The Monster at the end of this book.

Another Plinky prompt: "Name a children's book that makes you nostalgic. "

Join me on a personal journey to my childhood...

I was definitely part of the "Sesame Generation". All things Grover take me right back to the feel of corduroy jeans when you run really fast, and the way brand new moon boots felt, and the smell of my moms' Impala on a hot day...


I had a pony named "Guy Smiley", and a chicken named "Louise". I could still sing the "12345678910 11, tweeee-ee-eelve" song exactly on key. I dreamed of growing up and having a fix-it shop all my own, or at least just a trash can to hang out in. I never could get why Bert was such a nerd, however. I mean, really, oatmeal is just NOT THAT GOOD, and pigeons stink! My all time favorite SS character would have to be Forgetful Jones. Honestly, how hard is it to remember that the toothbrush is to brush your own teeth?! And, oh, that mustache. That 'stache was enough for me to forever envy anyone who could grow facial hair so effortlessly... He was like the Tom Selek of the Muppet 'Hood.


I always wondered how that giant bird fit in that smallish round nest. And Remember Bad Bart? That dude could DRAW!


Of course, this is supposed to be about literature, not classic American Children's Television...


In a very cliche fashion, I loved The Diary of Anne Frank. I think, as a younger person, this was the first time that I paused for personal reflection. This was such a heart achingly sad story, and a large step backward in the story of human progression to have lost so many beautiful, unique people for such a horrific reason. And the Island of the Blue Dolphin... such beautiful imagery, I always imagined myself trying to survive in the same circumstance. I can never remember the title of that book we read in school about the boys prep school, and the tree that they jumped into the river from, and the character named Phinny. I think that book was the first taste of the delicious world of the literary arts for me. Books like The Call of the Wild, My side of the Mountain, Smoky the Cowhorse, The Taran Wanderer series, and anything by Lloyd Alexander, all served to broaden and shape my literary horizon...


A book was a wonderful companion to grow up with. Now, I think I will head to the library, I feel the hunger to dive into something new...

Uber-Marcy

Another Plinky Prompt...

The Question: Congratulations! You're going to be featured in the next issue of 'Sports Illustrated.' How does your bio read?

My answer: First of all, the sports-following world would hear about my illustrious career of tripping-and-falling. If it were possible, I would "Take State". I'm 6 feet of legs and feet, and every once in a while there is this whole brain/feet disconnect-usually at the worst possible time... Like the time I was in front of about 30 women at church, holding a folder. While I was walking, some papers fell out of the folder and I slipped on them. It was a spectacular jumble of feet and legs, paper, and dress. But, my personal gold-medal performance would have to be the "see how much flesh a treadmill belt can actually saw off my legs at number 6 speed in 60 seconds" (please see my blog for the full play-by-play of this awesome performance - www.buckydewitt.blogspot.com).

In a past life, I was a cowgirl, competing in a state level roping competition. My horse tripped while running, I flew up, out of my saddle, and landed on his neck. I rode the rest of the way that way... I lost the reigns to control the horse somewhere amid this whole scenario, so he was wandering around the arena, then he finally slowed to a stop. I hopped off, and to my surprise, walked out to the standing applause of a good 15k people. Ahh, good times :)

I love technology, but not as much as you, you see, always and forever...

I'm trying out plinky.com, with the daily "blog prompt". This was my response the question "What gadget is at the top of your wish list?" And, I guess, after all, my answer would have to be nothing. Yet, anyway...

"Oh, my goodness, I'm a techno-holic.... I got a Blackberry Curve about a year ago, my "gadget enabler" and his Best Buy account have helped out ever since with shiny, complicated new toys... I have a Palm T/x, and an Ipod touch, Recently I upgraded to a Blackberry Storm. That was where I drew the line. It was heavy, and extremely hard to use, and so much slower than my curve! And to top it all off, every time I talked on the stupid thing my ear would enable the "speakerphone" mode. I had that for a total of 24 hours and it went right back to the store. I walked out with a new pink Curve, and all is right with the world again! I'm off to mobile google anything that might strike my fancy at any given moment :)"

Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings...

Ok, so this post has nothing to do with any of those things, I just like that poem.

On to the good stuff!

Thanks to Michael Lee, and the ipod dock he just bought me for my office, I have been taking a musical journey lately... I have SO much music on my iopd(s), but I have had headphone/connection cable in the truck/speaker issues, so I haven't really used it much lately... It never ceases to amaze me how a song can take me right back to a place/time/feeling in my life. Some good, some bad. So, that being said, I'm sitting here, at work, working my way through the Ian Tyson playlist on shuffle mode, remembering things and places that I have seen with this music as a soundtrack, from the backseat of Virgils truck(s). Because I hate country music so much, I almost forgot how good "cowboy music" is...













I miss Greywhale CD in Ogden, Utah, they had everything you can musically think of-USED. So, for 5$, you could revisit your Senior year, or find that "one" song, from that movie, or... You get the idea. I think I'll head home now, I feel a "Pixies" mood coming on...

Names

Many of you may be wondering how we decided on http://www.buckydewitt.blogspot.com/ as the name for our blog. It all comes from my being raised in Pennsylvania by some of the funniest people in the world. Read on...this gets better....

Bucky DeWitt grew up in Benton, PA. Benn-in as I pronounce it, is about 25 miles from where I grew up in Mifflinville. My father grew up in Lightstreet. About 15 miles down Fishing Creek from Benton. Lightstreet sat right outside Bloomsburg which is where everyone in the area went for groceries or to do their shopping.

Benton is like that "Last Chance" town. Last chance for everything as you head northwest out of civilization. I bet it is still like this today.... So, if you wanted anything big, like a T.V. back in the 50's, you drove to Bloomsburg. Where I am trying to go with this is that if you were from Benton, eventually you would cross paths with people on down the creek. Bucky crossed paths with my second cousin, Shirley. Shirley and Bucky had a child and were married for a few years. As with anything, things didn't work out and they divorced. Bucky moved back to Benton and Shirley re-married Jon Turner.

Now keep this in mind, Bucky is close to my fathers age. Around the 64 year old mark right now. Anyhow, put yourself back in the '80's in the Bloomsburg area. We would go rollerskating at Dixie's Starlight Gardens and Chris would "Crazyleg" to the stylish beats of ELO, Tony Orlando and Dawn, and Donna Summers all while Bernie the skateguard kept watchful eye on us. Rumor had it that they were building a new skating rink in town....Skatetown. When it opened, it was the shizz! State of the art turntables and reel to reel that pumped through a rad soundsystem. Everyone ditched Dixie's and went to Skatetown.

Skatetown was awesome but us crazy kids were kept under control by two bad characters who wore the referee shirt...and meant business! The notorious Bucky DeWitt and his sidekick Olin "Spiderlegs" Shotwell. Bucky was the man! If a fight broke out near the snack bar, Bucky was right there to bust up the squabble and apply a liberal amount of smack-down. When the fight was over, Bucky would skate back to his position in the middle of the floor and skate slow so the 17-18 year olds could get an eye-full of his suave skating skills. Bucky took his job seriously. He would circle the center of the rink like a shark...waiting for the chance to do good and keep the patrons of Skatetown safe. If it was a slow couples skate, Bucky would bless one of his female fan club with a skate together, or he would go hang out near the DJ booth and hold the lucky gal close and "rap" with Fred the DJ.

Soon, I found better things to do than hang at Skatetown. I had my drivers license and soon was cruising Bloomsburg. My memories of Bucky faded as I found out about Stroh's 30 packs, speed metal, and easy girls from Berwick.

I joined the Navy when I was 18. I pretty much was gone for 10 years. After I got out, I moved back home and started driving truck. One morning, I was up at Kevin Ryman's waiting on a load for California when Uncle Warren (Putter) Ryman came in. Putter complained about everything and never did anything. This day was no different....

"That F**** Bucky F*** DeWitt needs to go back to the F**** reservation" said Putter. "What? Bucky DeWitt?" I said. "Yeah, F**** Bucky DeWitt" said Putter. "That Summmbich is down there at the Unicorn Restaurant talking trash". I didn't quite understand what Putter was talking about. I soon found out....

Bucky decided to Re-invent himself over a period of time. He went from being a skateguard to a mason. Someone must have told Bucky he looked like a Native American. He grew his hair long , put it in a ponytail and since he was out in the sun all the time, he was tan. That reddish tan like a construction worker would be. Bucky soon became the local indian outlaw. His "fleet" of masonry trucks had indian pictographs painted all over them.

Bucky would go to the local restaurants and talk coffee shop politics all morning long and when the discussion would become too much for him, he would throw his hands up and proclaim he was moving back to the reservation. I didn't know that they put a reservation in in
"Benn-in"

"Chief Bucky-wears-rollerskates-many-skatetown-squaws" has become legendary in my relationship with M.J. . Thanks, Bucky for the laughs throughout the years! Your are the best Lamanite wanna-be I know!

The Field

Most of you know that I grew up in a little town in the east-central part of Pennsylvania. Good ol' Mifflinville. Sitting along the east shore of the Susquehanna River between Berwick and Bloomsburg, it was situated in the perfect location. The old, round, Appalachian mountains, covered in their dense hardwoods, on both sides of the Susquehanna River valley. To the north and east is the tough coal region. To the south and west was Pennsylvania farm country. We had the best of both worlds. We were descendants of all types of people with one thing in common, hard working, honest Americans.

Mifflinville in the '70's and '80's was the greatest place to have been raised. Chic and Barb built a modest home on John Street in '73. At that time, it was still a dirt road with no one living that far out. My grandparents owned the land that my parents bought which made it nice for us. Leon and Norma Stout, my maternal grandparents, lived directly behind us on Mary Street. We lived on a small hill overlooking John Street down below and across the street were Seesholtz's "pick your own" strawberry fields. There was nothing to either side of the house for about a quarter mile. Royce Kline's farm was to the southeast and the Eveland's were the same distance to the northwest.

As young kids, my brothers, Chuck, and Chris and I spent many hours exploring the area. Since we were really young when we moved in (Chuck 7, me 4 , and Chris 1) we grew up in the woods. The creek across the street was our favorite place to play. We would leave the house at the first light and not come home until our mom was yelling for us, covered in mud, dirt, pine sap....you name it, we had it on us.

As time went on, my parents decided to buy a few acres next to our home. Chuck saved his money and bought a 1973 Yamaha LT 100 endoro. Soon after, Chris and I bought a go-kart. The field soon became a makeshift racetrack. This was about the same time that my dad was laid off. He was home with us all summer and it was great. We had our own little repair shop. We'd crash it, dad would fix it. Little did he know that this was going to create a mindset for the rest of your lives. Before long, the other kids in town found out we had a good thing going on in the field. Within weeks, we had about 10 kids wanting to come ride on our track. Chuck finally graduated to riding a Yamaha TT 250 and I got the LT 100. I remember wearing my old gold metallic helmet with a JT Racing visor on it.... I thought I was Bob Hannah.

About this time, my dad decided to buy an old '53 International pick up to haul wood in. Dad had gone back to work (remember the teamster strikes back then?) and had injured his back. He was off for a long time but he was always one step ahead of the game in making sure we survived. Anyhow, we had this old truck. We would cut wood, split it and haul it over to the house to burn in the woodstove. The truck was an old I-4 with 3 on the tree. It would run about the speed of smell with 3 kids, one adult, and a black lab, all in the front seat. We used that truck for a good 3 years and Dad finally decided that we could start driving that truck around the field. This became the second evolution of the field.

Soon, that old truck had a new paint job. Complete with lightning bolts and a big number 3 on the door. We all had our names painted on the door, making it an official race truck. We built a 1/4 mile oval by flying around that rack as fast as we could, sawing on the steering wheel like a sprint car driver. One would drive with Spike, our black lab in the passenger seat, barking out the window, as the other two would sit and wait their turn to drive. One final crash did the truck in. I lost it in the first turn and smashed into a pine tree, putting a branch through the block.

We weren't done. This just led to the next stage...and probably the most fun stage. Remember in the early '80's? BMX was the hottest thing. Chuck had found girls and skipped this phase but Chris and I were right there...checkerboard Vans, OP corduroy pants and crazy hair. By this time, we had a mini construction crew with the help of the neighborhood kids and converted the field to a full blown BMX track. Our shed was filled with bike parts, shovels, rakes and "Borrowed" items such as hay bails and water heaters that we could bury to make a jump. Mom and Dad never complained. On any given day, there were tons of kids at the house. We had kids from other towns coming in to ride. The competition was tough but we were all friends. After a hard day of riding, we all chipped in and raked and groomed the track.

Within a few years, we all started getting our permits to drive and we sold our bikes to buy our first cars. The field started to grow up and it became a place to hide beer. After that, the field was a place that we saw as we pulled in the driveway off to our left. The brush started growing up, covering the jumps and ruts we made with motorcycles, bicycles and trucks. Just like our memories of that place, they were still there but a little harder to see.

Marcy and I walked around the field once. It brought back the memories of being a kid, raised by the best parents in the world with the best brothers and friends at our sides. As I think about it, we need to make sure our kids have their own "field".

If we lived in Utah.....

Today, being Tuesday generally means it is my day off. I wake up and head over to see what Marcy is doing before she heads off to work and somehow end up with Cloe as my sidekick. I am not complaining but it is just become a routine. On this particular morning, things were mixed up a little.

The topic of the week between Marcy and I has been concerning a "wish" that we can eventually move to Utah. So everything we have said between us has started with "If we lived in Utah.....".
So, Marcy assigned me to write a essay with the title being, "If we lived in Utah". Here it goes....


If I lived in Utah, I would be finally be where I need to be. I know, this sounds so dramatic but it is. Here is a little story.....

When I was little, my parents took us kids on the vacation of a lifetime. We packed up the old '77 Chevy Malibu station wagon and set a course west. I can tell you every detail of where we went on that trip. Everything became very significant in my later years. Chicago, Davenport, Iowa, Cheyenne's Little America, the Safeway in Estes Park, Colorado and the little bit of Utah we saw.


Chicago is a place that I spent a lot of time in as I drove truck into the produce market. I lived near Davenport for three years. Cheyenne became my current home. The Safeway in Estes Park is where I heard my father say " I think the Mormon Church owns Safeway". And, just to clarify, in case anyone else is wondering, he was wrong... We spent most of out vacation tooling around Colorado with my parents ensuring me that we drove over almost every one of the big mountain passes ( I had an obsession with mountains as a 9 year old) but I knew I wanted to get to Utah.

Fast forward 23 years. I was on my way to L.A. and started down the Wasatch Range out of Evanston, WY. Echo Canyon was nice but when I reached Lambs Canyon on my decent down Parley's, I saw my "home". Everything about the Salt Lake and Utah Valley's seemed right to me. I stopped that night in Springville and sat at the Flying J, ate a bean and beef burritto, and stared at Maple Mountain. I couldn't get over how nice the people were! It wasn't anything like the east coast "Jersey" attitude I was used to. Now as I think about it, it was pretty much the attitude of the rest of the country.


I know this is a big secret but Marcy and I are DATING (SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Don't tell anyone!) Marcy and I have been best friends for a number of years. We never gave the "Dating" thing much thought. Marcy's mission was guiding me through my conversion. I remember the moment I knew it was "her". It was when we walked into Cranberry Cove in Palmyra, New York 2 days after my baptism. The lady at the counter turned and looked at me and said "It's Her!".
I knew it was......

Within a month, I had a transfer open up to Cheyenne. I put my name in and was gone in a week. We had prayed about me getting this transfer for a long time. I needed to feel what it was like to be part of a "ward family". With my time living close to Marcy and the kids, they became my family. We both feel that there is a bigger plan for us somewhere else. Cheyenne was a stepping stone for something bigger and better....

Now, we are looking at a very good possibility that we can move to Utah. I hope to transfer in to Grantsville or Corrine as soon as the time is right. Marcy and I are also looking at building a little "empire" out of some ideas we have. We both agree that it is time for us to come "HOME".

So, Marcy, I don't think I can call this essay "If we lived in Utah........" The proper name would be "When we live in Utah........."

Mike

Ch-ch-changes...

I have a confession to make... I hate change. I like the same old thing, all the time, nothing should ever quit working, nothing should ever break, everything should be just what I have grown comfortable with all the time. Do you remember the Walgreens commercials from few years ago? They were centered around a blissful, change free place called "Perfect". *sigh* As much as I know there is no such things as growth without change, I still always feel a little but let down when something happens in life that I'm not prepared for, or haven't had time to mentally digest. I'm an "analyze, deconstruct, weigh, and measure anything new so I completely understand it" kind of person. I picture, in my mind, changes, or new ideas, or something challenging that I have to accomplish as being like being in a room with a mysterious box. I have to thoroughly study the box, postage, tape, construction, etc. Then I carefully open it. Then I carefully study the state of the contents inside. Then I remove whatever happens to be inside. I carefully go through the wrapping, and then I devote my attention to whatever the object might be. By the time I'm finished observing, I will know what it smells like, feels like, what it's made of, how it was made, for what purpose it was made, how much it weighs, how much it may have cost to construct, etc., before I can actually embrace it and use it. Then I have to clean up the mess, slide the box to one corner, turn out the light, leave the room and shut the door before I feel like I can move forward, or be comfortable with new ideas, or circumstances. In other words, I'm obsessive about controlling things and ideas, and circumstances that I let into my life. As you can probably imagine, I'm not really an impulsive person. And this is an incredible burden sometimes! I wish I could just do something spontaneous, without giving things a second thought, but I guess that's not my lot in life!

I really am going somewhere with all this nonsense, so bare with me!

It seems like the theme of the last 2 years in my home has been "The Random Malfunction of Normally Reliable Products and Services". Here is a list of all the things that have malfunctioned since I moved here, 3 years ago.
1. The washer didn't fit the hookups when I moved in. The new part was expensive, more than a hundred dollars, and took about 2 weeks to get fixed.
2. The range plug didn't fit the existing plug in the house.
3. The dryer quit about 2 weeks after I got the washer fixed. Took about another week and a half.
4. The water heater element quit working.
5. The washer quit working.
6. The freezer quit working.
7. the dryer quit working
4. The washer quit working ( these malfunctions all cost around a hundred dollars an occurrence)
5. The drains became extremely slow.
6. The furnace pilot light blew out 4 times, always after 11 pm, and always on very cold, windy nights.
7. The water froze 4 times.
8. The drains got slow again, which led my landlord to discover that I had a septic tank, and that it was full. No one had any idea where it was, so they ended up digging up my pretty lawn, and making giant holes till it was located. This whole process took almost exactly 2 weeks. During which time I had no running water, and spent several nights in hotels.
9. The kitchen plumbing under the sink imploded. My landlord is incompetent, so I had to fix it myself.
10. My sump pump, which my washer drains into, got very slow, and loud, and smelly then quit.
11. My range quit working. Fried plug. Took me almost 2 weeks to get someone to fix it for me.
12. Internet connection didn't work for about 4 months.
13. My power shuts itself off about 2 or three times a week, usually just a few minutes after I set all the clocks in the house.
14. My oven crapped out. I bought a part that cost $130 dollars, which only fixed one of the several problems it had. It's been 2 weeks now since it quit.
15. The washer died.
16. I got a replacement washer to use while the other one was being fixed. It died.
16. Got my old, fixed one back, then the sump pump died. It took my landlord a week to fix it.
17. After working for a total of 3 hours, my sump pump died again.

AHHHH!!!!

I am really trying hard to understand what I am supposed to learn from all this, and I think it may be to teach me to stop being so controlling, and un-flexible. I'm trying REALLY HARD!

I used to get really upset, and I felt like my life was crashing down around me, but now, I've noticed that I don't get quite so upset, I just buckle down, and work around whatever might be currently not working the way it should. Does that mean I'm progressing?! I hope so!

Now on to continue my journey to try to find the bottom of the dirty laundry stack, wish me luck!

I want a do-over!

I woke up at 3:34 am this morning. I don't do well without sleep, so at the moment my eyes opened I knew that I was in for a crappy day today. I feel like I'm in slow motion, and to top it all off, I'm getting this weird, sinus pressure headache thing. I had so many plans for the day, and all I feel like doing is going home and going to bed! Maybe I will make myself go to the gym after work, so I get my "happy" on, or at least I can feel like I did at least SOMETHING productive...





And this is me, making the decision to stop whining now ;-)






And, just for fun, here's a pic of a little bird I saw in Sams Club a few weeks ago. see? I'm trying to be in a better mood, YAY!

A day in the life...

Today finds me sitting at work, Cloe busily making a mess in the corner of my office. She has an unusual affinity for disinfecting wipes ( no idea why), and is making "presents" with them wadded up in a little damp ball, then she secures the whole thing with about 4lbs of tape. She is wrapping random things on my desk, and then makes me unwrap them while she watches excitedly. I have decided that I can learn a lesson from what she is doing...looking at everyday things about my life in a new, fresh, excited way. I have had an interesting/stressful last few weeks, to say the least. I think I'm finally on the "down" side of the stress cycle for a little while, anyway. About 4 days ago I did the "pause my life for some deep reflection" thing. I have to say that I'm feeling very thankful for the way things are going for me, and for the place I'm at in life. If I can pass on any advice it's this: Ignore the things he does that irritates you, love your kids, teach them discipline, find time to exercise, learn to love the good things about yourself, ALWAYS always try extra hard to make time to study the gospel and talk to God EVERY day! NO EXCUSES! The End :) I wish you all peace, and comfort, and safety, and most of all, happiness...