Junk vs. Priceless Artifact

No doubt the photo to this story will give too many readers insight to my cluttered life. Somehow, though, I don't think I am the only one who has junk in the garage. Last weekend, while unraveling layers of debris, I uncovered dozens of memories all wrapped around a yellow frame with blue skis: my Snow Bob.

I have no idea how long I've had it--I only know I will never part with it. Oh, if you zoom in you can see the dings, the re-welding, and maybe even evidence that the front ski had to be straightened back from a 45° angle (something only Monk or Sherlock Holmes could discern just from the image).

Why keep such a beat up "thing"? The dozens of memories it holds--that's why.

Given that it is August and a bit early to be talking about snow (unless you're in the Rockies), please indulge me a bit on sharing some words about the "Best Snow Device Ever Made."

When I say best, I don't mean safest. When I say best, I don't mean "Hey, everyone should have one." It is, simply put, the best thing I'VE ever ridden down a hill.

The very first time I rode my Snow Bob, I knew it was something special. All the other kids could just go straight down the hill. A Flexible Flyer might be able to curve a bit to the left or right but I could zig zag all the way down to the bottom then kick up a rooster tail of snow at the end. It was cool to hear all the kids go "Wow! Look at that!"

I even took it down to college since the campus had some great hills. (Hey, I grew up in Nebraska--to understand the kind of hills we had, go to your kitchen table, lift up the table cloth and look at how nice and flat your table is. That's pretty much how hilly Nebraska was where I grew up.)

A college friend of mine thought it was a cool ride so he borrowed it one day. The hill he went down had a pond at the bottom. He couldn't stop in time before zooming off the bank to the frozen pond three feet lower and bent the front ski. It took awhile to bend the ski, weld the break and straighten everything. It still worked, though.

I found out it REALLY still worked a couple years later when I went tubing with my cousins in Rocky Mountain National Park. Yes, I took this speed demon down a mountain.

Not really thinking it through that we would be on a MOUNTAIN, I agreed to go and had the brilliant idea to take my Snow Bob. When I saw the steep tubing area I thought this was nuts. Who would do this? I walked to the top of the run wondering if I would have the guts to go down on this thing.

I surveyed the situation and decided the snow by the tubing run was too icy and packed, I would never survive. Moving over to a powdery area, I felt responsible and smart so I lifted my feet and off I went. Instantly, I was going too fast and put down my boots to slow down. These weren't just any boots, this was the era of Moon Boots which, for those too young to know, sport one inch deep tread. No affect. If anything, I felt like I accelerated.

True to what they say, when your life is in jeopardy, time slows down. I am analyzing my options for survival. Unfortunately, time only slowed, it didn't stop. I am barreling right for some playground equipment--tire swings no less. Time for calculating was over -- the two tire swings looked high enough that I could get my shoulders under them and my head between them ... SSSSSWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSHH. What a cool sound!

That sound was my heart slamming upside my eardrum, pumping at full throttle. If I was one hat size larger, I probably would have hit one of the tires and been rendered unconscious.

Bear Lake is at the bottom of the tubing run and I can do nothing about it. Remembering my friend's disaster with dropping down to ice level, I prepare for the worst. Unbelievably, it's a nice smooth transition to ice. ICE? I coasted to a stop clear on the other side of Bear Lake. Alive. Unharmed. Victorious! I can't get back up to the top fast enough. (Which reminds me, why is it that guys, more than women, are usually the ones doing stupid things on America's Funniest Home Videos?)

As I make my way across the lake and up the mountain, my cousins have gone down the hill on their big tube several times. Everyone was looking my way. Pointing and making comments such as "Wow, that guy's good!", "That guy has nerve.", "What an idiot."

All good.

At the top, I look down at my first run, following the trail visually to the tire swings and think the proper thought "What am I doing!" Totally losing all sense of coolness and nerve, I do the zig-zag thing. Zig-zagging is equally impressive to the straight-line tubers watching me, but has a far lower probability of me needing to be air lifted to a hospital.

The zig-zag run gives me a boost of confidence and the illusion I can control this crazy thing on a mountainside. Somehow the idea pops into my head to zig-zag down the next time and cross the tubing path in the process. Not just anywhere, but right at the end of the dip where the tubers go airborne. It is flat with the rest of the ground exactly at that spot.

zig-zag. Zig-Zag. ZIG-ZAG--picking up speed as I go, I am at the point of no return as the tubing path looms large in front of me. I missed my estimated "safe to cross" zone by only two inches and clip the dip. I shoot up into the air and, once again, witness time slowing down as I wonder (a) is anyone dialing 911 yet? (b) will someone win $10,000 on AFV at my expense? and (c) where, oh where, did I leave that Snow Bob?

Oh, yeah, here it is … conveniently at the edge of my fingertips. I grab the handle grip with my left hand. I grab the other handle grip with my right hand. Somehow, landing on the seat, never losing control, I glide safely toward the lake.

Not wanting to see time slow down anymore that day, when I got to the bottom, I turned toward the car and waited for my cousins to finish their runs with the tube. We all had a great time.

When I had kids of my own, I showed them how to be king of the hill with the Snow Bob. We had many great rides. Certainly, you can see why I'll never part with all those memories by throwing this beat up toy away. Especially since there are more memories to be made if/when I have grandkids and they, too, want that thrill of victory.

©2009, Kurt Holdorf Photo and Story

The Logic of Love

There are two subjects usually best to be avoided at a party … politics and religion. Well, this isn't a party so I am stepping out on a limb and throwing out some ideas on both.

I am writing this entry because I am very tired of hearing about lawsuits against Christianity--and the anti-Christian groups are winning! They claim Christianity is offensive. Well, sure, some of the things Christians DO is not right. And, some of the interpretations of what we SHOULD DO are not right. But, in the logical summary below, I will show that the essence of Christianity is love and I certainly don't see how that can be offensive to society.

In its broadest sense, religion is something--anything-- one believes in and follows devotedly (dictionary.com). I haven't met too many people who are able to 100% be devotedly religious--me included. Most people in America who claim to be Christian behave kind of like those pirates in the popular movie "Aye, they're more like guidelines, anyway. Arrr!"

I firmly believe our country is in decay because religion is getting a bad rap which means love is getting a bad rap and not enough people are able to stand up to the social pressure; sweeping their religion under the rug when company is coming.

How sad. So much about Christianity is wrapped around LOVE and so many people don't have the strength to stand up and say they believe in LOVE.

This is my LOGICAL assessment of LOVE as taken from the Christian Bible:

First:

In 1 John 4:8, we learn God is Love.

(Hang on to that, it is a common thread.)

Second:

From Matthew 22 (New International Version):
36"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" 37Jesus replied: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind."[b] 38This is the first and greatest commandment. 39And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself.[c] 40All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments."

(everything past and everything future is about love)

Summarized even further: Love God; Love People

Third:

Said another way: Love LOVE; apply LOVE to all others

(if God is love and we are to love God, then we need to love Love)

Fourth:

We need to know what love is so we look at 1 Corinthians 13:
4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

(if you skimmed over those, please go back and read them again and challenge who you are against each of those items.)

Part 1 of the Command:

To love God, is to love those things mentioned in 1 Corinthians: Love patience. Love kindness. Love not being rude. Love a state of being that isn't self-seeking. Love not getting angry quickly. Love not keeping a grudge. Love rejoicing in the truth.

(not easy to do, but that is what being a Christian is truly about.)

There are groups who find Christianity offensive. I can understand why when it conflicts with their established religion. What I don't understand is why non-religious groups start suing others in this country for being religious. What is it they find offensive about LOVE? I don't get it. Our founding fathers were quite religious. Matter of fact, the concept of separation of church and state was originally intended to protect the church, not protect the citizens from religion. Where and when did that get turned around? Remember the Pilgrims? They left the mother country because they were pressured by government to follow certain religious practices. Freedom of religion played a big, BIG role in the development of this country.

Part two of the command:

Love other people.

This goes much deeper than "I'm OK, you're OK." It goes much deeper than merely being politically correct. It commands a way of life that honors and loves all people, even the ones you might not even like.

Sadly, many view being Christian is only a result of brainwashing, stupidity or someone being weak. I disagree. It takes a lot of strength to love others in that way.

Even more sad is the fact that many use religion to do horrific things. That should be of no surprise. In the passages about the temptation of Jesus, what tool did Satan use to tempt Jesus? Scriptures. The concept is not new. However, the concept of LOVE, is fading away all too quickly.

Men: are you strong enough to follow all those ideals about love and still succeed? Women: would you like to find a guy with those traits? Kids: would you like to have parents who live love? Could you imagine a society that upheld these ideals?

I think we are naturally wired to crave all those qualities we read about up above. We are being led astray by those who have something to lose if the average citizen wasn't self-absorbed, self-centered, and didn't have the "what's in it for me" view of life. Imagine a car salesman saying "Your loan is approved but I really believe this smaller car would fit your situation better." No! Not in America! We have to keep throwing money away to keep the country going! "After all, you're worth it!" Well, so is the other person next to you.

How many gang shootings would there still be if love were more prevalent? How much crime would still go on if we cared about our fellow man/woman/child/child to be? How many billion dollar money schemes would rob people of their life's savings if people weren't so greedy? How many people would need turn to drugs to feel good? How many children would grow up in a single parent environment? How many spouses would go outside of their marriage for warmth and companionship?

When it comes to reversing the decay in society, maybe the ad council doesn't need to scare kids with images of fried egg brains nor tell them to just say "No" as a means of getting through life. Maybe, just maybe, "we the people" examine our lives and figure out how to love more and say "YES" to kids asking for our time. Say "YES" to a spouse asking for companionship. Say "YES" to raising kids together as a family.

If the concept of loving one another makes so much sense, then why is our country in decay?

Just take one day and analyze every bit of media you get bombarded with on a regular basis. Seriously. Stop the MP3 player and get the lyrics online to really see what the message is. Stop the computer game and take a real look at what's happening on the screen. Stop the music video and really see what is the "hero" of the visuals.

The most popular materials out there will not be the ones showing the ideals we just saw in 1 Corinthians.

Can you be someone who stands up for LOVE? Do you have the guts and the strength to say to your buddy "No, I won't go to the strip club with you." To an acquaintance "Hey, I see that you are hurting, what can I do?" To your child "Sure, let's spend the afternoon together!" It's not easy to do with the way life is today. Can we change it? I don't know. All I know is that this is my attempt at saying out loud "Things have got to change in this country!"

Pass it on ...

(Disclaimer text: I am not a theologian, former pastor, nor fluent in Greek, Hebrew, Aramaic or any other language the original text was written in. I am just a regular guy with a regular Bible trying to understand a very complex subject. So, if there are holes in the thought process or if you find that I have divided by zero or other such crime of logic, please be understanding.)

©2009 Kurt Holdorf, text and bumper sticker, which is available upon request.

Pepe

For his 16th birthday, my son and I were on a beautiful fishing trip just west of Colorado Springs. If you can't picture in your mind's eye a crystal clear mountain stream, wind through the pine trees and the freshness of the mountain air, start making plans for your own trip. But, let this be a warning to you: a road on a mountain map does not mean it is a road you can actually drive.

We lived in Colorado for years so I've had my little Dodge Stratus up--and down--many a mountain road and didn't think twice when we looked at the map and said "Hey, let's take this road to the other side of the dam and fish the spillway creek for trout." It had been raining the night before so the spillway seemed like a sure deal for fishing.

We packed up our gear and headed down the road, winding our way along the route on the map, we get to the end of the lake, taking a left to traverse the little road to the other side of the dam. As we enter this area, every camper we see appears to be staring at our little red front-wheel drive car. We took note of this and wondered why we warranted such attention. Was my seat belt hanging out the door? Did I leave my thermos on the roof of the car? Hmm.

Just as we enter the woods the sign says it all "WARNING: Four Wheel Drive Vehicles Only" Ahh, that makes sense now. But, we didn't HAVE sense. On we go, in a low-clearance, front-wheel drive sports car.

The road was very muddy the day before but now was baked rock hard by the sun. Grooves and ruts were everywhere. We press on until we get to this huge mound in the road and since all four-wheel drive roads have these mounds, I am not surprised-almost. Leading up to the mound are numerous ruts. Only a few strips of regular ground were available for my tires. The ruts were so deep, I would bottom out if I went down in the deep grooves.

Determined not to be towed out and be on some camper's submission to "America's Funniest Home Videos," I analyze my options. If I keep all four tires on two 4-inch wide strips of non-grooved ground, I should be able to get over the mound. Done. No problem.

Mound two approaches. As if mound one were merely a warm-up, I add a water hazard to the grooves and ruts. I stop and think this one through. I need to go to the left of the water, where there are no puddles covering the grooved vs. non-grooved areas, then keep all four tires on two of the narrow strips available for driving, clip a bush, grab some traction then zip over the mound. Done. Feeling fine. No worries.

Mound three. Stop the car. You've got to be kidding. This one takes five minutes of planning and the best I can come up with is:

1. put the front tires on two narrow strips of non-grooved ground

2. go through the water (hoping I stay on the non-groved strips) on the right side (realizing that if I miss those narrow strips of ground, we bottom out)

3. gun the engine when the front wheels get to the mound so I can drag the back wheels through the muddy strips that keep me from bottoming out (it had rained again, in case I forgot to mention that).

4. as my front wheels go over the top of the mound, slide the back wheels to the left (keep in mind this is a FRONT wheel drive car so I have to whip the front of the car to the right in order to slide the back ones to the left)

5. go down the mound diagonally so I can hit all four tires on the 4-inch wide strips of ground that don't have the deep ruts

6. stay as far right as possible, where I'll clip a tree but the branches are thin so shouldn't scrape the car too badly

It took an additional five minutes for me to check my cell phone signal again, guess which direction to walk to find someone who might have a winch, look at how late in the day it was getting, and try to appear to my son like I knew what I was doing.

Steps 1 through 6 work like clockwork and my son says "You are officially the best driver I know." Oh, yeah. That's what I'm talkin' about--showing your teenage son how it's done.

Mound four.

No tire-swallowing ruts in the ground. Yahoo! No water hazards. Alright! However this one is a bit steeper than the others but after mound three, who cares. I check for rocks and other debris at the top--just a couple 1-inch rocks, no problem for clearance. Up and … grrrrrrindddd … over. That didn't sound good. I must have hit one of the 1-inch rocks at the very top of the mound. I get out to check the oil pan for damage. Something doesn't look right. No, not under the car, but on top of the mound. Curious, I go back to the mound to investigate. That little 1-inch rock I hit left an 8-inch hole in the ground. Not good. Not good. I check under the car, no oil is gushing out so we press on over several more mounds, all without incident.

Finally, we see another vehicle coming from the other direction. I pull half off the road so he can get by and I ask him how much further until we get to the spillway. He looks at my car. Looks at me. Looks at the car. Looks at me. Never once did he laugh, smirk or otherwise show on his face he was thinking "What an idiot!" I firmly believe he thought maybe we were doing a car commercial and had been airlifted into this remote place.

Now that I know it's just a bit further until we get to a real road, I am greatly relieved. It will be dark in an hour or so.

Five minutes later we come to the most beautiful fishing spot you could EVER imagine. Wow! Absolutely crystal clear water where you could see every trout swimming around no matter how deep they were. And this pool was DEEP. We fish. We are in awe and put the past few miles out of our mind. It was worth every stress moment.

The light was fading so it was time to go home. Victory. Almost. I forgot about hitting the oil pan guard and was "reminded" of the event when tremendous noises sounded at every bump in the road. I stop to find the oil pan guard is barely hanging on. That 8-inch rock I dislodged 7 inches out of the ground had won the battle. Oil is dripping but not gushing. We'd better get home quick but I can't drive Interstate speeds with the oil pan guard hitting the pavement.

Pulling off to the side, I put my best MacGyver survival skills to the test and secure the oil pan guard with 25 lb test fishing line I found in the trunk--yes, I actually do fish with 25 lb test line but that's another story. We make it the rest of the way home without incident.

That night, my wife and I watch "Romancing the Stone" and laugh at one of our favorite parts:

- Where is the nearest phone? 

- Many miles from here.

- Can we get there in your car? 

- Who told you I had a car?

The men in the village.

They told you I had a car? They're such comedians.

They meant my little mule, Pepe.

Not bad for a little mule, eh? (as they zoom off in a big 4 x 4 truck)

From that point on, my little red front-wheel drive sports car's nickname was Pepe. It served us well for years after.

©2009, Kurt Holdorf

The Mighty Hunters

Some days start like any other. Some days start out exciting. Some days are just so different you end up writing about them 35 years later. This was that day.

My Dad is quite the outdoorsman. Hunting, fishing, and trapping were regular activities in his youth and he passed those interests on to the next generation. On one particular day, we were up before dawn for a big hunting excursion attended by my dad, my two brothers, me, an uncle or two, some cousins thrown in for good measure, and Jimmy Joe.

Before you jump to conclusions … no, it was not different because of some hunting accident. All of us kids had our official Hunter Safety patches proudly sewed onto our coats. No, it was not different because some wild animal charged us or something. Save yourself some mental energy and quit trying to guess. You're just wasting your time.

If hunting and its related activities offend you, this would be a good time to use the remote control to change channels if this were television. Since it isn't, there's a whole host of web pages to go to. See you later. I'll be happy to have you visit again when the imagery is not so barbaric.

[delay while you find a new web page]

OK, for those still here, it really isn't that bad. Matter of fact, if you're a hunter, I think you'll find this rather amusing.

We were poised and ready to begin the big hunt. For safety, not all the kids had shotguns. Our job was to just walk between the grown-ups so they could walk further apart. Made perfect sense.

The grown-up next to me was Jimmy Joe. Jimmy Joe was a pretty good story teller so you never knew when he was pullin' your leg or if truth was coming out of him. The sun was still just popping over the horizon so we weren't that long into the hunt when all of a sudden, Jimmy Joe freezes in his tracks. I signal that the line needs to stop walking.

Jimmy Joe, frozen like a statue, whispers something barely audible and I ask him to repeat it. "Th---- a pheas--- ri--- at my f---!" Still confused, I press for more info. He says, rather loudly, "THERE'S A PHEASANT RIGHT AT MY FEET!" I hear snickering at the other end of the line. Some of the adults thought Jimmy was, shall we say, less than coherent due to some sort of liquid none of us kids knew anything about.

Jim is looking at me like he is explaining with his eyeballs how the next few seconds are going to go down. I think I've figured out what's about to happen and, sure enough, in one fell swoop, Jim tosses his shotgun to me and jumps on a pheasant at his feet. He stands up with a rooster cradled in his arms.

He is so proud of his amazing catch that he doesn't even ask for his shotgun back. He walks the rest of the field, pheasant contently resting on his arm looking happy that it doesn't have to run or fly. [If birds could strategize, this would be an amazing idea, let yourself get captured by the enemy so they don't continue to hunt you down all morning. Brilliant!]

By this time, we're all laughing so loud about this we probably scared every other bird away within a mile. We didn't see much else so when we get to the creek, we take a break. Just as I am about to have a nice cool drink, my dad says "Does anyone want to shoot a rabbit?" "Me!!!" I blurted out.

Dad hands me his shotgun and points at the rabbit several yards off. I never really saw the rabbit. I just wanted to shoot the gun. I do my best to figure out what my dad was pointing at then pulled the trigger.

I knew this thing would kick because I'd shot a shotgun before at a practice range. But that wasn't my dad's gun. Like I said earlier, he was quite the outdoorsman. His specialty was letting others take a shot then, if they missed, he would pick off what was still flying. To do that, you need a 12-gauge, long tom with a full choke.

What does that mean? That means when I pulled the trigger, some seismologist in China said "Ooh, did you feel that tremor?" That means when I pulled the trigger, and happened to guess correctly as to where the rabbit was, there was no salvageable meat. You probably could have picked up that poor bunny with a magnet.

Just as my dad finished his autopsy of the rabbit, Jimmy Joe announces the pheasant meat was affected with gangrene and couldn't be salvaged. Then, as if smartness descended on us from above, we all thought at once, "Yeah, it must have been sick or something to just sit there in his arm without fussing."

So, after a full day of hunting we had no meat for the table. Every wild game feast our family had from that day on, however, had some mention of Jimmy Joe and his pheasant.

I highly recommend to everyone: get out and purposefully make some lasting memories with friends and family. Some day, all that remains will be one's glory days. Get out now and make life interesting so when your old and gray, you have some fun stories to pass on to the next generation.

©2009, Kurt Holdorf, Illustration and Story