it gives you a free walk to first base too. That only helped a little. I told him to remember what it felt like at tryouts when he hit every pitch thrown to him. I encouraged him that he could do it and he said he would try.

     He stepped into the batters box and the first pitch whizzed past him. Trey pulled back to avoid getting hit. "Strike one" the umpire hollered. Trey looked at me at first base and I gave him a thumbs up. "You can do this, Trey! You have to swing the bat to get a hit!"  He nodded and stepped in for the next pitch. Same result. Strike two. I called time out and walked up to home plate. I put my hands on Trey's shoulders and told him that I knew he could do it but he had to at least try. "Just swing the bat" I said. "I promise the ball will not hurt you." Trey nodded and I patted him on the back and went back to first base.

      On the third pitch I saw Trey close his eyes as he swung the bat. The familiar sound of the ball cracking off the bat was beautiful. It wasn't hit hard but it was hit. Trey dropped the bat and ran for first base. "Go, go, go!" I yelled and waved my arms for him to hurry. The ball had barely made it between the pitcher and the second baseman. The pitcher picked up the ball and hurled it towards the first baseman. The ball sailed high over his head. I told Trey to keep going to second base. Trey ran as fast as he could. The first baseman finally got the ball and threw it to the second baseman. The ball just missed hitting Trey as he was running and then went right through the second baseman's legs and into the outfield. The third base coach started yelling for Trey to run to third. As Trey headed to third I could see that he was quickly running out of steam. His run became a jog and then a very fatigued jog. The outfielders had not been paying close enough attention and by the time the got to the ball Trey was already being waved around third and heading to home plate. "Hurry Trey!!" all of us coaches and all of the team and all of the crowd yelled in unison.

     Trey's face was one of defeat. He looked like he was not going to make it all the way. Something kept him going and as he stepped on the plate we heard the sound of the baseball slamming into the catcher's mitt. "Safe" the umpire bellowed.

      Trey's team went ballistic. The crowd went crazy. I hugged Trey along with everyone else. I knew it wasn't the prettiest home run but it was a home run nonetheless. It was the only home run the team hit all year. And it was hit by my son, Trey.

      Like all of the other sports Trey lost interest after only the one year of playing. I know now that he is not destined to be the athlete that I had dreamed about. But I am not disappointed. I know he at least tried. I am glad that he can laugh at these stories too. For a kid with so little sports experience he sure has a lot of great experiences that bring smiles to everyone.

     Trey continues with his love of drawing. He has become quite talented at it. He wants to one day draw for Pixar. I think he just might.

     I love to watch my girls play basketball and that they have grown to love the sport. But I am also proud of my son who tried to play sports. I found out later that the main reason he tried was because he wanted me to be proud of him. I am proud that he tried. But I am more proud because he cares that much. My greatest success will be to see my kids find happiness. If, for Trey, that is drawing characters for Pixar or writing stories and movie scripts, then I will enjoy his craft as much as if he had led the Lakers to a championship. And that my friends is pretty darn happy!

Fishing In The Zone

Fishing has always been one of my favorite activities. It runs rampant in my family. My grandpa, dad, brothers, sisters, uncles and cousins all love or loved to fish. Some of my greatest memories since childhood have involved fishing.

Contrarily, I know a lot of people who don't care to fish because they get bored easily and their patience is limited. For me, I have never had a problem getting bored. I have always caught fish and I believe that is the determining factor as to whether a person enjoys fishing or not. If you aren't catching fish then you feel you are wasting your time. 

I don't think I would ever feel that way myself because part of the enjoyment is being in the outdoors and taking in the beauty that God has created in this world. A majestic mountain with evergreen trees mixed in with the many fall colors provided by the other trees and bushes. A smooth flowing river intermittently flowing over rocks and following an aged path towards the ocean. The many forms of wildlife living life without human distractions. The sounds of the water passing by or the wind gently blowing in the trees. The music of the chirping birds. The clear, clean mountain air easily breathed into your lungs. You literally see, hear, smell and feel the joy that God sent you to earth to have.

Sometimes I enjoy a peaceful excursion to a mountain lake by myself. I take my fly rod and float tube and experience the tranquility of the surroundings. After catching a few fish, I reel in the line and place the rod across the front of my tube. I pull my hat down over my eyes and drift on the water and in my mind. It is the most refreshing sleep I can ever enjoy.

I enjoy seeing the passion that others have for fishing as well. I see many who know the local Cabela's store like the back of their hands. They have all the gear to make the fishing easier and to give them an air of confidence through the outfits they wear. I must admit that they do look amazing. I get a little jealous and decide to invest in new wardrobe and gear myself. Then I see what it costs to look that good.  $60 for a fishing shirt, $80 for pants, $180 for breathable waders, $100 for a fishing vest, $300 for a fly rod, $200 for a reel, etc. And those were the sale prices! I weighed out the decision. What was I getting for my money? Was it worth $1000+ just to look good? Would it help me catch fish? My old stuff never seemed to hinder my ability to do that. I just couldn't do it.

I walked over to the clearance rack and purchased two shirts for $15 each and a pair of pants for $20. The shirts were a size to big but I figured I would eventually fill them out and the pants seemed to fit perfectly so I'm not sure why they were getting rid of them so cheap. 

The point is, I don't look like many of my friends who fish a lot. I have my dad's philosophy of, it doesn't matter what you look like or the fancy gear you have, it matters that you catch fish. So I take my low end Ugly Stik fly rod and my over sized fishing shirt and I head to the mountains. 

I recall one trip that justified our thinking the best way possible. 

It was around 1994 and we planned a little trip up to Lowman, Idaho in the Boise National Forest. We all enjoyed fishing in the South Fork of the Payette River. One of our favorite campgrounds was the Mountain View Campground about a mile east of the ranger station. This particular trip was the last real camping and fishing trip that I remember with my Grandpa Hallenberger. 

My wife and I met my grandparents at the campground. Also there to greet us was my Dad's sister Lela and her family. My Dad and his wife and many of my siblings showed up shortly after we arrived. Lela had brought up their large camp trailer and she and my Uncle Blaine shared it with my Grandparents. The rest of us spread out across the campground in tents. 

Aunt Lela

We had a great time together. We made s'mores at night and Dad played his guitar and we all sang along many of the songs we had known for years. We told stories and everyone laughed and had fun. Many of us stayed up and talked until well after 1:00am. I just love being around a campfire with family. 

During the days we spent time exploring, fishing and even enjoying a little dip at Kirkham Hot Springs a few miles up the road. Kirkham is a natural spring that is extremely hot in places but when it mixes with the river water it is cooled just enough to enjoy the heat and relax your muscles in. 

Kirkham Hot Springs

One day the family decided to take all the kids up to the hot springs and let them swim. My wife, Trina, decided to join them. Everyone ended up going except for me and my Grandpa. He wasn't feeling real well and decided to stay back and take it easy. He also wanted to get dinner started so it would be ready later. Grandpa made the world's best ham hock and beans! I was happy to stay back with him and figured I could get a little fishing done as well. Plus there was never better company than Grandpa. He was my hero and I loved every minute with him.

Grandpa

After everyone left I grabbed my fishing gear and began to string some new line onto my reel. Grandpa sat next to me near the fire and we talked about lots of things like baseball, fishing and of course family. I loved Grandpa's fishing stories. He was no only a great fisherman but also a wonderful story teller. When I finally got my reel and rod together and was ready to head to the river, Grandpa told me he was going to lay down for a few minutes in the trailer. I told him I would check in on him in about a half hour and I headed down to the banks near camp. 

I rounded up a few grasshoppers and placed them into a small Styrofoam container and then found what looked like might be a good spot to fish. I surveyed the river back and forth and found a deep hole created by a large rock in front of it. I saw a couple of fish swimming and decided it was perfect. I took out one of the grasshoppers and placed it on the hook. I placed a single small sinker about 36 inches above the grasshopper. I placed the line over my finger and lifted the bail over the spindle. I slowly drew the rod back and then flicked it forward releasing the line with my finger at the precise time so that the grasshopper would land just above the hole. The grasshopper slowly dropped over the large rock and into the hole. Right as it got into the hole a flash of silver flickered just beneath the water. The line went tight and the pole responded with a tug. I gave the rod a firm lift and set the hook. The fish was on. I let it play the line a little and then slowly reeled him in. I reached down with my net and swooped it up into the air. It was a nice little rainbow about 11 inches long. I removed the hook carefully and then set the fish back into the river and watched it swim back to the hole.

I repeated the process and recast my line. This time nothing happened. The grasshopper eventually floated right through the hole and down the river. I tried about 5 or 6 more times. That's weird, I thought to myself. Are these fish that intelligent to know what happened the first time? Usually when a fish attacks a type of bait so quickly it is a good sign that that is the best bait to use. But these fish were not biting anymore.

I decided to try something else. I pulled out my little container of night crawlers as well as the jar of Balls O' Fire salmon eggs. I broke one of the large worms in half and threaded it onto the hook the way my Grandpa had shown me many years before. Then on the end of the hook just over the barb I placed a salmon egg. I removed the sinker from above the hook as now the weight of the worm was sufficient for my needs. I then cast the line and watched as the worm crossed over the rock. Within seconds I felt the tugging of the rod and I had hooked another fish. I reeled it in and it was similar to the first fish but maybe an inch shorter.  Again I released it back to the river. 

The worm was still intact on the hook but the salmon egg had fallen off. I placed another one in it's place and then cast again. Almost identical to the previous attempt and almost an identical result. This time the fish was a little larger, maybe 12 inches. This went on for about 15 minutes. Fish after fish after fish. I got a little thirsty so I left my gear at the bank and went up to camp and got a Mountain Dew from the cooler. I drank a little and walked over to the trailer to check on Grandpa. Right as I knocked on the door he appeared from the around the front of the trailer. He said he was feeling a little better and decided to clean out his tackle box. I told him how great the fishing was and he told me he had experienced that many times throughout his life. I smiled and asked if he needed anything. He said no he had everything he needed so I headed back to the river. On my way I caught the aroma of the beans drifting through the campground. My mouth watered as I thought of dinner that night. 

I picked up my pole and made sure the worm and egg were still good to go. "Let's try it again" I said out loud to myself. I cast the line and voila, fish on! Right then I heard the family coming back. My cousins Tory, Sid and Jason all came right down to the river along with my little brother John and my sisters Heidi and Rebecca. I told them about all of the success I was having. We decided to start keeping some of the fish so we could have them with the beans that night. Tory, Sid and Jason all ran up to get their fishing poles. I stayed back and continued to catch fish. I let John, Heidi and Rebecca bring a few in as well. When my cousins returned I told them what to put on their lines.  

Just then a couple of guys showed up on the opposite side of the river. They saw me pulling out fish after fish and decided to check it out. I normally don't like to share my success secrets but I thought it would be OK and I also thought it was pretty cool that these particular guys had asked. They were decked out in all the finest gear and I could tell that their rods were exquisite. "What are you using?" one of them asked. I replied honestly and they looked at me funny. "Seriously?" they asked. I nodded and they seemed to accept it. They quickly took out their worms and salmon eggs and rigged their hooks as I had recommended. 

Tory and Sid

So now my little fishing hole was filled with lines. Mine was now accompanied by my 3 cousins' and the two strangers who looked like professional fisherman. I felt the tug on my pole and handed it over to Heidi. She struggled to reel it in but finally did. I cast again. This time I handed the pole to Rebecca and I helped her reel another in. I cast again and caught another, then another, then another. Tory and Sid thought it was pretty funny that I was the only one catching fish. The pros and Jason however were not amused. I let Jason reel a couple in so he wouldn't be upset. The pros kept trying and even changed up their bait but they ended up leaving without catching so much as a bite.

After bringing in about a dozen fish I decided to mix it up a bit. I took about 5 feet of line and tied it up above my existing line. I tied a fly to the end of it. I checked my other hook and saw that the worm and egg were still usable. I cast the line again and watched the worm plop right into the hole. The fly landed just beyond it and floated on the top of the water. The familiar tug on the pole and I had another 12 inch fish on. I began to reel it in. About 1/3 the way in I was startled as my pole suddenly doubled over and almost came out of my hands. I gathered myself and began to fight the line. Just then a huge fish jumped out of the water thrashing it's body around and slapping itself on the surface as reentered the water. My family started screaming and my heart leaped in my chest with excitement. I let the fish have a little line and tried to keep just enough pressure so that the hook wouldn't come out of it's mouth. It jumped a couple more times and tried to go downriver. I walked along the bank struggling to keep the line from breaking. Finally after a valiant fight the fish tired out and I was able to bring him to shore. I tried to net it but it was too big. I put my fingers under the gills and removed the hook. I lifted up the fish and then noticed a flash of white on the ground. Laying there with a hook still in it's mouth was an 11 inch fish. That was the first fish to hit my line. 

The fish in my hand was 25 inches long and was fat. I was so excited. My family had gathered around to see the monster. It sure looked like a rainbow trout but I had never seen one that large in that river. I figured I better make sure. I knew that there were salmon in that river but that it was illegal to catch them. I took the fish and ran back to camp looking for my Grandpa. When I finally found him I showed him the fish and begged him excitedly, "Please tell me this is a rainbow!"

Grandpa took the fish and examined it. "Wow" he said. "I haven't seen a fish this big in the Payette River since back in the 60's." 

"Yeah, yeah Grandpa, but is it legal?" I responded. 

"Oh yes," he said. "This is actually a native rainbow rather than the rainbows they plant here."

"Yessss!! I exclaimed. "Thanks Grandpa!!

I went back to the river and grabbed the rest of the fish and cleaned them all out in the river. I then placed them all in foil and into the cooler filled with ice. We would cook them up later to go with Grandpa's beans!

Everyone was talking about my fish. They were all laughing at how the professionals had come down and couldn't even get a bite in the same hole that I was catching fish on every cast in. I suppose I was in the zone and it was awesome. A couple of hours later and the Fish & Game Ranger stopped by. He said he had heard about a large fish caught in the area and he wanted to check it out. I was a little nervous and hoped that my Grandpa had known what he was talking about when he identified the fish for me. I took the Ranger over to the cooler and opened it up. The fish was bent upwards on the ends because it didn't fit the cooler.

The Ranger looked closely and shook his head. I got butterflies in my stomach. Then he turned to me and said that it was a beautiful fish. It was the largest one he had seen in over 15 years working as a Ranger in the area. He congratulated me and shook my hand and then told us all to have a good day. The family began to pat me on the back again and I was so happy. 

It was a great trip. My wife, my family, my Grandpa and a giant fish. Life was good!