Sometimes you gotta take a break from all the noise to appreciate the beauty of silence.
Robert Tew
Today there will be no official blog as I have spend the week making cards and bookmarks for my book, Even Beavers Can Be Heroes. I have had the pleasure of taking the time to reconnect with family and friends as result. I am pleased to say that I received an outpouring of love and appreciation that I didn’t expect. I am grateful to you all.
I have enjoyed hearing stories from family this week about the ways things where when they were growing up, such as being able to pay to fly planes without a pilots license but instead just the sheer will and determination to do so and someone next to them able to steer if need be. That would never happen today.
I encourage everyone to reach out to someone and find out a little bit more about them then they ever thought to ask. It is surprising what one finds out when one is willing to listen. I also encourage everyone to take sometime to themselves because we need time to recharge and be still from time to time.
Moral: 1) We are our own worst enemies when it comes to scheduling time for ourselves, but it is important to do so in order to be able to be more efficient at being there for others. 2) We all have amazing stories just waiting to be told. 3) Don’t take those you care about for granted, make sure to show them and tell them you care every chance you get. 4) When in doubt, speak up. Open communication can solve a lot of frustration and sadness.
Thanks as always for following my blog and I look forward to writing about more whimsical adventures next week. In the meantime stay whimsical.
“My mother told me to be a lady. And for her, that meant be your own person, be independent.”
Ruth Bader Ginsburg
Following her mother’s advice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, aka RBG, did just that. She did not let the fact that she was a woman in a man’s world stop her from achieving goals that many thought were beyond a female’s reach. As she progressed, she paved the way for future generations of women like me to do the same. While the world mourns her passing, I like many others are grateful for her drive and vision for expanding women’s equality in a myriad of ways. Her views on Title IX were not limited to women in college sports but for the equality of women in college, like me, receiving student loans to complete a master’s degree program. She argued before the Supreme Court, as an attorney, that women in the military should not be denied the housing allowance military men received. Without her tenacity I would not be able to own a car because I would not have a driver’s license nor could I have qualified to buy the home I currently own. I never knew that women were denied almost all opportunities to participate in high school sports. Without her passion, I would not have known the joy and pride of wearing my varsity letter jacket for playing all 4 years tennis. I still have it because it reminds me of what hard work and determination can achieve. RBG’s fight for the legality of women’s rights and the success of the equality movement has nourished my belief that I am strong and wonderful as I am. I can live and thrive as a single woman. I can be proud of all I have accomplished not because I am a woman who did them, but because I am smart, creative and know that hard work makes dreams come true. While I will miss her guidance, I will continue to celebrate the path for women to succeed that she helped pave.
One of her many famous quotes is “Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you.” She did just that. She graduated first in her class at Columbia Law school when few women were accepted into law schools. She did it while raising her first child. Today women outnumber men in Law Schools. Today women participating in high school sports has grown over 1200%. Today women in the military have the same rights as their male counterparts.
Ruth Bader Ginsberg was the second woman selected to the supreme court after Sandra Day O’Conner. When O’Conner retired in 2006, RBG became the lone female on the supreme court until Sonia Sontomayor in 2009 and Elena Kagan in 2010. She fought passionately to uphold a woman’s right to choose. She believed a woman’s body is her temple and that women are, not only, fully capable of making appropriate choices, but also, are the final decision makers. She not only fought for woman, but for those who identify as LGBTQ to be treated as human beings with our own thoughts, ideas and personas, and not as a label. She believed that we are more than our gender and sexual preferences. We have a long way to go, but I for one am grateful to her and look to continue fighting like she did for equality for all.
Moral: Don’t ever stop fighting for what you believe in as you never know who will benefit from your willingness to stand up and speak out.
Please feel free to leave a comment below or by emailing zsmisadventures@gmail.com and your story may be featured in a future blog.
Have Patience. All Things are difficult before they become easy.
Saadi
Writing a book was a struggle, getting it illustrated and published was a donnybrook. I thought it really didn’t matter who illustrated my work, as long as I felt they brought the story alive. I was unaware of all the book making protocols and formats that must be considered for the illustrations to be print ready. As a neophyte where do you start?
First, I asked my dad. He has artistic abilities and a father-daughter duo would be fun. It turns out he can pencil sketch great buildings, cathedrals, and make mesmerizing doodles, but his beaver in coveralls was pretty sad. While it has always been my dream to have my name on the front of a book, if I couldn’t have my dad’s right under it as the illustrator then to me it wasn’t worth pursuing.
After countless talks and a few years of wrestling with my dream, I came to realize that it didn’t matter who illustrated the book because my dad and I could together layout the vision of each scenic illustration. He was able to go thru the process with me to make sure I was getting the right deals, and no one was taking advantage of a greenhorn. He was also able to assure that the words I spelled correctly were the same words I meant to spell. Together we found an illustrator.
We started out by asking a friend of the family. Their son was going to art school. He was excited to take on the project that he too dreamed of doing one day. Despite one good character drawing, he did not feel that he had the imagination to illustrate a whole picturesque page, let alone a whole book. He resigned the task in a wave of sorrow. A few friends came forward, but after a few tries felt they too were not up to the task. The hunt for a professional illustrator was on.
A few options were looked at, but in the end, Maa Illustrations had the pizzazz within the price range I was able to afford. Before communicating with them I had no idea what I wanted each scene in the book to look like. I just knew I wanted Eager in a plaid shirt and overalls while sporting a hard hat and a tool belt. I wouldn’t even mind if he had a lunch box. I also knew that somewhere Arizona State University (ASU) would have to be represented. Needless to say, I was overwhelmed by the images they were able to conjure up by my minimal descriptions. Not only did Eager have the plaid shirt, tool belt, and hard hat, he also had a pencil behind the ear, boots, and a smile that could light up a room. When I sent an image of Sparky earrings (ASU’s Mascot) and asked if those could be incorporated somewhere along with an ASU Diploma, they did not disappoint. Their first set of requests were for me to describe my vision of the main characters, such as, Claire Fox, Charlotte Deer, Leandra Lou Rabbit, Toddy Bear and Linda Owl. For example, I wrote that Leandra Lou Rabbit should have a camera slung around her neck and be wearing Converse All Star shoes, they sent back their interpretation.
They first showed me a rough sketch of “Fries Meadow” after I sent them a picture of Oregon’s Dillon Falls. It was a simple pencil sketch of a lake and mountains, but after they sent me an actual version with some color, I was blown away. I knew that I chose the right team for the job. The rest of the project consisted of them sending me images and me letting them know what more could be added or if it was good to go and move on to the next.
The obstacles came when the images were sent to the publisher. It turns out the illustration pages need to be separated from the text pages and in a specific format and resolution or they could not be transferred to print. This separation also doubled the cost of printing. The text pages had a faded border of the opposing illustration page image which soften and supplemented the flow. The text pages had to be formatted a little differently. I was the go between for all of this between the publisher in New York and the illustrator’s offices in London and the actual artists in New Delhi. It would take a month or two to get one thing fixed and there was a hand full of issues. Two years after raising the money to pay for the illustrations and publications, after getting the illustrations in line with my vision, and then painstakingly getting the illustrations ready for print, the book finally was ready for the presses and hopefully, a favorite for our foster children. Too bad Maa Illustrations will no longer illustrate books because of our protracted experience. I may have gotten an exclusive, the last book ever illustrated by Maa Illustrations. And it’s a good one.
Moral: 1) Patience does pay off. 2) When publishing a children’s book, it is better to use the publisher’s illustrators for a quicker and less stressful outcome.
Feel free to leave a comment below or email Zsmisadventures@gmail.com with your stories and it may end up in a future blog.
You were born with the ability to change someone’s life, don’t ever waste it.
Dale Partridge
As a child, I would often sit my stuffed animals in a circle and read stories to them. I read such classics as The Giving Tree, Charlotte’s Web, and The Cat in The Hat. I would even at times read them stories that I wrote, such as Even Beavers Can Be Heroes. I was 10 years old and it was littered with spelling errors, but I was proud of it. The pictures were some of the best stick figured animals I had ever drawn even to this day. I enjoyed being able to read to them and felt that I was somehow bettering the world by doing so. I could not wait to become an adult and become a teacher and have eager joyous munchkins to read to daily.
Alas, I did not become a teacher. During my third year in educational studies at Humboldt State University, I was told that I could not be just a Kindergarten or First Grade teacher. If I were to teach in a California public school, I would have to teach grades K-6 as needed. Not liking the sound of that, I decided to major in Child Development, and graduated in 2010. I used that degree to land a job at a large daycare center for several months working with school-age children. I found that despite the daycare having an ample amount of supplies for the children, they did not like to utilize them. It was up to me to collect donations of toilet paper rolls, cereal boxes, etc., for the children to make robots and their own musical instruments. If I wanted a reading circle it was up to me to find the books that would be read. Daycare wages were barely above the minimum wage, but I believed in those children and knew they deserved only the best.
That feeling carried on to my career with the Department of Child Safety (DCS) working with abused, sexually assaulted, and neglected children. I was determined to make sure that not only the children, but the adults too understood how important working together was to successful reunification. I was super excited when I was able to pass on the life-sized teddy bear, I owned to a teenage girl who was feeling heartbroken on Valentine’s Day. It was a joy to see her face light up with the knowledge that she was not forgotten. I spent a year helping a grandfather adopt his granddaughter that other case managers overlooked due to his mid-twenties drug arrest. By working together, i.e., bimonthly drug tests and parenting classes, we were able to find a way to ensure the granddaughters safety, happiness, and sense of relief knowing she was where she wanted to be. She was going to stay in the beautiful new bedroom granddaddy made for her. Of course, not all stories are as jolly. I did see quite a few children who ended up in body casts because their parent was having a quote, “bad day.” These children would be placed in a home with either an extended family member or a licensed stranger to ensure their safety. Sometimes they understood and were eager to leave. Other times, I had more heart to heart talks about their right not to be beaten or sexually assaulted. In the end, those children who entered foster care for a short time or for forever normally did not have anything to their name but a trash bag full of shorts, tee shirts, socks, and underwear. It was a sad sight in a material world.
I wanted to change that. I kept thinking about the book I wrote, Even Beavers Can Be Heroes, and wondered if I could update it and give it to those children in foster care in order for them to have something of their own. I wanted to let them know that others have been in foster care and that a lot can be learned from their foster families. I wanted to provide something that would make them smile, laugh, know they mattered, and could do great things despite everything they may have gone through. In many of my heart to hearts, children told me that they did not feel important, worthy of love, or that they could become anything. For far too many, the future was doomsday. I wanted them to know that simply was not true.
Throughout my time at DCS, I was happy to solicit local businesses for birthday and personal accomplishments gifts, like Judo Lessons or a camera and family photos for my newly adopted children, but I always wanted to do more. After leaving DCS to work for a licensing agency and now the Department of Disabilities that feeling of wanting to do more has never left.
It most likely never will, but at least now my dream of publishing Even Beavers Can Heroes to give to those children in foster care has been achieved. This week I received my author’s copies of the book and happy to say it turned out better than expected. I am overjoyed to see my name on the cover of the book. I did not, however, expect a person to tell me to meet my maker and that I am going to hell as a result of writing the book, but as with everything I do, the experience would not be complete without a last-minute misadventure after 2 years of nonstop publishing misadventures. I am excited to share those in next week’s blog.
For now, I just want to thank those who supported me and are still supporting this project. For every book sold one will go to a child in foster care. You can get your copy of Even Beavers Can Be Heroes at Amazon.com or BarnesandNoble.com. Thanks again for your love and support. Stay whimsical.
Moral: 1) Some dreams do come true if you have the strength to just keep chipping away at them a little each day. 2) Don’t worry about pleasing everyone as it cannot be done, not even with a children’s book. 3) No matter how your life story begins, you choose how it will continue.
Thank you for following zsmisadventures and feel free to comment below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com with your stories and it may appear in a future blog.
I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.
Martin Luther King Jr.
This week’s blog is a little different than my previous entries. I have added a YouTube video (above) that I felt was important to share. I want to emphasize that this is in no way meant to be political just my own opinion and observations. I have wanted my blog to be a reprieve from the stress, worries, and aggravations that often fill our day. I wanted it to be a place where readers could go and have a few laughs. This week has proved to be a challenge for me in getting that accomplished. In 2018, I attended a yoga retreat, where attendees were favored with individual astrological readings. Based on my birth date, time of birth, place of birth, et cetera, I was told that my calling in life was to be a Justice Warrior Apprentice. After 9 years of working with abused and neglected children, I believe the Apprentice part of my journey can be dropped. So as a Justice Warrior, I hope you enjoy this piece with that in mind.
Tomorrow is Labor Day. It is a United States Federal and State Holiday that was first celebrated on September 5th, 1882. It has been celebrated on the first Monday in September ever since. It is meant to be a day to celebrate the strength, contributions, and prosperity of Blue-Collar Workers in America. It is a national tribute to let families know how important their work is to the fabric of America. It is a day dedicated to family bonding with BBQs, parades, riding the Ferris wheel at the Country Fair, picnicking in the park, and relaxing at the beach. Best of all it is a day off for most with pay.
Since the dawn of America, it does not seem that those whose skin happens to be darker than others are treated with the respect, kindness, or appreciation for the contributions, sacrifices, and dedication that they too have shown to the American social experiment. While I have only been around for 30 of the 500 years since Columbus sailed the ocean blue, it seems to have gotten openly worse quite quickly lately. I am saddened, frustrated, and angered that in the year 2020 racism is alive and stronger than ever. A man should not be shot 7 times in the back in front of his children for being black. A man demonstrating mental deficiencies should not have the police place a bag over his head as a use of force because he is black. The thought should not be if he is black, then he is not human. The thought should not be if he is black, then if he dies by a white man’s hands then it is not murder, but self-defense and no charges should be filed. America should not be the training grounds for White Supremacy.
The thought should be that this person is one of God’s children, he bleeds like me, loves someone, is loved, has a family, a purpose, hobbies, life stories, etc. He is a human being whose skin color happens to be a different color than mine. His skin color is not all that he is, just like my physical features are not all that I am. We are all different and that is what makes this world so beautiful. It would be boring if we were all the same. So please spread some love, the world desperately needs it. I could use some, myself. Nothing good ever comes from hate, just more hate. I ask that you take time to tell those you care about that you love them. Human life is precious, it was given to us as a gift. A gift filled with love, kindness, selflessness, and gratitude. No life can be replaced once it is gone. This pandemic has amply demonstrated that we are social beings who detest lockdowns, so when we are totally free to mingle, please value one another and mingle like never before.
Moral: 1) Black Lives Matter. 2) Your actions make a difference.
Thank you for taking the time to read this week’s blog posting. I truly appreciate you allowing me this space to reflect. Feel free to comment below or at ZsMisadventures@gmail.com.
Handle every stressful situation like a dog, if you can’t eat it or play with it, just pee on it and walk away.
Prashant Ahire
I am happy to announce that my brother, Todd, his significant friend, Jenny and her daughter, Ada have expanded their family. This past week they adopted a 9-week-old Lab and Black Mouth Cur mixed rescue puppy. They named him Twister, a nickname my brother acquired from his childhood day’s claim that he outrun a Texas Tornado on his bike. Everyone was super excited, especially Ada. She was so excited she tried out his travel crate to make sure it would be appropriately comfortable. Nothing was going to be too much for this little guy.
Twister was expected to have his own travel adventure getting to their Oregon home, but just how much was grossly underestimated. He rode in an air-conditioned animal freight liner with 3 other pups from Houston to Vancouver, Washington about 2,270 miles and roughly 33 hours. Fortunately, it was set up in a way that he could get in and out easily to use the facilities at various stops along the way. He was able to see and open his doggie curiosity to science and aviation along the trip by spotting signs for the Future Flight Aviation Center and the SPARKS Museum of Electrical Invention. The first electronic razor and Thomas Edison’s three wired powered cable can be seen there. While he was most likely dreaming of what fun he might have wearing his own white lab coat and helping Mr. Edison when the truck broke down. Luckily, the drivers where skilled mechanics and with Twister’s support were able to fix the issue within several hours. Once back on the road it was only a matter of time before he would meet his Forever Family who sat in The Acorn, Vancouver’s famous vegan diner, trying to stretch an herb and edible blossom salad lunch into a two hour tofu extravaganza.
When Twister finally made it to Vancouver and spotted them kneeling on the tarmac with arms wide open, he sprinted to Todd, Jenny, and Ada. Licking their faces and wanting to play, he thought he was home. He wasn’t told that Albany, Oregon was another hour and a half ride. He was so exhausted after playing and traveling for 33 hours that he laid on Todd’s lap for the full hour until they stopped at Willamette University in Salem to get Todd’s car. Ada and Jenny wanted to give Twister a chance to try out the basket they made with buckles and harnesses and pillows to keep him safe and comfy in the back seat. It was deemed escape-proof. Twister, however, lived up to his name and within minutes wiggled out of the basket. The two cars pulled off to the side of the road where Todd assured Jenny that he and Twister had bonded, and that Twister would sit on his lap the rest of the way home.
Within minutes of Twister transferring cars for the third time on this journey, he continued his bonding by climbing onto Todd’s belly and sleeping with his head snuggled into Todd’s shoulder. It was when Twister awoke with a wiggle that Todd’s Buck-Naked Wicking Shirt filled with the warmth of pee and poop. Todd laughed. He couldn’t scold nor scare their new puppy. The caravan stopped at a rest stop and cleaned both Twister and Todd. Shirtless Todd and Sparkling Clean Twister got back into the car to finish the journey. Just a few miles from his new home, Twister raised up and licked Todd’s nipple and then emptied all that was left onto Todd’s lap. The new pet master had to drive for several miles with the aromatic juices seeping through his lightly woven shorts before he could get out of his car. Jenny and Ada could not stop laughing as they watched the flow of liquid begin staining Todd’s new white socks and drip into his nonskid deck shoes.
I am happy to report that Twister has settled in and there has not been any more incidents of marking his human. He instead finds it fun to wake Todd up at 2 AM to let him out to use the facilities and then have some playtime. He is of the age where it is important to sleep all day and party all night. This nighttime scheduling will change as he goes on more daytime adventures. He will go rafting, camping, disc golfing, hiking, gardening, hide and seeking and fetching. His life will never be dull. He will even be able to fulfill his dream of wearing a white lab jacket as Todd, the scientist, and Ada, the one in training, both wear theirs when making slime and blowing things up. Which reminds me that doggie goggles might be a good welcome-to-the-family present.
Moral: 1) There is humor all around us. 2) Adoptions are always appreciated and needed.
Thank you for following my blog. Please feel free to comment below or email Zsmisadventures.com and your story may be used in a future blog.
Life is a beautiful collage of priceless moments and memories, which when pieced all together creates a unique treasured masterpiece.”
Melanie M. Koulourius
Before the East Coast portion of my family began their cross-country journey home, I enjoyed one more memorable misadventure with my nephews, Landen and Jayce. Living in Virginia the only scorpions they have seen are the ones I have sent encased in resin. Not too scary and easy to handle. As luck would have it, my community gossip and news on Next Door has been rumored to have quite a few. According to smrtblondy@AOL a little creature dropped from the ceiling and landed right in front of her, while she walking through the clubhouse which caused many sleepless nights. When the boys asked if it was true that scorpions lived around here, I told them about a friend of mine, Mareike, who caught them around the clubhouse for fun. Jayce wanted to know if he could look for some while the others went swimming. It did not take long for Landen to realize this was an opportunity he did not want to miss either.
Never having been a scorpion hunting aficionado myself, I decided to contact Mareike to see if she would lead a nighttime safari. To our delight, she said “yes” and within the hour the hunt was on. It doesn’t take expensive hunting gear, all that is needed is a black light, pliers (preferably with long handles), a jar, and a keen sense of awareness.
The expedition took us around the community clubhouse and pool. She explained that the Arizona Bark scorpions are indigenous to the Sonoran Desert. They can grow up to 8 cm long. The females usually birth between 25-35 babies and carry them on their back for about 3 weeks. She pointed out the hiding places, such as around the base of certain bushes, behind the mailboxes, grills, gravel, and lounging on textured walls (they cannot climb smooth surfaces). When she added, “sometimes even ceilings” the boys and I said in unison “Smart Blondie.” When asked why the black light and not a flashlight is used, the answer became obvious. As soon as the black light hits a scorpion it glows neon green under the UV light allowing them to be easily spotted from a non-attack distance up to 6 ft away.
Landen and Jayce each took turns with the black light while we all kept our eyes peeled for the next shiny green glob. After watching Mareike clasp them with her pliers, the boys thought they were ready to snag a few. I was amazed at the quickness, accuracy and dexterity that my nephews exhibited while whipping the pliers to the belly of the beast, extracting them from their hidey hole, and placing each in a new group-home, a plastic jar, for further study. When our expedition ended, we reduced our community population by 20. There was a brief discussion whether a text to “Smart Blondie” of our conquest, could it possibly relieve some of her stress or make it worse? We decided that catching 20 in 20 minutes might not reduce her paranoia. However, we did learn that if other sporting dreams don’t pan out, Jayce can continue his study of scorpions at Arizona State University and host his own TV show “The Scorpion King”.
Moral: 1) The best adventures are unplanned. 2) Don’t be afraid or reluctant to reach out to others to learn new skills.
Please feel free to share your comments and stories below or at Zsmisadventures@gmail.com as they might be featured in future blogs.
As much as you want to plan your life, it has a way of surprising you with unexpected things that will make you happier than you originally planned.
Unknown
The youngsters that I hold dearest to my heart are my nieces Laci and Maeve, and my nephews, Landen and Jayce. Unfortunately, they live in Virginia while I reside in Arizona. Family get-togethers are very rare. But thanks to an invisible deadly enemy, I got to seem them sooner than expected.
This past Thursday, while I was deep in thought and lost in my work, I saw out of the corner of my eye a tall, slender, blonde hair, blue eye boy with the biggest smile looking at me. I had to refocus twice before it clicked that my nephew Landen was standing right in front of me. I could hardly believe it. I thought I was dreaming. My desk clock read 11 am. I thought I missed him so much that I fabricated him to appear. None the less, he was in my home with the rest of the gang. I could not have been happier.
My brother, Justin decided to ask his wife, Kim how she felt about going on a road trip. They welcomed baby, Maeve, into the world a month ago and still had some maternal and paternal leave left to spare. Their 3 children did not start school for another two weeks. Kim agreed that a road trip might be nice. She figured that it would be good to get the children out of the home before they destroyed it even further due to the Covid Coop. A few destinations were floated around, but when my brother asked Kim if she would be okay with going to Arizona she said, “Yes,” without hesitation. She knew my mom was super upset that Covid was keeping her from flying to see her newest granddaughter. She also knew the children would be thrilled to try and take their Popop down in a dice game called 5000 (A.K.A Farkle). The trip was a go and Justin knew he had to jump on it before minds were changed.
Justin used Google Maps to plan the trip so that they would hit beaches in as many different states as possible. He let Google suggest other oddball attractions as well. From Virginia to Arizona they went thru 11 states; hit the beaches in all the Gulf states; drove down Bourbon Street in New Orleans (One of my preteen nephews saw a lady on a balcony as they drove by lift her blouse to scratch her breast. She smiled after flashing him.); went to the USS Alabama Memorial park in Alabama where they learned about WWII, and other fun stops that were still open. My brother made a packet for each of the children with the itinerary for each day, information about the places they were seeing, and activities to keep them entertained. He even included detailed driving instructions so they could help co-pilot if they were sitting in the passenger seat.
He then investigated rentals and settled on a 4-row passenger van that allowed each of his kids to have their own elbow and leg room. He knew the spacing between the children would be important for a peaceful 7000-mile trip. He even contacted Amazon and rerouted Jayce’s birthday gifts to Arizona. One challenge to keeping the surprise visit a surprise was to arrive in Arizona before all the packages. Starting Monday morning, the clock was ticking. He contacted my mother to find out about the gates to our community and our sister Serena for the gate code. All by asking probing questions making sure not to give away too much. For example, for the code, he told Serena a package was being delivered and they were asking for some type of code, within seconds he had all the information he needed. He was even able to ask my mother about where we have our cameras so she wouldn’t see him when they arrived to lure my mother outside and film her awesome, tearful reaction.
Lastly, he packed the children’s bags up and loaded up the ice chest with snacks and drinks. He made sure they had everything they would need to be self-sustaining for a few days, such as silverware and blankets. He told the children they were all getting up the next day when Mauve did at 2:30 AM. That night the children went to sleep thinking their dad was being silly, but if he was being serious, they were going to see their Great Aunt in North Carolina. Either way, they were going to sleep and thinking nothing more of it.
At 2:30 AM when Justin woke them up and had them all sitting at the kitchen table with packets in front of them, he let them know they could open them. One the front page, it stated: Destination: Arizona. They were ecstatic. Justin managed to not only surprise us in Arizona but his little ones as well. Best surprise in 2020.
Moral: 1) Spontaneity is the spice of life, but some foresight and planning are okay.
Thank you for reading and following my blog. Feel free to comment and share your surprise stories below or at Zsmisadventures@gmail.com for it might be used in a future blog.
John Geddes said, “Light a campfire and everyone is a storyteller.”
The real saying should be, “Light a campfire and everyone THINKS they are a storyteller.” I have been camping quite a few times and can say with certitude that some people are born storytellers, and some would be better listening. I am one of those people. I am great at writing stories but need time to think and really make them into something great. If I tell a story on the spot it tends to go off in a hundred different directions. I‘m compelled to give an overly detailed description of each person and where the event took place which does not allow any time to tell the actual story. Thus, I leave the campfire stories to the man who was born to tell stories… My dad.
My dad can tell stories in such a convincing way that despite one’s better judgment you might start questioning if it is true that he once was asked out by an Arabian Princess, but decided my mother was too fine a woman to pass up.
Over the years he has learned to perfect his storytelling by using the plethora of gadgets that modern technology has to offer. On the last camping trip with nieces and nephews in Oregon, he even got his sons in on the mischief. My dad spent at least a day constructing a story about wolves. He gave a brief outline of the story to my brothers so they knew what keywords they might need to listen to. The day we arrived at the campsite my dad and brothers placed several Bluetooth speakers in the trees North and South of our campsite. After a thrilling day of rafting and fishing, everyone sat around the campfire roasting marshmallows and making the world’s biggest s’ mores. Once everyone was full and could hardly move, my dad started to tell his campfire tale.
It was subtle. Campfire stories usually talk about a monster eating children in the middle of the night who do not brush their teeth. Dad talked about reading that the State had recently re-introduced wolves to the forests of central Oregon. He explained how farmers, worried about their farm animals, enlisted the help of hunters back in the 1940s to kill all the wolves. With the help of Wolf Conservation groups, the area North of our campsite was now home to a large pack of grey wolves. The brown wolves known as the Fivemile Pack lived in the forest area South of our camp. As my dad finished drawing a map in the dirt of where we were camped and where the wolves hunted for food, a faint howl could be heard off in the distance. When the children asked if that was a wolf they just heard, my dad and the rest of the group assured them it was alright as the wolves keep to their own territory, so we should be fine for the night. As my dad continued his “history lesson” the wolf sounds started to become more frequent and sounded as if they were coming from both the North and South sides of our camp. Dad explained that there was nothing to worry about as long as no one wandered off into the woods alone without a flashlight. When they asked the obvious, “How is a flashlight going to stop a wolf.”
“Wolves won’t come near a fire or light at night unless they are in a fight,” he answered. He told about reading that a young boy in a campground not far from ours, had gone off to pee in the woods without a light and was ripped to shreds by a hungry wolf. As the gory details of the story were laid out, the wolf howls faded into the distance. Dad said not to worry, “You will hear wolf howls from the North and from the South. It is when the howling gets louder and closer from both sides that we might have a fight on our hands. If that happens just stay quiet. They are looking for a fight not food. Understand?”
They nodded and said dad’s tale was not scary at all, despite asking several times if we should leave the area to avoid the wolves. 20 minutes after the kids crawled into their sleeping bags, the wolf sounds started up again. The oldest, flashlight in hand, unzipped my neighboring tent and asked if I would sleep with them. About the time we got settled in again, the howling got louder and louder. A few minutes later sounds of movement in the bushes could be heard right outside the tent. While one of the kids started crying, I kept reassuring them that I would not let them get hurt, willingly that is. Eventually, the night was quiet, and I fell asleep. The kids tugged me awake and asked if I would take them to the restroom, not because they were scared, but because they felt it best to go in a larger group. I didn’t question their logistical tactic and assured them if they were scared that was completely normal. I was scared too. I have never encountered a wolf, nor do I plan to.
Towards midnight, the adults began howling when the wolves howled. The children were not amused, they just knew that they were surrounded by wolves and now the wolves knew exactly where we were. They came up with a plan to evacuate the campsite, a plan to spend the night in the campsite restroom, and a plan to run in different directions and jump in the river because one of them thought that wolves like cats wouldn’t jump in the water. I promised to stay awake and keep watch. Finally, everyone slept.
For the next few days, the children talked about the wolves and assured everyone they were not scared and would be willing to take on a wolf if need be. Eventually, the children were let in on the secret and thus refused to speak to any of us for the remainder of that day. They reminded us how mean we were while, at the same time, it was something they wanted to try out on their children someday.
My dad, the storyteller, has turned his tale into a family acknowledgment, whenever the Melgreens get together and a quiet settles over the gathering, someone will let out a glorious wolf howl. Like good packs, we all join the chorus.
Moral: 1) Technology is one way to make an innocent story come alive. 2) Not all campfire stories have to be a tale of death and destruction.
Feel free to share your campfire stories in the comments below or email Zsmisadventures@gmail.com and your story may be featured in an upcoming blog.
Alone we can do so little. Together we can do so much.
Helen Keller
Arizona is best known for being the home of one of the world’s natural wonders, you guessed it, The Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon spans 277 miles of the great Colorado River. From the rim, visitors catch a glimpse of a canyon that took the river over 6 million years to carve a mile deep into the red rock. While a mule ride down the narrow cliff path to the Havasupai Falls is a breathtaking journey, a new sensory experience is The Grand Canyon Skywalk, a horseshoe-shaped cantilever bridge with a glass walkway, that will scare the bejesus out of you. For a cooler but no less exciting venture there are white water rafting and camping trips down the Colorado. There truly is something for everyone at the Canyon.
When most people think Arizona, they think of its extreme summer weather. Unlike Florida, there is no humidity, which makes those 100-degree days more like living in an oven than a sauna. On the rare pizza oven days of 125 degrees, planes are not allowed to fly. But when I think Arizona, I think of bundling up in my favorite “fur” coat and putting on my pink snow boots. I think of trudging through 6 inches of snow to get to the best view of the Alaskan dog sled races that take place outside of Show Low, Arizona. The first time I heard about the races my jaw dropped. I thought it had to be a joke. This is Arizona, how could there be such a thing as dog sled races here. Snow yes, dog sled races, now that is taking things to another level. None the less my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to check it out.
I was surprised by how eager the huskies were to get to work. They were howling, jumping and then sprinting to the starting line eagerly awaiting for their musher (the dog driver) to let them know it was time to go. When he yelled, “Mush,” the team went from zero to 10 in seconds. They zoomed past me at upwards of 15 miles an hour and into a left-hand corner as the musher barked out, “Haw. Haw.” As they disappeared into the forest trail I could hear, “Gee. Gee. Gee.” which meant the lead dog should pull the team to the right. There were so many huskies, sleds, and piles of snow around me that I forgot that I was in Arizona. It felt like I was in the outskirts of Anchorage on the first Saturday of March at the start of the Iditarod. I highly recommend going to a race at least once, you will not regret it. Cheering is encouraged, yelling, “Whoa! Whoa!” is not.
Moral: 1) Embrace the now. 2) Approach every challenge with as much gusto as a husky in a dog sled race and you will find a way to make it thru.
Please feel free to comment below or email your story to zsmisadventures@gmail.com for your story to be featured in future blogs.
Lady Z's MisAdventures 