Fondest Childhood Memories..

We all have them, don't we? Those incredibly special moments with special people burned in our memories that evoke a full gamut of human response. They make us laugh, cry, think, wish, chuckle,sigh, remember and honor. They are a blessing, these fondest memories, and the best ones keep on giving even thirty-eight years later. Here are some of mine. I hope they cause you pause as you remember some of yours.


I have to tell you. I have one of the coolest older brothers anyone could ever have. He was 20 when my twin brother and I were born. My dad had died 5 months earlier and Dave was left as the "man" of the family. He didn't ask for it. He really would have rather gone on with his life. But he didn't. He stuck close enough to mom to take care of her, us, and his new wife and child.

I remember him out mowing the grass in criss-cross patterns making "streets" in the grass so I could ride them on my tricycle. I would try to catch up to him and ride behind as he mowed. And sometimes he let me, purposely slowing down until I got just close enough and then he'd speed up. Sometimes he would misjudge and I, as ornery as I was, would run over his heel. He didn't get mad...he'd just get moving.

I remember Indian Guides. A father son organization through the YMCA designed to provide unique fun father son time together around a theme. They did sleep overs, themed meetings, camping, games and more. They used Indian ceremonies, names and practices. A bunch of the kids and their dads were part of it and it sounded fun. We became members. I don't know how or why, but I do know who. Dave had taken the time to step in for my twin brother and I as "Dad". We went to everything and when it came time to host meetings at the house Dave didn't just make paper invitations shaped like Indian things he had us burn into leather the time and place of the meeting and stretch it across a make shift stretch rack used to tan animal hides. He made peace pipes and we wore handmade leather vests and loin clothes with our name and symbol burned into the them. "Big fox" and "Little Fox". I think those were the names... I still have all that stuff and I take it out and look at it occasionally. It means more to me now than it did then ...and everyday I am more grateful and more in awe of the person who provided the memories.

The summer of 1969 I was 12. Still really unaware of the world that existed outside my own little universe. A 12 mile canoe trip. A requirement if you are 12 yrs old and want to get a canoeing merit badge as a First Class Scout in 1969. I wanted one but I didn't know how to get it. I didn't have a canoe. My Dad had passed away a couple months before I was born...He couldn't take me. I would have to resign to not getting it and move on....Or so I thought. Dave to the rescue again.

It is important to know that I didn't reach 5 ft tall until I was in 11th grade. That same year I began wrestling the 98 lb weight class. I have no idea how tall I was or what I weighed at 12 but it couldn't have been much. It's also important to know that when Dave did something, he didn't just do it he committed to it. I didn't know much about canoeing. I had gone out a few times on the lake fishing with Dave and he had taught me how to paddle but that's all I knew. Dave got all our supplies together, we loaded up the car and his wife drove us to the entry point and dropped us off.

I learned something very interesting that summer. Rivers fill to near over flowing in spring and, as you progress through summer the water level falls. In mid July the water level was pretty low and our 12 mile canoe trip more closely resembled an eight mile canoe "hike" (we portaged, I believe is the appropriate term) with dashes of actual on the water paddling. "We" portaged is a gross exaggeration of the truth. Remember I'm 12. 5ft and a hundred pounds are still 5 years away. Dave literally carried the canoe the entire trip and we carried the supplies. It was an over night trip as I recall and Dave, as tired as he was, found a camp site and cooked dinner. Eggs as I remember. My twin and I were served our food and Dave sat down to eat his. As he was sitting he was stung by something and his plate went flying. I felt terrible. I wasn't really that hungry and I offered him mine but he wouldn't take it. He wanted to make sure we ate. I don't remember to much more of the trip. I remember getting picked up and driving home.

I know for him it wasn't a fun trip. But it did typify the type of man I knew him to be through all those years and even today. A caring, capable, giving, awe-inspiring man. He may never know the influence he had on my life and the legacy he passed to me, and then I to my children, about being a man, caring for others and giving of oneself. I'm not sure greatness is a big enough word. I'm sure he would wince at hearing that word used to describe him as to him it was no big deal. But to me, it inadequately defines the gift that was given to me by the most influential man I have known. Who better to define the gift than he to whom the gift was given.

These are, after all, the musings of a mind that wanders.