Disclaimer

Disclaimer-I am not a writer nor an expert in grammer. I have a difficult time expressing my thoughts let alone typing them out. I am a man of few words. So "bear" with me as I enter this blogging trail.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Rosie Wolfe - Lititz, PA

Rosie Wolfe has been in my thoughts a lot since I have been reflecting about my father’s death 12 years ago. (View previous blog post). I met Rosie while on my mission in Pennsylvania on August 20th 1989. I knocked on her door one hot/humid summer day and she welcomed me and my companion into her home and fed us Ice Milk (not ice cream, there's a difference) and Cheese Curls. It was an odd combination, but it was Rosie's favorite snack and I learned to enjoy the mix. At the time, she was 84 years old. Today, she would be 110.

Rosie became very dear to me. I only got to know her for about 4 months and only visited her a handful of times. She was always so happy to see us and would enjoy are company. Rosie was of the Mennonite faith. She read the Bible 2 hours a day and was close to Christ. Her husband had passed away twelve years prior to me meeting her. Her body was worn out from lifting Lloyd out of bed and around the house when he’s health went bad for ten years. She had a great smile and just the sweetest lady you ever met. She had my sense of humor, so we could keep each other laughing all day.

She had many talents and “stitching” as she called it was one that helped bring in some extra money. She made yarn Afghans. After meeting her on my 3rd visit, I asked if she could make one for me. She agreed if I bought the yarn and chose the colors. Well, I decided on bold, bright color and she was almost appalled when I showed them too her. She didn’t know they made such loud colors. She told me I needed 24 rolls of yarn. She got right on it and had finished it in one week. She never dreamed one of her Afghans would make it to out west – let alone Idaho.

When I was transferred to a different area, she was the one I missed the most and hard to say goodbye to. She cried when I told her the news over the phone and she begged me to come visit her the next day before I left. We continued to keep in touch via short letters.
Her letters and short phone calls were like a broken record. She always asked how I was doing, how “Sue” was after I got married. She remembered my family, parents, and siblings names and eventually a pet or two. She happily gave you unwanted advice. She always told me to never go to bed angry at our spouse. And you always say your prayers. Never refer to your children as kids, because Bible never did and kids are baby goats anyway. She would only allow me to call her Rosie Posie. As a child, she was teased to tears by that name. But it was part of our relationship, so we allowed it.She would tease that she's a tame wolf, because she had an e on the end of her name.
For a few years we would get an occasional call or short note from Rosie. Then both letters and phone calls stopped and never heard from her again. I only assumed she passed away shortly after being in a nursing home. Rosie as a delightful person and was a wonderful kind soul. She loved service and being needed, whether a drink of water or sewing on a button to a shirt, she was doing what Christ would do. She is very dear to my heart and know that one day I will be able to give her a hug again.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

My Best Friend, My Example, My Hero, My Father...


This post is a little bit about my Dad and the trail that he left behind for me to follow. I miss him. Today Feb. 12th, marks the day he passed away 12 years ago. It doesn't seem possible it has been so long. Each day I still feel like, "hey, where is he?" I wish I could just see and talk with him again.

My father passed away from heart failure. I found him in bed, looking peaceful with his hands clasped together as if he was just taking a nap. He has left a huge void in my heart that will never be filled. He was the most perfect person in my eyes I have ever known.



His father was one of the area’s largest Potato growers along with sugar beets, grain, alfalfa, and sheep. Farming was his way of life. He enjoyed working the ground, getting up at 5am to change water, and the harvest. When he passed away, my dad took over the farm and house. I treasure being raised in the same house and sleeping in the same room as he did as a boy.



He was very well known and respected. All my life wherever we would go, he was stopped by a person that wanted to say hello and talk to him. Everywhere....the mall, restaurants, shopping, and even vacations. He always had a smile and interest in what you were up to in life.


My father wore a hairpiece. Which to this day, some people didn’t know about. He always wore a hat or his hairpiece. I never knew him with a full head of hair. One time he was asked by some young kids about how Indians use to scalp white man. He told them where the Indians grabbed the hair and simulated the stroke of a knife across the top of his head and pulled off his hairpiece… You never saw mouths drop open like that for so long. He had a great sense of humor.


Some of his favorite pastimes in life were horse packing trips, camping, and snowmobiling. He passed that on to me. A lot of my fond memories was spending time in the mountains. Whether a 5 day horse trip, checking on the sheep, or just a ride in the mountains. Many lessons I have learned there taught me about life’s challenges. Some include how my mother wouldn’t allow me to go with him again for my safety. But he managed to sneak me back in the truck somehow.


He was very devoted to his testimony of the Gospel. He took all church callings seriously and would strive to live his life correctly. He was honest and most generous. He would always give you money, fill up your car with gasoline, or even do your chores for you.


When I asked Susan to marry me, we came home to tell my parents. He was out in the summer sun tearing apart an old barn. He stopped what he was doing and was so excited to come give Susan a hug and kiss. His face was all sweaty and dirty, but he didn’t care. It was important to him to support me in the girl that would marry me.



We all have that someone special in our life that is like my father for me. We can all go on and on about that person in our life that really stands out. I am nowhere near the caliber of a father/man as he was. I yearn for the day I can see him again and I know I will. He is my best friend, my example, my hero, and my Father. Thank you for showing ME what’s beyond the trail. I miss and love you dad.


Friday, January 28, 2011

Doing what I love...

I was raised riding in deep fresh powder in Idaho. At an early age, I grew to enjoy snowmobiling. I started out with a Kitty Kat. It went about 8 mph. I soon graduated to the Kawasaki Drifter. Once I did that, I was able to ride with adults and keep up. I remember several times, telling mom I wasn’t feeling good enough to go to school but quickly sneaking with my father to go for a ride. My father always wanted me to go with him. It was wonderful to grow up and learn the things my father loved to do. Snowmobiling was one of them. We were part of the Ammon Trail Riders snowmobile club. Still today, I have great friendships with those that were part of the club. Snowmobile sooths my soul and gives me another reason to spend time in the mountains where I feel I belong.
















Today, my brother and I went with some friends for a ride up above Kelly Canyon ski resort. It was a great day of riding. Deep snow, cold, sunny, and MOOSE! Yes, MOOSE. There are always firsts in life. Well, today, I had one. With all my times spend in mountains and trying to get too close to moose, I finally did it. I was chased by an angry, blood thirsty, killer cow moose. Well, wasn’t that bad, but let’s just say, don’t get between a cow moose and her calf and PRAY yours snowmobile doesn’t break down while trying to escape.



Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Skiing at Grand Targhee for the FaceBook Price

The only way to afford skiing now that I am a father of six is to either chaperon the school ski club which gives me a chaperone's pass or a take advantage of a new thing I discovered called Face Book Fridays.






My first time Skiing, I didn't do so hot. I was 13 and went with my brother, who was a hotdogger. I only lasted a half a day and gave it up. Then 2 years later, my good friend Cameron and I got a bright idea. Hey, lets join Ski club. I was hooked ever since. Cameron and I were in Ski club for 4 years. It was great. Each year we would go to Jackson Hole Ski Resort 9 times and then to Sun Valley 1 time. Cameron and I quickly gained confidence and soon stayed in the Black Diamond runs. Now, I continue to ski, but not as often. Maybe just a few times a year is all. I really enjoy it and always look forward to the next trip. I kept almost all my lift passes. I go to throw them away, but something just pulls me back...