Tustin, California: Easter, 2 April 1961:
My home in Tustin at 10341 Ladera Senda, Santa Ana, was located in foothills of Tustin, the Cowan Heights neighborhood. The property sat on the crest of the hill. We had a 360 degree view, a six bedroom home with housekeeper quarters, a swimming pool, three car garage, and horse stable with two horses. There had been quite a bit of publicity in the newspapers concerning my father's business, Trust Deed and Mortgage Exchange, so it was no secret that we were well off.
I was ten years old. We were spending a quiet Easter Sunday evening at home, watching some dolphins perform on the television. I think they were playing ball with a baseball team in Florida. I quickly forgot what was on the TV when we heard a knock at the front door and my mother went to answer it.
She opened the door and found two guns pointing at her. The men pushed the door open and walked into the house! My mother immediately fainted, slipping unconsciously onto the slate floor. One would have thought our two watch dogs, a German shepherd named Blitzkreig, and a collie named Duchess, would have rushed to my parents defense. Instead they did not bark. They did not bite. They did nothing!
My father asked what the men wanted. They snarled, "You know what we want!" My father explained that, no, he didn't know, but maybe they could settle it without alarming the whole family. [Too late. We were alarmed! My mother having stirred, was alarmed as well.] They demanded my father's money. My father explained he was smart and didn't store his money at home.
Riley remembers he had been sitting in the family room next to the gun cabinet. Hearing the commotion, he took a shotgun out of the cabinet (he was about age 15), then thought better of it and put the gun back. This was an inspired decision as the robbers were under the influence of drugs, both had guns, and if they'd seen Riley with a shotgun pointed at them, they may have freaked and opened fire on us all.
Determined to find money, the robbers rounded up all six of us children and my mother, ushered us through the master bedroom, and into the master bathroom. The master bathroom had no outside entrance, no windows for escape, but the robbers kept poking their head and gun in the door and counting noses to make sure we were all still there. My brother and I were ready to give up our new bicycles if they'd just leave. Mother gathered us around, we knelt, and prayed for protection.
After our prayer, we listened to the discussion going on in the master bedroom. They said they wouldn't hesitate to slit our throats if my dad didn't give them what they wanted! The bathroom door opened, one of the robbers stuck his head in and told my mom to come out. Dad continued to explain that he had no great sums of money at home. Unbeknownst to me, my father had in fact withdrawn $10,000 from the bank sometime prior to this night of terror, and the cash was stashed in a large paper bag in a cupboard at the top of a floor to ceiling built in bank of drawers! My mother knew about the cash. She was ready to give it to them, but dad gave her a look that told her he did not want the location revealed. So, she remained silent.
They roughed up my dad a lot, kicking and punching him until he was black and blue from his waist to his knees. They ransacked the room. They opened cupboards and drawers and dumped the contents of every drawer onto the floor. They found in my dad's desk his credit cards, check books, and drivers' license. They found my mother's jewelry.
Next, they made my dad and mom lie on the bed, then taped their hands and feet. As they were tying my mother's hands, they spotted her wedding rings and took them off her finger.
While one held the hostages, the other scoured the house. They found my dad's guns from World War II's Nazi Germany. They disconnected our phones by removing a piece from each headset.
They threatened us with our lives if we did not give them at least two hours to get away before we sounded the alarm. Then, they gathered up their booty and left!
As they drove away, Riley ran up the hill to the nearest neighbor to phone the police. Richard untied my mom and dad. Not long thereafter, the police arrived along with the news crews. Many hours were spent interviewing and collecting evidence.
The next morning, the huge story hit the front page of both the Los Angeles Times and the Orange County Register.
The police followed these criminals for three years. They had a man that looked like my father who used my dad's identification to charge a Cadillac in Long Beach! When they were finally caught, it turned out to be a whole ring of men working together.
My dad, mom, Ricky, and I were called to testify in court and identify the men who had robbed us that night. As I was sitting in the witness stand, I could easily pick out as clear as day the two men. The lawyer asked if I could identify them and I said, "Oh yes!" But then, I froze! I was so petrified and afraid for my life that I couldn't remember which ones they were! Apparently the rest of my family didn't get struck by fear, because the men were convicted.
Moral to the story: Sometimes things beyond our control spin our lives out of control. All we can do in those times is to pray for help and protection. God does hear and answers our prayers. He can help us through anything we encounter.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Flights of Fantasy
Marina, California, about 1983:
We took the family to an open house at Ft. Ord. We got to go inside helicopters, trucks, and tanks, and saw many of the neat things the army does.
As we stood in the middle of this big paved area, a helicopter flew overhead and hovered. The rotors pushed the air, woomph, woomph, blowing our hair, throwing sand in our eyes, but as we squinted up at the copter, the doors opened, ropes were lowered, and army men came sliding down the ropes, so fast they were almost on top of each other! It was impressive, very impressive.
I looked over at Billy. His eyes were glazed in I awe of the whole scene. Oh no, I thought! What have I done! That was such an exciting thing, THAT was going to be HIS dream, to rappel down a rope from a hovering helicopter!
I was sure we had made history that day - We were destined to have Billy join the army. That would be the only thing he would want to do with his life. Don't get me wrong. If my sons chose to serve their country, I would be proud, but I would fear for their lives.
Later, I would wonder why Billy would want to jump off the roof of the house onto the trampoline, or off a railroad trestle into a river far below.
Now, that I remember the day at Ft. Ord, I don't have to wonder any more. It's all my fault!
Lesson Learned: Be careful what you expose your children to. It may change their lives.
We took the family to an open house at Ft. Ord. We got to go inside helicopters, trucks, and tanks, and saw many of the neat things the army does.
As we stood in the middle of this big paved area, a helicopter flew overhead and hovered. The rotors pushed the air, woomph, woomph, blowing our hair, throwing sand in our eyes, but as we squinted up at the copter, the doors opened, ropes were lowered, and army men came sliding down the ropes, so fast they were almost on top of each other! It was impressive, very impressive.
I looked over at Billy. His eyes were glazed in I awe of the whole scene. Oh no, I thought! What have I done! That was such an exciting thing, THAT was going to be HIS dream, to rappel down a rope from a hovering helicopter!
I was sure we had made history that day - We were destined to have Billy join the army. That would be the only thing he would want to do with his life. Don't get me wrong. If my sons chose to serve their country, I would be proud, but I would fear for their lives.
Later, I would wonder why Billy would want to jump off the roof of the house onto the trampoline, or off a railroad trestle into a river far below.
Now, that I remember the day at Ft. Ord, I don't have to wonder any more. It's all my fault!
Lesson Learned: Be careful what you expose your children to. It may change their lives.
Endless Pickles
San Jose, California, 1984 - 1988:
I found a recipe to make really good dill pickles. They were juicy and crunchy. Each year we'd get the cucumbers and make a batch of about 12 quart jars.
Usually about once each month, we had the missionaries over for dinner. At the end of each meal, I went out to the garage where we had our jars of home canned products, picked up a jar of pickles and gave it to the missionaries to take home.
When it got down to the point I only had two jars left on the shelf, I still gave them our pickles. I NEVER RAN OUT OF PICKLES, and yet the missionaries continued to come every month, and I gave them pickles every month.
I feel I was being blessed for helping someone else. That which we give away, does bring blessings.
I found a recipe to make really good dill pickles. They were juicy and crunchy. Each year we'd get the cucumbers and make a batch of about 12 quart jars.
Usually about once each month, we had the missionaries over for dinner. At the end of each meal, I went out to the garage where we had our jars of home canned products, picked up a jar of pickles and gave it to the missionaries to take home.
When it got down to the point I only had two jars left on the shelf, I still gave them our pickles. I NEVER RAN OUT OF PICKLES, and yet the missionaries continued to come every month, and I gave them pickles every month.
I feel I was being blessed for helping someone else. That which we give away, does bring blessings.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Vegetable Struggles
Marina, California, January 1977:
Oh the struggle of vegetables! I was putting my foot down about the children eating their vegetables. (I know, I know, times are different now, but this was pretty much how children were raised back then. I should have had Amy teaching me how to help my children to eat healthy).
Amy, at age 3, was sweeter than sweet. One time, we were having split pea soup. Amy ate a spoonful. When I asked if it was good, she shook her head "yes," all the time smiling with the food still in her mouth, then immediately vomited! How could I make a child eat something that made them vomit?
In contrast, Tim would make a big, noisy production of the whole thing until we made him go to bed. The rule was: They ate what was on their plate or they were sent to bed - that is, of course, unless they threw up! (Those were the days . . . I'm sorry!)
Billy was happy to try anything, and he loved all of it . . . even tomatoes!
Sarah had eating issues. I can now see why. She and I could not agree on what she should eat. When we were visiting in Southern California, my mother witnessed this struggle and advised me to leave Sarah alone about it. Wise advice which I took. Our home was much more pleasant at meal time after that.
Is there a moral to this story? Do your best and let God take care of the rest.
Oh the struggle of vegetables! I was putting my foot down about the children eating their vegetables. (I know, I know, times are different now, but this was pretty much how children were raised back then. I should have had Amy teaching me how to help my children to eat healthy).
Amy, at age 3, was sweeter than sweet. One time, we were having split pea soup. Amy ate a spoonful. When I asked if it was good, she shook her head "yes," all the time smiling with the food still in her mouth, then immediately vomited! How could I make a child eat something that made them vomit?
In contrast, Tim would make a big, noisy production of the whole thing until we made him go to bed. The rule was: They ate what was on their plate or they were sent to bed - that is, of course, unless they threw up! (Those were the days . . . I'm sorry!)
Billy was happy to try anything, and he loved all of it . . . even tomatoes!
Sarah had eating issues. I can now see why. She and I could not agree on what she should eat. When we were visiting in Southern California, my mother witnessed this struggle and advised me to leave Sarah alone about it. Wise advice which I took. Our home was much more pleasant at meal time after that.
Is there a moral to this story? Do your best and let God take care of the rest.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
On Gift Giving: Amy's Fifth Birthday
Amy was going to have a party for her 5th birthday. We didn't have parties for every birthday. Similar to when I was growing up, the children had a party when they turned 5 because they started school, 8 when they could be baptized, and 12 when they got the priesthood. It worked well for my parents' large family, and since times were tight, we decided to continue the tradition.
So in anticipation for Amy's first party we set about preparing in a way that would not tax our slim budget. Amy and I made invitations and delivered them. Then we needed party favors to give out to the guests, so we made homemade play dough in bright colors and put the globs in Cool Whip containers. We made, sewing cards by pasting a page from a coloring book to the cardboard from the back of a cereal box, then punching holes around the image. For the sewing thread, we cut a length of yarn and wrapped the ends with tape.
Amy was so excited about these things she made for her friends, that she totally forgot they were going to give her presents. I was pleased to see her unselfishness.
In the end, it's not about us. It's all about what we do for others. Someone once said, "The things you do for yourself are gone when you are gone, but the things that you do for others remain as your legacy."
So in anticipation for Amy's first party we set about preparing in a way that would not tax our slim budget. Amy and I made invitations and delivered them. Then we needed party favors to give out to the guests, so we made homemade play dough in bright colors and put the globs in Cool Whip containers. We made, sewing cards by pasting a page from a coloring book to the cardboard from the back of a cereal box, then punching holes around the image. For the sewing thread, we cut a length of yarn and wrapped the ends with tape.
Amy was so excited about these things she made for her friends, that she totally forgot they were going to give her presents. I was pleased to see her unselfishness.
In the end, it's not about us. It's all about what we do for others. Someone once said, "The things you do for yourself are gone when you are gone, but the things that you do for others remain as your legacy."
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Saturday Night Routine
Marina, California, 1979-1984:
What were you thinking??? Of course you had baths. You just don't remember all of them.
When you were young, we were in the middle of a big drought in California. Water was rationed. To conserve, we put a brick in the toilet tank to displace excess water. We were encouraged by authorities to not flush the toilet every time it was used. (Thankfully, that was discretionary!) We installed low flow shower heads in the showers. Even the water from washing our clothes was drained into the vegetable garden. We used a biodegradable laundry detergent that would not hurt the vegetables. So weekday baths did exist, just not every night if they could be avoided. I bathed you on week nights when you were dirty.
Come Saturday night, however, you were required to take a bath so you would be clean for Sunday. I made such a big deal of the Saturday night baths, that you don't remember the weekday cleanups.
From your perspective now, you only remember the Saturday night baths and not the ones taken during the week.
How similar this is to what we do remember. Do we only remember those things we did on a regular basis, or do we remember the things we did that were not scheduled? How can we keep our memories accurate? Just remember . . . you did take baths.
What were you thinking??? Of course you had baths. You just don't remember all of them.
When you were young, we were in the middle of a big drought in California. Water was rationed. To conserve, we put a brick in the toilet tank to displace excess water. We were encouraged by authorities to not flush the toilet every time it was used. (Thankfully, that was discretionary!) We installed low flow shower heads in the showers. Even the water from washing our clothes was drained into the vegetable garden. We used a biodegradable laundry detergent that would not hurt the vegetables. So weekday baths did exist, just not every night if they could be avoided. I bathed you on week nights when you were dirty.
Come Saturday night, however, you were required to take a bath so you would be clean for Sunday. I made such a big deal of the Saturday night baths, that you don't remember the weekday cleanups.
From your perspective now, you only remember the Saturday night baths and not the ones taken during the week.
How similar this is to what we do remember. Do we only remember those things we did on a regular basis, or do we remember the things we did that were not scheduled? How can we keep our memories accurate? Just remember . . . you did take baths.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Wild Indians or Cubs? Billy's 8th Birthday
Marina, California, 12 August 1983:
For Billy's eighth birthday, we made invitations that he took to his cub scout den meeting about a week prior. After delivering about 8 invitations, we received 5-6 RSVP's. The party was scheduled to begin after the next den meeting. Thinking all was under control, we prepared for the party.
Our ideas of a calm party came to a screeching halt when 12 cub scouts ran in the front door for the party! It was bedlam. Chaos reigned.
It was a very LONG couple of hours for the party. I don't remember what we did to entertain them. I only remember it was not enough. They were so charged with energy, I thought I'd have to peel them off the ceiling. In fact, I think they were climbing on the rafters in the garage!
Lesson learned: Never, NEVER again invite the whole cub scout den to a party!
For Billy's eighth birthday, we made invitations that he took to his cub scout den meeting about a week prior. After delivering about 8 invitations, we received 5-6 RSVP's. The party was scheduled to begin after the next den meeting. Thinking all was under control, we prepared for the party.
Our ideas of a calm party came to a screeching halt when 12 cub scouts ran in the front door for the party! It was bedlam. Chaos reigned.
It was a very LONG couple of hours for the party. I don't remember what we did to entertain them. I only remember it was not enough. They were so charged with energy, I thought I'd have to peel them off the ceiling. In fact, I think they were climbing on the rafters in the garage!
Lesson learned: Never, NEVER again invite the whole cub scout den to a party!
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