Response to Dig Dig Dig

My Response to Matthew’s Blog Dig, Dig,

Dig

I was fascinated with Matthew’s memory of the Fritz story, Fritz and the dinosaur bone. He was very kind to imply my sound effects and jesters were so effective. As I remember the incident, I resorted to sound effects, a stuffed toy dog and jester to keep your interest. Isn’t it remarkable that you remember the embellishments better that the story.

Many times Bryce and Lynea begged me to tell their families Fritz stories. They were sure the kids would love them like they did as little kids. I tried several times and your interests always wonderd off. In desperation I resorted to a more graphic presentation. What I later came to realize is that you grandkids had no connection with old Fritz, except the few pictures we had and what your parents told you. I doubt Old Fritz gained much reality until you got Max and Naughtiea. I was never sure you separated Old Fritz from Fritzie even though they were about 10 years apart and had very different personalities.

Fritz stories were part of the Fifield family folklore. They combined a few experiences with a lot of fantasy. Like most legions they grew, were adapted and became more spectacular over time. Let me give you a bit of history.

The Fritz stories started out in the early 1960s

As Tony Stories. They evolved into Fritz Stories in the 1970s after we moved to Logan and got Old Fritz. Bryce, Terry and Lynea were each very active in adapting them to fit Old Fritz and we all let fantasy run wild. That made them even more personable and memorable. Let’s start with Tony…

Tony was a large, white shaggy haired dog. (Looked like a sled dog) that Grandpa Allred had picked up from somewhere. He lived with Grandma and Grandpa Allred out at Fort Hall, Idaho. Tony loved kids and would let them ride him, pull his ears and would knock them over with his enthuastic tail wagging. Grandpa Allred hitched him to a sled and, after we could catch him, we would harness him to the sled for rides. Tony was the first to greet us when ever we visited Grandma and Grandpa and he stayed with the kids constantly. One spring when Grandpa sheared the sheep he decided to shear the long hair off Tony as well. Tony was mortified and crawled under the house. He refused to come out so, the kids crawled in to comfort him on several of the next visits. I started telling the kids stories about Tony bringing together things that happened at Fort Hall with Tony’s remarkable ability to talk, plan adventures and have wonderful as well as disasterious experience. Tony stories were usually told with the kids sitting on my lap as we rocked in the big green chair. As the stories unfolded their eyes would roll around in their heads, as they visualize Tony in his various situations. They would smile and giggle and hug themselves in anticipation. When one story ended it was “again Daddy or tell us this one or that one. When Tony stories were bedtime stories, multiple stories were a way to keep from going to sleep. Tony stories were also part of family loves or to settle down after a romp. It was a challenge to be repetitious without changing the story too much. Whenever I made major changes the kids were very quick to correct me. I liked to get hung up on a reparative sound like the wind, the clock striking or dig, dig, dig. They would get exasperated and say “go on Daddy”. I would sometimes go to sleep or act like I was a sleep. They would slap my cheeks (Lynea liked to do that) and tell me to go on.

Tony liked to chase and bark at the wheels of the milk truck. Thus, one of the first stories was about the consequences of this naughty behavior resulting in his tail getting ran over. The kids would run around the house holding there bottoms yakking like a dog whose tail was broken. You can imagine where it went from there.

We had a story about Tony and the railroad track, Tony and the flipper, Tony and the sheep, Tony and the fire (this was a favorite and told thousands of times), Tony and the cows, and Tony and the polar bear. (Another favorite because we added dilects of difference char actors, Mexican, Englishman, Southern Blacks, German and a few others that were less successful). We had some moral stories about Tony’s naughty friends Skeeter and Ralph in which Tony’s wisdom and warning went unheeded and they had horrible consequences. Tony and the cat protectors.

One of the best stories was the dinosaur bone. This story transferred very well to Logan and from Tony to Old Fritz. Grandpa and Fritz were out walking in the hills one afternoon when Fritz came up a bone partly sticking out of the ground. He tried to pull it up and when that didn’t work he started to dig it out. After a noble effort Old Fritz came to Grandpa for help. We ran home got Bryce and Terry and with shovels we all started digging away. The deeper the excavation the bigger the bone became and we knew we had found a treasure, a dinosaur bone. It was a bone large enough to feed Old Fritz for a whole year. We all dug tell we were exhausted. Fritz worked the hardest. He dug with his front paws kicking the dirt out between his hind legs. When it piled up too much behind him he would kick it back with his hind legs. He dug so fast his paws became hot so he had to stop and blow on them. We worked all afternoon until it got dark. We knew we had found a treasure so we returned home to arrange for a bulldozer, and backhoe to go out the first thing the next morning. Well---during the night the wind came up it blew and blew…. (This was a very elongated part, making the wind sounds. It went on and on). Finally morning came and we returned with the heavy equipment. But the wind had recovered the bone. We looked and looked for days and weeks but could never find the bone again. From that time on, every time Old Fritz went to the hills or out in the fields he kept his nose to the ground trying to find the smell of the dinosaur bone. It went on the rest of his life and we never did find that bone again.

The story wasn’t much but we had some fabulous embellishments. Matthew remembered the digging embellishments we had a stuffed dog we used to act out the digging episode. They didn’t need to visualize Old Fritz they had a tangible dog to use and it just got better and better. We moved his front paws to dig and his back legs to move the dirt. We blew on his paws adding sound effects, frustration and energy. Matthew and Lisa got caught up in the digging. They repeated it over and over again with their hands and with the stuffed dog. It went on all evening. I’m not sure they ever heard the ending of the story. I don’t think it mattered it was the animations and sound effects that carried the memory.

This is a long blog with a lot of information of limited interest to many of you. Yet I believe Bryce, Terry and Lynea’s minds will be stimulated by what I hope are some good memories. I would like to hear some of their memories about the stories.

Thanks Matthew it was fun retrieving these memories. Now you know the rest of the story.

My take on Nate's My Heck

My take on “My Heck”

I believe it was the summer of 1995 that Nate, Lynea and there family came up for a break from their hot weather. It was hot here too but with a daily watering of the lawn and lots of talk about floating down the canal, (but not doing it), I decided to show off a bit and take everybody to the top of Mount Logan in the red Jeep. It was a quick decision, everybody agreed; it wouldn’t take much effort and would be a break from the shade trees. We jumped in with Jake, Andrea and Michelle sitting in the back on the floor. I thought at the time this is going to be uncomfortable because it’s a long way up there over some rocky and rough dirt roads.

We just got in and went without thinking about preparation or any what ifs. After bouncing along for about 20 miles of dirt and rough roads the kids started asking “Are we there yet?” In my authoritative, well informed voice I told them we hadn’t even started the climb yet. At the base of the mountain we shifted into 4 wheel drive and then later into low drive and were creeping up the mountain, over boulders and ruts on both sides of the Jeep. We would bounce up over one bolder and then onto another banking and shifting from side to side all the way. A major hazard in climbing Mount Logan is hitting high center so I kept on the sides of the ruts shifting from one side to the other to get over the rocks and ridges in the middle. The tires had good tread on them so I felt confident the rocks wouldn’t cause any problems. But...

We were on the last and steepest, rockiest climb up to the pinnacle when a rock punctured the side of the right front tire. As the air rushed out reality came fogging in. We were on a 45 degree incline on a ridge with no place to turn around, at least 25 miles up the mountain. I thought I had a spare tire but I wasn’t sure. If we did, how would we ever change the tire without tipping over or sliding back down the hill?

I may have said “My Heck” but my thoughts were much more graphic and sinful. “My Heck” was just for the kids in the car. Going into the mountains unprepared is not like me. We always had a chain, tool box, water, extra food and we usually went with someone else. While Lynea and the boys were living at home we often put the Hondas in the back of the pickups when we went 4 wheeling just to have a safe way out if something should happen. We had come out on the Honda or with someone else several times over the years. I knew climbing Mount Logan is an extreme sport, with a lot that can go wrong.

The worst of it wasn’t the Jeep, it was you kids. You were already tired. Jake hadn’t brought any shoes. Andrea just had on thongs. We all were just as we left the house, laying around under the trees in the back yard. Even the handcart companies were better prepared.

Everybody got out of the Jeep and we rolled it back down the hill several hundred yards to get to a place we could jockey it around and look at the tire. Nate, Lynea and the older boys walked along holding the jeep from tipping too far to either side. When we found a wide spot, we pulled out the spare tire and found it was just a donut tire and only about half full of air. We had ruined the flat tire, the rim and the wheel getting down to a level spot but we did find a place to change the tire. With that puny little tire on we piled everyone on the left side of the jeep with Nate and the boys hanging as far out on the left side as possible to take weight of the half filled donut tire. My hope was that we could get down a mile of two before the tire went flat and then maybe someone would come by that could take the little kids down to civilization. We only went about 3 miles an hour but with every mile we felt we were just a bit closer to safety. We never met another vehicle, bike or ATV on the way down. Had something gone wrong we would have had to spend the night up there with Nate or I hiking out for help. Just thinking about it gives me the creeps: nights are cold up there, no food or water, no coats or blankets. And who knows there may have been wolves, bears, Cougars, coyotes, snakes and other wild beasts rooming the mountain side just looking for something to gobble up. Even worse than that there were mosquitoes.

Had we spent the night on the back side of Mount Logan and survived we would have had a great survival story to tell rather than a ‘almost’ or ‘this could have happened’. But I learned a great deal from that adventure, I hope all who reads this will learn something.

All kidding aside I have never felt more stupid, responsible and worried than that afternoon. I am sure it was only because I had the presence of mind to say only “Heck” rather than stronger words of despair and self castigation that providence smiled up on us and we made it back home with out a major disaster. Nate and Lynea knew the danger we were in but I doubt anyone else did. The next morning I went down and bought a new tire and a wheel for the Jeep. Then I bought an emergency kit, toe ropes and flairs. They sat in the back of the jeep for the next year of so. I still have them and I’m not sure if they have ever been used in an emergency. But we are prepared.

I and Diane have done a lot of four wheeling in the Blazer. We have been up Mount Logan several times but I have always been so well prepared it wasn’t even much of a challenge. Actually over 40 years of mountain biking, 4 wheeling, hunting, fishing and hiking we have never had to walk out of the mountains. We have been helped out a few times and on many occasions we helped others out. Perhaps the greatest mountain climbing satisfaction is coming up on someone in distress and helping them out. It makes you feel so self sufficient, so informed, clever, useful and a little superior in wisdom and preparedness. Like driving around Logan in a snow storm with the Chevy Pickup in 4 wheel drive. Bryce, Terry and I would be looking for people we could pull out of snow drifts. Each time we get a blizzard I still get that urge to get prepared, turn the truck heater on high and drive around to see if I can find someone to help.

The old scout motto “Be Prepared ” applies more than just taking care of our skins and bones: it’s equally meaningful for our self concepts and mental stability.

My take of Lynea's embracing life

Lynea's description of family activities that embraced exciting family times brought back some wonderful memories. I have been thinking how easy it was to get our family excited about going somewhere and doing something that was different or exciting. It was easy because Bryce, Lynea and Terry were always up and at it kids. When it was suggested we go with the Allred's to Antelope creek, each of the kids started putting things in the car. The old blue station wagon couldn't have been very comfortable for them: Lynea and Terry, toe to toe on the front seat with Bryce on the floor of the passengers side. It was first hot and stuffy in the car and then cold. When we brought in air, mosquitoes also came in and made us cover our heads. The creek, little fish, worms, bugs, the fire, and stories must have made up for the discomfort that accompanied such trips.
What I remember most is that everything interested each of you kids. Nothing repelled you. Everything was an adventure. I found this particularly remarkable in Lynea, the little girl. We expect boys to like frogs, bugs, tramping through weeds and trying physical, perhaps dangerous activities. Boys are supposed to be tough. But Lynea took a back seat to no one. She was always part of the gang. She wasn't pushy but always held her own in interest, adventures and physical activities. She was interested in everything and could do anything her brothers and cousins could do. She was anxious to try and often did better with less practice. I think she took the discomfort and hardship that accompanied camping, riding in the boat, car travel and skiing with less complaining than any one else.
Old Fritz was Terry's birthday present but was part of us all. Fritz didn't have to mind Terry except if he knew I was watching. Fritz knew Lynea loved him to death but when she raised her voice he had to get serious. Bryce was the teacher and big brother. He had expectations and was willing to work for them. Old Fritz complimented and reflected each of our personalities.
It was easy to be active and embrace life because of the attitudes and efforts of each of you kids. You all got excited with a suggestion and started to help. You packed the car, unloaded it, rolled up the old tent. You were game for mountain climbing with the Jeep, boating trips, trips in the camper, even if just up the canyon for a night. We had some wonderful night rides in the mountains on the Honda's, Bryce and Terry's wood project, the paper route, target shooting and hunting with old Fritz. These were all Lynea's activities as well as the boys.

When ever the boys wanted permission to do something which they thought I might question, they would get Lynea to ask me. " Dad can us kids hike up around the hill" "Can us kids have a romp" "Can we have a Tony "Fritz's story" "Can we get a cat" "Can us kids go to the little fair" The natural tendency is for a Dad to respond to such requests with a "no" and then start to think up a reason. That was not easy to do when it came from a little girl. I know the kids snookered me in to doing all kinds of things that were not always wise and often pressing the limits. It's a miracle something terrible didn't happen to us all many times.

Water skiing was quickly learned and the kids did it even when the water was cold and the equipment didn't fit very well. Snow skiing started out with all three kids following their mother like baby ducks down the hill in a wide snow plow. I can see it now so plainly. In a week or so Terry was bombing down the hill, mostly out of control, Bryce was parallel skiing and Lynea was doing everything I could do only with much more grace. I remember being particularly brave and blasting down through the trees in the powder. About two thirds down the hill I crashed into a hole and had to spend the next 15 minutes trying to untangle and dig out. When I got my head up and could look up the mountain. Lynea was standing there cool and serene and ask me "Are you ok Dad?" Of course I was ok. What was she doing out in that hard to ski and dangerous snow anyway.
The Honda's were a lot the same. Lynea was comfortable on trails that took all my courage. She had balance, composure and confidence. She could do obstacle courses on the lawn that I wouldn't try for fear of failure. She would jump in the cold canal water while the rest of us put our feet in and then whined. I and Lynea took a Honda ride up to porcupine lake one spring day. It turned out rainy and cold. I was freezing and suggested we ask someone to take her down so she could call her mom to come and get us. No she said, she wasn't any colder than me and we could go back to a phone together. When we got down to Avon we bought garbage sacks, cut out holes for our heads and arms and road back to Logan dry and warm.
I hope Lynea and the boys will always remember these and thousands of others experiences like them. Each of my kids has had this spark of adventure, this desire to do exciting things with others. They have a wonderful sense of humor especially for the absurd and ridiculous. I expected this in the boys, but to have it in my daughter and in spades is a very special gift.

My take on Backkyard Discoveries

This is my first response to the memories that were posted by my kids and grand kids in the blog Lynea set up for me "Marv's Memories" at Christmas 2008. I am a novice blogger and not quite sure if this is a honest way of communicating. Perhaps I will gain confidence and maybe even learn something in the process.

I will first respond to Bryce's blog "Backyard Discoveries".
The year we moved to Logan, Bryce entered Junior High. Lynea and Terry were still in grade school. We didn't have a easy time finding a home or selling the one in Pocatello. When the house in Pocatello sold we made a wild offer on this house thinking it was unlikely it would be accepted. When it was accepted we were shocked and started to look at just what we had bought. It was a jungle, the yard was over grown and unkempt. The house needed a lot of fixing up, painting and everything else. Our intentions were good but I had back surgery that first summer and then it was just one crisis after another for several years.

We brought down the canal water, using the discovery method along with some trial and error. I think we just flooded the basement twice before learning what had to be done to water the lawn and garden yet not the house. The water was just a cold as Bryce describes and with the thorn bushes in back it was not smart to run through the water on the lawn in bare feet. As bushes were removed and things trimmed back ,the next project was that beautifull white fence that surrounded the yard. That fence has been a work in progress for the last 38 years. It must be painted at least every other year and often each year. It was made out of ruff cut boards that can suck up more paint than you can ever smear on and then it blisters and peals off the moment you are through painting. I always thought the fence would rot out and fall down in a few years, but that hasn't happened. I am sill scraping, fighting to get behind bushes and painting and repainting. Once it's newly painted it looks great for a month, then you start at it again. Nothing has helped much. Spray painting is a disaster. Power sanders are almost as much work as doing it by hand.

The lesson Bryce wants you all to know is how tough he and Terry had it. Work, work, work. Standing in freezing water and pulling out thorns from feet and hands. And he did not exaggerate. It was a life almost too good for kids. Some of the best times were when, this life of depravity and toil, was shared with cousins and friends. I think that made it all worth it. The trips up the canyon on the Hondas, the pickup camper and the nights we went up for a camp fire and to sleep in the camper. Skiing, boating etc. all had to be sandwiches in between the riggers of keeping up the house and yard..
You know it hasn't changed. The toil, anguish and other pressures to keep up the yard has made me old and decrepit. But you know I think all in all it was worth it because the good memories and fantastic time together were made more vivid.

A little more

I sent that first blog out just to see if it would work. Now I need to close this introduction off and then start thinking what I want to follow it up with. I started on a time line which identified the significant events of my life and the dates when they occurred. That has been harder than I thought. Memories are not always reliable, particularly event sequencing. It take quite a bit of thinking and checking. Then I just hope the sequence is close enough.
What I wouuld like to do first on my blog is to respond the my memories of the things my kids and grand kids put in their blogs to me. That will take me some time. But I will get through each of your memories.
Then I will be open to suggestion from each of you of what I should talk about next. My thinking now to to start with some of my early memories and write them up as they come to me. I hope you will all remember that as a psychologist I have spent some time analyzing what I did, why and why I remembered it. What you mayl get from my blog iss lots self talk. Perhaps me going back to my memories and trying to figure out why the occurred and why I remember them as I do.
I am going to post this now and then start this introspection process v blagging after I hear from some of you.
Fritz

Intro to Marv's blog

Let me first express thanks (I think) to those that got me in to this venture. I have read blogs and enjoyed those from my kids and grand kids and of course Diane has become addicted to blogging. The process of getting in to appropriate blogs, user names, passwords, credential managers, goggle accounts, to remember or not, how to read code words etc. has been rather daunting.
Lynea has pushed me in to try and with the level of expectation from my grand kids, propelled by the clever and hart rendering things thy remembers about me has made this very hard to resist.
You should all know I can't read and follow direction, least of all directions and procedures that relate to the computer. I rely on the discovery method and what ever help I can get. It has taken me several days to bring up the blog Lynea sent as a Christmas present. Reading it made me cry so much I couldn't see. So that took some additional time. I have spent the last several days trying to figure out the system, how to get through all the procedures, checks and to this point. Diane tells me if I start this on this new blog I can determine later what blog I want to use, what I want to say on the blog and then how to lay it out.
Lynea and the grand kids suggester thy would like to hear about my memories as I was growing up. Let me assure you all it wasn't anything grand of outstanding. I just drifted along taking things as they came and doing what I thought would get me by. I certainly don't remember any grand plan or over powering purpose that directed my behavior. Most of my dreams were day dreams and of the fantasy types. There was much more dreaming than doing.

Marv's memories