# 562 - The Perfectly Imperfect Life

Living on our acreage for 2 1/2 years, in an RV, as we've gone through the complicated process of building a home in a rural area, has been unbelievable to me.

Time has passed by loudly, quietly, slowly, quickly, painfully, and blissfully. Lots of adverbs describe the way time has felt as it passed with us tucked into the Big Thicket forest.

Since we've lived here, so much has happened in our family. Our oldest daughter, Heather, gave birth to our first grandchild, Coraline.

Me kissing my firstborn as she kisses her own firstborn.
This photo was not planned, it was just captured.

Coraline and her natural "Mohawk."

Nana and Pappy at Coraline's private 2nd birthday party.

Our oldest daughter gave birth to our first grandson, Hank.

That belly held a baby that was over 9 lbs and delivered naturally at
a birthing center by Heather...my stress-inducing child.

Hank seemed to have been born with a smile.

Our son-in-law, Henry, is about 6'5" tall, and it
appears our grandson will be a carbon
copy of his father. They better prepare for
the grocery bills to come!

Yes, Heather and Henry have been busy growing their awesome family.

Our youngest daughter, Stefie, graduated with her bachelor's degree.

And then she graduated with her Master's degree just last month, with honors.

Heather, Coraline, Stefie, Hank and Henry.

Stefie in her Master's cap and gown with honors
displayed.

Since living out here, my dad wrecked his first Mustang by hitting a deer, then he got another Mustang to replace the first...not because of the wreck, but because he didn't want a standard transmission any longer.

My dad also kicked his latest round with cancer since we moved here...a very serious battle that surprised many, including his oncologist.

There was a time of devastation shortly after moving to our acreage. My husband's nephew, our daughters' cousin they grew up with, so closely, was murdered in San Antonio.

Stefie, Chris and Heather - sharing their childhood days.

Chris's murderer was finally coming up for his murder trial that had been delayed far too many times and his ploys were up...the case against him was solid as there was a witness to the stabbing and the crazy creep also confessed, but the criminal system in any "big city" is complicated and slow. The murderer committed suicide the week of trial, and he was buried on Christmas Day. His suicide offered no comfort for all of us who adored Chris. The confusion was powerful. Focusing on our blessings has been the only thing to pull us through this tragedy.

Babbette - Chris's mom as we enjoyed lunch
this week in Livingston.

This past week I had lunch in town with Chris's mom. Even though she has long been divorced from my brother-in-law for many years, she always played a huge part in our lives and in that of our children because she went the extra mile, literally, for us to spend more time with Chris as he was growing up. She never made excuses to prevent him from being with us because she knew Chris was very close to his cousins. I'll always love her for loving her son so much that she never tried to prevent him from being with us simply because of an unfortunate divorce. To this day, Chris would be so happy to know we're loving his mom and that she loves us, as he loved her. We are all a much needed comfort to each other.

Chris had just turned 22 years old when he was murdered. Every time I hear "Only the Good Die Young" by Billy Joel, I have another young one to ponder.

Babbette and Chris

Chris spent much of his childhood on our acreage, running through the woods, having a blast being a child. On some days, it seems I can almost see him weaving in between the trees, laughing as if a riot of fun resided inside of him. There was no doubt that, for us, being on the acreage was a comfort during the hard times of raw mourning. We'll never stop missing him.

So much has happened since we've moved to the country.

Sgt. Dave has now spent over 25 years in law enforcement. He's actually spent nearly 30 years of service between the military and Sheriff's Office, but he's now got his eye set on retirement. Over the past 2 1/2 years, he's been driving nearly 90 miles one-way, every day, to commute to his job, just so he can savor his country address.

To him, the commute is worth it because he gets out of the chaos that belongs to Houston, but we still LOVE Houston...it's a unique, wonderful city full of awesome people.

Every time he drives up to his acreage, he feels as if he's on vacation. Retirement will definitely be another new phase of life for us. We have to prepare so we don't starve! I'll be writing about that journey as well.

Another beautiful part of this time in life has been the rather recent day that Brice received his badge. Brice is the love of Stefie's life, and we know he will be our future son-in-law. Sgt. Dave was selected by Brice to be his mentor and to pin his badge on him.

I cannot express how proud we are of Brice...and of Sgt. Dave.

Before Brice set out for his first night on patrol, our family ambushed him with a circle of prayers for that night and for his entire career. He's a wonderful man; we're proud to call him one of our own. Brice and Stefie are enjoying the results of their hard work, dedication and support of each other.

Stefie with Brice on the first day he wore a full uniform
with a badge.

 

During our time here in the country, I spent nearly an entire year thinking I was 47, but I was actually 46. Now I am really 47 or am I now 48? No, I am 47, again, for the second year in a row.

Other than a BB gun, I went from never having shot a gun, outside of a simulator, to shooting live targets with a .22 rifle and discovering that I'm a natural. No kidding.

Before moving to the country, I couldn't imagine the true power and strength of a tractor, but now we own a John Deere and I can operate it!

We moved here after selling our house in the Greater Houston area and set up life on our acreage with an RV so we could determine where we wanted to build our country home. We went from the city-suburbs lifestyle of concrete and landscaped yards...

We started with two dogs with us here in the country and after our Australian Shepherd found two tiny puppies in the forest, we ended up providing one of them a permanent home. That means, we have a wonderful "Gracie" to join Howdy and Liyla...in the RV with us.

 

Maybe the RV is more of a glorified kennel than a temporary home for us two crazy country-loving weirdos. Regardless, Gracie has grown to be a wonderful dog who guards the chickens and doesn't let anyone drive up onto our land without her making a big deal about it. We love her.

Sgt. Dave and I will be celebrating our next anniversary this coming summer. It will be our 30th wedding anniversary.

Somehow, it doesn't seem possible that I've been married this long. It seems logical that Sgt. Dave has been married that long, but not mmmwwwaahhh.

Time can be brutal and kind. However, it is up to us to focus as much as we can upon the blessings of life and to enjoy the joy filled days that are a gift. We are savoring, indeed.

# 416 - Pass the Bottle

When I was an elementary student, I had a WONDERFUL language arts teacher who had the most oddball way of forcing his students into WANTING to write.

Even the boys. The boys who mistakenly thought they couldn't or shouldn't write. He taught them that most incredible cooks, artists, writers, architects and so on...were boys who became men who could communicate through their talent.

With that fact tackled, this teacher encouraged writing by putting a pile of pictures onto a desk and instructing the classroom to pick a picture, then to write a story about it. No real grade, other than for him to know we were using our imagination with our inspiration dictated by one of the pictures he provided.

I recall pictures of a starry night, of an old truck, of a massive tree, a space ship, a tarantula and so on.

It worked.

A photo of an INCREDIBLE creature/insect/moth we came across
this past week while looking at mini-cabins in the country.

Within a few weeks into the year, as he'd lay out pictures, always with new ones in the mix, the students eventually got to the point of nearly killing each other to get first choice at the pile. It was ridiculous.

All we had to do was to record the reference number of the picture at the top of the paper with our name, then write. And the teacher would rave about our stories. I think this teaching genius created a classroom of students who would love to read and write, with enthusiasm.

I am mesmerized and don't want to move from
this spot of a beauty in the rough.

Later, he explained that our lives were like those pictures. He magically helped us to realize that our brains kept mental snapshots and provided an unlimited resource of stories attached to each image. Even more so, the images you think about will be the stories you turn your focus upon. He encourage us to face the uncomfortable shift from using the pictures on the desk as inspiration and he helped us practice closing our eyes to think about a life event, then to write about it. As he said, true life helped to create stories that would be even better than those pictures.

The shift was difficult, but we trusted him. It helped that he kept the pile of pictures nearby, just in case, since everyone needs extra inspiration here and there.

By the end of the year, our classroom was adept at not having to dig through the pictures in the pile because we would use the three minutes he gave us to close our eyes to think of a life-picture for our story. That class was the quietest class I've ever taken. We were serious about our stories and if you finished, you sat quietly and could draw or read each other's stories. Such a brilliant fourth grade teacher.

So, with blogging, I've seen a couple of people who write that they feel their material for writing is limited. And I say, take a picture, look at it and be inspired. If you don't know what to write about, select a photo and think about what it means to you.

Our life-material is truly unlimited.

I had Deputy Dave put up his hand to give
a estimation to the size of this moth.
But, his hand is rather huge;
I wish my hand would
have been up there, then you could see
how BIG this thing was!
It's all about perspective!

NO ONE lives a boring life, our imagination just gets bored.

*********

Today, Deputy Dave and I went to Lowe's to check out some building material costs. We're trying to weigh the options for our moving dilemmas.

Since the country town we're moving to decided to build a Lowe's a few years ago, which shocked the crude out of us, we are sticking to that store for run-of-the-mill items.

Of course, we are looking to build this guest cabin with as few $$$ as possible. However, it becomes painfully evident as we are going down each aisle that raw construction from the ground up requires a lot of $$$.

It makes me really like my tent. But, I know that rainy days are not fun in the tent and my house in the suburbs is extra roomy and cushy, so I need to focus on building something in the middle for our country cabin. We've got to have housing that's in between tent and luxury.

And with my attention-deficit-disorder mindset, I am reminded of the woman who squatted on land a few blocks away from my parents' house in the hills of Austin. She had breast-cancer and no one to live with, but she refused to go anywhere because she valued her freedom and her beloved dogs. Actually, I think the land belonged to her brother, but I can't remember the details in that regard.

My mother, always the lover of the most unusual characters, would often stop by this woman's tent-zone to give a shout out and to give the woman fruit, bread and bottled water. Who would've thought that my mother would die from breast cancer just a few years later? It is most odd to me to recall this as I write, but there you go.

My brother-in-law took this shot of my mom, shortly
before she died. I treasure this photo; she truly did her
best to keep smiling, for the most part, up until the end.
Most fabulous woman I've ever known is smiling back right here.

I think about that wilderness-woman as my husband and I camp out on our acreage, and I can't imagine how she made it through all those years in such rough conditions in an area of Austin that was still rather secluded due to the large lots and heavy greenery. And, the woman worked. She put on a security uniform every day and worked for a business in the area, in spite of her overwhelming hurdles. My mother would remark about the woman's tenacity to go to the laundry-mat each week to prepare her uniforms. Again, I don't know how she did it.

I know of a three-year time period that the woman lived in that tent in the hills outside of Austin. Makes me stop to take a deep breath and to realize how blessed my family truly is to have each other. And I am blessed that my parents were not hell-raisers, that they believed in the motto, "Live and Let Live." They respected that woman and didn't feel the urge to do anything but help and protect her rights to live free, for as long as she could.

Unfortunately, as that neighborhood began to construct TRUE mansions, that woman's freedom began to shrink. Snooty-types wanted her OUTTA THERE!

The time came when my parents would move back to their house in the Greater Houston area. They had enjoyed three years of retirement. Sweet, sweet years of beauty, peacefulness and all the good things in life. Three years of irreplaceable memories.

My mom and dad.
Don't ask the reason for their goofy expressions.
You probably don't want to know.

My parents bought that Austin house when I was in my early 30's and it was a WONDERFUL place for our family to gather, frequently, for about a five-year time-frame. After my mother passed away, we never had another gathering at the Austin house.

Recently, my dad sold this second house about two months ago, then consoled himself of the loss by buying his Mustang.

That house had been amazing. They bought it from a doctor in Austin. It was a custom home that sat on a hilltop with about an acre of land, with a gorgeous view of the lake and surrounding Austin landscape.

A huge deck upstairs allowed us to gather under the stars at night. And below, there was a large covered carport on the ground floor that we'd hang out under.

I have one particular memory of my odd-ball family passing around different liquor bottles, the bottles my dad coveted and kept hidden from us for most of our lives. The bottles that had been packed and moved with my parents to the Austin house. The bottles I never DARED to touch because I knew that dad had mentally recorded the fluid level in his brain and would beat us to death if a drop went missing.

Just back in America from Scotland, around 1979.
My sister, Robin.
Myself.
My brother, Bubba.

However, one night, my dad shocked us all. With all his grown children at the Austin house and with my mother who NEVER touched a drop of alcohol we all sat under the carport, visiting, then he brought out those dusty bottles. He began to pass them around while saying they might as well be enjoyed while there was time to enjoy them. We knew this was a huge moment for dad.

I remember all of us becoming serious, "Whose dying?" Ahhh, no one was dying, it was trying a wacky gesture for the family to lighten up and enjoy ourselves.

So, we accepted the forbidden stuff that had been kept in a kitchen cabinet for over twenty years, each passing around one bottle after the next in a sudden taste-testing scenario that produced hysterical laughter. As each of us took the next bottle in line, we'd take a swig and pretend to be a hard-liquor expert with flowery words to describe the taste...smacking our lips, doing the one-eyed expression with the jaw pulled downward, and horrible hacking from the throat burn that comes with ancient alcohol.

Turns out, to my own shock and to those around me, I'm a Jack Daniels kind of girl, and apparently, I can't even taste the hardness of tequila.

And just so you know, my three years in Germany found me NEVER drinking a full beer, but I did take a sip from every beer my husband ordered, in each region we visited, just so I could SAY that I'd drank beer from all over Germany. Only one beer taste good and it had a name of "Kohls" or something like that --- a dark brew. Oh, never mind, that's a department store here in America. I'll get with you later on the name of that beer, it did start with a "K."

Oh my...in my near 45 years of life, I've been the one who never drank. I have lived the life of being the perpetual designated driver. I just don't like the taste of alcohol. Well, I guess I could deal with Jack Daniels or some kind of tequila, if we get too technical, but I do admit to liking a frozen pina-colada during a rare run to a casino in Louisiana, and perhaps I did like those jello shots that I tried for the first time in my 30's, but other than that, I might as well be living in a dry-Texas-county which bans the sale of alcohol cause I could live without it.

But, that night in Austin, about ten years ago, under that carport, as each of us passed around my dad's extremely valuable liquor bottles, I began to see that life doesn't have to be in black and white. None of us three kids in my family are drinkers, but that night we got to pretend we were and it was inappropriately funny. Even my virgin-strawberry-daiquiri drinking mother was laughing so hard that we had to give her a so-called "potty break."

And now, at midnight, I sit here with my cup of tea, re-filled numerous times throughout the day, and I still can't believe my dad brought out those bottles of alcohol on that night. Is my dad conventional? Absolutely not. Did he raise us to know right from wrong? Yes, he did. Did my parents makes mistakes in raising us? Hell yes! And I learned that I would make my own mistakes with my children, but I'd also never forget they are PEOPLE.

My beautiful daughters when
they were little stinker-roos.

I learned that I might have been critical of my parents for not raising me the way that I, in my infinite wisdom, believed was the "correct" way of raising a child, but eventual clarity proved that NO ONE has the "right" recipe for that job. And any area of your own parents' weakness that you conveniently brain-wash yourself into believing that you will NEVER repeat with your own children, well, you are so consumed by that angle that you don't even realize that you're making your own set of mistakes. It's a guarantee. It's called being HUMAN. Most of us have that day of reckoning --- the day we realize we're immune to that condition.

Granted, for some, it takes longer than others to come to that comprehension. A few others wander through life being kind of clueless about that little secret. As me, my sister and my brother had those moments, I believe it pained my parents to some minor degree, yet they found solace in laughing about us behind our backs. There's no doubt, my parents gloated as my kids and my brother's kids provided pay-back entertainment for all the times we caused trouble.

So, that night in Austin helped to confirm to each of us, in a weird non-recommended manner, that we are each imperfect, yet eager to connect. Thankfully, none of us kids had chips on our shoulders so big to create obstacles in connecting with our family and those good attitudes have blessed us with the creation of beautiful memories. As we passed bottle after bottle, it was a wonderful thing to laugh, nervously at first, at the actions we would have been skinned alive for doing in the years we were being raised.

It was as if we were being accepted as adults, but the truth is...we were probably undergoing some warped, psychological test for our parents to be assured none of us had a drinking problem.

Ha ha hardy ha ha.

Of course, I believe dad was saving the Crown Royal or Royal Crown, blue bag stuff, for himself. I don't think that stuff ever collected dust.

So, I guess my story is...well, I don't know what it is, but I sure had a fun time remembering that night with my disturbed, yet adorable family in Austin, Texas. That beautiful moth hanging out on the porch reminded me of the beautiful times my family hung out together under the carport, getting slightly hammered. The moth...it lead me to that memory, it's an easy link.

It's funny how a picture can be inspirational.

# 371 - Camel on the Ranch

My grand-dog "Thor" is a cutie! Puppies have this way of flopping themselves right into your heart. This mini-Australian Shepherd is a bundle of fun. He has such a cute personality and loves to play. He's finally hit that age to where he'll lay back in my arms for a while, like a sweet little baby and he loves it when I rub his ears. He's a fun guy.

There's no doubt, we really need to get ourselves moved to our acreage, get some fences up for all the dogs to have lots of play space, then we adults can have fun without worrying about the dogs messing up the house.

Having a house in the suburbs gives us very limited private recreational space to work with, but the country gives us lots of romping room.

House is officially back on the market today. Round 2 begins. Let's see if we can get this bad-boy sold as soon as possible! Since another recession might be possible, I feel an intense desire to unload this house.

Hey, my daughter's father-in-law has gone beyond getting dogs and horses, he just purchased a young camel.

This is one we've all laughed about. They live near Fort Worth on a ranch and their camel is definitely an odd addition, but how could you say no to this cute fuzzy creature?

I sure hope they know how to take care of camels. I wonder if it eats dog food or horse food? I have no idea. I'll find out and let you know. This is sure to be an adventure for them!

# 274 - Fishing Day Gone Awry

First of all, I wanted to give my regular readers an update. My biopsies came back clear! I have been thankful!! And my youngest, Stefie, has been doing great with her back rehabilitation...she had seen a Neurologist who was concerned that she had MS, so they did more MRI's of spine and brain, which showed everything to be clear! We've had a lot of reasons to celebrate around here! I have a CT-Scan scheduled for this coming week and hope the celebrating will continue!

********

Big Events can occur in our lives. Events of such magnitude that we are forced to stop in our own little tracks as the world itself continues to whirl around us. In these powerful moments, we are forced to confront changes to our personal evolution. Sometimes, find ourselves to be different afterward.

Deputy Dave experienced a Big Event this weekend and he's been taking a good hard look at life and how it can truly change in one blink.

This past Sunday morning, Deputy Dave planned a Memorial Weekend kayaking/fishing trip with his brother. Deputy Dave ended up launching his kayak at Mosquito Island. We live near the bay, close to Galveston, so ocean kayaking is a huge part of Deputy Dave's fishing lifestyle. On this morning, he'd left the house before dawn after he loaded up the kayak with all of his fishing gear, to include his sparkling new rod and reel. He stopped for a cup of coffee on the way to the water, then he set out to fish in conditions that made for slightly choppy water.

Still, it was a gorgeous day, perfect for fishing. As he kayaked, he realized that Kevin, his brother, would not be showing up. It seems his brother had partied too hard the previous night and would not feel like getting up early to paddle through the ocean for hours. So, Deputy Dave kept fishing, solo.

On a roll, he caught four trout. Early in the morning, around 7am, as he kayaked near the shoreline in continued solitude, he was happy to see a fishing guide appear nearby. The guide had one client onboard; fishing next to each other, they began to have a good conversation that included trading stories about their fishing techniques and successes over the past couple of days. Everyone savored the beautiful day at this rather remote location.

Photo from that morning.

Soon enough, Deputy Dave is off on his own again, but the excitement was just getting started because he hooked into an Amber-Jack and the pace of the morning suddenly changed to peaceful to a high pace adrenaline rush. Sitting in his kayak, Deputy Dave hears the reel spin with high velocity to create a screeching whine belonging to a reel being pushed to its limits. There were no breaks in the screaming of the line, it continued on and on, proving that the fight to land this fish would not be easy. So, Deputy Dave began paddling as fast as he could toward the fleeing fish on the screaming line; he needed to get to a point where he could start reeling, but not too soon or the fish would likely get away.

He didn't have to worry about boating traffic or competing fisherman in the area because Deputy Dave was out there alone, except for the fishing guide left back near the shoreline, the disappearing shoreline.

Once he began to reel and to fight the fish, Deputy Dave was fully enjoying his sharpened focus on catching the Amber-Jack, so fully that he'd not realized he was now approximately four miles from shore. As he gained distance from shore, it appeared the waters had also become more choppy and within seconds, the excitement twisted into dread.

An initial large rogue wave hit the front of the kayak so hard that it popped his front cover open and without a moment to gather a second thought, more waves battered the kayak. Since the front hull cover had been popped off by the sheer force of the wave, the following waves filled the kayak hull in an instant. In happened in seconds. Deputy Dave didn't even have time to panic as the kayak's front end dipped down into the depths of the ocean while the rest of the kayak followed into the depths to sink completely, tossing him out in the process.

Since the Texas sun had appeared before the kayak sank, it had become very hot and uncomfortable during the fight with the Amber-Jack, so in the frenzy, Deputy Dave had done the unthinkable, he'd slipped his lifejacket off and it had been laying behind him on the kayak. Thankfully, he managed to grab the vest as the kayak sunk. Slipping his arms in into the lifevest, he then leaned back in the water to get it zipped. He had one old fishing pole, the bag of fish he'd already caught, and he was able to swim to catch the paddle.

In shock that his kayak had disappeared into the ocean, he began looking around and no one was in sight. The shoreline was miles away. He tried to use the paddle to reach the bottom of the ocean floor so he could gauge the depth, which was apparently about 10 feet deep for that particular place. For a moment, he felt as if he might end up to be a Memorial Day statistic. He also knew that I would not raise the alert for many hours because he sometimes doesn't come back from fishing until around 3pm. In that case, if he couldn't get help or swim the four miles to shore, in increasingly rough waters, he might be in the water for 8 hours, at least.

Deputy Dave keeps an anchor on the boat and a miracle for the kayak occurred after it had tipped; the anchor fell out and hit ground to drag on the ocean floor. The anchor hitting bottom forced the kayak to be pulled against the current beneath the water. This action caused the kayak's front tip to again pop up above the surface, but only about three inches of the kayak reappeared topside. Deputy Dave swam over to the kayak to see if there were any way to get the kayak topside again. After many tries, it was apparent that there wasn't anything he could do to get the kayak to float. It remained almost completely submerged, except for those three inches that bobbed above the waterline.

Everything onboard the kayak was gone...the fishing net, cast net, two tackle boxes, brand new rods and reels, but the thing he complained about the most, with humor, was the cup of coffee that was wasted. The kayak went under with the coffee cup more than half full. The ocean finished off his coffee.

Little did Deputy Dave know, the fishing guide he'd left at the shoreline earlier that morning had been keeping an eye on Deputy Dave as he and his client continued to fish that area. The fishing guide had thankfully not rushed off to another fishing hole, instead, he had stayed put while watching Deputy Dave nearly disappear offshore. Obviously, the fishing guide felt uneasy about the entire situation, but he and his client kept fishing. The next time the guide looked up to search the horizon for the kayaker, he could not see the kayak or the fisherman who we all know as "Deputy Dave." The kayaker he'd been talking with earlier that morning had suddenly disappeared completely from view.

Most of us understand that this moment was a pivotal deciding point for Deputy Dave's survival; either that fishing guide could've shrugged off the disappearance as no big deal or he could've done exactly as he choose to do and acted upon the bad feeling with not being able to see the kayaker any longer. Fortunately, the fishing guide had alarm bells ringing, so he told his client that their fishing adventure would be taking a detour so they could go out a few miles to search for the kayaker that suddenly could not be seen in the distance.

Meanwhile, Deputy Dave is in the water, very frustrated. He's realizing how bad things have gone, in a blink of an eye. One moment, the morning was a beautiful fishing day with a nice fish pulling on his line and the next moment he's been forced to cut his line to try to save himself from capsizing, but it was too late...the waves had made up their mind to take him down. He was shocked that the kayak completely sunk.

As my dad said later that day, in this area of water, he'd not want to be out of a boat for ANYTHING. Deputy Dave didn't even think about the sharks in the area. He only thought about being so far from shore while facing the fact that no boaters were in sight. He'd only seen that one fishing guide in the few hours he'd been kayaking that morning. Ships were in the far distance, but he was alone in the water, relying on his lifejacket to keep him afloat. Minutes were ticking by. Personally, I don't know how he kept from panicking. But, he said that God gave him a deep sense of calm.

Then, after spending about 30 minutes in the water near the sunk kayak, he hears the motor of a boat approaching. He takes his paddle and waves it around in the air. He could tell the boater was searching for him because he kept circling in the same area. FINALLY, the guide kept circling until he found Deputy Dave in the water and the fishing guide joined Deputy Dave's shock at seeing the kayak submerged. The guide could not believe it had sunk. The scene must have been eerie.

The fishing guide owned a flat bottom boat. He and his client pulled Deputy Dave aboard, then decided they would try to save the kayak. Deputy Dave didn't care at this point, he was so thankful to be out of the ocean. But, the fishing guide and his client were determined to lug the kayak out of the water onto the flat bottom boat. Problem with that plan is that once they began to pull it onboard, the kayak instantly began pouring water out of the hull, about 400 pounds of water, onto the floor of the guide's boat. To make matters more complicated, the fishing guide's bilge pump was not kicking on, so his boat end started to sink.

The guide's client was determined to get the kayak on board, but Deputy Dave told the guide to start the boat forward so the water would flow off the back of the kayak into the ocean instead onto the boat floor. Frankly, Deputy Dave wanted to leave the kayak behind. But, the fishermen were determined to save the kayak. Finally, with the boat moving slowly forward, the bilge pump kicked on. Deputy Dave said it was another tense moment because he certainly didn't want to be in the ocean with two lost boats and three men stuck at the mercy of the ocean.

So, by the end of the ordeal, Deputy Dave had beautiful rescuers who saved his life and his boat. Everything on the boat could be easily replaced, payday to payday!

The wave hit so hard that it popped off the cover
to the hull, which immediately filled with water
from the following waves battering the kayak. In mere seconds,
the boat went under and Deputy Dave was tossed out.

By the time all three men reached the shore, it was still early in the morning, probably just after 9am. The fishing guide would not give his name because he didn't want to be thanked for saving somebody...he just thought it was all in God's plan, but he was definitely upset by the ordeal. He tried to go back out for more fishing with his client, but ended up making a short circle to come right back to shore and load up as Deputy Dave himself was getting ready to drive off.

Deputy Dave said he'd never forget this man's pro-active mentality that led to life-saving actions. If that man had been flat out lazy or disinterested, Deputy Dave might not be around to enjoy more days of fishing. It's great that Deputy Dave had someone, a stranger, looking over him...God put him in the right place to find himself tossed out of a sunk kayak.

And since the Deputy has means of tracking down anyone he'd like in this area, the thank you is not an issue he'll drop. It wouldn't matter if this man were up for murder next week, he'll be getting a thank you from Deputy Dave. Since the guide didn't have any official signs on his boat, he'll be found through other methods. But after a bit of research is conducted, we will probably set up a fishing trip with him and do it on a personal level.

Even though Deputy Dave's brother wasn't there that morning, it worked out beautifully. I felt, if Kevin had been there, he might have tried o save Deputy Dave and the situation might have been worse. Regardless, Kevin would have had those same brutal waves hit his own kayak. Even though his kayak is newer and more stable, it's still a kayak, subject to Mother Nature's mean hand. Getting a capsized six-plus-foot man back to shore with one kayak between the two would not have been an easy task.

I don't care how "good" Kevin's kayak is built, they are all dinky floating toys compared to the ocean's wrath.

Later that same day, we went to meet my sister at The Top Water Grill for her birthday. We did our best to keep moving through our day, as if the ocean had not tried to claim my husband for its own treasure.

I'm glad we actually got to celebrate a birthday on this day and not be forced to conduct a search and rescue mission. At the restaurant, as we waited for everyone else to show up, Deputy Dave took a few moments to savor his second chance.

And to have a few beers.



Beyond our own happenings, for Memorial Day weekend, I spent a great deal of time thinking about those who have served and given their life in service to the United States of America; I thought about those in the military who have been injured and are impacted for the rest of their lives; I spent a great deal of time thinking about those who served and will be forced to forever confront the demons in their mind...coming home to find the enemy locked inside their own head is something that we should accept as part of serving in the military...I always want to tell those courageous souls that the battle of the mind can be fought and WON --- never give up; I thought about the families of those who serve...the feelings they must face daily that most families can't begin to understand; I have love in my heart and an appreciation for every person who falls into the categories listed above.

I also thought about young Cody Norris, a hometown hero who served in Afghanistan and was killed in action. I stood with townspeople, back in November, to welcome him on his final journey to his resting place located around the corner from our home.

And, I thought about having my husband at home with me as I hugged him goodnight. I took the time to close my eyes and to savor the feel of his body wrapped in my embrace while knowing that it all could be gone, in the blink of an eye.

This weekend, I had many reasons for allowing myself to have quiet, deep thoughts and to give thanksgiving for good people in this world who are willing to sacrifice themselves for others.

For me, as of this Memorial Day weekend, that fishing guide and client were added to my list of heroes.