“Like go find the best ice cream in Grand Rapids?” I suggested.

Annie responded with an incredulous, “You’re kidding, right Papa?”

“No.” I replied.

Papa, Annie & Morgan

Annie’s eyes lit up and she rewarded me with a naughty-girl smile, asking if she could call Morgan right away. While it wasn’t said, she knew if she waited too long her parents might kibosh the plan. Hearing Annie repeatedly assure Morgan that this wasn’t a joke only added to the pleasure of a doting grandfather.

Morgan & Annie in front of Jersey Junction

We began our journey at Jersey Junction in East Grand Rapids. If you check Google, this is the best ice cream experience in town and the ever-present aroma of freshly baked waffle cones and old-fashion décor makes it easy to understand why.

Morgan ready to attack Cake Batter

Morgan chose Cake Batter and Annie Milky Way. Sweet, savory, gooey and lemony with a hint of coffee were just a few of the adjectives used by the girls to describe their Hudsonville ice cream experience. On a scale of 1 to 10, Morgan rated the flavors a 7 and a 6, while Annie gave Cake a 6 and Milky a 7. When I asked Morgan if Cake was a boy or a girl, she insisted he was all boy, calling him Josh. Annie named hers Hailey and said that the two
flavors were destined to get married.

Annie enjoying Sea Salt Caramel,

Our second destination was to Gus’s Original, which serves MOO-ville ice cream. Annie chose Sea Salt Caramel and called it Luke. Morgan decided on Cookie Dough, calling her Meredith. They both preferred Sea Salt giving it a 10 and an 8. Dough got a 5 and a 4. Would the combo make a good marriage? “No! It’s like the movie, The Proposal, except they wouldn’t get together in the end.”

Morgan & Annie with their gelato

Our next stop was at a D&W store that serves Palazzolo’s gelato. Morgan chose Dutch Fudge Cookies & Cream and called it Carl. Annie picked White Chocolate Raspberry calling it Katherine. They both gave Katherine a 1. Carl was not much better and received a 3, “putting Katherine to shame,” they confessed.

Icing on the Cake & Splish Splash at Baskin Robbins

Our journey ended at a Baskin Robbins on Plainfield. Annie decided on Splish Splash, calling it very refreshing after bad gelato. It reminded her of a flavor her sister Erika would like although she called it Victoria. Morgan chose Icing On The Cake, saying it was really sweet like a jolly rancher birthday cake. She called her experience Betsy. Annie rated the two choices with a 7 and a 6, while Morgan reversed the ranking. They agreed that these two flavors were good together and had what it takes to sustain a good long-term friendship.

According to both girls, the best place to experience the total ambience of ice cream was at Jersey Junction, hands down. However, the best ice cream of the day was Moo-ville’s Sea Salt Caramel. And as we drove home, I asked them if the philosophical lesson learned from the eight scoops-of-ice-cream experience was that you can have too much of a good thing. They shook their heads in agreement, or at least I thought they did, and said that it made sense. But, they couldn’t recall any personal experience that they had in the last year to support that point of view.

Annie & Morgan at Gus's Original

Katrina’s direct link to her awesome performance

One of the tributes given to Helen at her “Surprise 70th Birthday Party” on October 28, 2011 was a 24-minute story of her life put to music by one of our dear friends, Don Brown. It begins with her as a child and continues with 70 well-lived years of love and family. It was very special for Helen, me, our children, granddaughters, and the many friends we’ve chosen to be a part of our immediate family.

Pat, Margaret, Sue, Jani

But after I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of attending. Maybe I would finally get to know people who I should have made friends with during that troubling period in my life. I must confess that I wanted to visit with Donna Ewert Dubsky and Margaret. Both of them had read and enjoyed my book, Growing Up in Mama’s Club, which describes my childhood.

My wife Helen and I organized our summer so that the class reunion would be the frosting on the cake. We left our Tucson home on June 30 and spent fifteen days at a rental home in Estes Park, CO. Then it was off to stay with friends in Long Pine, NE. (If you’re interested, I blogged that visit in July.) We followed that with four days in downtown Chicago and over a month in Grand Rapids, MI where we raised our children and where I spent 33 years of my working life. We arrived in Columbus Thursday evening and enjoyed an excellent meal at Dusters. On Friday morning, I visited with my 90-year-old mother, who still believes Armageddon is imminent. We showed up at the VFW Hall at 5:30 PM, where the reunion commenced.

When I walked into the Hall, I felt a positive, happy energy. I immediately knew that I’d made the right decision to attend. I had something in common with everyone in the room—our high school experience—be it good, bad, or indifferent. And as Jani Fey Stukas said, “we were the lucky ones as we were still vertical.”

Ron Graus was the first one to greet me. His smile was contagious, but of course he knows how to “work a room,” something that does not come easily for me. Mary McEnerney Goc greeted me with a big hug. I later learned that Jani had dubbed Mary, “The Generalissimo.” In spite of what Jani may tell you, Mary is the real deal, a hard-working “worker bee” and the kind of person I would want on my team. But there was one disconcerting moment: While I was making small talk with her husband, Dick, I told him how pleased I was to see Mary. The moment I mentioned her name, he immediately stiffened, came to attention, clicked his heels, and saluted. Maybe Jani and Dick know something I don’t.

I was impressed by the hard work and due diligence of Mary and Jean Treinies Munson who put together the “Class of 1961″ Binder. This was one of their many contributions, making the reunion a major success. It was definitely helpful to see pictures and bios of fellow students. (Donna did the cover art for the binder.) During those dead moments, as classmates circulated, it gave them time to digest what all had happened over the last fifty years. But there was plenty of time to visit. I particularly enjoyed good, lively conversations with Donna, her husband Dennis (a very cool guy), Bob Hughes, Gail Ballew Walters, Margaret, Bernard Hay, Kurt Leininger, Ed Loseke, Herb Peterson, Gerald Whitcomb and more. Remember, I wasn’t one of the “popular kids” in high school, so it was a bit of a challenge for some people to figure out who I was.

Jean, Bob, Karlyn, Sue, Kurt

I would like to thank Lois Davis Rosacker and Diane Swan Amenta for making trips to Columbus to help Mary put the picture boards together. Special kudos go to Vera Lutjelusche Cromwell for finding some of our long-lost classmates.

Rose Parade marchers: Margaret, Diane, Karlyn and Lois

On Saturday morning, we toured the newly renovated high school—a very impressive facility. Then it was lunch at Maximus; and dinner and socializing at the New World Inn. After dinner, we were treated to a nostalgic presentation by Brian Kluck and Jani. Helen and I said our goodbyes at the Sunday Brunch.

Brian, Margaret, Maryanne Whitcomb

Okay, you must know that I had a great time. But just why can I lay claim to that verdict? As a socially stunted teenager, I had to bide my time before I could finally utilize my God-given talents. Perhaps it’s why I espouse satire and irony so passionately and why I can be self-effacing and comfortable with ambiguity. Life is too short not to laugh – particularly about ourselves. You tease people you like. At least that’s my M.O. I don’t think people should take life too seriously, and I don’t. The way the reunion was organized, it was a big stage for a performer, especially a big tease like me who is also a writer looking for a story. But what clinched access to my creative comfort zone was that at no time did I hear anyone say, “Woe is me.” Religion and politics were never discussed. What I heard were unassuming, happy people. What you see at age 67 or 68, if you’re still vertical, is about as good as it will ever get. You can no longer con anyone into thinking you are anyone other than who you are. You are as happy as you will ever want to be.

As my wife and I drove back to Tucson, I got it into my head that some awards needed to be handed out to the brave classmates who attended the reunion and to one who didn’t. But remember, I’m a little boy at heart and I love to tease. I admired people like Kurt, Mary, Brian and more back in high school and still do. But no one would go unscathed and my satirical awards would contain a little bit of truth in all of them. Everyone should be able to see themselves in each roast. In other words, my intentions would not be to offend anyone, but rather to entertain.

What I saw was an opportunity for classmates to see themselves in two time dimensions: Back in high school as teenagers—naughty, presumptuous and terribly naïve—while at the same time being the responsible adults and grandparents that we are today. After all – why does anyone go to a 50-year class reunion?

But I can be serious from time to time. So first, I would like to crown Donna, Rita Speckmann Kafka, Bernard, and Mark Loseke as the best looking physical specimens at the reunion (and Mark is a cancer survivor). They all looked pretty damn good for the amount of tread wear they have on their 68-year-old vehicles. I would like to suggest that Mary Goc run as an Independent to be the next governor for the great state of Nebraska. She would have my vote. The award for the two most unassuming, this-shit-didn’t-go-to-my-head College Blue Bloods from our class go to Margaret and Brian. The classmate spouses that earned gold medals for attending go to Dennis Dubsky, Dick Goc, Danele Peterson, Josette Kluck, Darlene Asche, and my wife Helen. But after checking my “Johnny Carson crystal ball,” the Purple Heart Award has to go to Bob Hughes’ wife of fifty years, Darlene A. Hughes.

Jean Munson, Dianne Swan Armenta, Connie Meyer Czaplewski

The biggest No Show Award goes to Roger Cooley. If everything I heard about him at the reunion is true, perhaps there was good reason for him to spend the weekend with his family at the lake.

I saved the most prestigious award for last, and it goes to Matthis Asche. I never knew Matt while in high school. But when you sit next to an outspoken cancer survivor for two hours, you learn a lot about a person. And he is definitely LOUD! But that could be because he is hard of hearing. He had to tell me what he had to say while we were herded and seated into a noisy bar-like environment. Matt’s award is for being the classmate, in my opinion, for what Mark Twain says gets most people in trouble: He knows way too much stuff that ain’t so. If you don’t believe me, ask him how safe the neighborhood is around Wrigley Park in Chicago, or what news network presents the most unbiased news. That’s just for starters. In spite of his obvious handicap, he has lived all of his adult life with one woman, his wife Darlene. And it is not difficult to see that she loves and adores him. So his faults must pale in comparison to his strengths.

So fellow classmates, what did I miss about the Reunion? What else needs to be said? I hope you will take the time to comment on what for me and my wife was a remarkably good time. Our 50th-year class reunion was definitely the best.

P.S. If you have had your fill of my awards and silly insights about fellow classmates, you may want to stop here. But if you’d like a little more frivolity, my consummate satire, and an occasional “blue light” moment, please read on.

The award for “After all these years there is still a fire and sparkle in her eyes along with a contagious laughter” goes to Donna Dubsky.

Donna and Dennis Dubsky

Brian Kluck is the most likely classmate to be indicted in the near future for sexual harassment. And I know the woman—Xena is her name—who will file the lawsuit.

Posthumous awards go to Bob Mann for “When you start believing your bullshit you will get yourself into some serious doo-doo” –  and Dale Risk’s skills at getting classmates to ask him, “You want me to do WHAT?”

Karlyn Kuper Carson wins the “Miss Hoity-Toity look-a-like” contest. But then, that is the fabric of good designers.

Herb Peterson wins the: “It’s all right for guys to hug” award. He is also a finalist along with Brian Kluck, Larry Ball, Bob Ahrens, and Brant Egger for the “Pizza, Pizza, Pizza – I never met a Pizza I didn’t like” award.

I personally won three awards. They are: “I liked this guy better when he was in high school” award; the “I didn’t like the guy when he was in high school – and now, fifty years later, I know why” award; and ”Mr. Potty Mouth.” I am a bit concerned about always being singled out for my colorful language.

When I asked Gerry Whitcomb if he thought his second marriage would work, he responded with a loud, clear, “Fucking A.” (Okay, he may have said that in one of my dreams.) But if you spent any time with Gerry’s wife, Maryanne, you would easily see why he thinks she is a keeper.

Kurt Leininger was nominated for “Am I running out of gas or did I lose a marble along the way?” (Okay, we could say that about everyone at the reunion. But Kurt has some pretty broad shoulders.)

A classmate we will never see at a reunion, Gordon Bahner, made either the most inane or most profound statement as he reflected on his high school years: “I neither appreciate nor regret my years at CHS. I do not believe they prepared me for the real world.”

And with some regret, I am deeply saddened that while he was serving honorably in the military, shortly after high school, Jon Swanson unwittingly earned the “I’m from the government, and I’m here to help you” award.

The last award is titled: “You got to be kidding!” It goes to Donna Ewart Dubsky. How is it possible for a responsible, intelligent, God-fearing woman like Donna to tell her classmates that one of the highlights of her high school years was when Nikki Gibbs smeared peanut butter all over a toilet seat in the girls’ bath room? Now I can see why some guys would say that, but not this classy grandma. Then again, wasn’t she a carhop at Y-Knot Drive-In in a previous life?

I would also like to recommend that our class of 1961 adopt as our song: We Did it our Way. The lyrics:

P.S.S. Brian Kluck and I never had a conversation before this class reunion; not for the first 68 years of our lives. I don’t know if he knew that I existed. That all changed shortly before we had dinner on Saturday night. I could see that he was eyeing me curiously as we talked for ten minutes. Maybe he recognized me as a kindred spirit. However, as Helen and I were about to leave to go back to our motel, he whispered something quite profound in my ear. If I can remember his exact words, it went something like this. “So I see that you like irony. And it is with that in mind, I want you to know something that I observed over the course of this evening’s activities. Your wife, Helen, and Mary Goc have a lot in common. Both of them have been married to real Dicks all of their married lives. And I think you are a much bigger Dick than Mary’s husband. How ironic is that?” (Okay, Brian never told me that. But I think that’s what he was thinking.)

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One of my six granddaughters, Ingvild Rishovd, turned thirteen on August 24, 2011. She was born and raised in Norway and has recently taken a real interest in writing in English.Mind you, she has been diagnosed with ADHD, but when Ingvild sets her mind to do something, watch out world.

To help Ingvild celebrate her birthday, plans were made to spend one-on-one time with her mom—our adopted Norwegian daughter, Bente Skalstad—in Venice, Italy. What follows is Ingvild’s story— in her words— of her summer holiday:

This summer I didn’t do much, although I did get my first dog, Vikki. That forced me to at stay home to train and socialize her. Vikki is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. She joined our family a few weeks before Summer Holiday. Because of her super cuteness, neighbors would pop up for a quick visit almost every day. One of my neighbors, Lena, was one of those many visitors. Not just because of Vikki, but to watch Ugly Betty with me. I have all the seasons on DVD and we ended up watching two episodes every day.

My mom and I went to Venice two weeks later. We prepared ourselves by watching The Tourist. My mom fell asleep halfway through the movie and the only reason I didn’t join her was because I wanted to see Johnny Depp run on the roof top in his pajamas.

We rented three movies from iTunes for mom’s iPad on our plane trip to Venice. The plane was delayed, so we sat there for a couple of hours, which wasn’t good for me. My playlist had only five songs in it. But we did finally board the plane and Venice was just around the corner. We finished watching the first movie just before we landed, but it was in the middle of the night. The streets were empty and Venice seemed like a quiet place. That is, until we woke up.

Venice wasn’t so quiet after all. It was full of tourists, birds and, old buildings and churches, which means lots of history. The first thing we did was take a little trip around Saint Mark’s square to the Rialto Bridge. Then we took a ride on a gondola. After that, we ate some pasta (which was almost the only thing we ate during the whole trip). We just walked back and forth for the rest of the day, except when I wanted to sit in the hotel room and relax. (Mom didn’t like it when I wanted to relax.)

We visited The Doge’s Palace the next day. The Palace has thousands of beautiful rooms and lots of paintings. We had to turn and read many pages in our guide-book to learn the whole story. We ate some really good pizza, but we didn’t eat the whole thing, saving the rest in a doggy bag. It was fun to walk around and look in all the stores which were full of carnival masks and glass. We also took a trip around the islands. They were all very nice and very different from each other. The last island, the Lido, was the only island with CARS, and water that you could actually swim in. It has a very nice beach there.

Mom bought a book for me, which I hadn’t started reading. I thought it looked a bit boring but I wanted to give it a shot. We sat on the beach and read. I was kind of right about the book being boring but I hadn’t read any books except Twilight the past six months, so I was a bit desperate. When we got back to the hotel we watched one episode of 30 Rock on mom’s iPad. I couldn’t fall asleep that night because I was so hungry. We had leftover pizza in the mini fridge, so I took it out carefully so I wouldn’t wake up mom and ate it in the bathroom.

On day number three, we visited a big beautiful church with lots of amazing art and paintings. We later went to the Venice Biennale. It has lots of modern art that didn’t make any sense to me. I was reading most of the day when we weren’t walking. Mom wanted to take the boat through the Grand Canal during the night. She hoped there would be beautiful lights from all the houses in the canal. But she found out most of the houses were empty.

The fourth and last day, we took one last Gondola ride. But taking a ride early in the morning wasn’t that smart. The garbage boats were taking out the trash and it smelled awful. On the boat to the airport we met a Norwegian from Bergen, who really, really liked to talk. She was traveling alone and needed some company. We finally got rid of her when we took our seats on the plane.

When we got home, Vikki had grown a lot. She also had gotten into the habit of chasing our pet rabbit, Lurve. And eating his food, which he wasn’t too happy about. Lena and I kept on watching Ugly Betty. I finished reading my boring book. But mom had bought me another book and three books for my sister, Silje. I finished the next book pretty fast. But I took one of Silje’s books and kept it safe from her claws. Mom bought three other books for me. I finished the first one, but the other two books were boring. So I read the book I stole from Silje. It took me one morning to finish it. It was way more interesting than the first one.

I was really lazy the next two weeks when I didn’t have a book to read. But I got a new one when Vikki and I went with dad to his office in Oslo. That one went way fast too. Vikki had a big fan club at dad’s office, no matter how many times she peed on the floor. She was definitely popular.

Lena spent time in Molde during the summer, so I didn’t see her a lot until the end of the summer. Instead, a little girl named Julie, who had found out where we lived, came EVERYDAY to see Vikki and cuddle her to death. Luckily, Erle-Marlene moved in next door with her puppy Ziro. She saved the last week of summer from being total boredom. Now the summer holiday is over and school has begun. Let’s just hope Julie won’t pop up just as much.”

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Day 145 – 8.06 miles (965.17 total)

I am constantly amazed by the number of people who give of themselves, who volunteer and help the community with little or no fanfare. I walked with one of those people today.

I first met Kim Waalkes at City High School, where my son, Liam and her daughter, Erika are entering sophomore year in high school. She seemed to be everywhere — PTSA meetings, helping at school functions like the annual City High auction and other school events and meetings.

Simply put, she is one of those parents that you want volunteering at your kid’s school. This year, Kim will be president of the City High PTSA (a position held by Wayne Glatz for the two years prior, another parent who has given so much time and energy to the school).

Kim and I walked two hours today and talked about our families and upcoming school events and issues. It was a really fun walk and the two hours passed quickly. We walked the length of Riverside Park and made it past Fifth Third Ballpark before we turned around for the return trip.

Our family is lucky to send our children to some of the best schools in West Michigan (and the state, for that matter). City High consistently ranks among the top schools in Michigan. Daisy is going to Blandford School in the fall, one of the most amazing school years a child could ever imagine. Gwen will be at C.A. Frost for kindergarten, a unique school that focuses on the environment. In the past, we sent our children to the Grand Rapids Child Discovery Center, an incredible school with caring, wonderful teachers that uses the Reggio Emilia model of teaching.

The secret to improving schools is not to push more money at problems (though the Grand Rapids Public Schools could certainly use more of it). The secret is parent involvement. All the schools we have been part of have amazingly dedicated parents who care about their children and the quality of the schools that they attend.

They are filled with people like Kim Waalkes and her husband Jon, people who give of themselves so all of the students can succeed, not just their own. Our schools do not need federal programs like No Child Left Behind or state tests like MEAP to measure success. Our schools need parents who care.

[Link to original article...]

The Hake’s three-year-old, well-designed 900 sq ft cabin is the perfect destination point for two couples who want to get lost in nature, play games and to get to know, to really get to know, each other better. The cabin is located in a pristine forest of ancient Ponderosa Pine on the edge of a fertile 260 ft canyon wall. While we couldn’t confirm it, Ken claims that a meandering stream teeming with native brown and rainbow trout awaits anyone who ventures a long slide down the steep canyon walls. The official mailbox is Long Pine, NE, but to access their forest home, one must drive ten miles on a dirt road north off Highway 20.

If you were blindfolded and airlifted into the cabin, it would be easy to believe that you were in the mountains of Colorado. It’s a very special place with a plethora of both whitetail and mule deer, giant turkeys, porcupines, blue birds, pine martins, rattlesnakes, bobcats and more. At night, the stars come to visit and put on a spectacular display of lights. The sunrises from our bedroom are what I would love to see when I wake up in the morning every day for the rest of my life.

Ken and Maureen brought in food supplies and wine for the three days and two nights we spent with them. Once you get to this special secluded spot, you want to stay put and enjoy some of the best that Mother Nature has to offer. The Hake’s knew this in advance and planned accordingly.

We knew that Ken would be passionate about winning any and all games that we played. I think it has something to do what with him being raised in a small rural town, Leigh, Nebraska. Perhaps it was the water or it could have been the DDT he brushed his teeth with as a child. But little did we know the passion; I mean THE PASSION that he has for everything he decides to do.

Ken and Maureen own the 200 acres of land that surround the cabin. And when Ken walks his property, he truly becomes THE ERADICATOR. If he sees a weed he doesn’t like, he destroys it with a passion; and “Not in a shy way!” as Frank Sinatra croons in one of his songs. Ken’s ultimate passion, perhaps hatred is the better word, is reserved for the dastardly, invasive red cedar that populate his land. He becomes a pyromaniac if need be and much more when it comes to these scum bags. And I must say, he makes a very convincing argument for why these bastards need to die, and to die now, before they destroy his sanctuary.

I guess in two words, Ken does everything “His Way.” Most people eat almonds. Not Ken. He prefers to scarf almonds. Many people are quite competitive and will at times beat up on their opponents. Not Ken. He prefers to fleece them. If he loses two times in a row, he will attempt to enlist Maureen’s support with, “Now, let’s fleece the Kelly’s.” However, Maureen does not always take Ken seriously and often refers to him as The Fabricator.

In spite of Ken’s unique personality, one of his most redeeming features is his passion of 47 years for his wife, Maureen. It is a joy to be around a man that radiates his love, admiration, and friendship for his best friend, his life-long companion, Maureen Foley Hake—the Eradicator’s sweet thang.

P.S. Oh, I must not forget. When you stay with the Hake’s at their cabin in paradise for two days, you will be required to participate with them in one of their most sacred of rituals. At 4:30 PM, Monday thru Friday, the best wine and cheese is served and the television is turned on for thirty minutes. Get comfortable because it’s time to watch Jeopardy. And the best entertainment is watching Maureen, not Ken or the three contestants on the large flat-screen television, come up with the correct answers first. Man, she is good! But then, life is good with the Hake’s.

P.S.S. If you’re curious, we played Qwerkle, Euchre, Mexican Train, Thirty-One and nine rounds of Golf, a game of cards. And yes, the Hake’s fleeced the Kelly’s. Ken says the next time we play for money or mortgages, whichever is more solvent.

I saw it first on a Facebook post by one of my granddaughters. “Hannah Claire Kelly is going to get a dog!!! SO HAPPY, life is good.” Could it be really be? I thought any chance of that was kyboshed many years ago. But as I read the FB comments to her post, I realized it wasn’t a done deal; at least not yet.

Hannah has been an avid girl scout for the last nine years. She also has a very special connection with dogs. If it had been up to her, there would have been a family dog for all of the fifteen years of her life. But after Mandy—a pet golden retriever who died when Hannah was seven—her parents said, “No more dogs.”

Hannah could have lived with that decision. That is until she read the story about a young lady who had trained a guide dog. It was the featured story in The Golden Link, a monthly magazine published by the Girl Scouts. The Texas teenager provided a foster home for a nine-week-old puppy; raising him until he was sixteen months old. During that time, she taught the dog 40+ commands and exposed him to many types of social situations. For this community service, she received The Gold Award—the highest honor you can receive as a Girl Scout.

Hannah had worked hard for her bronze and silver award. Now she knew how to get the gold. But the biggest hurdle to getting a dog (a golden retriever or a lab) would be her dad. Determined to make it a reality, she put together a 22-slide PowerPoint Presentation, which took her two-and-a-half weeks. Her goal: To convince her dad that she should be a “puppy raiser.” (See attached copy.) He was impressed with her creativity and due diligence. However, this would be a major commitment for the family. So he said that he would have to think on it.

Four days later, he told Hannah that the jury had made their final decision. Was she ready for it? Her hopes hit rock bottom, when she saw his deadpanned expression. Then he announced his verdict, “I know you will have many obstacles ahead of you. But I won’t be one of them. You have my approval to send in your application to be a foster mother for a potential “dog of service.”

Hannah’s Power Point Presentation

What is Faith?

By Erika Waalkes, Age 15

For me, “Faith” is a very complex word. For many people this is the word they live by, and for others it is not even part of their life.

When I looked up faith in the dictionary, one of the definitions was, “any set of firmly held principles or beliefs.” This can mean so many different things. It can refer to religion, what you believe, or it can simply be how you live your life.

For me personally, I see faith as how I journey through life and my values; being a good person, helping others, and working hard to achieve my dreams. In other words, I try to live by the golden rule. Treating others how I want them to treat me. I think this is a rule everyone should live by.

Ironically, the golden rule is found in all major religions, just in different words. In Buddhism it is, “hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful.” In Hinduism it is, “this is the sum of duty; do naught onto others what you would not have them do unto you.” And what I appreciate about these words is that growing up and going to All Souls Church, I have learned that these are powerful words of wisdom. If everyone lived by them, the world would be at peace.

For many people, their faith is dependent on their belief in a higher power than themselves. They worship and pray to this God or Gods. Living in west Michigan, I have been asked many times about my religion. Depending on who the person is, I’ll explain what I believe and what kind of church I go to. After describing my faith, I am often asked, “Do you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” I’ll say, “No, but I respect what you believe.” Normally, I’m criticized for what I believe, and the person tries to save me. I wonder why? If I respect and honor what they believe, why can’t they afford to do the same for me?

Many people who believe in God say that it helps them to be a good person; it gives them comfort in their journey through life. I respect this. However, at this point in time, I don’t believe in God or any higher power.

For me growing up as a Unitarian/Universalist has significantly influenced my life. I think that learning the “Seven (7) Principles” has made me a better person. It has taught me that if you are kind to everyone, life will be so much more enjoyable. It has also helped me in school. In seventh grade, my history teacher handed out a quiz on Buddhism. I was the only student to receive an A. I am sure that was because I had learned about all the major religions in church.

Being a part of the “Coming of Age” program, I have learned more about Unitarian Universalism. I have many good memories, and I have improved my public speaking. I look forward to taking the skills that I have learned through this program, and applying them throughout my life. I have also discovered what “faith” means to me, and how I apply it to my life. I ask that when you go home, to think about if faith is part of your life. If so, what does it mean to you? How does it guide your life?

Mark Allen Evans, a first cousin, called me on the phone in the fall of 2009 from Boise, Idaho and asked if I was amenable to getting together with him and Keith Edwin Stansell, another cousin, at my Tucson home. He said something about the commonality of our intellectual gifts and his intuition some serendipitous good could come from it. Keith (71), Mark (63), and Yours Truly (67) have never been close. Other than being first-born, we couldn’t be more dissimilar, or so I thought, as we’ve traveled such totally different roads during our lifetimes. In spite of it, I thought it would be fun to share family stories and our unique histories because of the diversity.

Mark and I knew the biggest roadblock to a visit was Keith. I’m not sure what scared him most. Perhaps it was the idea of riding in a car with Mark for 2,000 miles or his apprehension of spending too much time with me. But, it was Mark’s problem to convince Keith to join us. While the two of them were never buddies, most of their adult lives had been spent circumventing the road of hard knocks. Both of them were married three times, were now single, had survived years of addiction problems, and now had no retirement nest eggs. However, they were cum laude graduates from the School of Hard Knocks.

When Mark called thirty days ago, he was convinced, although not certain that the two of them would begin their journey to Tucson in late February. I’m not sure if it was Keith’s kids or siblings who convinced him, but all of them told him to go, that it would be good for him. Maybe at his age, this would be the last time he’d be able to make such a trip. On the day before they left, Mark called to say it was a go and that Keith’s chance to see his son Mike on the way down had clinched the deal.

However, there was one big hitch on their trip down. Mark ran out of gas just north of Flagstaff. But, with lady luck, he hitched a ride within a few minutes of their untimely stop, albeit on the bed of an open pickup from two attractive Navajo women. Fortunately, the nearest gas station was two miles away because at thirty degrees, you can hunker down only so far in the bed of a moving truck. Cold is cold.

When Mark and Keith finally arrived at our home at 11:00 PM on Wednesday, they were starving. My wife, Helen, was prepared with hot chicken tomatillo posole soup and quesadillas. That meal commenced a four-day talkathon. You’d think the guys would’ve been exhausted, but they were ready for some serious reminiscing and we didn’t head to bed until 12:30 AM.

Keith and Helen were the first to get up. When I joined them, Keith was wound up like the energizer bunny, ready for conversation. A few minutes later, a disheveled Mark staggered to the kitchen, telling us he had been awakened by the lively chatter and hoped he hadn’t missed anything. From that point at 8:00 AM, there wasn’t a lull in the conversation until thirteen hours later when we decided to call it a day. (If someone had told me beforehand that this was possible, I wouldn’t have believed it.) We packed the day with non-stop stories, heart-rending confessions, gut-wrenching laughter. We were old-men shedding tears, boys being boys, and trying as best we could to do animated imitations of our Grandpa Vern Evans. Despite several Mina moments (memory lapses), we were grateful that Mark acted on his intuition.

On Friday, we started at 7:00 AM and did not take a break, except for meals, and even then didn’t stop talking, until we went to bed at 10:00 PM. At no time during those two days did I get bored, thinking I had enough. I knew such a point would come if we allowed it, but plans were for Mark and Keith to leave on Saturday. And for the three of us, it turned out to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, a poignant, soul-stirring reunion.

After Mark returned home, he made the following Facebook post: “It was a week both magnificent and sublime—an experience that cannot be lost or taken away—for three first-born cousins who’ve come full circle in their lives and found each other again in time and space with nearly identical intellectual, philosophical and emotional states of being. It was an elevating and emotional experience filled with extreme synchronicity.”

Keith said several times that he couldn’t remember ever having a better time. In an email he confessed: “After the first fifteen minutes with Mark, what with us exchanging stories so easily, I had no more reservations about spending four days in a car with him. From experience, I’ve learned it’s hard for me to go on a road trip more than twenty-four hours with even the most compatible of companions. Even when Mark insisted he knew a better route than our GPS system suggested, I smiled and said to myself, ‘I don’t have a time limit.’ I hope Mark enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed his. Extending the trip a few hours gave us more time to gab.”

So what made the reunion work so well? I think it’s because we have so much in common—the same intensity, drive, and need to say what we say loudly (it’s probably because we’re hard of hearing). We are three peas in a pod when it comes to our politics, religion and compassion for the human condition. We unconditionally love our families, in spite of what we or they may have done inappropriately. We can openly admit mistakes, have learned from past errors of judgments, want to continually improve our thinking skills, aren’t inclined to blame the supernatural for the good and evil in the world, and we are unable to believe in faith-based assumptions.

Before sharing a few of the stories we told, let’s fast forward to Saturday afternoon. While Mark and Keith were driving home, three hours from Las Vegas, Mark called his sister Lynn. To his surprise, she and her sisters Nina and Ruth were in Vegas celebrating Lynn’s 60th birthday. It didn’t take long to schedule a second serendipitous reunion.

Keith described this chance meeting as “an amazing coincidence to have Mark’s sisters attending a Scrabble marathon in Vegas, when we had no idea where they were before deciding to take a different route home.”

Keith went on to say, “I’m so glad ‘the girls’ decided to come find us after we reached the MGM Grand parking garage. That place is so big, and they knew we’d get lost. While wandering through the MGM maze, Lynn and Ruth magically appeared. At first I thought it was a mirage. The girls laughed hysterically at the puzzled look on my face. How they found us, I don’t know—maybe luck or divine intervention by a higher power.”

Maybe it’s an Evans thing to get sidetracked but I wanted to share that story before sharing more about the Tucson reunion. Keith had the most to say and his openness and naiveté were catalytic. He loves telling stories, although is easily distracted. When you close your eyes and listen, it’s Grandpa talking, and he imitates Grandpa’s GODDD damn IT! to perfection.

The most heartbreaking story Keith shared was about the time he went to visit Grandma at the rest home near the end of her life journey. When Grandma saw Keith, she said, “I think I know you.”

“Yes, you do,” Keith replied.

Grandma looked into his eyes and said, “Yes, but I don’t know your name.” She hesitated and thought, “You’re someone who loves me.”

That story still brings tears to my eyes. Oh my, how we loved Grandma and Grandpa Evans. We paid tribute to them many times during our reunion, bringing tears or laughter depending on the story we told.

Some of the funniest stories Keith told were about him and his dad’s second wife, Dorothy. While she was a hardworking, devoted wife, she and Keith could be like vinegar and water at times. And when she’d get angry and frustrated with him, she’d leap out of her chair and shout, “FIE! FIE! FIE (sounds like HI) on you Keith!” and disappear into her bedroom.

On one occasion while Keith, his dad, Edwin, and Dorothy were having lunch, Keith asked if he could have more milk, as the four-ounce glass Dorothy gave him wasn’t enough. And then he added, “I could drink a gallon of milk a day.”

Dorothy replied, not loudly, but with some emphasis, “Nobody can drink a gallon of milk a day.” Keith wasn’t about to be contradicted and told her he could, and that he hadn’t said I did drink a gallon of milk everyday. He had just said he could…that he had done it several times in the past.

Dorothy’s response was louder. “Nobody can drink a gallon of milk a day!” Edwin quietly shrunk down in his chair, making it clear that he didn’t want to take sides in this argument.

Keith, now defiant, replied more loudly, “WELL, I CAN!”

Dorothy, not to be outdone, screamed, “N-O-B-O-D-Y CAN DRINK A GALLON OF MILK A DAY!”

Edwin decided to mediate and quietly said, “If you grew up on a farm and had all the milk you wanted to drink, you were able to drink more milk than most people.” It was his way of trying to diffuse the situation without saying either Dorothy or Keith were totally wrong

But that enraged Dorothy and she started screaming, “NOBODY CAN DRINK A GALLON OF MILK A DAY. FIE! FIE! FIE ON BOTH OF YOU!” She then ran upstairs and wasn’t seen for the rest of the day.

Keith said he didn’t know how his dad got over it, but Edwin had seen his boys drink a gallon of milk and knew it could be done.

Most of the Keith’s stories were self-effacing, and a few were a bit raunchy. When you’ve been married three times and been intimate friends with several bipolar lady friends over a fifty-year period, you accumulate fodder for ribald storytelling. Keith confessed when he left that he had many more tales he could have told. Maybe he’d share them on the next visit.

My favorite story was about Maria, his second wife. There was a significant age difference between the two and he knew upfront she wasn’t a cook. But she wanted to learn. After finding out he liked macaroni and cheese, she prepared that for his first meal. Keith had worked hard moving irrigation pipes that morning and he found the meal quite good and told her so. For lunch the next day, she served him hot macaroni and cheese, as she did for day three and four. On the fifth day, when Keith saw what Maria had prepared for his lunch, he instinctively, not intelligently, reacted, “GODDD damn IT! Maria, can’t you make anything but macaroni and cheese?”

Mark was less inclined to tell stories about his ex-wives and lady friends. He preferred to share detailed memories and insights about his dad and mom and how he had lost his way, getting wrapped up in his needs. His observations were often unpredictable but thought-provoking. Like, Dad was not a noble sufferer or you can’t fix stupid.

One of the stories I shared relates to my relationship with Grandma and Grandpa. Shortly after I was born, my mother decided I’d be better off raised by my grandparents. So I spent the first four months of my life at their ranch home in Robin, Idaho under their exclusive care. After Mom married Richard P. Kelly and they found a home and a job in Southern California early in 1944, she had a change of heart and decided she wanted to raise me.

You would have thought that early history ordained me with some preferential treatment. However, thirty-five years later, Grandma confessed that while she and Grandpa loved all their grandchildren the same, “Lynn Evans is our favorite.” But of course, if you know Lynn you can understand.

Grandpa also let a memorable faux pas slip, one related to Keith’s brother Ron. While Ron and Carolyn were in Homedale during their first missionary sabbatical, Grandpa asked, “So Ronny, are you going to get a real job now?” Ron didn’t want to hurt Grandpa’s feelings so he quickly changed the subject, although at the time, it hurt Ron’s feelings.

If you have read this far, I hope you’ve been amused and are happy for the three of us. Describing any memorable experience is best done when that description includes more than one point of view. And so, I’d like to stop now and let Mark share his heartfelt feeling about our Tucson reunion.

“As people read this account of what for me was The Trip of a Lifetime, I’m sure it will be interpreted in different ways. Dick thought of it as serendipitous, and Keith cathartic. For me, it was like a birth. No one forgets the birth of a child, and I’ll relegate our experience to that level.

“It’s amazing what can happen when a brief thought is followed up with action. I realized two years ago that Keith, Dick and I were the oldest siblings in our families, shared similar philosophies, and had unique experiences with our grandparents and parents. What might happen if we got together and shared stuff? But none of us were prepared for the magic that unfolded.

“We’ve been separated by years, geography, and lifestyles, but we discovered that in all our differences, we’re so much alike. We shared our love and appreciation for each other. Dick and Helen were marvelous hosts and Helen, accommodated us so we could simply talk. And talk we did, sprinkled with everything from ribald laughter to tearful poignancy.

“Dick said we’ve lived totally different lives, and that’s true. He appears to have set goals and stuck with them, although I’m certain there’ve been a few blips in the past. While Dick’s life has been meaningful specific, Keith and I have lived lives of wandering generalities. Dick made a single marriage work well, while Keith and I’ve been married three times, and we agree that it will stop there. We have led hedonistic and debauched lifestyles at times, getting lost in our love for women and other things. However, give credit to Keith and me for making that final turn to sensibility.

“The conversations during our reunion were no holds barred, as we bared our souls and talked about things we wouldn’t want to repeat outside our little circle. Keith and I have thought of additional things we’d like to address and are making a mental list for another time. The reunion didn’t seem to last long enough, but by the same token, we didn’t wear out our welcome, and all three of us realize we ended with the concept of to be continued.

“There are things that oldest siblings have in common, apart from what middle and youngest siblings share. We come into the world without playmates in the home for at least a few years. We learn to use our imaginations in a different way when we play. Relationships with our parents and other people are different. And, in our cases, we happen to have spent a lot of time with our grandparents.

“I’ve never witnessed more respect and courtesy. For three men who like to talk, there was very little toe-mashing. The floor was yielded easily. At times, specific topics would get lost and we’d meander through a maze of unrelated subjects. It was impossible to stay on track. We lost a few tales here and there, but we weren’t there to discuss anything in particular, and it was a joyous ride. The conversations were like our navigational skills, getting lost en route due to nonstop talking and skillful listening, although we eventually got back on track. Hell, getting lost was sometimes fun.

“The serendipitous events that led to meeting my sisters in Las Vegas added another wonderful chapter to our trip. I seldom get to see my sister Ruth, and that added three inches of icing to an already tall cake. While in Vegas, Keith revealed another serendipitous occurrence. The last time he was there was 1948, and I was with him. Edwin, Vera, and Keith were going to visit Dick’s mom, Faye, and my mother and I tagged along so Mom could visit with her parents in Los Angeles.

“After the visit with Nina, Lynn, and Ruth, we immediately found a cheap hotel and hit the rack. Keith woke up a little after 4:00 AM and asked if I was ready to get up. I told him simply, ‘Hell No!’ But as Keith ambled into the shower, I laid there thinking he hadn’t had the opportunity to see the Strip in the dark, so I got up. We drove up and down the main drag, over sixty years since Keith had last seen the bright lights of Vegas.

“Dick and Keith, I love you guys and know the feeling is mutual. As a young adult it often occurred to me that I wanted to lead a life with no regrets. I now realize that trip was impossible. But at 63, I have a good sense of self and the future. I’ve experienced a feeling that bringing family together should be one of my endeavors, to connect with people I love. Besides, in the feudal sense, I’m the oldest son of the oldest son of the oldest son of an oldest son. Why shouldn’t it be my responsibility?”

Postscript 1 from the author: As I waited for Keith and Mark to arrive, I had a premonition the reunion could be very special, like visits with my grandparents at their ranch in Robin, Idaho, as a boy. It was a place and time where I was showered with unconditional love, laughed a lot, and felt safe and happy to be me.

I happened to be outside when Mark and Keith arrived. It was dark but their silhouettes in the Buick’s windows were pleasing and friendly. Keith wore his hat in the car and I could imagine Grandpa doing that. Hugging was easy, without resistance or awkward turning to the side. I proudly walked them through the garage and showed them their home for the next three nights. As I helped Keith bring in his luggage, enough for six people, he said, “Thanks for inviting us to your lovely home. I’d like my daughter Kristi to visit with you sometime.” An out-of-the-blue statement that said so much more to me about his positive expectations for this visit.

The good chemistry between us was immediate. These guys were family and shared my DNA. Helen liked them too. Although Mark and Keith physically appeared as the odd couple, they emanated love and respect for each other. Considering some of the wrong turns and mishap on their drive down, they could have showed up as the Bickersons. But that wasn’t the case.

Our questioning natures really made the visit work for the three of us. It isn’t that we deny all hypothesis, it’s just that’s what we see most assumptions to be. Searching for the truth is fine. But when we’re told by someone who says they’ve found the truth, we see red flags. Keith calls it arrogance. Our common skill, a bullshit filter, wasn’t appreciated or cultivated by our parents while growing up. I in particular, due to religious abuse as a child, have never been one to believe something is so because someone says the Bible says it’s so or that only an idiot cannot believe in God. And now, I find I’m not alone.

We also share a commonality in avoiding a religious confrontation, but if you push or try to make us feel guilty, we’ll push back.

Several hours into our reunion, I did in fact feel like I was back in Robin. No, Robin had come to Tucson. Instead of the lilting cadence of Grandpa’s speech patterns, it was Keith and Mark’s. Keith even talked like Grandpa, and Mark had his wits. They knew how to laugh (Keith long, Mark short) just like Grandpa, and how to tell, no embellish, a story like only Grandpa and his brothers could do. Why even Helen fussed over us like Grandma used to. Yes, Robin had come to Tucson. However, I now had a mature, intellectual understanding of the world, but I was in that same safe place, sharing unique beliefs about the world without being made to feel guilty. And I liked being me, and I genuinely liked Keith and Mark.

I don’t ever recall being in such a compelling comfort zone as an adult. It was like we were three seasoned soul brothers, when in fact we were just getting to know each other for the first time. Our shared history helped, but our commonality was constantly getting spelled out in capital letters. I didn’t stop to analyze it at the time, I just thoroughly enjoyed the ride.

We identified an irony during the visit and spent a good bit of time brooding over it. Our grandparents, good as they were in that role, spawned lots of pain raising their children—our parents. It did not make Grandma and Grandpa bad people. All parents mess up or damage their kids. Not intentionally, as that’s the nature of parenting. All parents learn on the fly. However, we decided there were three levels to messing up. Those levels are minimal, severe and somewhere in-between. It was our collective wisdom, open to debate, that our parents, Ross, Vera, and Faye, were severely damaged from bad parenting. And the irony is that Grandma and Grandpa got it “oh so right” as grandparents, we being the fortunate recipients of those talents.

How did we rate our parenting skills? We broached that subject but we’ll leave that up to our kids to report. It was also agreed that we should and have forgiven our parents for the damage they inflicted upon us. Maybe they’ve forgiven us. But in spite of our checkered life journeys, at least as our parents assessed our travels, we’ve turned out pretty damn good.

In fact, I had an interesting phone conversation with Keith’s daughter, Kristi Szendre, shortly after Keith and Mark left on Saturday. She was very pleased that everything had gone so well at the reunion. Then, several days later she confessed the following in an outstandingly astute email:

“My dad is one of the most compassionate of men, with a large capacity to love and forgive, although not easily towards himself.

“There is a frequent misconception that once one forgives another, or oneself, all is healed, with no further need to forgive. I think it is more likely that someone worthy of forgiveness will need to be forgiven over and over. Especially when trying to forgive oneself. I am making an assumption that this was part of the deep conversation and tears the three of you shared.

“My dad and I suffer from having a deep dark side; the evil anti-Kristi, and anti-Keith. It’s possible many of the Evans family have this affliction, expressing itself in lack of self-control, obsessive, self-destructive behavior, raging, and sometimes straight up cruelty to those we love. The opposite side to this coin is the ability to have real compassion and empathy for those people we meet who’ve suffered real intra-personal pain. That is the ability to say, “you can be forgiven and loveable no matter what you have done or what you have been through in life.” And as we offer this to others, we allow ourselves to offer it to ourselves a little at a time.

“I wonder if some of this was behind your mom’s and Vera’s (Keith’s mom) addiction to religion. Was it their expression of obsessive behavior and used in ways to avoid worse, more self-destructive behaviors? Daddy has replaced his more detrimental obsessive behavior with computers. On most days he has learned to accept his humanity. But, there’s still angst at times wondering if his dad or mom would forgive him. Have you experienced similar emotions?

“I am just so thrilled that you, Mark and my dad were able to share this experience. Do I rattle on just like my Dad or what? ”

Postscript 2 Mark describes the love as he felt it: “A truly wonderful thing happened at our reunion—intimacy. Three mature, self-deprecating men were totally open and honest with each other. I don’t ever recall being that open with anyone or at any time in my lifetime.

“I learned a lot about Keith’s siblings during our adventure to and from Tucson. But if there is one very apparent thing, it was Keith’s love for them. And that wasn’t exclusive to Keith. I think as oldest siblings, we are given responsibilities to care for our younger brothers and sisters and learn to think of them in unique ways. I know that I gained a greater appreciation and love for my brother and sisters.

“It was inevitable that we’d talk about our individual families. These discussions ranged from humorous experiences to differences in philosophy, but never maliciously. And we came away with a greater understanding of ourselves and them. Trust me; we were never as hard on our parents and siblings as we were on ourselves.”

Mark summed up our collective learning curve from the reunion with: “Intellect and love are seldom used in the same sentence. Perhaps the right word is rapport. But, a shared intellect with people close to you goes beyond rapport. When you find you have so much in common, love has to be part of that equation. It isn’t so much what you share, but how you share it.

“I felt love knowing Keith is normally uncomfortable with touchy-feely situations and watching him unabashedly embrace his cousins. I felt love as Dick told me how much my father would have embraced the Mark he saw in Tucson. I felt love as I watched the laughter and tears we shared. I felt love in the stories of our grandparents and how we embraced them. I felt love and respect exploring our philosophies, finding many commonalities. Even when we disagreed, we did it agreeably. I felt love in our eagerness to explore deep secrets with an intimacy few adults are willing to partake.”

The Last Word: Okay, since he’s the oldest, I’ll let Keith have it, “The three of us, with little previous contact in our lives, did more than bond. I think we parted with a newfound love for each other that would have been hard to admit to a few years ago.”

And in Keith’s inimitable way, here’s why we cannot tell you more: “Sometimes it is better not to share too much with those outside the circle of three. It may be better to be a little mysterious as ‘a lady fully clothed can be sexier than one totally in the nude.’ So we’ll just be ‘showing a little leg,’ as they say, with a smile…”