SquareKnotism

As a young child I never was hungry, cold or without shoes on my feet. However, I knew things were tight as far as money went. We had cows for milk ,cheese and meat. Dad hunted for wild meat. Our garden produced tons of vegetables and berries. We picked hundreds of gallons of huckleberries to be sold and traded. Mom watched her pennies carefully to get us the things we needed. Both mother and father taught me that it is important not to spend more than you have, and to make do with what you have.

When I was  11 everyone around us was getting motorcycles. All the families in the neighborhood owned one it seemed. Motorized trail bikes that could go into the mountains seemed to me to be something that our family needed. After all we could get more huckleberries if we had a motorcycle. I let my wishes be known to my parents. One day Mom and Dad announced that they were going to Idaho Falls for the day and would be bringing back a surprise. I was sure it was going to be a motorcycle . I anxiously awaited their return. When they returned instead of a motorcycle the surprise was a croquet set.  I was sorely disappointed. I went off alone and sulked while the rest of the family were setting up the new croquet set. Mom  found me and put her arm around me. She explained how Dad had wanted more the anything to get us a trail bike. However, the money just wasn’t there. They thought that the family would  together enjoy the croquet set. She told me if I were patient as a family we  would earn the money to get a motorbike. Together Mom and I joined the family playing croquet. Our family played croquet hundreds of hours and loved every minute of it. Mom was right, after a couple of years, when we had the means, we brought a Hodaka 90cc motorized bicycle.

I have always tried the avoid dept and live within my means as I was taught. Somethings it’s been a hard thing to do. But I know it’s paid off many times. I tend to think that if Mom and Dad were still alive they could teach the men and women in Washington a lot about  how to run a budget. I know one thing, there would be no new motorcycles until the budget was balanced. Maybe a couple of long games of croquet with the President and Congress would be a good idea.

Squareknot and I had a great scoutmaster Fred Miller. He happened to be one of my father’s uncles. Uncle Fred had been a scoutmaster for many years. He would constantly teach us to be prepared for any experience that might come our way. We were taught to have a back pack with 3 days of food and gear always ready to go.  He would call us at any time to meet, ready for an over nighter. Sometimes we would go camping and sometimes not but we were ready. One time we were told to come to the church with only what we could fit in our pockets. We then were taken up a canyon and dropped off. We spent the night and most of the next day in the woods.

When the fire had burned down at night Uncle Fred would teach us by telling his life experiences. One such experience he told often:  When he was a younger man he was asked to guide girls and their leaders on trails in the Teton mountians. He did this often and enjoyed it. As a guide he felt he should be prepared. He accordingly prepared a small pack with a first aid kit and emergence supplies. He also took the time to learn a then new form of life saving called CPR or cardiopulmonary resuscitation, just in case. One sunny summer day he was leading a group of about 40 girls up to the wind caves at the head of Darby Canyon on the west side of the Tetons.  After a 2.5 mile hike they arrived at the caves when a severe thunder storm rolled into the granite walled canyon. The group of girls ran for protection under a giant pine tree as rain came pouring down. Uncle Fred immediately saw the danger and yelled at the girls to get out from under the tree. Lighting stuck first hitting the tree then the girls under it. Next it bounced off of the granite walls striking all who where standing. Uncle Fred was hit however his steel healed boots grounded him so he lived. Many were killed instantly.  Uncle Fred started CPR on those he felt had a chance. Leaders that were there would later say his quick action saved over 5 lives. Being prepared had allowed him to respond quickly to save himself and others. He always taught us if you are prepared you need not fear.

Both Squareknot and I can tell you that this lesson has kept us out of harms way many times. Prepare yourself for the unexpected so that when it comes you will be ready for it.  I think I’ll go help Squareknot build a survival kit. See ya next time.

Drawing of SquareKnot standing for service before self. Drawn by Dylan Detlor

As more people are tuning  to Squareknotism. I thought it was time to review who Squareknot is and tell you a little about him. Squareknot is my personal  superhero.  He and I talk and comunicate almost daily. He has been around ever since I remember. It took me a while to reconize how powerful he is. The Point is that I believe each of you has a superhero like unto Squareknot if you will only get to know him or her. The following are some facts about sqk.

• Square Knot doesn’t know exactly how old he is. All he knows is that he has been helping people as long as he can remember.
• SquareKnot is 6 feet tall. He has blond hair and hazel eyes. Yes, he does wear glasses.
• SquareKnot’s favorite movie is Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Jimmy Stewart is his hero.
• SquareKnot was a boy scout and knew the founder, Bayton Powell.
• SquareKnot’s shoe size is 10 and he wears sandals except when it is very very cold.
• His favorite car is a Volkswagen minivan because it can be used for so many things. SquareKnot is always resourceful.
• When people ask SquareKnot where he is from he simply says that he is from wherever there is a need.
• SquareKnot’s favorite book is Call of the Wild by Jack London but Fellowship of the Ring by Tolkien is a close second.
• His favorite food is antelope tenderloins marinated for 24 hours and then cooked to medium over mesquite coals.
• Square Knot’s mission in life is to serve the downtrodden, lift the weak and inspire each individual to serve their fellow men.

At our house service was not a word that was used.  It was more a way of life.  If someone needed help, the help was given.  No questions, no conditions,  just helping a neighbor in need.  Mother and Father were fanatical about giving to whoever needed help.  Dad was a rural mail carrier, therefore, out in the community every day.  He always stopped to help  people.  Flat tires were changed, cars  pulled out of ditches, thousands of rides given. Mother was always baking bread and preparing meals for those who needed help.  We were taught to participate in helping, never asking payment for our service.

Every Year about 200 migrate workers came into the valley to pick peas.  When I was 16  disaster hit.  Four young Hispanic workers were murdered just outside of town.  The city Marshall was severely wounded as he tried to help the victims. It turned out that the murderer and his family lived next door.  I witnessed my mother and father put their selfless believe into action. The families of the dead were given meals, rides, clothing, what ever we had was offered.  We helped the Marshall’s family with chores on the farm. Our neighbor, whose family member had done an unthinkable act was also comforted and loved.  The idea that one gives whatever is needed, with whatever you have, to who ever needs it, has never left me.

Squareknot taught me years ago, that in order to be a Superhero one must put others before yourself. Unselfishness is the first principle Squareknot learned.  I asked him once where did he learn to be so giving.  He simply said “Your Father and Mother taught me.”  I don’t think he could have had a greater set of teachers.

When I married the love of my life I thought I was marrying the most thoughtful, kind, compassionate, charitable person I had ever known. After 33 years today I KNOW I married the most thoughtful, kind, compassionate, charitable person I have ever known. Those who know both Sandra and I know which one is the better half. Sandra words fall short. However I did find this Robert Burns Poem that’s a wee bit corny. Never the less, it sums up how I feel. Happy 33rd my dear.

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

A few Years ago Squareknot and I, with my family, visited the Vietnam memorial in Washington  D.C .  We wrote the following poem after reflecting on that experience.

A Debt Paid
admin – Squareknot
On a wall, cold and black
I slide my fingers across etched letters.
Thousands of hopes and dreams
Singing the notes and tunes of my generation.

Letters forming names,
Each singing a song of premature death.
Spent tears of family and friends,
For those who freely gave their blood to rice paddies far away.

Lotteries cold, unfeeling game of chance,
Passing me, calling them to fulfill our debt.
While they fought and died,
I was freed to sing, dance, and love.

My hand slows as I touch each name,
Confused tears of gratitude wet the earth.
We, left to carry the aspirations of the dead,
Must work for a future with the promise of peace.

Memorial Day was big deal at my house. Dad was a World War II Veteran and insisted that we participate in the early morning flag raising ceremony in our town every year. Often as a scout I was in the color guard. Dad did his best to help me understand that my freedom had come with a price, and many from my little valley had paid that price with their lives. When I was 15 or 16 dad got me up early to go to the flag raising. I was not happy about it, however, I went begrudgingly. During the flag raising ceremony I was talking to my friend Ronny and perhaps was a little disrespectful. When we got in the car to go home dad turned to me with tears, disappointment and rage. Using a deep powerful tone in his voice he gave me a chastisement I will never forget. He told me of the horror of the battle field, and how he had watched men mutilated, maimed, and killed, to give me the right to live free. He explained that because of the sacrifice of others I had the freedom to do as I pleased, however, if I were to stay in his house I had better treat my flag and country with deep respect. His speech bore deep into my soul. I somehow understood a little bit of the great price paid by those who fought for me.

Since that day every time I stand with my hand over my heart to sing the national anthem or say the pledge of allegiance, I get a lump in my throat and envision my father and others battling for my freedom. Often a small tear sneaks out and runs down my cheek.

When I started the 7th grade I had a lot of apprehension. 6th grade had been rough. My 7th grade science teacher was Mr. Chet Miller. An energetic, enthusiastic, and frankly kind of crazy teacher. Chet Miller was also my father’s Uncle. I therefore knew him as Uncle Chet. He was a carpenter, geologist, archeologist, leather worker, worker of lapidary, guitarist,artist, rock hound and many other talents. Uncle Chet’s influence changed my life. He took a skinny 7th grade boy unsure of himself and taught him a passion for science that I still enjoy today. Looking back I realize that he did it through his great love for me, his student, and his dedication to teaching science. However the hook and bait he used was his uncanny ability to tell stories, and relate them to any scientific subject. He definitely hooked me. I could listen to him all day.

I’ve tried to be a story teller, however, I’m no Uncle Chet. Years ago Mom recorded Uncle Chet telling one of his stories and wrote it down. I thought I would share it with You.

THE OUTHOUSE

It was a very chilly fall night almost bedtime and nature called. I had to go — out the back door, down the path to the “comfort spot” in the form of a little square tall house. I, being afraid of the dark, asked father to go with me and he consented. I grabbed a coat from the hook behind the door and started out. The night was dark and the air was crisp with a sliver of a moon low in the west. There were few night sounds; the quiet distant lowing of a cow and the rustle in the leaves near by, perhaps a mouse scurrying to it’s home under the wood shed. Once in the out house I dropped my coat, shivered a little and found the round place just my size. Leaving the door open I could see father sitting by on a log. Ah! What comfort. Suddenly, out of the night came this blood curdling cry, such as I had never heard. I sprang from my spot and with one bound I was outside and trying to run. But something had me and I could not move. This monster, this thing had me by the legs and would not let go. As I fell face forward in the path I screamed in agony; “Dad, save me, he’s got me and won’t let go”! Father, quite amused by it all, exclaimed, “For Hell sakes pull up your pants lad, so your legs can move and the monster will let go.”
Later we could see the source of the unearthly scream that had broken the stillness of the night and sent me into such a frenzy —– a screech owl, sitting calmly on the branches of a near by tree.

My twelfth birthday was a greatly anticipated event. I would be able to join boy scouts, get my hunting license, and just be a real cool dude. The day arrived it was great. Mom baked my favorite cake, orange, and I received a pocket knife. After school I was in my room examining my stuff when there was a knock at the door. Mom came over, putting her arms around me, and she said, “Son, I am so proud of you, you are getting so big and tall.” My chest puffed out a little. She then explained, ” Make sure you never grow so tall that you think you can’t kneel to say your prayers.” She kissed me on the cheek and left me to myself. Over the years birthdays have come and gone, however, my mothers words stay with me still. I have found when I am on my knees, I am a little more humble and less proud.
When my mother was older she acquired the horrible disease, Alzheimer’s. Her wonderful memory quickly began to fade. In a few short months she went from living in her own house, to living with my sister in Utah, to living with us in Arizona, then we put her in a care center a few blocks from our house. My sister in Arizona and I would visit her often though she seldom recognized us. One day during my visit I noticed that her knees were swollen, red, and bruised. I privately, quite concerned, discussed her knees with her nurse, wondering how the knees were allowed to look so bad. Mom’s nurse informed me that at night before bed, mom insisted on saying her prayers. They would help her with them then put her to bed. In a couple of hours they would check on her and she would be on her knees again forgetting she had already said prayers. Back in bed she was placed. Then a few hours later she was on her knees again. This had been going on for several nights resulting in her damaged knees. I thought then of her kind words given to me on my twelfth birthday, “Son never grow so tall that you can’t kneel to say your prayers”. Mother had forgotten almost every thing else but not how to kneel.
Just a few months after this event Heavenly Father took Mom home to her reward. I noticed her knees were swollen, red, and bruised. I think going before our maker with calloused knees is probably a good thing.

In the small town where I grew up was as amazing  store. The Rex-All Drug store was where all the action was. It had an ice cream fountain, comic books, model airplanes, model cars, and tons of toys. We spent hours there at the fountain and dreamed of buying all the neat toys.

In front of the fountain was a very long and tall counter with several rows filled with wonderful candy. On the lower rows were boxes and boxes of penny candies, licorice black and red, jaw breakers, many flavors of bubble gum and tons of other delectable selections. To a five or six year old boy the choices seemed endless. I would beg mom for pennies and nickels to buy a few tasty tidbits. However, that was often unsuccessful. I would then earn pennies doing chores or collecting pop bottles off the side of the road and trading them in for 2 cents a piece. I recall the pure pleasure of standing in front of the rows of sweets with a few coins in my small hands ready for my selection of sweetened morsels. After some time of painstaking deliberation I would take my selections to the check out . The clerk would place my morsels in a white drugstore bag. I would then run home drooling all the way. I recall my choices were most often rewarded with a explosion sweet goodness in my mouth. However there where times that my choice of candies resulted in bitter disappointment. Like my first sour patch candies, or the candy that tasted like dill pickles, Yuck.

Each day we make choices, some good, some bad. The point is to make choices the best we can. We may get a few pickle tasting sweets. However, for the most part our choices will be rewarded with an explosion of sweet goodness in our life. The point is to choose this day, not tomorrow. I would like a bag of bright red licorice please!

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