It was the road to nowhere and every where.
The last place I would officially move. (or at least one of them)
It was also the hottest road in recent memory. A caravan of one car full of 3 cats, 1 guinea pig (yea, he’s still kickin’’), one 8, soon to be nine year old boy and a very, very ready to land little lady, one GMC pickup chock full of two grand parents, one old cat, (my Monet), and a truck full of me, my dogs and 100 plus temperatures for six fun filled days of Subway Sandwiches, bad roadside attractions as well as legendary stops. Wall Drug, Badlands, Mt. Rushmore and of course Exit 364-A. (Thank god for that one, for it had a gas station which allowed my forward progress. I ran into more instances than not that proved to me that god was watching my every move. It was almost uncanny. There are few soul searching experiences that clarify your life like 6 days on the road with nothing but blazing heat, your thoughts and two slobbering dogs to keep you company.
With thoughts of family, new adventures yet to come, and the hot, and I’m not kidding hot air rushing past my 2-55 air conditioning system. (2 windows rolled down 55 mph), of course I could only reach those blistering speeds on a 6% downgrade with a stiff tailwind). We made numerous stops along the way. Within the first two hours of the trip, I had to disperse the cats amongst the cooler cars. The dogs, for better or worse were stuck with me and my Diet Pepsi exploding machine. We traversed the tougher mountain passes, opting for the farmlands of Idaho instead. I personally counted every potato and green onion along the way. You may not believe that possible, but F-you. I did, or at the very least, it felt like I did. It was a LONG trip up until then and we were only into the second day. YIKES.
On one shade break, we got out in some town, stretched our legs and relaxed, well, 4 of us did, the other, an 8 year old, ran off to peek through the fence of the public pool at the local 8 year talent and soon found his shoeless self in the middle of a sandburr lot that would neither permit his passage the rest of the way to fence, or back to the cool grass. He called for me, his pops to come save the day.
Tragically, I was far too busy soakin’ up the shade to be bothered with a screaming 8 year old and he suffered for a good couple of minutes before my "lovely" wife “persuaded” me to go get him. Upon reaching him, I realized that I was a complete ass. And my “lovely” wife was right to brow beat me. The poor kid was not going anywhere without either some excruciating pain, or a helping hand, so I carried the little monkey out of the thorn patch while a cute lifeguard squirted the hot ‘ground’ beneath us with cold water. “Um, hey honey, how about us”? The walking wounded? Nope, no water for us. The gate slammed and that was that, load up the dogs and hit the road with sore itching feet, egg boiling heat and a feeling that the lifeguard had something better to do, which really hurt...
We lit out for what I like to call the “Next Stop”. Might not sound like all that much to you sitting in your LazyBoy, chillin’ like a villain, but for me, the next stop was a place full of magic, surprise and at the very least, a cold Mt. Dew and pisser. My expectations had dipped to a new low while the temperature hit a new high.
When we finally, and I really mean finally, reached Prairie, I was beyond ready to stop. That however would have to wait. Wait until I had the chance to unload the trailer at my 2nd parents house, then haul the rest of the shit to storage. I may have been a bit crabbly at this point in the “adventure”. I remember getting to my storage facility and literally throwing chairs as deeply into the massive chasm as I could see. I think I may have acted like an ass, but that’s between you and me. From there, we set out to find the jobs that would sustain our existence in the Midwest. Little did I know that my trip to the barber on the 2nd day in town would stand as my first and ‘game winning’ interview. Sure, it took some hardball selling, a lot of self doubt with some interviews across the sate mixed in to finally reel ‘em in, but reel ‘em in I did and now I work for a great start up in town that I truly believe will take off like wildfire. I was very happy to be gainfully employed again. We soon bought a house by Dylan’s school. Since then, we’ve been working steadily on the house and the unpacking. Jim, (Kim’s pops) has helped immensely, the only way I have thought to repay his work, time and effort is to join his bowling team and help them go from a contender to 2nd place. (2nd to last that is) That sucks! You might say, or specifically, YOU SUCK!, But look where they would have been without me...thats right, on their couches experiencing ass spread as their dreams of 2nd to last place faded into oblivion.
YOUR WELCOME!
Meanwhile, two weeks before Christmas, Dylan takes the “All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth” song to heart and cracks his bike and his two front and (of course) permanent teeth in half in a harrowing maneuver that all those with a penis have tried.
That is the jump from the higher place to the lower without going over the handle bars and smashing your face on the street. Some of us pull it off... and some of our bike forks snap at the critical moment and send us hurtling toward the pavement face first without the luxury of breaking said hurtle with our hands. This was the case with Dylan. On the upside, he looks like he just won the Stanley Cup by himself!
He goes in for reconstructive dentistry on Monday.
If that’s as bad as it gets here, I’ll take it.
Peace and Merry Christmas to you all.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
A River To Unite
When we first moved to Oregon, we found a place that we really connected with spiritually. The first time I visited was with my parents, wife and son. We just walked the paths and listened to the river, it was then that my mom, always thinking ahead, planned for a long weekend there. A weekend with all of us. My brother, his boys, mom and dad and some close friends of theirs George and Gail. At the time she made the reservation, it seemed a long, long way off 2 years to be exact. I was excited at the thought of spending some real time there and photographing the area and really seeing its secrets. The McKenzie River runs right through it and provides the water for the hot springs that bubble throughout the grounds. The name of the lodge and campground is Belknap. But for me its defined by more than a name. There is a lot of positive energy there and judging by the way they keep the grounds, its obvious that there is an equal amount of love and hard work.
The months passed and as they did, a profound change was in the works. We had decided to leave Oregon for the Midwest. I was determined that we would not leave until after this trip. It meant a lot to me, and even more now that I was leaving. Not so much because it would be a long time until I saw it again, but that it would be the last big camping trip with my family that I would have in awhile and I really wanted it to be special. My focus switched from shooting images of nature to those of the heart and mainly, I wanted to capture memories that I would visit often in my new surroundings. It was around this time that my aunt Bobby Jo who lived in Prospect Oregon was diagnosed with colon cancer, this came as a big surprise as she was already battling breast cancer. It became clear very quickly that it was advanced and that her time with us was going to be short. Too short. That weekend, she went into the hospital for emergency surgery and passed away.
I got a call from my mom the next morning and she broke the news. I didn’t know it at that instant, but this trip we had planned for so long was about to take another turn in its dimension. Her funeral would be on the weekend of our trip. It was within driving distance of Belknap and it felt like the perfect timing, we would all be together and we could all say goodbye together. As the weekend drew closer and our lives even more hectic, I made the decision to say goodbye in my own way and not make the long drive from Belknap to Prospect with my parents. This was a hard choice to make, but one I felt was best for my family. Now this may seem strange to some, even disrespectful at such a sensitive time, but one thing that I missed the previous summer was a chance to go white water rafting with Bobby Jo and all my cousins on the Rogue River. It just didn’t happen, the way lots of things don’t that seem like they should. Well I would never have the chance again so when my son asked to go rafting that day, Kim and I enthusiastically agreed and signed up. We invited my brother and his boys to join us, but they had just gone recently and weren’t really interested. No worries, this day was for celebrating life anyway you wanted and we were going to do just that. As we gathered our stuff to meet the river guides, my brother had a change of heart and they were “onboard” with the whole rafting idea, literally. That made me happy, it felt complete.
We put in about 13 miles up river where the water temperature was a chest squeezing 42 degrees.
As we meandered down the river, our guide talked to us about the rapids and informed us that anything on the river was ours to name. Sure they already had names for the rapids like, Fluffy White Bunny for example, which describes a rapid that looked hungry for any boat that dared near it. I think we all quickly forgot to name these monster rapids and instead concentrated on just getting through them. We were having a great time. All of us together on one raft. As we hit slow pockets, we engaged in water fights with other boats and took in our surroundings. It was one of these lulls that Eric, says, “This is exactly what Bobby Jo would have wanted us to do today”. And he was right! With that warm thought still fresh, we encountered a rare sight that even the guide was surprised to see. A Bald Eagle. She was flying up the river that we were going down, appropriately, as this magnificent spirit was briefly making contact as she continued on her own journey and we on ours. Much like Bobby Jo. We watched her until we came to a bend in the river and went our separate ways. The guide said she was ours to name and with that, Eric turned to me and suggested the only name it could be, Bobby Jo.
It was perfect, for me, the feeling was that we had just said our goodbye. Its hard to describe, but it one of those feelings that you just know, you cant prove and to some it may sound silly, but at the end of the day, you know in your heart and it helps you close your eyes and sleep deep.
Bobby Jo remains one of the richest souls I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Truly a person that would do anything for you. And when she wasn’t sharing her life with you, she was providing a rock solid moral compass that has influenced me and countless others over the years. She will be missed in too many ways to count by those who’s lives she enriched. Also a magnificent spirit that will fly on.
The months passed and as they did, a profound change was in the works. We had decided to leave Oregon for the Midwest. I was determined that we would not leave until after this trip. It meant a lot to me, and even more now that I was leaving. Not so much because it would be a long time until I saw it again, but that it would be the last big camping trip with my family that I would have in awhile and I really wanted it to be special. My focus switched from shooting images of nature to those of the heart and mainly, I wanted to capture memories that I would visit often in my new surroundings. It was around this time that my aunt Bobby Jo who lived in Prospect Oregon was diagnosed with colon cancer, this came as a big surprise as she was already battling breast cancer. It became clear very quickly that it was advanced and that her time with us was going to be short. Too short. That weekend, she went into the hospital for emergency surgery and passed away.
I got a call from my mom the next morning and she broke the news. I didn’t know it at that instant, but this trip we had planned for so long was about to take another turn in its dimension. Her funeral would be on the weekend of our trip. It was within driving distance of Belknap and it felt like the perfect timing, we would all be together and we could all say goodbye together. As the weekend drew closer and our lives even more hectic, I made the decision to say goodbye in my own way and not make the long drive from Belknap to Prospect with my parents. This was a hard choice to make, but one I felt was best for my family. Now this may seem strange to some, even disrespectful at such a sensitive time, but one thing that I missed the previous summer was a chance to go white water rafting with Bobby Jo and all my cousins on the Rogue River. It just didn’t happen, the way lots of things don’t that seem like they should. Well I would never have the chance again so when my son asked to go rafting that day, Kim and I enthusiastically agreed and signed up. We invited my brother and his boys to join us, but they had just gone recently and weren’t really interested. No worries, this day was for celebrating life anyway you wanted and we were going to do just that. As we gathered our stuff to meet the river guides, my brother had a change of heart and they were “onboard” with the whole rafting idea, literally. That made me happy, it felt complete.
We put in about 13 miles up river where the water temperature was a chest squeezing 42 degrees.
As we meandered down the river, our guide talked to us about the rapids and informed us that anything on the river was ours to name. Sure they already had names for the rapids like, Fluffy White Bunny for example, which describes a rapid that looked hungry for any boat that dared near it. I think we all quickly forgot to name these monster rapids and instead concentrated on just getting through them. We were having a great time. All of us together on one raft. As we hit slow pockets, we engaged in water fights with other boats and took in our surroundings. It was one of these lulls that Eric, says, “This is exactly what Bobby Jo would have wanted us to do today”. And he was right! With that warm thought still fresh, we encountered a rare sight that even the guide was surprised to see. A Bald Eagle. She was flying up the river that we were going down, appropriately, as this magnificent spirit was briefly making contact as she continued on her own journey and we on ours. Much like Bobby Jo. We watched her until we came to a bend in the river and went our separate ways. The guide said she was ours to name and with that, Eric turned to me and suggested the only name it could be, Bobby Jo.
It was perfect, for me, the feeling was that we had just said our goodbye. Its hard to describe, but it one of those feelings that you just know, you cant prove and to some it may sound silly, but at the end of the day, you know in your heart and it helps you close your eyes and sleep deep.
Bobby Jo remains one of the richest souls I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Truly a person that would do anything for you. And when she wasn’t sharing her life with you, she was providing a rock solid moral compass that has influenced me and countless others over the years. She will be missed in too many ways to count by those who’s lives she enriched. Also a magnificent spirit that will fly on.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Old Game Gets New Name
It must have been 104 degrees that day in the Wal-Mart parking lot when out of no where, a race breaks out. You know the kind, where one person, usually a super competitive 8 year old starts running and states the rules as he takes a ten step lead. Well Kim is usually the last to the car or where ever and thus she becomes the “rotten egg” I let Dylan win 9 times out of 10, but so long as I’m maintain 2nd, I’m not an over competitive jerk father, or the rotten egg so I’m fine with that. On this occasion however. It was Kim that felt she could get the drop on us and make a mad dash to the car, (again, stating the rules on the way... ‘last one there is a rotten egg!) You get the idea. What makes this story worth writing isn’t that she finally won, she didn’t, or even that she initiated it. It was the fact that while yelling out the rotten egg part, she accidentally said “ROTTEN LEG”! We all stopped and looked at each other for a split second, unanimously deciding that being a rotten leg is way worse than a rotten egg. That being said, IT WAS ON! With images of past CSI episodes dancing in my head I quickly overcame Kim. Dylan on the other hand was a little quicker and way more sneaky. Plus he hates to lose at anything. Kim is fair, too fair for a race of this magnitude and she was looking like a shoe-in to become the dreaded, putrefied, maggot infested appendage that I pictured decomposing in some weeds off of a deserted highway somewhere. I know its a tough image, but its a motivator and that’s what I needed. The humidity was well passed what I find to be acceptable, and if I’m going to make it worse by taking part in an impromptu 50 yard dash, I’ll be damned if I’m also going to be stuck with the rotten leg moniker. All my efforts to beat the kid were in vain, he will stop at nothing to win. I was quicker of mind than of foot and slyly changed the rules to; last one in the car is a rotten leg and since I had the keys and could open only my door, I did and thus saved myself the disgrace of being known in the family as the dreaded leg. Kim was not so lucky.
Speaking of rotten legs, the next day we went to a kid’s rodeo. When I reluctantly agreed to this outing, I was thinking we’d see a lot of mutton-bustin, or some pee-wee version of the barrel race and at the very least, clowns doing what they do best, scaring little kids. When we got there and I saw the type of rigs they used to haul their horses and the distances that some had traveled to get there, I knew I was in for more than I had bargained for. We made it just in time to sit down for some Bronc riding. We planted ourselves on a grassy knoll and our first rider came exploding out of the gate! This was no Shetland pony! It was huge, fast, mad as hell and heading straight for us! The poor kid who was (and happy to say, still is) 14, hung on for dear life. This beast was having none of it though. In a surreal few seconds, I watched as the horse ran straight into the gate in front of us, bowing the metal fence in his effort to dump his rider, and dump his rider he did! That poor kid went flying over the gate and straight onto his head! It was brutal and very disturbing to see. These gates are nearly 7 ft. tall so it was a long fall without going into it from atop a sprinting horse. The kid didn’t move a muscle and I thought the worst and heard Kim inform Dylan that bull/bronc riding was officially added to the long list of things he would not be doing while under our roof. The paramedics arrived quickly and stabilized him. By then, it was clear that he was conscious and in pain but fortunately it wasn’t his neck or back that hurt, it was his leg. Which had apparently been wedged briefly in between the bars as his body flew over. I missed this little detail in all the excitement but was glad it wasn’t worse. They hauled him off to the hospital for x-rays none the less. Hopefully he turns out just fine.
As they hauled him away, the announcer mentioned how tough he was, followed by his time and a “It was all worth it huh buddy? I just sat and shook my head. Welcome to Wisconsin!
Speaking of rotten legs, the next day we went to a kid’s rodeo. When I reluctantly agreed to this outing, I was thinking we’d see a lot of mutton-bustin, or some pee-wee version of the barrel race and at the very least, clowns doing what they do best, scaring little kids. When we got there and I saw the type of rigs they used to haul their horses and the distances that some had traveled to get there, I knew I was in for more than I had bargained for. We made it just in time to sit down for some Bronc riding. We planted ourselves on a grassy knoll and our first rider came exploding out of the gate! This was no Shetland pony! It was huge, fast, mad as hell and heading straight for us! The poor kid who was (and happy to say, still is) 14, hung on for dear life. This beast was having none of it though. In a surreal few seconds, I watched as the horse ran straight into the gate in front of us, bowing the metal fence in his effort to dump his rider, and dump his rider he did! That poor kid went flying over the gate and straight onto his head! It was brutal and very disturbing to see. These gates are nearly 7 ft. tall so it was a long fall without going into it from atop a sprinting horse. The kid didn’t move a muscle and I thought the worst and heard Kim inform Dylan that bull/bronc riding was officially added to the long list of things he would not be doing while under our roof. The paramedics arrived quickly and stabilized him. By then, it was clear that he was conscious and in pain but fortunately it wasn’t his neck or back that hurt, it was his leg. Which had apparently been wedged briefly in between the bars as his body flew over. I missed this little detail in all the excitement but was glad it wasn’t worse. They hauled him off to the hospital for x-rays none the less. Hopefully he turns out just fine.
As they hauled him away, the announcer mentioned how tough he was, followed by his time and a “It was all worth it huh buddy? I just sat and shook my head. Welcome to Wisconsin!
Friday, July 21, 2006
Eugene Family Lands In Wisconsin, FINALLY!
It took 6 days of long hours driving in heat that easily went into triple digits. Everyone made it just fine though including the animals. The dogs had it the worst in the back of my truck. I don't have air conditioning so I wasn't much better, but we stopped a lot and watered them often. This trip has made it very very clear that outside of Oregon, there are not enough trees for shade. We found ourselves huddled under one spindly little sappling for shade more than once during this journey, wolfing down fast food and drink. The drive, while beautiful, was much like a dream where no matter how far or fast your running, your never getting any closer. At least thats the way it felt for yours truly, of course at a mind numbing top speed of 60mph, its easy to feel every singel one of the 2200 some odd miles we drove. I'll post more pictures and stories later as I need to start getting organized and unpacked.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Eugene Man Suffers Vandals Wrath.
A few of you may remember a few posts back, I vented my frustration regarding a particularly annoying gum chewing co-worker that chased me from the lunchroom with her non-stop gum popping...Well no sooner had I pushed the ‘publish post’ button on my blog, than I had a few choice words in my comments section, bravely posted anonymously from what I can only guess is a little known secret society of angry gum chewers, a ‘sisterhood’ no doubt. Well one such messenger threatened me with some pretty strong language as it relates to attacking my vehicle or my walkway with a freshly chewed piece of gooey hatred. Well, the perp was patient for sure, but (she) followed through. Allow me to set the scene for you...
There I was, hooking up my CB radio to my new antenna, (thats right, I have a CB, Its my only entertainment as I don’t have a radio in my truck) I had an old antenna, but it was ripped off my truck by a low flying branch, so I got a new one and was feverishly drilling the proper size holes in my truck to mount the bracket, I say feverishly because I had recently and without foresight, packed and shipped my drill bits to their new home, a storage facility somewhere in America’s Heartland. However, I found a stray that was half the size I needed, and with a little finesse, I, like any guy, made it work. Well upon completing my task and pulling my head from under the hood, quite satisfied with my craftsmanship by the way, I notice something out of the corner of my eye, something that I instinctively knew wasn't right, something that didn't come stock on my truck, or even as an after market upgrade. In fact, it wasn't an upgrade at all! It was however light green, sweet smelling and sun dried to my WINDOW!! Thats right, someone took there devilish treat, and stuck it right on the window of my camper shell. Clearly trying to hide their effort as it was on the passenger side (which they must know I rarely visit).
Now, I’m not one to throw out accusations lightly, not one to “make assumptions”, but let me just say that my net of suspicion has been narrowly cast at one individual specifically. I don’t want to name names, but her initials are Heidi Howery! Yep, you heard right. I’m taking Heidi right off the bat. With the Sweetmint Gum in the parking lot of a baseball game. She had the motive, recently being dumped out of her chair by my wife. She had the opportunity (while I was out pitching) and she had the means, she’s an admitted gum chewer. Sorry Heidi, I know this must sting a little, but guilts not supposed to feel good. I may just mail this savory little chewy chunk of blobby evidence to my local CSI office and have them cross referenced the DNA with the big thumbprint forever imprinted upon it during the assault. Or maybe I’ll just get you back right before I move across country. You can deny it, but your lookin’ pretty good as a suspect you have to admit. And if by some super small fraction of a percent that I’m wrong in naming you as my lead “person of interest”, then I can at least rest, assured that my prior blog diatribe on the barbaric practice of gum chewing was justified. Being right RULES!
There I was, hooking up my CB radio to my new antenna, (thats right, I have a CB, Its my only entertainment as I don’t have a radio in my truck) I had an old antenna, but it was ripped off my truck by a low flying branch, so I got a new one and was feverishly drilling the proper size holes in my truck to mount the bracket, I say feverishly because I had recently and without foresight, packed and shipped my drill bits to their new home, a storage facility somewhere in America’s Heartland. However, I found a stray that was half the size I needed, and with a little finesse, I, like any guy, made it work. Well upon completing my task and pulling my head from under the hood, quite satisfied with my craftsmanship by the way, I notice something out of the corner of my eye, something that I instinctively knew wasn't right, something that didn't come stock on my truck, or even as an after market upgrade. In fact, it wasn't an upgrade at all! It was however light green, sweet smelling and sun dried to my WINDOW!! Thats right, someone took there devilish treat, and stuck it right on the window of my camper shell. Clearly trying to hide their effort as it was on the passenger side (which they must know I rarely visit).
Now, I’m not one to throw out accusations lightly, not one to “make assumptions”, but let me just say that my net of suspicion has been narrowly cast at one individual specifically. I don’t want to name names, but her initials are Heidi Howery! Yep, you heard right. I’m taking Heidi right off the bat. With the Sweetmint Gum in the parking lot of a baseball game. She had the motive, recently being dumped out of her chair by my wife. She had the opportunity (while I was out pitching) and she had the means, she’s an admitted gum chewer. Sorry Heidi, I know this must sting a little, but guilts not supposed to feel good. I may just mail this savory little chewy chunk of blobby evidence to my local CSI office and have them cross referenced the DNA with the big thumbprint forever imprinted upon it during the assault. Or maybe I’ll just get you back right before I move across country. You can deny it, but your lookin’ pretty good as a suspect you have to admit. And if by some super small fraction of a percent that I’m wrong in naming you as my lead “person of interest”, then I can at least rest, assured that my prior blog diatribe on the barbaric practice of gum chewing was justified. Being right RULES!
Monday, June 19, 2006
A World Class Ending to a Great Season
Our Sheldon Babe Ruth Rookie Major season came to an exciting end yesterday, Fathers Day. After a weekend of seemingly nonstop baseball, the Irish ended the season with a heart-stopping game against Williamette. A game that we ended up losing but one in which every single player came out a winner for having played. This game had it all and when it should’ve been over, it kept going, and going into extra innings. Every single one of these boys played their hearts out and gave the season a grande finale that couldn’t have been better. Sure, we could’ve come away with the bigger trophy, but there is a lot to be said for the experience of coming in second after such a hard fought battle. They had everything to be proud of and they were proud. It was great to see. Thanks to all the coaches and parents that made this season what it was. True of any season, we made some good friends. The close of this season was especially emotional for Kim, Dylan and I as it signified a close on a wonderful chapter in our lives. For those who don’t know, we are leaving Oregon for Wisconsin in July. Its hard to say goodbye, so I’m not going to. I’d like to try hard to stay in touch with all those who made our lives here so fulfilled. Home is a state of mind and while the physical home might be a little elusive for us, the friends and relationships we’ve made have more than made up for that and with a little effort, those relationships will transcend the distance. Either way, all of you will undoubtably remain very close to our hearts. I’m going to miss watching your kids grow and sitting on the edge of my seat during their games. I wish you all the very best in the years to come.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
TEAM_2006_0035.jpg
TEAM_2006_0035.jpg
Originally uploaded by cmort04.
To view all the individual shots including the action just double click on this image and it will bring you to all of them.
Let me know if you have any trouble finding your "Allstar."
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Saturday, May 20, 2006
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