The Vanderschuit Voyage

New! My Other Blog

2012-02-08T17:41:00.000-08:00

Hey friends,

I wanted to take a moment to introduce my other blog that I finally created and posted onto for the first time today. It is called "My Journey from Atheism to Christianity" and can be found by clicking here or over on the right under "My Other Blog".

So many amazing, miraculous things have happened in my life (such as the miracles surrounding The Passing of My Father) that I decided to start the new blog to share them in all their glory - not the least of which is how I converted from a die-hard atheist into a Christian in 1993. Miracles and God's goodness abound everywhere in the accounts. Take a look at the new blog, subscribe if you like, and you will not be disappointed. And, please, do feel free to share this with whoever.

Blaine

P.S. I will still be posting to this blog from time to time, in the typical Vanderschuit Voyage fashion.

Questions for Santa

2011-12-05T14:22:00.000-08:00

My 10-year-old son Aaron has some unanswered questions for Santa that have left him distraught to the point of considering seeking remuneration for emotional and psychological damage.

Dear Santa,

1. How do you fit all those gifts in one bag?

2. Do you ever get sick from eating all those cookies?

3. How do you make the toys without being sued for copyright and trademark infringement?

4. How come none of my gifts ever say "from Santa"?

5. How do you get your bag down the chimney?

6. How come every Santa I take a picture with looks different?

7. When I saw you at Petco yesterday, why did you look like a woman dressed as you, and who were you texting?

8. How come they never pick up your workshop on radar?

9. How do you avoid setting off alarms in homes with security systems?

and lastly,

10. Do you know every language on earth?

I would ask you how you manage to deliver all those gifts in one night, but I figured out that has to do with a time dilation machine, which I suppose technically could be defined as "magic" by certain lawyers, but I feel a little bit condescended to when you tell me it's magic.

I also figured out why you never run behind schedule at the north pole. If you ever are behind, you just move back a time zone or two by stepping backwards.

Sincerely,
Aaron Vanderschuit

P.S. Any withholding of any owed holiday cheer or "naughty listing" will result in my exposing you as a fraud and a cheat (however, answering the above questions will go a long way toward avoiding such a lawsuit).

Two Loves

2011-10-09T17:18:00.000-07:00

I remember when I was in my mid twenties and my dad asked me if I knew where he got his little saying "I never heard of such a thing!" I was surprised to find out it was in fact from me, from way back when I was about three years old -- he'd been saying it for so many years I just thought he really liked saying it.

Got me thinking about something I've been saying for years that I got from my brother Michael's daughter Johanna. She said it years ago during the time when I stayed with Michael a few days to help him out after he had cut off part of a finger with his lawn mower. On one of those days, Michael was dropping something off at school, Johanna and I were in the car waiting and had this exchange:

"I love you, Uncle Blaine."

"I love you too, Johanna."

"No, I love you," she answers.

"I know . . . I love you too."

"No, I love YOU," she repeats.

"Yes, and I love you," I repeat, getting a bit confused at what is happening.

"NO! I love YOU!" she insists.

Then a light bulb goes off in my mind. I remember how kids at that age are naturally egocentric, which causes them to have trouble seeing beyond their own point of view. I think about what I might say to get her to see things my way as well. "Johanna loves Uncle Blaine, AND Uncle Blaine loves Johanna," is what I come up with.

For the first time, Johanna says nothing. I wonder if I got through to her. I start to open my mouth to try again.

Suddenly her little voice squeaks, "TWO loves!"

PHOTO OF JOHANNA FROM AROUND THAT TIME

Oh, man! She got it! Oh, how she got it! And in her wonderful little way with words I could never have imagined with my grown up mind.

I've always remembered that sweet conversation with my dear niece. Sammy and I play this little game where we repeat the conversation, sometimes with him in Johanna's role, sometimes with me in it (sometimes Aaron, too). Sammy and I did this once again the other night, and I asked myself whether I'd ever shared that with Johanna. So here I am making sure:

Johanna, though many miles may lie between us, I thought that you should know that you are in my heart, and that the stamp of love you left on me endures in me and now in Elisa and your cousins.

POSTSCRIPT:
After emailing this to Johanna through her mother Angela, I got the following reply:

Johanna says, "Aww, I remember that! :-) I could hear the conversation in my head as I read, the whole scene coming back to me. I could hear your voice and my own so clearly, I was so hyper then :-P I miss you too <3 "

Mom says, "Thanks for that. Johanna is in such a good mood now. That really lifted her day. She is back doing Biology now. Hope all is well with you. I will look for a photo of you and Johanna.
God Bless,
Angela

JOHANNA AND I FROM AROUND 1999

Rites of Passage

2011-03-18T14:17:00.000-07:00

You ever read about rites of passage to manhood ceremonies? Some are pretty outrageous. How about wearing a wasp suit without whimpering? How about discoloring or even knocking out some teeth? Rubbing your privates with stinging nettles? Cutting? Scarring? Not for me! But there are some truly great ones of times mostly long past. How about becoming a squire to a knight or an apprentice to a craftsman, leading a hunt, or surviving alone in the wilderness? Something profound seems lost these days sitting in front of the TV or video games. I sometimes wonder how I might pass on a sense of manhood to my boys similar to the way my own father instilled some of that in me. But it didn’t all come from my father.

One unintentional rite of passage occurred for me as a result of continual childhood arm-bruising from my older brother Michael which, in all fairness, I sometimes deserved. (Forgive me if you've heard this story before). It took place one day at about age twelve when for the first time ever I didn't cry when he hit me on the arm. I was about to cry, but then I thought to myself, Wait, I don't have to cry, and this light went on in my head. Somehow I managed to say through teary eyes and a quivering lip, "That didn't hurt! Do it again!" I lied. Big time. It was probably the hardest he had ever hit me, pinpointing that nerve near the shoulder. But then the strangest thing happened. He just harrumphed and walked away. And he never ever hit me on the arm again. It was as if there was some unwritten code that must be followed…a subconscious rite of passage.

A number of years ago when the boys were much younger, I got tired of the kids balling over the tiniest bits of pain. My first thought was, Where is Uncle Michael when you need him?

But then I shuddered, and fortunately slapped myself back to sanity. That’s when the idea of the “controlled pain game” struck me. I named it “Smacky." Basically, the inner forearm is bared and smacked with varying levels of intensity. The game ends when each participant has endured at least one firm smack without any whimper. It worked like a charm. Over the next few months when my boys would have a minor injury and start to cry, I’d ask them, “Did that even hurt as much as Smacky?” You could just see the lights turn on in their eyes. “No!” And they’d realize they don’t have to cry over every little thing. The only problem was they wanted to play Smacky all the time and would cheap shot me on the back! Nothing quite like hand prints left on the back.

A few years later, and Smacky has generally faded away, giving way to sports, homemade bows and arrows, and snow shoveling duties. I try to keep in mind I’m raising future men and to keep on the lookout for more and more rites of passage as the years roll on. I welcome any stories or traditions anyone might care to share.

Oh yeah, I can’t forget. After I shared much of the above in an email several years ago, my brother Michael wrote this reply. His side of the story, told his hilarious way:

Dear Blaine,

Nice email, Brother, especially the parts about me hitting you and making you cry. I really like the happy end of the story though, when you realized that you didn't have to cry anymore. Actually... you know, I was the one that placed that realization into your brain. Yes, that lame, drained, insane in the membrane, blaine brain. (Sorry, I couldn't resist). For years, telepathically, experimenting using various techniques, including the Vulcan mind meld, I finally perfected my own revolutionary technique. It's called P.U.N.C.H., which stands for PUgilistic Nerve Chronic Hitting, or commonly known as "Punch UNtil Crying Halts." Due to the thickness of your skull, however, it took years longer than I had anticipated but... eventually, my painstaking (pun intended) research paid off. No more crybaby little brother!!! A metamorphosis took place that fateful day, when you transformed into the well adjusted, lean mean fighting machine of a man, that you are today. It was a labor of love. No need to thank me. Love, ya.

Things that I do with my kids to toughen them up, which they actually enjoy, is picking them up and tossing them onto a bed or couch. You have to find the CT (Crying Threshold), with each child, as to how high, how hard, at what velocity, etc.. The CT seems to fluctuate depending on the individuals mood, state of health, alertness, tiredness, and so on. Another fun one is a safer variation of the grab one arm and one leg and swing them in a circle. What you do is have them lay in the middle of a blanket and pick it up and swing them around inside it. The deprivation of sight, being inside a blanket, while being swung around in a circle at high velocity, helps one overcome one's fear of the dark, roller coasters, and the like. Just be careful not to overdo it or you will go over the PT (Puke Threshold). Or, for best results, combine both of the above games. After you are done swinging them, let go of the blanket so they land on a couch or bed. Be careful on the timing of the release of the blanket or you may over or under-schuit the landing zone.

That's all for now folks. Until next time, be happy (no crying), or vee vill hav to schuit you!

High Hopes

2010-12-24T21:00:00.000-08:00

When I first bought a computer for our boys, I had high hopes of showing them the great things they could accomplish with what really is an extremely powerful tool. Unfortunately, at first it was just a high-priced video game console to them. It took me a few months, but I finally put together a little workstation for them, with a microphone and a music-keyboard controller for computer music, which I gave to them as an early Christmas present. I honestly didn't expect such excitement in their eyes when they saw it. With the workstation, a decent video camera, a digital camera, and tons of free software off the internet, the boys now have a full-fledged amateur film production workshop.

We had already passed down to them our old digital camera a year or so prior, which Aaron promptly put to use making stop action Lego videos. I showed him the basics, but the thing that surprised me is his creative camera angles, zooms and pans . . . a sort of natural cinematographic flair. We first chose the shorter of his two films to soundtrack (although many, many photos went into even this short one).

Like the theme song? He came up with it himself, chose the "orchestra hit" sound, and even personally recorded the main melody on the workstation. I added some accompaniment for a full arrangement and showed him the ropes on how to sync a soundtrack to a video. We even added some special effects. Most of the dialogue is also his, and we wrote a little script for it. He is blossoming into a little writer, too, with a nearly complete Lego short story called "The Power Miner Peril" currently at 14 pages. Typing skills are improving bit by bit, too, thanks to free online typing lessons for both boys.

Aaron's got another Lego video he made before this, but we have yet to complete the sound-tracking for that...although now we have all the tools needed. Admittedly, Aaron is stealing the spotlight a bit over Sammy at this point, but that's only because he's a few years older. Sammy was watching and got billed as a special assistant. We'll see what comes of it all.

Incidentally Sammy is working with Aaron at this very moment building "a giant base" for all their Lego people with hopes of entering it into Lego's monthly competition. They completed two stages so far, a swimming pool and a helipad with a control tower. Apparently the pool is so popular everyone flies in for a swim. So many in fact that I think they may need an occupancy limit...

I am actually really proud because many of the Legos they are using they bought with money they earned working around the house. Thanks for stopping by. Enjoy.

Deep Creek Suprise

2010-07-07T09:24:00.000-07:00

Monday, July 5, after finishing hauling all the weeds and rubbish from around the yard, I decide to take the family to a local spot called Deep Creek, in a canyon below the east side of Lake Arrowhead just beyond the community of Cedar Glen. It's late, so we're debating if it's going to be worth it with the sun on its inevitable descent and the wind picking up. But we bite our lips and just go.

After a quick stop to pick up some meal worms for bait, we head down toward the dirt road that leads to our usual Deep Creek haunt (at the rocky section just below the bridge for those who know). The road is rockier and more rutted than last year, but fortunately with Elisa's help I'm able to resist the boys' calls for me to go faster.

We arrive about 4:45 and the place is packed. We're wondering if it's going to be a good scene when suddenly an Hispanic woman approaches us with her forest adventure day pass and gives it to us...a fortuitous sign since we had neglected to get one and would be in danger of getting a $100 ticket. Next, several of the cars leave all at once, considerably thinning the crowd. And we find the wind isn't as strong and the sun is at a perfect temperature. God seems to be smiling on us despite our earlier doubtful bickering. In fact, it would turn out to be our best and most adventurous time there ever.

Almost as soon as we're down there, Aaron spots a little water snake in an isolated pond, but it disappears into some bushes. So the boys head straight for the natural water slide to cool off in style.

A little later back at the pond, they see the snake again, and this time it literally comes up to them and pokes its head out of the water and flicks its tongue at them. So Aaron snatches it up, and both he and Sammy play with it for a while--until it nips at Aaron and he lets it go (all's well).

Next up, Aaron and I decide to fish while Sammy catches a bunch of water beetles from the pond. I catch a little rainbow trout (maybe 8"), and a little bit later Aaron hooks a similar one. Not big, but exciting because we've fished there before with no luck. Another boy gives ours a tadpole in a cup, and in keeping with the adventurous spirit, it manages to disappear before we make it home.

You can see most of what I'm talking about in this short video compilation of the adventure, the soundtrack for which I play a short rendition of "Here Comes the Sun."

A near perfect adventure, replete with tons of critters for the boys, and just on the other side of the lake. What a day!

A Memory for Father's Day

2010-06-19T10:47:00.001-07:00

My dad did this wacky Disney western in 1977 called "Hot Lead and Cold Feet", and he flew me up to Bend, Oregon for the filming of it. Michael Sharrett was also in this movie, and it was at this time Dad and Mike's mom Nancy fell in love, and ultimately joined the family not long afterward.

I fondly remember that experience back when I was 9 years old, and I still have a prop gun that Jim Dale (the lead actor) gave me. Funny story. Jim Dale had previously been shooting scenes as the lighthearted preacher during my time there. But then one day this really bad dude shows up. It was Jim Dale as the outlaw twin brother, but I didn't know it. I was terrified just looking at him, and it didn't help that he was walking around in character with this mean look preparing for his scenes. He could see I was scared so he sat down nearby and decided to have a little fun with me.

"Hey you!" he says with a scowl.

I turn and look behind me, hoping he's talking to someone else, but no one else is there. I point to myself, wide eyed.

"Yeah, you!" he growls. "Come here!"

I walk sheepishly over.

He points to a chair. "Sit down!" He pulls a gun out. "You see this gun?" he says menacingly, pointing the gun at me.

I wish I could go back in time and see the expression on my face!

Next he turns the gun, handle toward me and--totally leaving character--says with this happy-go-lucky tone like he was my best friend for years, "You want it?"

I think he had to force it into my hand I was still so scared! I think after that he smiled profusely and spoke apologetically to me, but I was still afraid of him whenever I saw him. I honestly didn't realize until I saw the movie that it was the same guy who played the gentle preacher!

I've held onto that prop gun all these years and now keep it on a shelf in my studio with some other western memorabilia I inherited after my dad's passing. My kids love the fact that I have something from the movie they watch of their beloved Grandpa Warren.

Here's Dad with a few of the other characters, including Karen Valentine.

My dad's character, Boss Snead, is in many scenes, but my favorite scene is when the preacher brother, having been tricked into drunkenness, attempts to cross a tightrope in a madcap race against his outlaw twin, and my dad is there with an axe ready to do him in. Most of my dad's lines were ad lib, and the director liked them enough to keep them in. Mike Sharrett is also later in the scene, the little boy with Karen Valentine and the little blond girl. And you can see all three characters Jim Dale played, the preacher and the outlaw twins I already mentioned and their father (the old man who throws the rock at the end).

If you'd like to buy the movie, it's available on DVD probably from Amazon. Younger kids will particularly appreciate it. God bless all you dad's out there.

The Birthday Twins' Special Connection

2010-05-23T15:58:00.000-07:00

Today, this snowy May 23, 2010, would have been my dad's 80th birthday. It is Sammy's 7th birthday. For whatever reason, God chose this day to be my dad and Sammy's birthday. Here you see them, sucking thumbs together when Sammy was maybe 8 months old.

Over the years, I have observed more connections between them than just the birthday one. Like my dad, Sammy is very animated and has a natural flair for the theatrical, currently evidenced in his surprising ability to do foreign accents replete with uncanny improvised dialog. He also shares the knack for developing humorous phrases (see http://thevanderschuitvoyage.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-dads-memorial.html for many of my dad's witticisms). One that comes to mind is how Sammy suddenly started ending sentences calling people "Chickie," with a sort of W.C. Fields delivery. Which reminds me of how he calls Dickens "Charles Chickens" (you have to hear his rhythm on that to fully appreciate it).

Some other memorable Sammy-isms include...

"Busted barnacles!"
"Burning fireplaces!"
"I'm am a [fill in the blank] professional!"
"Stuck like a rock and glue!"
"As cold as a gopher in an ice cube!"
...and the perennial favorite...
"Some day I want to roast a coyote!", which he said out of the blue one day in the car.

With these and others he often affects a comedic tone (whether or not anyone is listening), something like a cross between a vaudeville entertainer and Curly from the Three Stooges (Aaron says Sammy's the funniest kid he knows). Like his grandpa, Sammy's just naturally entertaining and always seems to be working on his routine.

It gets deeper. They had a special connection I just didn't realize till more recent years. It seems Sammy often had "Grampy Warry" on his mind. For instance, if you'd ask him to pray, he'd always immediately pray for his grandpa, even if it was off the prayer topic. When my dad passed away, our little whistler stopped whistling for several days, saying he just didn't feel like it anymore. But it didn't take long for him to get to the point where he was whistling happily again (this very moment even) and just thanking God in prayer for Grandpy Warren, which is probably his most common prayer now.

Makes you think, huh?

Sammy really loved his grandpa. I wonder if their special connection will blossom further into eternity? I look forward to seeing whatever other similarities God has put in the Birthday Twins. Stay posted...

-Blaine

P.S. Yesterday we spent Sammy's pre-birthday at Disneyland. Although Sammy vomited out the day's junk on the way out of the park, he still smiled just before he fell asleep at home. Not quite as momentous as last May 23rd, my dad's last birthday on this side, which both he and Sammy celebrated together (along with my mom whose is May 18th) at a party poolside at Dad's condo in South Pasadena. It's great to get the family together like we did that day, complete with some guitar and singing and the camaraderie of friends and family. If any of you who were there that day are reading this...I'm open for more poolside antics.

Sammy learns bathroom safety...the hard way

2010-04-29T17:14:00.000-07:00

Any of you out there have the sliding shower doors? You know, the ones that have wheels the roll inside a groove along the top? They are accidents waiting to happen. I'll tell you why we are switching to the shower rod and curtain style (and recommend you do the same).

I thought I had at least eliminated the possibility of the thing totally falling apart by adding sheet metal screws to keep the track from coming off the top.

Yeah, the wheels would come out of the track all the time, particularly with smaller kids applying upward pressure reaching up for the handle to slide the door. The wheels might come out, but at least the doors were going to stay in the track (or so I thought).

I could kick myself for not warning my kids to "never force the shower doors open" or something of that sort. Well, that's what Sammy did, and the door totally came out of both the upper and lower tracks...and the sharp metal corner directly onto his big toe! Totally opened it up, requiring five stitches at the E.R.

Here's Sammy's take on the experience, which he recorded in his homeschool journal, which he titled "Almost Dead Toe, or The Night Toe Got Smashed, or Toe Got Hurt."

"My toe got smasht by the shower. I had to go to the e.r. and my toe got sticheted."

That's the doctor on the left of the drawing, giving Sammy three shots of Novocaine, which is apparently making Sammy red with pain and making tears actually shoot out from his eyes. On the right are Mommy and Aaron crying with sympathy (I was out with my phone off at a Bible study while this was all happening). The doctors were amazed at how close the boys are, with Aaron showing so much sympathy and support.

Moral of the story? Get the old school curtain-and-rod shower system. Hopefully Sammy won't have any lasting issues with that toe....

Happy Easter - from the Easter Bunny

2010-04-04T04:58:00.000-07:00

My dad--er--the Easter Bunny left this message on my machine last Easter (2009), wishing my boys a happy Easter. I recorded it an just put it on the family website at http://www.myheritage.com/audio-1000902_66834511_66834511/easter-bunny-message . Copy and past that link if necessary. Hope you enjoy it! We miss you, Easter Bunny...

Have a happy Easter. Christ is risen...risen indeed!

The Passing of My Father

2009-12-24T02:00:00.000-08:00

Miracles are all around us. They happen everyday. Some are small and tend to go unnoticed or get chalked up to coincidence. Others are so monumental they are impossible to miss—they change us, they shape us, they make us who we are supposed to be. What you are about to read is about the latter kind of miracles. An undeniable core of facts speaks volumes in this. May you find your time here well spent.…

Around October 2008, my dad was diagnosed with stage four cancer of the lungs and the areas surrounding the lungs. He was never a smoker, and was an avid athlete his entire life, yet he found himself with this condition. We believe it may have stemmed from his exposure to the asbestos-lined compartments of the F4U Corsairs he worked on in his navy service during the Korean War. He had previously beaten cancer in the early 1980s, but it had left him scarred, and with an apparent unknown source of cancer still lurking inside of him, which seemed to have reared its ugly head again most recently.

Most people, let alone someone of his age (79), do not last long with the advanced type of cancer he had, but he found himself still with us after a year. His breathing became increasingly labored, and by October he was on oxygen around the clock at home, but he was hanging in there. Then came his fateful ordeal in the hospital in late October/early November of 2009, when he went to see about the pneumonia he had been enduring. He was doing okay being treated for the pneumonia and hoped to return home soon when he accidentally breathed in some scrambled eggs, necessitating an emergency windpipe clearing and a breathing tube to be placed in his mouth and down his throat, putting him in ICU. To further complicate matters, it caused serious secondary infections in his chest. Things were not looking good.

These were the circumstances that Elisa, my mother and I visited him the first time in the hospital. I believe it was Sunday, November 1st. He was heavily sedated to keep him from feeling choked by the breathing tube and to calm the overall panic attending shortness of breath. He had short moments of awareness, however, and I felt compelled to minister to him. Ever since a series of amazing and undeniable miracles sixteen years ago left me no choice but to discard atheism and become a Christian, my firm conviction has been in the words of Jesus Christ, who said “I am the Way and the Truth and the Life; no one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). I didn’t want to risk the possibility that my ailing father might not have the chance to accept that, even if he was heavily sedated.

I played him some Christian songs, read him a psalm the Lord had given me for him (Psalm 107), reminded him of my miracle-filled testimony which he had read earlier that year, and shared the hope of the Christian gospel. His eyes were closed the whole time and I wasn't sure if he was sleeping. At the end I said, "Dad, if you believe Jesus is your Savior, move your feet or squeeze my hand." Instead of doing either of those, he squeezed my mom's hand. This caused me some confusion and doubt, heightened by the fact that he opened his eyes soon after that and looked at me with an ambiguous confused look as if seeing me for the first time or something (a look we all came to recognize upon further visits). I tentatively told some people at church and on a prayer chain of the hand-squeeze news but requested that they continue to pray for his sure salvation. Some people seemed to think it was enough, but they weren't there and didn't know how sedated he was, plus I think they may have projected similar stories upon mine. My most discerning friends were with me that we needed to keep praying.

As the weeks went on and I spent more and more time with my dad, I began to doubt more and more that he had heard me and began leaning more toward the idea that he only heard something along the lines of "squeeze hand", which was something that was being said frequently in those early days when he was so heavily sedated in ICU. So I kept praying and asked everyone to do the same, for opportunity to share with my dad for his sure salvation.

Following a tracheotomy which put the breathing tube down into a hole in his neck directly in to the trachea to the lungs, my dad for a time made a brief recovery and was out of ICU into a regular room, and was as alert as I'd seen him, even though he still could not talk. He was even able to gently applaud a few songs that I sang him. Hopes were high, so even though my time with him was brief, I felt I would have more quality time with him later that week, so I went home to spend a few days with my family whom I had seen very little. Little did I know that Dad would soon take a drastic turn for the worse.

For years he had always said he never wanted to be kept alive by machines, but now as long as there was a chance that he might be able to be weaned off the breathing machine (ventilator) and go home, we all deemed it acceptable to keep the breathing tube in. On Thursday, November 19, only two days after I'd seen him so alert and breathing so much stronger, we received the worse kind of news. He was not going to be able to be weaned off the ventilator, plus his cancer had recently advanced to an extreme level. No hope was in sight. With no hope of going home, he was going to be given the decision on whether he wanted the breathing tube removed or not. As it turned out, he was unable to make that decision, and it appeared he no longer had the short-term memory capacity to hold the thought in his mind to make an informed decision. The next morning, it was as if he had never heard anything about it. Always an optimist, a part of him seemed to keep up the hope of getting off the tube and going home. But another part seemed to have given up.

By the time I saw him again on Saturday, November 21st, he had become mostly non-responsive, either sleeping or staring into the corner most of the time. I felt terrible for my brother Michael who had just arrived that day from Texas—to have Dad not respond to him was devastating. I requested more prayer for more opportunities for me with my dad, but I began to worry that I had waited too long. I had some hope in that hand squeeze those weeks ago, but much more doubt to the point that I didn’t want to “leave it at that.” I continued to play soft guitar music for my dad as I had been almost constantly, feeling that I was comforting him at some level. (My stepmother Nancy commented that it sounded like I was playing the harp, which I told her is something I do intentionally, which led to later conversations about how we both always wanted a harp. More on this later.)

The next day, Sunday, November 22nd I spent most of the day in my dad’s room. After nightfall, I found myself alone with him for a considerable length of time. Somehow I felt prompted that “now is the time to share with him.” Honestly, it seemed pointless or even crazy because he had been entirely unresponsive all that day and the day before, generally just sleeping or staring aimlessly and not responding in any way to any questions. All I could do was pray that I would somehow reach him at some level, and that somehow God would give a sign.

I moved closer, pulling up a stool at his bedside. I began singing him some songs, hoping to perhaps wake him, but there was no response. I tried to get his attention by telling him to hear some songs I wrote, hoping I might evoke some fatherly pride in him. No response. I couldn’t think of what Bible passage to read him, so I just chose Psalm 23 (“The LORD is my shepherd…”). No response. I reminded him once again of my testimony he had read, and shared the hope of the gospel again, that Jesus is the Way, that God so loved the world that He sent His only Son so that whoever believes in Him might not perish but have eternal life (from John 3:16). Again, no response. I asked him, “Dad, do you want to see your mom and dad…and be with Jesus?” Still nothing. My heart sunk at his non-responsiveness. I dropped my head and, against all hope, begged God for some kind of a sign.

That very moment I was reminded of something . I said, "Dad, I've been praying that Jesus would visit you in your hospital room." I took a deep breath and asked, "Did Jesus visit you here?" Suddenly, he turned my direction with his eyes wide open and his mouth agape in a look of wonder and majesty. I could only interpret that as the sign I'd just prayed for. Jesus had indeed visited him! After maybe ten seconds of that, he was back asleep.

That night I told my believing siblings about it, and we all rejoiced. The next morning I called my wife Elisa to tell her the news. She told me that at about the same time that happened in the hospital room that she had just said to our boys, “Let’s pray for Grandpa Warren’s cancer and salvation.” Suddenly Aaron started saying "Grandpa Warren is going to heaven! Grandpa Warren is going to heaven!" and Sammy also joined in. That was so comforting to me because I had began to doubt some what I had seen, thinking that maybe my dad just looked my way like I was crazy or something! If you ask my boys why they said that, they will tell you they don’t know—and in fact they didn’t even remember saying it. Those who are believers immediately understand what happened. At the same time that sign happened with my dad in the hospital, God was mercifully giving me another sign by speaking through my children, melting away any remnant of fear for my dad. That was enough for me.

To this moment, I don’t remember exactly the look on my dad’s face at that moment—it was that incredible. It definitely looked like shock, then awe, then majesty and wonder. A few days after, though, I had a flash of memory of his face at that moment, and I was reminded that he wasn’t actually looking at me, but next to me. While it was happening, I just figured that was part of him being disoriented. But then I was led to understand: my dad wasn’t trying to tell me he had seen Jesus there at some earlier time, but that he was seeing Jesus at that very moment. Why else was he looking beside me, with such an incredible experience showing on his face? And why else did my children start proclaiming his salvation at that time?

There’s still more. The morning after this happened, when I spoke with my wife and she told me about what the boys had said, having found out that it was just my brother Michael and I at the hospital at that time, she also suggested to me, “Why don’t you just let your brother have some time alone with your dad.” So I walked around Pasadena for a few hours, listening to my iPod. During that time my dad was in the hospital, I had never experienced music so profoundly. It was Christian artist Sherri Youngward’s CD “These Things Don’t Change,” an album that will always be especially dear to me. It was as if her songs were telling the story of what I was going through, what my dad was going through, deepening my faith, strengthening me, giving me hope. That day walking around Pasadena was no exception, and in fact it felt like the music was literally lifting and carrying me down the sidewalk.

When I returned to the room, there was my brother actually sitting up on the bed with my dad. I was flabbergasted! I had wanted to get up on that bed many times during my dad’s stay there. Holding his hand by his bedside did not seem enough, as if some childlike instinct called me to be closer to him. But the bed was narrow and there were just too many tubes and I.V.’s in the way. I asked my brother about it and he said that the mattress (these kind have cycles of air movement in them to rotate bedridden patients) had deflated on one side, moving my dad over to that side, leaving a bubble on the other side. Michael decided to sit on the bubble to even out the pressure. As he sat there waiting on staff to figure out what was going on, that same childlike instinct kicked in for him, and he laid his head gently on my dad’s chest. After a while, he looked up, and my dad opened his eyes. They smiled at each other, my brother said, “I love you, Dad,” and my dad lipped back at him, “I love you, son.” This meant so much to me, as everyone else in the family but him had had many such moments with my dad, and now it was his turn. How fitting that God would give him this extra special time, allowing him to be the only one to lay with Dad on the bed, and to wake my dad up to have that moment! I knew then why Elisa had earlier felt prompted to tell me to let my brother have alone time with our dad. God had plans! In fact, I believe God broke that bed just for that reason! I’m pretty sure they had to replace it.

That night, after taking a walk around the neighborhood surrounding the hospital, I stopped for a while and looked up at the window of the room in which my dad lay. As I looked (as I have several times since then), I marveled at the amazing things that God had and was still doing in there, that little room, second floor, second window from the right, and Pasadena Huntington Hospital.

Then came Tuesday morning, the day of the big meeting with the doctors. My father could not decide for himself, and now it was left to the family to decide for him, in honor of his express wishes not to be kept alive by machines. Interestingly, nobody could seem to find my dad’s advance directive to that effect, or perhaps the decision would have already been made for us and carried out much earlier (coincidence?). The fact was my dad had become almost entirely unresponsive, he would not be able to be on that kind of ventilator in a home situation, and both his cancer and his pain were increasing exponentially. The entire family struggled to see clearly, our love and desire to spend more time with our dad overshadowing the reality of the situation. After all, we’d seen him make partial recoveries before, and we all knew how much of a fighter he was. Yet the medical evidence and what we could see with our own eyes could not be ignored. For my part, in what seemed a moment of clarity, I said that I no longer believed it to be compassionate to keep him in the state he was in, being increasingly ravaged with no hope of getting off the ventilator and going home. To remove him from life support was actually the natural thing to do, to allow him a natural death without prolonging his pain beyond a reasonable hope. I felt God had been preparing me for it and was at peace with it. The appointed time was near.

It was agreed. Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, would be the day. Wednesday brought a few precious moments with my dad. I began to cherish these moments that were becoming so far and few between, seeing them as gifts from God, as my brother’s moment with him had clearly been. More gifts were to come. On Thursday, the family gathered for Thanksgiving dinner on the patio area outside the hospital cafeteria. Elisa and the boys were sick and so could not make it. Two of my brothers and their families were going to all be together for the first time in many years. Their seeming irreconcilable differences had been something that had saddened my dad greatly over the years. I wonder if my dad was praying along with me that day that things would change? Well, there my brothers were together, not only outside the hospital, but also in the room together with my dad. I know Dad sensed it and rejoiced at some level. Their wives and children began to reestablish old bonds. This was a great blessing and I thanked God for it.

Friday arrived. Four o’clock was to be the scheduled time. I wore some nice clothes, somehow feeling that fitting. We shared as much precious time as possible with Dad as he slept peacefully that day. We reminisced about childhood memories and dad’s life, and we sang some of his old favorite songs, consulting the Internet for the ones we couldn’t remember. I also was at peace, knowing my dad’s condition, knowing his wishes—and also knowing the unimaginable eternity he had ahead of him now that he was right with God. Around that time I began to recall how during the previous week, I felt I was already being prepared for that particular day, the day after Thanksgiving, to be the day. “Dad’s big day,” as I later came to call it.

Four o’clock arrived. We all gathered in Dad’s room, all of my dad’s children and two of their wives, one of his grandchildren, my mother, my stepmother and stepbrother and his wife, and a few of my dad’s close friends. We gathered on and around his bed. I sat at his feet with my guitar, playing softly original melodies as they flowed from my heart. We watched a slide show of my dad’s storied life. I handed my guitar to my dad’s friend Don, who sang “You’ve Got a Friend” and “Yesterday” and a few others. I was inspired to play some cherished hymnal melodies, and led a rendition of “Amazing Grace.” Everyone sang along, even the unbelievers. My brother David gently beat his small native drum and sang one or two songs, which included some of “Amazing Grace” in Navajo. The others contributed in their own unique ways. The ventilator having been fully off for some time, my dad continued to breathe on his own, the fighter that he was. Finally, at around 6:40 p.m., surrounded by peaceful music and the ones he loved, he took his last breath here and his first breath in eternity....

I was and am deeply grateful that I was able to spend so much time with my dad before and to be there with him while he passed. The whole experience was deeply touching, and I will cherish it forever. But there was still more. That night, as I slept on the couch at my dad’s condo, something amazing happened. I woke in the middle of the night. As I lay there with my eyes closed, a vision came to me, a simple one of clouds in a dawn lit sky. This is hard to describe, but an incredible feeling of peace and power came over me. Everything felt so crystal clear and pure, as if I was experiencing the true reality that I somehow knew was meant to be but had never experienced before, as if I was truly breathing for the first time. I could feel the power of the Creator, feeling that God was watching over the entire world but focused on me at that very moment. I could feel God’s love, care, wisdom, and somehow understood that God had “everything covered” all along. I was then overwhelmed with a feeling of what I can only call the nearness of heaven, and I could feel my earthly father with my Heavenly Father. (This is similar to what I experienced when my dad’s mom passed away, shortly before I became a believer at her funeral, but more profound. I wrote about this in my personal testimony.)

It is a great witness of God’s great power and comfort that I cherished the feeling I had when I awoke the morning after my father passed away. That morning (and still since then) I found myself gazing off into the distance, reliving that experience again and again, knowing and preferring the true reality I had been given only a small glimpse of overnight. The thought that I might somehow forget that was too much for me. I prayed that God would not let that happen.

I began to pack my bags and prepare to go out to breakfast with my brothers and spend time with them at local Garfield Park. On my way out to the car, I see a yard sale across the street from the condo. Remember how I wrote that I always wanted a harp? Well, not only had I been talking about it with Nancy and others in the previous week or two, but I had literally begun obsessing about getting a harp, but trying to push it out of my mind because they are expensive and I have too many other financial obligations. What at the yard sale do you think caused my double take? Yes, a harp! There it was. I had never seen one inside anyone’s house before, let alone on a front lawn. It turns out that I got that harp for only $75, a Celtic harp, probably worth somewhere between $1000 and $2000. It might as well have been free at that price. What are the odds that I would wake up the morning after my dad dies and see a harp, just like I always wanted, right across the street from his house. Only the most hardened skeptic could fail to see this is beyond coincidence.

The more people I tell about that harp, the more people marvel. Gradually, it’s deeper significance became clearer. The next morning, I woke up early, cleared snow, and went to church to play guitar on the worship team. Upon arrival, I told the pastor and others much of what I have been writing here. First thing he said was, “Why didn’t you bring that harp!” Then he asked if I would share with the church what I’ve shared here. So I did, and after first service many people approached me deeply encouraged, full of faith and hope and a wonder for God’s amazing love and hand in everything. Between services, I drove home in the snow to pick up my wife, kids, and brother Michael. Before leaving, I couldn’t resist strumming that harp, even though two strings were hanging and it was terribly out of tune. Even so, the sound grabbed me, as if it were holding onto my spine—or my very soul. At that moment, I was reminded of the vision from the night before, of the nearness of heaven. Then I understood: God knew the longing he would put in my heart, first an increasing longing for a harp, then a desire to never forget the vision and power I experienced the night my father passed away. I just have this feeling he said to my dad, “Warren, did you ever know your son Blaine always wanted a harp? Watch this!” And there I was at the yard sale. And now I have this harp ,a tangible reminder, and I know God will never let me forget that vision. Oh, the emotions may fade, but I now know I will never forget. That harp is amazing evidence, wouldn’t you say? As I shared at second service that morning, “I thought I knew how good God is…I thought I knew. I still barely know, but I’ve been given a glimpse and can testify that God is indeed “able to do so much more than all we can ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20).

Is there more? Yes! My siblings showed further signs toward continued healing at the park the morning after my dad passed. Their kids happily played football together. This healing continued with a show of unity at my dad’s memorial on December 15th, with the cousins again playing football afterward, now in full force (minus Michael’s younger kids), and loads of love and laughter at the family gathering following the memorial. My sister-in-law shared evidence of God’s work in her and my brother’s life that had the “fingerprints of God” that only the hardened would dare call sheer coincidence. What else? After the memorial, a woman I don’t know (my stepmother’s niece) approached me and told me that she and her whole church in Wisconsin were praying the same thing I was praying—that Christ’s presence would be so powerful in that hospital room that it would be undeniable to my dad. Her daughter later shared that she had a dream of my dad, that he had just entered heaven and was smiling from ear to ear, saying, “So this is what I’ve been missing!” Just more confirmation on top of confirmation. It just goes on and on.

One of the things my dad used to say when he would adamantly reject Jesus over and over was “If only God would appear and set the record straight, then I would believe.” Otherwise, he was basically was open to almost any other religion except Christianity, which he thought was bigoted and too narrow. I too believe it is narrow, as Jesus said, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it" (Matthew 7:13,14).” In the end, Jesus (God) did appear to my dad and did indeed set the record straight. That is the kind of love God has, one that reached out to my father, a man who consistently rejected Him time and time again throughout his life. Where the way seems narrow, God’s love is infinite.

Yes, “Enter through the narrow gate,” Jesus said. He also said, “I am the Gate” (John 10:7) and “I am the Way and the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). And, according to eyewitnesses who penned the Scriptures, he died on the cross for the sins of the world, rose from the dead, and was seen afterward by hundreds of people to prove it (1 Corinthians 15:1-10). I was a hardcore atheist and never thought there was anything to this, that is until the Lord reached out to me at my grandmother’s funeral and showed me that He is undeniably real and that Jesus is the Way. And after that when I had already begun falling away almost immediately, He didn’t let go of me but showed me miracle upon miracle upon miracle to this very day, bringing me to where I now am.

I have learned that these things are not to be kept private, that when something phenomenal and life altering and REAL happens to you that you don’t keep it to yourself. I don’t want to be right. I don’t want to show off. I don’t want to say anything except to testify to what is real, to give the facts, and to share the hope that lies within me. That hope keeps growing and growing as the years move on and I witness more and more of God’s amazing love and power at work in me and those around me.

I must say more. Several years ago I had a dream. It was unlike most dreams because I knew during the dream that it wasn’t coming from me—that it couldn’t possibly come from my own mind. It had the crisp, clear mark of the prophetic, and it gripped me like no other. In it, I was in a dark basement, and I saw that my dad was lying down among boxes and other objects covered with sheets. I suddenly realized that he was not alive. At that moment I turned behind me and there was a woman staring at me wearing black with a black veil over her eyes. Up behind her was a basement window to the brightly-lit “outside world,” and through the window I could see the legs of robed people walking by. She spoke to me with a voice of authority that spoke to depths of my soul, saying “twenty-four years have been appointed for him (and a bit more I can’t remember).” A moment later, my father was alive again. Then I awoke, shaken.

I can’t quite remember the exact number of years spoken, but I do remember it was twenty-something and think maybe twenty-four. At the time, trying to understand this powerful dream, I thought “Twenty-something years—that would mean my dad is going to live into his mid 90s.” I figured it was counting from the time of the dream. But more recently, since my father’s death, I have come to understand this dream. God sometimes veils the meaning of prophecies for a time until after they have been fulfilled. Once the fulfillment happened in this case, the whole answer came to me in a complete package. The twenty-something years were not counting from the time I had the dream several years ago, but instead counting from the mid-1980s, when my dad had “beat cancer the first time.” Around 1980, he had been given only a few years to live. But several surgeries, radiation therapy, and chemotherapy later—into the mid-1980s—he found himself in remission. Consider this: If you count from the mid-1980s and add twenty-four years, you end up in 2009…this year that my dad passed away. It all makes sense, and fits with a strong conviction that had been growing in me in recent years that the extra years my dad had were given to him specifically by the grace of God—that God was “giving him more time.” I now have no doubts about this.

None of us knows how much time we have. Like me, my dad was someone who wanted nothing to do with Jesus, with the Bible, with “religion.” I was an atheist. Dad wavered between atheism and believing “all roads lead to God—as long as it’s not Christianity.” God singled me out on December 30, 1993, at my Grandma Ruby’s funeral, when I was 25. God singled my dad out on November 22, 2009, when he was 79. Does this mean we should all hold off in rebellion until God singles each of us out? Can we count on that? Do you know how much time you have? If you are reading this and hearing all this evidence for yourself, why wait? Seek God while He may be found. Trust Jesus as your Savior and be reconciled to God. “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their sins against them” (2 Corinthians 5:19). And “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus” (Romans 3:23-24). And “Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved (Acts 4:12)." And “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved” (Acts 16:31). There’s nothing you can do in your own power to save yourself. Only Jesus can take away that which stands between you and your Creator. All you need to do is believe and receive. Why wait?

The day after my dad passed, I was talking with my 8-year-old son Aaron about what happened in the hospital with his grandpa that fateful Sunday night. He said to me, “That’s interesting how Jesus does that…appearing to one person but another person can’t see him.” “Huh…you’re right,” I said. Then he said, “I wonder what Jesus was saying to Grandpa Warren?” I hadn’t even thought of that…once again, out of the mouth of babes! After a moment, I said, “Probably that He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.” The next day, I shared much of what I’ve written here at church, including what Aaron said. After I spoke, my pastor got up to speak and said, “I think Jesus said, ‘Welcome!’” Whatever it was, wouldn’t you like for Jesus to tell you something of the same?

Thank you for reading this. I hope it has spoken to you or at the very least given you some food for thought. All of this happened to me and it is real. God is real. Jesus is the Way. The prayers of hundreds of people, my family’s ministry to my dad, the circumstances of his hospital stay, God’s power in inspiring me to reach out to my dad when it seemed too late—all of these played a part in this story. But the glory goes to God. He is the one who loved my dad and just wouldn’t let him go. “For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life (John 3:16).” I still can barely fathom His great love. I thought I knew....

Blaine Vanderschuit
12/24/2009
Merry Christmas

My Dad's Memorial

2009-12-15T16:30:00.000-08:00

At my dad’s memorial on December 15, 2009, all of his kids told of our memories of our dad as slides from his storied life played on the stage wall behind us. Carl shared his poignant memories as the firstborn. David sang and drummed a stunning medley of Navajo songs. Kerry shared and included the poem “i carry your heart with me” by e.e. cummings—a special connection she, my mother, and my dad shared. I shared my memories of my dad, particularly surrounding him being the football coach for me and others in attendance. I included the story of the miracles surrounding his passing including playing a song on the harp I providentially received the morning after his passing. Lastly I sang and played “Here Comes the Sun” and my dad’s beloved “Let It Be a Dance” before handing the mic over to my dad’s friend Don Byrd, who sang “You’ve Got a Friend,” followed by other attendees stepping forward and sharing their memories.

What about Michael? Being the third born, he spoke between David and Kerry. As I said at the memorial, he has become sort of a repository (I jokingly said “or is it suppository?”) of my dad’s humorous sayings. Fittingly, he shared an imaginary story of a day in the life incorporating as many of my dad’s humorous sayings as he could. It is a real gem, and I present it below for your enjoyment. I know my dad loved for people to happily remember him this way, and our rejoicing at him being set free in the blessed afterlife. Here is Michael’s contribution toward that.

[Michael:] You know, my father has influenced me in many ways. What seems to have impacted me most is his sense of humor through his many sayings, for which my brother Blaine coined the term, “Dadisms.” Some were designed to diffuse a tense situation, other times just to make you grin, laugh, or roll your eyes. Many of these I have heard so many times that they are now a part of me, thoroughly ingrained, and I find myself using them therefore on a daily basis with my wife and kids especially, and in doing so his legacy endures. Here is an example...

This morning when I woke up, I went and stood in front of the mirror and I said, “Boy, I can’t wait until tomorrow, because I get better looking every day!” I then proceeded to comb my hair with a stick. For breakfast, I had some frozen waffles with Karo syrup, carob chips, then had some Cheerios, Shredded Wheat with wheat germ, and nonfat milk. My son John didn’t finish eating his food, so I told him “Eat it or wear it.”

I blew my nose to make sure my horn works, then I checked my lights and said to my son, “Saddle up! It’s time to get going, because when the going gets tough, the tough get going.”

I made sure before we left that we had everything…“Let’s see, I got my keys, my wallet, my watch, my spectacles, my testicles, OK then. Onwards and upwards! Pilot to co-pilot: Lights on? Check! Flaps down? Check! Gear up? Check! 3-2-1, Blast-off! Hi-ho Silver, Away!”

On our our way, somebody rudely cut us off in rush hour traffic, and I said, “Ach du lieber poopendecker! Hey sweet lips! The circus left town, you horse's ***, so shape up or ship out, sheep dip. You knucklehead! Nevertheless, we shall continue!”

Along the way, I saw some cows grazing in a large open pasture, and I said, “Look at all those funny looking horses! Good God! Those have got to be some of the fattest horses I ever did see! Maybe the rancher should corral them up before they eat so much—they might just explode!”

When we arrived at our destination, I pulled up along side the curb until I bumped into it, and said, “Braille system, it works every time.” Then I said, “All ashore that’s going ashore.” When I stepped out of the car, I tripped over the seat belt and fell to the ground and proclaimed, “It’s the first mistake I ever made! What can I say…the wind was in my eyes and the sun was against me (or is it the sun was in my eyes and the wind was against me?).
[Ed. Note: Dad said it backwards on purpose so we could all see how cheesy excuses are. –Blaine]

Then I said to my son, “Don’t just stand there, get on over here and help me up before I get angry and give you a left cross, a right cross, time to call the Red Cross, hope you have Blue Cross!” As my son helped me up, he mimicked, “Hey Dad, for the nine millionth time, you bobbed when you should have weaved!” I said, “That’s it, you are now on my **** list! John John the dog-faced boy! He walks, he talks, he drinks his own bathwater, he chews the hair off his own kneecaps!”

“Hey son, did you see where I left my sunglasses?” He said, “They are on your head, Dad!” I responded, “I told you so!” and continued, “Aye aye, Matey! Avast! Shiver me timbers, lower the bloody blooming bloom, and swab the poop deck, or I’ll make you walk the plank!”

When we arrived for the luncheon, I declared, “I hope they have some salad,” and John replied, “What kind of salad, Dad?” I said, “You know…tuna salad, chicken salad, egg salad, potato salad, macaroni salad, etc., etc.” And wouldn’t you know, they did! I ate everything in sight, just about, just like my dad, “Waste King Warren!” “Hey, are you going to eat that? Heck yeah!” I said. “Right arm! Farm out! More power to ya!”

You know, the other day, I was talking to my one-legged girlfriend, and I said, “Peg! Hop on over here! Could you pull my finger, please? Did you hear that? Crapaho Arapaho, the natives are restless! Who’s kid is that?” It’s just me dad.

Hey Du Shvinehoondt! Crying here ist verboten! You vill be happy or vee will shoot you! Vander Schuit you even!

Hostual Millitus, Dad!

FACING GIANTS (by Blaine Vanderschuit)

2009-11-21T12:00:00.000-08:00

Last year’s soccer season was truly memorable through and through, mostly for its “Facing the Giants” feeling, but also for its symbolic significance to me and my dad before he passed away. (I’m finally getting around to writing this almost seven months later—but I date my posts by when they happened in my life to keep things chronological). I hope you have come to see that when I write about something at length, it’s because I think there is something worthwhile in it worth the time to read.

At the beginning of the season, I could see I had my work cut out for me. Almost all unskilled players, lack of focus, timidity, the whole gamut. Yes, I knew they were only 6-8 year olds, but after three years of coaching the 4-5 year olds, I was ready for the players at least to be able to focus beyond chasing their shadows or picking daisies and such (cute, but it gets old fast…okay, so I’m a competitive control freak, let’s get that out of the way!).

Our first game was against “The Ninjas,” who totally demoralized my team “The Tsunamis”, something like 8-2. After the game and through the next practice, the boys held the Ninjas in near awe, even to the point of hypothesizing that they accidentally played a team from the 8-10 year olds! “I hope we NEVER have to play the Ninjas again!” became practically a mantra. I, of course, had the season schedule, but I didn’t want to reveal who our last game would be against. Not yet anyway.

Two more demoralizing games came and went, and we seemed to regress in skill, with zero goals and fewer shots each game. I realized I was going to have to take drastic action. We changed up our defensive strategy and worked more on putting kids where their natural skill sets best suited them without pigeon-holing them too much in their formative years. But we still had a LONG way to go. The next few games it would be crucial that I could at least find bits of “moral victory.” With the kids morale so low, they were showing signs of giving up already.

It was hard to blame them. Honestly, some of the other teams seemed to consist entirely of future all-stars (including a mutant blond-haired defensive giant whom my wife and I nicknamed “Olaf”). With two more harsh losses in games four and five, I was hard pressed to keep their spirits up, but at least we were doing some things right, and that against teams that honestly put the Ninjas to shame——but the kids wouldn’t believe me and still spoke of the Ninjas as the absolute best-of-the-best. Despite some progress, they were still tending toward a defeatist attitude.

We got a break when the assistant coach’s schedule opened up for us to have two practices a week, which immediately upped our progress a bit. I also raised the intensity of my Friday practice. Honestly, I had to abandon the easy-going AYSO practice philosophy I learned in coaches training. Having things seem too lighthearted and “fun” seemed to actually be working against this team and was leading to more game-day demoralization of the kids—two of whom were my own children.

I thought of my dad and how he had instilled a kind of manly determination in me growing up and also in my fellow teammates when he helped coach my high school football team. I even talked to him about it, although he was never the biggest soccer fan, but he was always proud of me and the boys. And even though he couldn’t speak when he was hospitalized, I could see it in his eyes.

I was determined to make men of these 6-8 year olds (I hope that doesn’t sound too overboard, moms!). I started using more military metaphors, encouraging kids who were barely injured to keep playing as “wounded heroes” and such. Still it was like pulling teeth to get the team working on more than a few cylinders at a time. The practices became more and more militaristic, as that seemed to be improving things bit by bit.

I was barely making it back to each Friday practice and Saturday game from visiting my dad in the hospital, but it all began to pay off. We began scoring goals——and stopping some of theirs——even came close to tying some games. Just the kind of moral victories I was looking for to get the kids jump-started. They were starting to see the ball was literally in their court (okay, at their feet, I guess). Their attitude, focus, and determination were the only things holding them back.

Then came the last practice, the day before our final game. I told my dad all about it before I drove home, how the boys were going to have to face their giants—the Ninjas—in the last game. He had really been enjoying the overall story through the season, and it was not lost on him how this finale had all the makings of a good script. He gave me a deep look that displayed more than words could ever say. I will never forget it. I told him we were dedicating the last game to him....

I still didn’t tell the boys what team they were playing. I wasn’t going to let them psych themselves out before the practice. I think I made the right choice. Practice pace was non-stop, and the boys were really clicking. I honestly only remember giving them one short water break! Just an outstanding practice. The assistant coach and I laughed privately at how frenzied it was before I sat the boys down.

“Guess who we’re playing tomorrow?” I asked. I think the boys were too tired to even think. “The Ninjas.” They looked a bit worried, but I could see a bit of determination and can-do attitude had begun to spark in them. A few more manly motivational mantras and we parted with as much determination as their little hearts could muster, but I could see the doubt in their faces.

I prayed that night and the next morning that we’d do our best, and that the kids would see what hard work and determination can bring. Honestly, I don’t think I had that much faith because all I really hoped for was another moral victory. Fortunately, my faith isn't in myself but in the "God of the impossible."

We awoke to game day. I told the boys how they were going to have to shut out the Ninja’s best player if they were to have a chance (this kid was good, but a little scouting had suggested that his teammates had grown lazy letting him do all the work). I told them how my dad was rooting for them in the hospital, and how this game was dedicated to him. I also told them how I prayed for them. This last thing felt a bit risky because I wasn’t sure how they and their parents might receive that.

Honestly, I think that got the power of God into them something fierce! Elisa told me that when I walked away to gather up the balls, one of the senior players jumped into a leadership role and said, “Did you hear that, you guys? He prayed for us! We gotta do this! And for his dad! C’mon!” and the other boys joined in...including my dad’s grandsons, of course.

The offensive machine kicked in early and we got a couple of goals right up front. The Tsunamis were on fire (if that’s not a mixed metaphor, I dunno!). And the defensive machine—actually mostly on the offensive end—consistently neutralized the Ninja’s star player. Before the other Ninjas could figure out they needed to step up their game, we were already up 5-0. Half time came, and at last my team finally was able to fully enjoy it! The second half I was able to let the kids be freer in their positions, and even though the Ninjas did score a goal, we still shut out their star player. Final score 9-1...a complete reversal of the first game. Made all the frustration of the rest of the season worthwhile. I had previously begun to expect that God had given me these kids to develop some character in them, but I had no idea it would end that great. Character was being built in more than just them…

When I returned to the hospital that afternoon, my dad had taken a turn for the worse, and my enthusiasm about the game was interrupted. He was barely responding, and I would be faced with an even greater moment of character building. I could only hang on to hope beyond hope, trusting the goodness of God and that nothing is impossible for Him. It wasn’t easy for me, but God came through, and the next day I knew my dad had received salvation (see The Passing of My Father in the next post). In retrospect, two of the greatest days of my life.

As you can see, this is an important addition to the whole chronicle of the events surrounding the passing of my father (which was only six days later), and I’m glad to finally share it. It is, after all, another part of his legacy, because I couldn’t have done it without his inspiration. I told him several times about the outcome of the game, but I couldn’t quite tell if he ever fully heard me (I’m sure God has got him up to speed on that by now!).

Keep the faith, and check back later for some footage of the Tsunamis vs. Ninjas game, which I hope to post here as soon as I can get my camcorder working with my new computer...

"He Calls Them Each by Name" by Elisa

2009-08-13T14:42:00.000-07:00

I sometimes find myself thinking of God as if He were like a mere human. I project my own limitations onto Him, the Creator of the universe. And He says to me, “Think outside of the box. Suspend your preconceptions about me. Let me help you.” And He reaches down, lifts me out of the box, and gives me a fresh perspective.

Last night was one of those times. As Blaine, the boys, and I were lying in the front yard, gazing up at the brightly starlit mountain sky watching a meteor shower, this verse came to mind: “He counts the number of the stars; He calls them each by name” Psalm 147:4. Even though I know better, a part of me says, “That’s impossible, it can’t be done! Nobody has ever been able to count all the stars!” But Isaiah 55:8 says, “’For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways,’ says the LORD. ‘For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.’”

This morning, with thoughts of last night’s spectacular light show still fresh in my mind, I read Psalm 33 in my daily reading in the One Year Bible. My spirit leaped for joy as I read verse 6: “By the word of the LORD were the heavens made, their starry host by the breath of His mouth.”
I was filled with awe and amazement that God would have orchestrated that very verse for me to read the morning after a meteor shower—a small glimpse of His greatness that He was delighted to reveal to me. And He reveals Himself more and more every day as I walk with Him, just as He promises He will do with anyone who asks with a sincere heart.

In Revelation 3:20 Jesus says, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him and he with me.” He is a gentleman. He doesn’t barge the door down. He extends the invitation to dine with Him, but it’s up to us if we choose to accept it. If He loves His creation and He calls the stars each by name, how much more does He love you?

"A Place to Live In" by Elisa

2009-07-14T08:22:00.000-07:00

Earlier today I had a chance to chill in my favorite comfy chair upstairs while the boys occupied themselves with a game of "Upwords" (it's like Scrabble for kids). After getting home late last night from a day in the sun at Newport Beach and having to wake up at 4:30 in the morning for work, I just wanted to be lazy today and hide from the sun a little bit. I began daydreaming as I looked through the big window to the tops of the swaying pine trees outside against the blue summer sky...it was as if they were reaching up to God, thanking Him. And I was overcome with awe and wonder at God's creation...flowers and trees that have such intricate detail and beauty, that are stamped with evidence of a Designer. I began to think that it's so sad that people could think that all of the order and beauty that surrounds us in this world was the result of an accident, or an explosion, and that all of it just evolved over millions of years. Order is not the result of chaos. I kept thinking about that statement "Order is not the result of chaos." I had my Bible on my armrest because I wanted to read something in Matthew and my thumb had been resting on some "random" page while I was lost in my thoughts. I came back to reality and looked down to see that my Bible was opened to Isaiah. My eyes instantly became fixed on a verse at the bottom of the page. The words practically jumped up off the page at me. It was Isaiah 45:18...

"For the LORD is God, and He created the heavens and the earth and put everything in place. He made the world to be lived in, not to be a place of empty chaos."

I was blown away (once again)! But especially by the last part of the verse: He made the world to be lived in, not to be a place of empty CHAOS." His creation reflects His plan and His love! I love this quote from CS Lewis:

"Atheism turns out to be too simple. If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning." :)

The Mountain’s Got Talent

2009-06-17T10:32:00.001-07:00

My student “recital” this year, called “The Mountain’s Got Talent” (after the original “Britain’s Got Talent”), was a everything I hoped it to be.

It featured 40 of my students, including my boys Aaron and Sammy, performing 23 numbers. I actually hate to even use the word “recital” because people involuntarily yawn and roll their eyes just hearing the word due to having endured excruciating ones in the past. So let’s call it a student concert, with most students playing as part of bands I piece together just for the show. I get professional backup musicians (this year Steve and Tyler Smith) to pad whatever bands I don’t have enough student personnel or talent to fill. As their teacher, I’m part of almost every band, on various instruments and vocals (my motto is “You’re never alone on stage, unless you want to be.”).

Here’s Sammy with his band “The Flying Monkeys”, smiling and performing the opening number, “I Love We Will Rock’n’Roll You” (a Queen/Joan Jett medley).

Here you see video footage (by John McIntosh) of the Flying Monkeys featuring both drummers—Sammy age 6 and Colby age 6, two guitarists—Trevor age 9 and Riley age 8.

Trevor and I also shared vocals on this number, which set the rock’n’fun tone for the enthusiastic, packed audience.

Next up, Aaron brought the house down with his synthesizer orchestra rendition of the Darth Vader theme “Imperial March” with me accompanying him on drums. I could kick myself because I didn’t have video tapes in my bag, so I don’t have any footage of it, but at least in this picture you can see how much fun he has doing his thing.

Earlier that morning, he looked over at me during a pause in our rehearsal and, seeing the look on my face, said “What?” I answered, “When you were born, I never thought we’d be doing this together!” Obviously I’m lovin’ it.

The set covered a wide variety from Bach to Jimi Hendrix. I hope to collect more videos clips and pictures from students and put them together into a video montage with better sound eventually, but for now, enjoy this taste....

Momentous Occasions

2009-06-03T19:00:00.000-07:00

(Sammy left, Aaron right)
The boys had their AWANA awards night on Wednesday June 3. (If you don't know what AWANA is, visit http://www.awana.org/). The boys worked hard all year to earn every bit of recognition they received. Aaron got the final plaque for Sparks and will be moving up to TNT next year. Great work!

Katie Cornell graduated from high school on Saturday June 6. She actually mentioned us as having an impact on her life as her first Sunday school teachers from way back when she was in the 1st and 2nd grade when we were quote "young" as she said. She also mentioned Arich and Syble Harrison as having had a profound impact as her 5th and 6th grade Sunday school teachers in getting her to be daily in the Word (Harrisons, I hope you're reading this!). Doesn't Katie look beautiful? We still see her as the little girl in our class.

(Photo by Cristina Diaz)
There was a youth going-away-party for the Crossons at the Dunn's house on Sunday, June 7. Here you see the youth all laying hands on Geoff and Nicia (they're in there somewhere!). It was a bittersweet time filled with laughter and tears and seeking the Lord.

After a similar time of prayer at CCLA services, we had an official church party. We will miss you, Geoff and Nicia!

Mountain Harvest Concert

2009-05-31T22:14:00.000-07:00

A bunch of churches on the mountain got together and put together a concert and outreach this past Sunday at Center Stage in the Lake Arrowhead Village. It featured some local talent and the incredible blues harp (harmonica) player Darrell Mansfield, who is also the Blues Hall of Fame Ambassador to California (who knew?). I was actually supposed to lead a group in it, but through a maze of complications and extenuating circumstances I couldn't do it. Maybe next time...

Simple Pleasures & Feats of Skill

2009-05-30T22:15:00.000-07:00

We decided to head out to Big Bear on a whim this afternoon because we’ve been getting a bit stir crazy laying around sick. We made it just in time for the movie “Night at the Museum 2” which is a fun kid flick. After the movie we headed over to a park where the boys got to let loose, and where we took the video footage. Ah, the simple pleasures of life…it’s great to live in the mountains on days like this.

On to the feats of skill. Strangely, both of my boys have learned a fear of monkey bars due to the structure at our church being so high off the ground. A month or so ago, I really wanted the boys—particularly Aaron—to get over this fear (Sammy still has the age excuse). After trying to encourage Aaron in various ways, I was about to give up when I struck gold—or greenbacks, that is. I offered Aaron a dollar if he could get from one end to the other. Not only did he do this, but he soon traversed an impressive “triple section” monkey bars. The best dollar I ever spent! I didn’t get footage that day, but you can see Aaron’s abilities from today on bars (and trees). Sammy demonstrates more of his usual friend-magnet skills and all-around wonder boy charm.

Speaking of feats of skill, I was three for three throwing chocolate chips into the mouths of Elisa and Sammy across the table at IHOP, where we ate tonight. Surprised everybody including myself, although there was no one else there to witness it. Have you ever eaten in a restaurant where you were the only people there? A nice treat with pampered service and no cause for embarrassment. Ah, the simple pleasures of life…

Tae Kwon Do with Mr. Moss

2009-05-29T22:41:00.000-07:00

Aaron and Sammy have been doing Tae Kwon Do with Mr. Moss (Robert Moss) on Friday for about three months now. The boys are "best bubs," so I'm not too worried about how things may escalate between them in future years with the skills they are acquiring.

Mr. Moss and I have discussed a guitar-lessons-for-tae-kwon-do-lessons arrangement so I can learn privately. Until then I'll have to stick with my usual "Scottish martial arts" (mostly head-butting and kicking 'em when they're down).

Happy Birthday Dad and Sammy

2009-05-23T17:00:00.000-07:00

We had a little shindig for my dad and Sammy's birthdays (they share the same birthday) plus my mom's too, which was earlier in the week on May 18. The party was held at my dad's condo's pool clubhouse. We were supposed to have some live music as well as jukebox music pumped in via laptop but the local wi-fi was mostly inaccessible. So it ended up being almost all live music in the form of me singing and strumming with miscellaneous party-goers joining in on the guest mic. So with the ailing wi-fi making me hurry to provide the music, I did not delegate anyone to take any pictures or video (duh!) despite the fact that I had both types of cameras. All we ended up with was two poorly taken pictures taken just before the party disbanded, one blurry, and the other one clear but with some people's eyes closed or not looking. J.B. Skogstrom and Laura Goglia came by, as well as our former neighbor from Spruce Street, Kathy Nguyen-Walker. Also a call from Mike Magana blessed my dad. A nice time.

Back Row L-R: Mike Sharret, my dad's friend Dixon, Nancy, Dad, Kerry, Carl, Mike, Sharon(Mom), David, David's wife Carrie. Front Row L-R: Aaron, Elisa, Sammy, Blaine, David's daughters Shaylin, Savannah, and Sascha.

Fishing with Uncle Steve - Using Guns

2009-05-21T20:06:00.000-07:00

When Elisa's brother Steve makes a promise to the boys, he keeps it. He was supposed to have come up a week or two earlier to take the boys fishing, but was stopped due to work. So I'm sitting in my studio giving lessons on Wednesday afternoon and what do I see but the roof of Steve's vintage BMW drive by. A great surprise--in all the daily rush we'd forgotten he was coming.

These pictures show the boys having a good time fishing the next day with Uncle Steve at nearby Lake Gregory (although they had better luck at Lake Arrowhead and Grass Valley Lake the previous day). Steve is a true fisherman, unlike "Cheetos for bait" Daddy.

Elisa took the photos. All I had to do was compile them into a short video and add music. I don't have to own the copyright to put an improvised acoustic rendition of Jimi Hendrix's "Little Wing" on the video, do I?

Oh, there aren't really any guns involved. I just thought more people would watch the video than if they just saw plain old "fishing" in the title.

Legoland and Sea Life Aquarium

2009-05-18T22:33:00.000-07:00

For my mom's birthday (and an early birthday present for Sammy), we went to Legoland. My brother Michael was out from Texas for the first time in about three years, so that was a nice addition that he came with us. Legoland is fun, particularly for kids say 12 and under. Or if you really like Legos, which can build a surprising array of objects. There are actually a few good rides, but the big surprise was the Sea Life Aquarium they have there (extra $$$). I've been to more than a few aquariums over the years and this one is up there. Here's the gist of the day.

In case you're wondering, I did do the music--just a quick guitar jam for the action and then some synth ambiance for the aquarium, all on the fly (so nothing to brag about). Anyhow, I've been getting copyright infringement notices on other videos where I used other people's recordings, and they've threatened to close my account. You'd think they'd consider it a privilege to have their songs on our amazing videos, geez!

Sammy and the Spin Cycle Vibrations

2009-05-11T22:06:00.000-07:00

What do you think of this name for Sammy's band--Sammy and the Spin Cycle Vibrations. Got kind of a literal and surf thing to it, in keeping with one of Sammy's pastimes. I finally caught him on tape and decided to put some guitar to the mechanical beat--what I hope to be his breakthrough video (you never know these days!).

Hmm, or do you think maybe we should go for a more "speed metal" concept or maybe something "industrial"? Any better ideas for the band name? =)

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-10T14:26:00.000-07:00

This one goes out to all the moms out there. Today at church "me and the boys" did a special number to a Steven Curtis Chapman song called "One Little Heartbeat at a Time". I was in charge of singing and playing it and the boys were in charge of doing the interpretive hand motions. Elisa's job (and all the other mom's) was to sit back, smile, laugh, and cry.

We tried to have it videotaped, but due to technical difficulties, it didn't quite stick. So I've included here a video with the songsheet with the hand motions written on it, and Chapman's studio version of the song. You can read the "hand motions" at the right of the lyrics to get an idea of what the boys did. Or just enjoy the song.

May this speak to your heart, moms. Have a blessed Mother's Day!

Bless the Irish

2009-03-17T08:03:00.001-07:00

Just in time for taxes! The Irish obviously paid taxes around this time of year, too. Why else would they be chasing leprechauns around for a pot of gold?

Here's an Irish blessing for you:

May misfortune follow you all the days of your life...............
and never catch up!

May yours be a happy and safe St. Patrick's Day. Start it with a smile by watching the video below.

Vintage Redline BMX from Uncle Steve

2009-03-08T22:55:00.000-07:00

I bet some of you out there remember these bikes from back in the day. John, Alec, Greg, J.B., you probably all remember "Sears Alley" where we used to get crazy trying to clear those jumps. Sammy would get along pretty good there with this vintage Redline, which his Uncle Steve pieced together for the boys. Those really are the same mag rims we used to have. Thanks, Steve!

Sammy is pretty daring for a 5 year old. This hill, at the nearby middle school, was pretty steep and mushy with a tight line between snow and rocks. He's also fast, surprising me when he disappears around a corner and I chase him down only to find he's already disappeared around some other turn (he's had a good teacher in his older brother).

Yes, we all rode bikes and busted moves yesterday, but Sammy and his vintage bike stole the show for this post.

Wit and Wisdom from my Dad

2009-03-06T11:56:00.000-08:00

My dad recently sent me a written account of a few of his boxing stories he's told me over the years, which continue to be relevant to our lives today. As always, he writes with a lot of wit and color (some maybe a bit edgy for gentle readers).

GREAT BALLS A FIRE!

Athletes using performance enhanced substances continue to be exposed in the media. A recent LA Times article reported that some swimmers wear buoyant suits allowing them to ride higher in the water with less friction. This “technological-doping” has resulted in a hundred plus new world records in 2008.

Other athletes in our sporting past were quite creative in their so-called abuses, but far less sophisticated. The most outrageous was a wacky pole-vaulter decades ago who seriously claimed his highest vault came from flatulence that aided his thrust. A most unique sort of user abuser, he called two bean burritos his secret boosters.

My abuse, a one time situation, has festered in me for half a century. Time to “fess up.” I owe the Los Angeles Times and an opponent an apology for the performance-enhancing stimulant used on me over fifty years ago when I entered the 1954 Western Regional Golden Gloves boxing championships. The Times sponsored the popular tournament at the old Hollywood Legion Stadium. A big deal then. SRO. TV, too.

My confession here is tempered by being an unknowing victim of a mad practioner of special potions that helped my inspired performance in my final title fight. This was long before steroids and other drugs. My then trainer-manager was ex-pro fighter, Frank Muche. He’s passed on. I miss him. Over the years I sometimes called him,“Merlin Muche.” He had big magic at his command.

I’d met Muche at Pasadena City College. We were students. They had a boxing program back then. He saw me sparring. I’d had considerable Navy boxing experience. Muche, a soft spoken nice guy thought I could win the Golden Gloves and suggested I go for it.

Golden Gloves fighters (all amateurs) had to endure four fights in three days. The fights were three round matches. The semifinal and final were both on the last night of the competition. Days before I’d won two hard fought qualifying bouts. Both close decisions.

I won my semi-final bout the next night but was very tired. I had about an hour before the finals. I lay on a dressing room table as Muche applied Atomic Balm, a hot analgesic to my stiff lower back muscles. The balm slid under my trunks and down my backside. He mumbled, “Oops, sorry.” I didn’t understand his apology. He quickly pulled me up.

As we moved toward the ring, I squirmed, now realizing he’d poured Atomic Balm down where the sun don’t shine. I was on fire! I growled, “What in the hell did you do to me?” I danced a crazed Twist down the aisle. Yes, my performance was stimulated and enhanced by the Atomic Balm. I figure my substance abuse was not covered by the rules of the day. I plead no contest. I won the light heavyweight title by a unanimous decision.

I later confronted Muche about the Atomic Balm incident. He shrugged, grinned sheepishly, adding, “Figured ya needed some help.” He was right. However, half a century has passed since then. Isn’t that beyond any acceptable statute of limitations?

MORE OF WHAT BURNS MY…! Part 2

Here’s another example of Muche’s resourcefulness. This was also an essential factor in that same long ago Golden Gloves championship victory:

In the first round of the finals, my southpaw opponent knocked me on my rear end in my own corner. Dazed, I sat there considering quitting. Muche leaned in, his face only a few feet away and he angrily swore at me, “GET UP, YOU S.O.B!”

Startled by his profanity at me I struggled to my feet, clutched and clinched my opponent to finish the round. Muche glared hard at me, adding, “He’s gonna quit in the middle of the round.” Sure enough, he stopped attacking and stood there, sucking air. Recovered now, I pushed on to win the second and third rounds and I became a champion.

On my way back to the dressing room a half drunk gal in an aisle seat reached out to pat me on the back, but only managed to grab the backside strap of my jock under my trunks. She pulled, stretching it. I tried to grab it but my boxing glove wouldn’t let me. The strap wound up looped over my forearm. The crowd howled. It was my first comedy role as a then wannabe actor. Chaplin would have approved. I loved the crowd’s acclaim.

I understand today how some special acts of providence arrive in odd ways to shape our lives. After five decades of coping as an actor with a couple hundred credits and raising six kids I believe Muche’s daring choices were often with me. His benign simple use of the Atomic Balm and contrived angry words helped guide me down life’s rocky road. I’m indebted to his imaginative motivational ploys that helped me find new courage.

In these my dwindling down days, mixed with ambiguous health, I’m compelled to look in my mirror and call out Muche’s words in its now acronym form of, G.U.Y.S.O.B. The word has also become a part of our family’s lexicon. When someone in the family or, a friend struggles to cope with life forces, the word, “GUYSOB!” will again be heard.

Oh, and I’ll share “Merlin Muche’s” magic with whoever wants to use it. Kind of goes to the core of survival in today’s hectic world, eh? It’s forceful, empowering, “GUYSOB!”

And you won’t need any Atomic Balm. Not sure if the stuff’s still around. It’s definitely not on any list of banned substances. No blood or urine test is needed. Any medical diagnosis of note would be easily revealed with a swipe of a swab in the right place.

In my current, long in the tooth life, all I’m looking for now is to hear the bell ring once in while in whatever arena of life and work may lie ahead. I’ll do my best with a little help from family and friends. “GUYSOB!” Yeah! I’m already considering a comeback…

Sincerely,

Warren VanderSchuit
Email: nswv@earthlink.net
(PKA Warren Vanders)
Home 626-403-1393

Your prayers are always appreciated for my dad, who is battling cancer for the second time in his storied life. -Blaine

Happy Valentine's Day, My Love

2009-02-14T12:00:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to tell the whole world, to say it in front of everybody, that I love my wife. You mean the world to me, my love. Happy Valentine's Day.

Love, Blaine

P.S. This definitely ain't all you're getting!

Update: Here's a pic of something she actually got...

Hurts So Good

2009-02-11T10:58:00.001-08:00

We're back...after a long break recovering from a bunch of stuff. First, Christmas and New Year's. Second, my 41st birthday which Elisa and I hoteled in Big Bear hoping for some fresh snow but it rained and it didn't matter anyway because I was too sick to board. And third from the lingering aftermath of that sickness in the form of a hacking cough that just won't go away. This picture of Sammy pretty much sums up how I've been feeling, except there is no actual shirt over my head!

Having to clear snow hasn't helped much either and set me back, making me sound like a scratchy low baritone. But I have managed to have some fun between shovels sledding with the boys, who discovered that their boogie boards (if you can stay on 'em) go way faster than plastic sleds. Incidentally Aaron and I proved this ad loco when we took one off a jump, flew about 10 feet, and got the wind knocked out of us on the landing. Sammy wanted to join the insanity too, so I repeated all of the above with him, plus we managed to continue after the jump only to crash into the fence at the bottom of the run (we're fine)!

I also had a great time of spiritual growth at the annual men's retreat last weekend. Here's a pic of me and the boys shortly before I left for that (is Aaron looking a bit sad to see me leave?).
I was blessed to lead worship on Sunday morning with a last-minute mixture of Lake Arrowhead and Big Bear guys on my team, plus I got a little extra perk of playing lead guitar for another guy on Saturday night (his guy canceled out).

Despite a few lumps from the seasonal school of hard knocks, things are going well for us. You can expect some more posts here soon if all goes as planned.

Rocking around the Christmas Tree (Woah!)

2008-12-25T14:06:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas everyone! We hope your Christmas has been blessed. We've been having a great day. The major highlight surrounds the big present we got for Aaron and Sammy--a mini electric guitar "Pee Wee Les Paul".

There are two different videos, one of each kid on the guitar. Sammy jammed first, and he rocked! Then Aaron got on next and totally blew us all away. I don't know where he got his moves--he's really only seen Alvin and the Chipmunks! He just kept playing for about 10 minutes and I boiled it down to the best 1 minute. Both boys gave new meaning to "Rocking around the Christmas Tree"!

(P.S. I'll be teaching both boys to play now that they have the guitar).

Fun with the Dunns on the Vander "Chute"

2008-12-22T08:43:00.000-08:00

Hey, here's something else you can do with a shovel besides clear snow--and something to put all of that 3 feet of snow to use! Here it is, the Dunns, our church friends and neighbors, brought the kids over to try our latest sled run "chute". Just about everybody took at least one run, even my mom, brave soul! (Sorry we didn't get any footage of Mike sledding). Kids were getting pretty radical with wall rides on the ending berm, that is until... Well, all's well that ends well. Makes all of the snow hassles worth it.

Instant "Let It Snow" (just add lightning)

2008-12-19T18:45:00.000-08:00

Here's my contribution to the craziness of the big snow storms we've been experiencing (which even included lightning, so it's possible with snow). A new variation of "Let It Snow". Sing it to the kids for a good chuckle. Best sung with a loungy feel, and maybe add sound effects for extra impact. It all started when I accidentally sang the word "frightning" instead of "frightful" in the first line...

Oh, the weather outside is frightning
And I just got struck by lightning
And since I'm starting to glow
See me glow, see me glow, in the snow

My eyeballs, well, they’re a-popping
And my hair is all a-sparking
And I feel like I’m gonna blow
See me blow, see me blow, in the snow!

Why does everything seem so bright?
And why do I feel so warm?
All I did was go fly a kite
In an electrical storm!

Well, I think I’m probably dying
‘Cause my brain is slowly frying
You better run before I explode!
See me glow, see me blow, then explode
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

Merry Christmas, Josh and Evie

2008-12-14T21:17:00.000-08:00

The boys say Merry Christmas to their friends Joshua and Evette who moved to Texas. They sing "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas" too. Enjoy.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

2008-12-05T15:34:00.000-08:00

So I'm putting up Christmas lights on the highest point of the house (a few minutes before this picture) and my boys are steadying the ladder for me. The neighbor girl calls over to them, but my oldest says, "I can't talk, my daddy might die right now!"

P.S. Do these pajamas make my bottom look fat?

6th Grade Graduation

2008-11-12T09:53:00.000-08:00

(L-R) John Bernardi, Greg Butcher, Alec McKinnon,
J.B. Skogstrom, Blaine Vanderschuit

June 1980 (felt like '79 though). Me and the boys were the tough kids who ruled the playground and tried to rule the classroom--and the principal's office (never understood that spelling trick about how the principal is your "pal"). Note the OP and Lightning Bolt shirts (you'd also see Vans shoes) along with my sun bleached surfer hair (yes, that's me on the far right). I'm in contact with everyone on the list except Greg, although I saw him at the 20-year reunion [strike that, just caught up with him on Facebook]. John actually lives nearby (Big Bear).

Just last night I was thinking about those good old days on the hot Oneonta blacktop, prompted by one of my students wanting to learn the Cheap Trick song "Surrender". Hey Alec, remember when Mr. Comlossy did the Rock'n'Roll History thing and we lip sync'd to "I Want You to Want Me" and "Surrender"? Funny, I wanted to be the drummer but had to do electric guitar instead. Strangely enough, about 6 months after this picture I asked for a drum set for Christmas but got an electric guitar instead ("Get him a guitar, preferably a quiet one" is probably what my dad told my mom). The rest is history...

P.S. Dad, I have a drum set now if you want to come listen.

Art Show Benefit

2008-11-08T22:00:00.000-08:00

Elisa's artist brother Stephen Romio participated in an event for a charity called Hope Gardens which helps homeless mothers get off the streets of Los Angeles. Elisa, her parents, my Dad, Nancy and I all attended. It was great to see my dad and we had quite an experience over dinner at Shakers with me confessing to a bunch more teenage sins, which took over two hours. It says something about my dad that I feel comfortable telling him this stuff years later. (I hate to "hide" this in a post, but please pray for him, as he's starting chemotherapy next week for cancer in his lungs and around his chest area).

As for the lack of art in the video, it's sort of a no-no taking pictures of someone's art at an art show, so the sample I have is a portrait Steve did of Elisa that hangs in my music studio. It hardly does justice to his talent, as good as the portrait is. It's one of the quick "30-minute portraits" that he does on weekends down at Universal City Walk. You might want to catch him there and have him do yours. Steve is a great brother-in-law and an impressive guy, and a true artist (he's at the end of the video).

(The song is called "City Lights". I wrote it and recorded it for my step brother's entertainment-design video. Somehow the first part of it fits just right with this, too. Sorry, Mike!)

The Goodbye Boy

2008-11-08T16:30:00.000-08:00

Some of you have experienced Sammy and his long goodbyes. This video has a very short one for him. He's got it down to a routine now, out there sitting on the fence these days (see for yourself). Better than crying on the steps and running after the car with extended crying back inside the house, like it used to be. Funny, he even once cried saying goodbye to one of my music students he'd only met a moment earlier, and he's known to run out to say goodbye to students he's never really met. What can I say? Some people are just made a certain way. Sammy is and has always been the "goodbye boy."

Edd's 56th Birthday

2008-11-01T21:29:00.000-07:00

Some of you know my good friend and fellow worship leader Edd Williams. This college professor and all around good guy had his 56th birthday party this last Saturday. It started at 5 p.m, but I arrived at 7:30 from a rehearsal, saying "What, you didn't set your clocks back--I thought I was only an hour and a half late!" I thought I was early (for a musician).

Edd's kids, his wife Kim and her daughters were all there, along with many others from Calvary Chapel Lake Arrowhead. Shortly after I arrived, I was offered a guitar to play, and Steve Smith, Edd and I all jammed out to various songs, including a blend of "Hey Jude" and "Better Is One Day" (naaaaa, naaa, naaa, na-na-naaa-naaa, na-na-naaa-naaa, than thousands elsewhere..."). It's always great to jam with Edd and Steve, because we've worked together so many times we gel almost effortlessly. I was the last to arrive and the last to leave, amid a pretty impressive electrical storm. At least it didn't rain on the previous night's festivities.

The Night's Festivities 10/31

2008-10-31T21:51:00.000-07:00

Here is a short video of the October 31st festivities as put on by our church here in Lake Arrowhead. Like normal Halloween but souped up on deluxe candy-roids for a more full-throttle-but-family-friendly effect, with a dash of "The Fiery Furnace" from the book of Daniel. Aaron was the good Anakin Skywalker and Sammy was a clone trooper. Elisa and I went as a "respectable couple" (note my short hair now) predisposed toward proving our ping pong prowess whilst our progeny partook of the party and paraded their pricey apparel, perspicaciously spoken per pomposity (pwa-ha-ha!)...

Getting Old, Staying Busy

2008-10-13T11:41:00.000-07:00

We're back! Taking a breath for a quick post...finally. September was a busy month, mostly getting started with homeschooling the boys for the first time (post coming soon), but also busy with music lessons. I'm happy to say I have more music students than ever--I think 40--which happens to match my age.

On the age topic, I'm becoming more and more familiar with "the law of diminishing returns" but less and less familiar with what exactly that means! I don't really have the "momnesia" excuse Elisa does, so I'll just chalk it up to the over-the-hill thing. Let me explain.

Take this past Saturday as an example. Picture day for soccer. I'm coach for Sammy's team, assistant for Aaron's. Pictures are going well. All morning I'm asking myself and several others "I wonder when the coaches versus referees game is?" A little later, Aaron's coach asks me if I'm playing in the game today. Oh yeah, the game is the same day every year, picture day. Pretty memorable, huh? So why couldn't I remember?

Game time, I feel like a smarter soccer player than ever, with more confidence and command of the game. Why won't my body just do what I tell it to do? (The universal complaint, so I didn't feel alone). It got a bit embarrassing when people started making fun of all of my misses on goal in the first half. Come second half, I persevered and did manage to eek out two goals and an assist, and the coaches did win for the first time in several years (5-4), but I'm still feeling it two days later.

Anyone else identify?

The "Luckiest Kid in the World"

2008-08-20T09:38:00.000-07:00

Birthday Pie Blow-out

Aunt Kerry, Papa, Nannie, Elisa

Nana's "I'm the life of the party but don't think I won't use this" look

Aaron's 7th birthday has now come and gone, with three (yes three!) birthday celebrations for this one birthday.

The first celebration was Saturday in Laguna Hills at Aunt Michelle's (my former stepsister I just call sis). My former stepfather "Daddy Rick" was there, whom I hadn't seen since I was 8 years old (32 years ago!). As you can imagine, this was a very big deal for me, and the sad fact that there is no reunion photo is actually a testament to just how absorbed Daddy Rick and I were in our conversation. Sister Cindy and her family showed up too, and it was probably 28 years ago that I last saw her. Uncle Ryan (Michelle's hubby) took over entertaining the kids in the pool, and his father Carl was a very generous host for the whole deal. A big thanks to everyone involved.

The second party was on Sunday, Aaron's actual birthday. Nana (my mom), Papa and Nannie (Elisa's parents), Aunt Kerry, Danni and Michelle (Aaron's cousins), were there at the Arrowhead Village pizza place with me, Elisa and Sammy. Later that night before bed, Aaron said "I'm the luckiest kid in the world, because I get to have cake so many times!" Funny thing is that he neither likes cake nor believes in luck, (note the birthday pie in the pic above), but he was really referring to all of the birthday celebrations he was getting.

Which brings us to the final party on Tuesday, with friends from church, for which the camera was hiding somewhere, probably in my pocket... The Joiners, the Dunns, the Cookes, the Sharpes, the Ecklands, the Diaz's, and others were all there to imbibe the Star Wars motif ambience. Aaron got two more light sabers, one of which is spring loaded which Aaron calls "the ultimate light saber". At the end of the party, Aaron said "This is the best birthday I've ever had!" An amazing trio of celebrations for an amazing kid.

Safari Birthday with Cousin David

2008-08-10T21:00:00.000-07:00

Aaron and Cousin David with 9-foot python constrictor

Sammy cuddling with unknown snake

Aaron and Sammy's cousin, David (actually their second cousin—Elisa's cousin Sylvia's son) had a "Safari Birthday" which included a cool treasure hunt and a visit with "The Lizard Wizard," a lady who had snakes, alligators, lizards, turtles, and frogs. Amazing how the kids will hold killer snakes when someone tells them it's okay...

Murphy Working Overtime

2008-08-08T11:52:00.000-07:00

If you don’t believe he is real, here’s proof that Murphy (of Murphy's Law “if anything can go wrong it will” infamy) is alive and well. Worth reading if only to laugh at me, or with me if you’re feeling kind. Does this sort of thing happen to you?

(Murphy at work? Personal encounters at 12:08 and 3:25 a.m.)

Wednesday & Thursday, August 7 & 8, 2008
6:57 p.m. - Finish clipping fingernails using clippers on key chain (a guitarist thing).
6:58 - Put keys down somewhere. Go downstairs to change shirts to go to church men’s study.
6:59 - Bewildered at why I cannot find my keys when I just had them a minute earlier.
7:00 - Spend 10 minutes scouring the house for the keys.
7:10 - Find keys in basket by phone—which is the first place I looked but didn’t find them. They were camouflaged from the usual angle and only by defying visual perception and reaching in did I find them. Uncannily like a cartoon, where whatever you want magically appears when you reach for it (dynamite, anvils, etc.) Thus begins the surreal feeling of the rest of the night.
9:20 - A great men’s study ends. I decide to waste a little time shooting the breeze before going to pick up my mom at 11:20 curbside at Ontario International Airport.
10:58 - Arrive at airport. Feel guilty for telling mom that I didn’t want to spend money on parking. Decide to park, picking lot for U.S. Airways.
11:00 - I see no sign for U.S. Airways at this terminal. I do see there is a flight from United (the airline she departed on) arriving at mom’s 10:55 arrival time. Realize that in my hurry to get to men’s study, I forgot the paper with the flight number. Think to call mom. Realize I forgot Elisa’s cell phone (Murphy knows full well that mine is broken) and that I have no change for the payphone.
11:02 - I keep looking around for U.S. Airways information.
11:04 - Finally ask if this is the terminal for U.S. Airways. Told to go to next terminal.
11:10 - Feel grateful the parking attendant lets me out free.
11:12 - Park in other lot, proceed to other terminal, look for mom’s flight on the flight readout. See no evidence of any U.S. Airways flights whatsoever.
11:15 - Pace back and forth. Finally find an airport employee who explains to me that U.S. Airways does not “subscribe” to any flight readout display, and so no information is available for them. Begin to consider more and more that mom could be coming in at either terminal.
After all, because my mom couldn’t find her glasses, it was my 13-year-old niece who uncertainly said she thought the itinerary said U.S. Airways. Hmm, but mom flew out on United…
11:30 - Decide to loop slowly around the airport, passing by each terminal repeatedly looking for mom, feeling I’m bound to see her at any moment. Grateful once again another parking attendant lets me out free.
12:00 a.m. – Upon looking at my clock on the 5th loop, I begin cursing, angry that I did not bring the information paper or the cell phone. I stop cursing, pray briefly for forgiveness. Decide to leave airport to get change for payphone.
12:08 - A maze of loops and turns and endless stoplights later, I arrive at gas station only to be denied change by the “Change Nazi” behind the walk up window. He would not even sell me anything so I could get change. I shuffle my feet, moving sideways in what seems the required motion. The man behind me, who said “Dang!” was nevertheless able to buy a pack of cigarettes with no hassle.
12:10 - Arrive at the gas station across the street and proceed to get a bunch of quarters in change, purchasing a candy bar and drink to improve my odds for getting change. Succeed in getting $2.50 in quarters (enough to foil Murphy, I think). The cashier is incredibly slow counting out the change, says almost nothing and never looks at me. More feeling like I’m in a cartoon or bad movie.
12:15 - Call my mom’s cell phone from the gas station payphone. I hear her voice for only a split second, and then nothing. I assume she is getting in trouble on the plane for having her cell phone on. I opt to call Elisa, thinking my mom will have called her with any flight delay info, etc.
12:16 - Elisa tells me my mom’s plane was diverted through Las Vegas instead of Phoenix. Isn’t it obvious that the monsoon in Phoenix is Murphy messing with me personally? Elisa is able to confirm the U.S. Airways information and give me the flight number.
12:25 - Arrive back at airport and park at what I assume is the correct terminal. I wait. I wait.
1:45 – Almost an hour and a half later in an airport chair, I come out of the strange half-sleep. No sign of mom. The terminal is almost completely empty except for a few like me and the janitorial staff. Nature calls. I am rebuffed from bathroom entry by janitorial staff. I walk away, turn around, only to see a man walking out from the bathroom area looking “relieved.” I do a double take. I find the “family bathroom” he came out of, off to the side of the men’s bathroom.
1:48 - I myself look relieved upon exiting, and spot a row of very nice payphones just outside the bathroom, and realize these phones take VISA. No change required. Uh huh. Yeah. My eyes involuntarily cross. I decide to call my mom.
1:49 - To my excitement, mom answers. I ask “Where are you?” meaning, “where in this terminal?” “Las Vegas” is NOT in this terminal. Mom explains her ETA is 3:00 a.m. I tell her I’m going to go sleep in the car and how to find me in the lot.
2:00 - I consider my mom’s difficulties in finding things, and re-park the car so it will be impossible to miss. I go back inside to the payphone to give her the new directions.
2:01 - I lose 50 cents when my mom’s voicemail answers.
2:02 - My mom answers, takes instructions, etc.
2:05 - The tossing and turning in my car begins. Murphy has some serious fun with me, interrupting my pathetic hopes of sleep with not only the predictable screaming jet landings, but also a freight train, parking lot lights in my eyes—one of which flicks on an off every so often, and a sprinkler which sends a mist into my open window. I experience some semi-insane bursts of laughter, as if I was watching a movie about all this happening to someone else.
3:23 - I hear luggage wheels, look up, and there’s mom.
3:25 - After paying the $8 parking fee, I begin telling mom my tale. We visit the first gas station and I take this photo (above) of the “Change Nazi” dozing off on the job. I decide to leave it up to Murphy to bust him. But I think maybe Murphy really likes this guy—actually that this guy is probably a manifestation of Murphy himself, so why bother.
3:27 - I head over to the other gas station for a coffee and a snack. The only thing the cashier says is “17 cents,” the amount of my change.
5:00 a.m. - I get my mom home. We talk. I tell her to get some sleep.
6:00 a.m. - I curl up in my bed, glad that although Murphy seriously messed with me, I was able to keep my cool for the most part, and even laugh about some of it. And you?

The Light Saber Show

2008-08-02T16:00:00.000-07:00

Oh my, I can't believe how fun this is. Aaron (who is learning piano keyboard) figured out how to get the upstairs keyboard to play this demo song, and then he choreographed this "light saber dance" and even let me film it. He would only face one way, so I had to cram into a corner and was a bit close, but it worked out. Never in my life would I have imagined Aaron could come up with something like this. The boy's got moves to make even Yoda freak...

Oh, if you haven't seen Aaron and Sammy's track and field video, you gotta scroll down to June 7.

Kid Joke of the Day

2008-07-19T08:43:00.000-07:00

Here's the script of this morning's Aaron and Sammy joke:

SAMMY
Why did the chicken cross the train tracks without looking both ways?

AARON
(Without hesitation) Because he was too busy thinking about hair.

SAMMY
You got it!

DAD
(Looks dumbfounded)

MOM & DAD
(Mom starts laughing and Dad joins in)

AARON
Actually I meant to say feathers. Because he was too busy thinking about buying some feathers.

Now perhaps you're all wondering like I am how Aaron could have known that answer?!?!

Leo Carillo and Pt. Mugu Camping Reunion

2008-07-13T19:41:00.000-07:00

(Elisa thinks this is my best video to date...)

We arrived at Leo Carillo State Beach campground the evening of July 9 to reconnect with my "former childhood stepsister" Michelle (I just call her my sis), along with her husband Ryan and two kids, Jade and baby Ayden. Jade looks almost exactly like Michelle did at that age. The last time I was at Leo Carrillo I was about that age and was with Michelle and the rest of what was our extended family at that time, so this reunion brought back some lost memories.

The first part of the video is of Leo Carillo, with one actual photo of Michelle(!) also duplicated in an enlargement. We were supposed to take a brother/sister shot but I guess were otherwise distracted. The beach is a true natural wonder, on a less beaten path just north of Malibu.

The next part is of the second leg of the trip a few miles further north, at Sycamore Campground (just south of Point Mugu [not MAGU!] State Beach). It's a toss up what's more beautiful, Sycamore or Leo Carrillo. We were graced with many close encounters with wildlife, including dolphins and seals. And as is often the case with Sammy, he provided more than his fair share of comic relief and friend-making. Aaron and Sammy fans will certainly not be disappointed in general!

On the way home, we had a surprise for the kids, which you should be careful to watch for at the REAL end of the video. Oh yeah, the song is "Out of Breath" by Lifehouse. Post a comment.

Leo Carillo Tide Pool and Rocks

2008-07-10T09:23:00.000-07:00

The morning after we arrived at Leo Carillo, we took an early trip out to the beach at low tide, all of us except Michelle, who doesn't appear in this video because she was sleeping in with the baby (besides being a vampiress who doesn't show up on film--hee hee--see the other video). We had a great time exploring the tide pools and the natural beauty of the whole Leo Carrillo experience.

Aiming for a subtly different take compared to the other video, I tried to sum up the wonder-filled feeling of that morning in what turns out to be my most subdued video to date. Gentle souls may resonate more here. It's set to Bach's Cello Suite #1 - Prelude (one of my favorites)--I guess I've done a complete 180 from my punk rock birthday video. -Blaine

Coming Soon

2008-06-15T20:26:00.000-07:00

I've been very busy and unable to post until just recently. There is a bunch of stuff I have backlogged of momentous occasions in June that need blogging. Aaron graduated from kindergarten, Sammy graduated from preschool [THIS POST IS NOW DONE], they both had a great final meet with their track and field team [ALSO DONE], and I had what turned out to be my best ever Blaine's Music Studio student recital (which are more like concerts). I hope to get all of this posted soon, to replace this quick reminder post of what's to come.

Aaron and Sammy Graduations

2008-06-15T08:13:00.000-07:00

June 2008 held two major milestones: Aaron graduated from kindergarten, and Sammy from preschool. Okay, maybe not MAJOR milestones, but you'll be sure to enjoy this video compilation anyway. As usual, I've boiled everything down to a short best of reel, from Sammy's brief ceremony to Aaron's long but sweet ceremony, with a bit of the usual mirth mixed in.

Some may be wondering "Why don't Blaine and Elisa just post some quick pictures with a brief caption?" "Hi, my name is Blaine, and I'm a videoholic" is the short answer. Hey, but here's two pictures AND a video! Enjoy whichever ones work for you...

Happy Birthday (What?!?!)

2008-06-11T13:45:00.001-07:00

My mother-in-law wanted me to do something special for her on her birthday. So I recorded a song and put it to a video just for her. Went through all the hassle of playing and recording every instrument, singing my guts out, even finding the perfect photos for the video. Nice right? Well there's no pleasing some people. I mean, I don't get it. See what you think.

Hey, if it's not your birthday, watch it anyway. It's all about winning friends and influencing people. Then pass it on. Yeah.

Disclaimer: No one was actually offended in the making, viewing, or posting of this.

2020 Olympics, Here We Come!

2008-06-07T18:36:00.000-07:00

Aaron and Sammy are on they’re way to the 2020 Summer Olympics. Or at least you can judge for yourself by watching this amazing video of them from their final track meet of the Rim Youth track and field program. It really is an excellent program, coached by Rim High School students. Full-on track and field, all major events, similar to a decathlon.

When watching the video and comparing Aaron and Sammy in the various events, you have to remember that although Sammy is as tall as Aaron, he is almost 2 years younger, and is just learning the ropes. Aaron’s strong suit is the field events, for which he was team champ. Sammy’s strong suit is his “get the job done no matter how I do it” attitude that keeps him teachable and aiming for that podium.

Most importantly, their smiles prove how much they enjoy it. In the final 100-meter race for each (separately), you see both Aaron and Sammy smiling at the beginning of each race, Aaron in particular just before the starting gun sounds--he said he smiled because he was thinking about what it would be like to win (you will smile too when you see this). Other favorites are Sammy’s “scarecrow” hurdle form and butterfingers with the heavy shot put, and Aaron's late start on the hurdles because he said he was thinking where the bullet went from the starting gun. The whole thing was a blast for all.

How apt that the coaches gave both Aaron and Sammy the award for “Most Energetic”.

Happy Birthday to Sammy

2008-05-24T22:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday (May 23) was was Sammy's 5th birthday. He has the same birthday as my (Blaine's) dad. The little guy pretty much never gets up any earlier than 7:45, but he was up around 6:30 and making all kinds of funny noises and comments about it being his birthday, and thankfully he kept himself occupied because I was zonked on Benedryl (allergies) only half understanding him. He waited patiently till 9:oo when mom was done with her work before opening his presents. The coolest was one of those little styrofoam remote control helicopters.

Later we braved the weather (snow and fog in late May) and drove down the mountain to a place called "John's Incredible Pizza" which is like Chuck E. Cheese's on steroids with an all you can eat buffet to satisfy any glutton. Elisa's parents brought Danni and Michelle, Sammy's cousins, and Elisa's cousin Sylvia and husband Ralph brought their kids Lexi and David, and Jeremy and Nichole Dismuke brought Jaden and Austin (and baby Jonathan).

Among other cool gifts, Sammy got a little practice casting pole. Now he can start planning that fishing trip with Ace Harrison (see the Harrison blog), although Vanderschuits don't seem to have as much naturally occurring omega-3 fish oil in their blood as the Harrison's apparently do. On the fishing topic, Aaron did catch 3 or 4 blue gill last summer with just the broken end of a fishing rod, and kissed one of the fish on the lips for the camera (where is that blasted pic?). We'll see how Sam's love affair with fish develops.

Sammy's First Audio Story (copycat!)

2008-05-21T14:06:00.000-07:00

Not to be outdone, Sammy also wanted to record an audio story (if you haven't heard Aaron's yet, it's in the post below from yesterday). Aaron was concerned because Sammy couldn't read, but I just said Sammy could just make one up on the spot. Sammy's 47-second story, called "The Bear Adventure" is almost point by point the same as Aaron's "The Mountain Lion Adventure" except Sammy came up with a surprise spiritual twist with Aaron in the role of hero rather than Daddy and Mommy. I also tried to come up with a unique soundtrack for Sammy's to capture what I felt was his spirit. Sammy's narration is sure to get you smiling again. Post a comment!

Aaron's First Audio Story

2008-05-20T13:21:00.000-07:00

Probably about 6 months ago I told my sons that we could record a story in my studio, with sound effects and music and such (at the time I was recording an audio book project for an author friend--see my recommended links). They were really excited and kept asking about it for weeks, only to give up since Daddy was too busy all the time. Last night I was recording something for my upcoming recital and I opened my studio door and told everybody "Be quiet now, because I need to record some vocals." Next thing I know, Aaron gets all excited thinking that meant that I was finally ready to record one of his little stories. Well, he finally got me! Even though I didn't have much time today, I decided we'd better record, since he was home sick from school and I was beginning to feel guilty.

It's basically a one-minute story Aaron wrote that I made a quick soundtrack for. Fun enough for a little project (I remember making a few similar recordings with my Dad on his little recorder when me and my siblings were little). Aaron's reading is sure to make you smile or even laugh in parts. Have a listen, and post a comment if you enjoy it.

Insane Front Yard Sled Run 2008

2008-02-13T12:40:00.000-08:00

My best ever effort at building a "sled run" for the kids. Originally inspired by Uncle David the previous year, but then pumped up on steroids for an even wilder (dangerous?) ride. Off the front porch, down the steps, berm off the fence, snake through the yard, berm against another fence, up against the house, and the wind down at the bottom of the yard.

The thing Sammy had going for him was that he was really loose and low--and good at hanging on for dear life. Okay, so it wasn't all that bad! But he was going down backwards a few times to lessen the fear factor until I told him to go forwards. Apparently he figured what he couldn't see couldn't hurt him.

Aaron's balance made me feel better about him in spite of his more edgy, radical riding style. Plus he kept his helmet on. This is probably the last time we'll ever do this kind of front yard track because it only works for little kids. The bigger you are the higher your center of gravity and the harder it is not to eat it on the first berm. Plus, I hate to have to keep denying the neighbor kids who sit and watch from a distance like I'm some kind of stingy meanie. Kids, go look up "liability".

A Story by Aaron (10/12/07)

2007-10-12T17:14:00.000-07:00

THE SILLY SISTER AND BROTHER
by
Aaron Vanderschuit
(with help and typing by Daddy)

Once upon a time there was a mirror that seemed like it has another world in it. Along came a girl that was really silly. She thought that the mirror was another world with her friend inside it. She went to try to hug her, but it wouldn’t work. She thought her friend was stuck in solid ice. And she knocked on the glass (she didn’t know it was glass) until it broke. And then she was ashamed of what she had done.

And then along came some other girls, and they saw what silly girl had done. And the girls watching nearby said, “You silly girl! Why did you even think that was solid ice? It was glass! You could have hurt yourself real bad.”

Silly girl answered, “I just didn’t know that. I thought there was another world inside it. I thought, ‘What’s my friend doing in there?’”

The girls said to her, “It was actually you! You should have known that was your reflection! Didn’t you see that she looked just like you, was wearing the same clothes as you, the same belt as you, the same eyes, the exact same hair? And what about all of the moving? Didn't you see that she was moving exactly the same as you?”

“I just thought that was my friend doing the exact same thing as me, that’s all. And I thought there was another world in it, or maybe another world that does the exact same thing as this world. Even the trees. Even my globe looks the same when I put it up to a mirror. I did notice all of the words were backwards on my shirt that said ‘EXPLORATION KID.””

The other kids made fun of her, teasing and singing, “You thought it was solid ice, but it was your reflection! You thought it was your friend, but it was your reflection!”

Silly girl felt bad and said, “Maybe I should be more careful next time I see myself in a mirror.” And then she remembered that her mommy had told her not to play with the mirror. And her mommy also told her that the mirror cost $500.

And then also in her house was her silly brother who did the exact same thing as his sister. He looked at the reflection in the mirror and thought it was his friend and tried to hug him but it was too hard. So he knocked on the glass, and he knocked until it broke, and he remembered that his daddy told him not to do that, because they were really poor. And the Daddy said it costs $1, and they didn’t have any money. They had no pennies, no nickels, no quarters—no nothing. The Dad had spent his last $500 buying his wife the first mirror for her birthday.

THE END

First Soccer Game of 2007

2007-09-09T11:46:00.000-07:00

It was actually Sammy's very first game, and and the first game of Aaron's second season. I coached again. Very different from last year's "all star" team. Aaron was the only kid with experience. As the season unfolded I began to see that most of the time it was going to be "Aaron versus the other team". His teammates played a tiny bit of defense, if only by just so happening to be in the way while picking flowers or chasing their shadows. Actually, it's a blast with the little kids because it really doesn't matter since there is no score keeping and they really are just having fun.

For the Sammy footage, if you look closely, you can see that he does this "wind up" thing with his arms before he starts running. A real crack up. He later said he was trying to go as fast as Bugs Bunny (note to self: remove Looney Toons from training videos). Watch him instead of the ball, since by the time he gets wound up the ball is far away from him, and then by the time he gets there the play is over. He does make one run with the ball, only to get stopped, and then he gets down on himself (Elisa stopped the video literally a second before he got down in the fetal position in the middle of the field. Play on!)

For the Aaron footage, I was amazed at the ball control he manages. For the "play of the day," watch him go the wrong way--intentionally--gather his poise (and some teammates as if by some magnetic force), and then Aaron's fireworks begin: body shielding, body feints, quick cuts, and ending with a goal. Enjoy!

Castles in the Sand

2007-07-26T12:42:00.000-07:00

[We originally sent this out as an email exactly one year ago. Elisa's mom happened to comment on this today and reminded us about it, worthy of posting here. Photos were from my camera phone.]

It's man against nature as we build a fortress to protect us from the wind and the waves--built close enough to the water that we know it will be put to the test at high tide. This one lasted the longest of all the ones we've built so far (three of 'em this summer, probably about 2 hours against some good sized waves once the tide rose. (UPDATE: exactly one year later this is still our best fortress). It also helps the kids to keep warm from the wind so I won't be bothered to leave earlier than I want to. Actually, the boys keeping those wet life vests on is part of what makes them so cold, but they don't want to part with them. Fear of the waves, I guess (they take after their mother).

Sammy prepares for action as Aaron stands
guard against a rogue wave. There's actually
a tunnel under the blue boogie board.

So far so good, but where's Daddy?

Ah, there he is! Probably doing maintenance
from all the sand we kicked in (on "accident").
You skeptics should note the wave line left
in the sand (upper left) for proof that this wall
was really withstanding the waves. You can
actually see how the water made it to the very
top of the wall also.

In case you're wondering, Elisa just watches while we work and then walks over to take a few easy pictures. Hmm. And before you start lining up to give me awards for Dad of the Year for all of this (I know, I know), please note that I do spend most of my time in the water, so this is the kids' consolation prize. Keep 'em warmified and occupied so I'm justified on the surfside. Can you dig? (Pun intended).

Blaine

Phil Keaggy - Great Guitarist

2007-05-22T12:25:00.000-07:00

Phil is one of my favorite guitarists. Here's a great Irish tune of his (part of it anyway), called Shades of Green. He's more than just a guitarist, but a great songwriter and all around good guy. He's sort of like a Jimi Hendrix on Jesus. Very entertaining, and he never does a song the same way twice. Been around since the late 60's.

Christmas 2006, from Aaron's Heart to Yours

2006-12-25T00:01:00.000-08:00

The following is a true story, straight from Aaron's heart and not prompted by me or Elisa at all. I was so moved by what Aaron had done this Christmas that I decided to paint pictures (on my computer) to tell his story more fully. So the letter he wanted to write became a kind of illustrated story, written directly to Kendyl, his friend who had moved to Oregon earlier that year with her parents, our great friends Nathan and Jamie Hynum. He enclosed the letter (here presented in video form accompanied by a Keaggy tune) in a box along with two presents....

TEXT ONLY:
For the first three months of Awana Sparks, I saved all of my Sparks shares. The last night before Christmas break was store night. I thought to buy you something, Kendyl, because I love you. I decided to buy you some rainbow mittens and an orange slinky. Little did I know that I would also get a slinky for a present from my old Awana Cubbies teacher, Mrs. Cornell. She gave me and Sammy each a silver, metal slinky. But when I was playing with your slinky and mine, I got them horribly tangled together. It was so bad Daddy had to cut my slinky in pieces to get it apart from yours. We didn’t cut yours. Then later when we were making Christmas cookies with Mommy, somebody got the rainbow mittens all covered with flour, and also took them apart. But we cleaned them off so they would be nice and new again. The next day, can you believe it, Sammy got his metal slinky all tangled together with yours, and Daddy had to cut his in pieces to get them apart, just like he had to do for mine. Daddy couldn’t believe it! It started getting close to Christmas
and we remembered we didn’t send the slinky and mittens to you yet. So we found a nice little metal box to put it in for a little present for you. Don’t you think it fits just right? Daddy couldn’t find a nice shipping box, so we’re sorry we could only find a messy cardboard one, but it’s what’s inside that matters, right? So I hope you have a wonderful, merry Christmas. And remember that I am your friend and that I’m thinking about you and that I pray for you. I hope you have wonderful presents for Jesus. He is the Son of God the Father. Worship Jesus this Christmas! Love, Aaron

Coolest Summer Video Ever (uh-huh) 2006

2006-07-18T23:17:00.000-07:00

Created during the summer of 2006, one of my favorite video edits. (All my videos are short and to the point, sort of the "best of reel", so don't be afraid to watch 'em).

SCENE 1: We had this little pool on our deck (ultimately bundled up on the garage floor and then burned by the undercarriage of our car), and Aaron learned to swim in it. Interesting swimming style. Mom's and Dad's, swimming goggles work great to help get kids over their fear of swimming.

SCENE 2: Beach montage. Aaron and Sammy befriend this 8 or 9 year old girl at Newport Beach. She let them play with her kite for hours.

SCENE 3: Sammy decides the little girl is more interesting than her kite, and it's a real crackup how he takes her hand and walks her to the shore "surf style". He manages to keep the kite, too.

SCENE 4: Aaron sort of skim boarding, but rather standing on his boogie board on shore and letting the dangerous Newport shore-break speed under him (life jacket included).

FINAL SHOTS: More of Sammy and girl. My second day trying skim boarding. Sammy gets hit by it (not so bad), drops the kite string--never fear, all is well.

Best of Aaron Trying to Hang a Towel (Crackup)

2004-08-14T10:16:00.000-07:00

Aaron (just before turning 3) repeatedly trying to hang a little hand towel up. Maybe he was just stalling to avoid going to bed, because this literally went on for about like 8+ minutes--but I boiled it down to a 1 minute best-of reel. My favorite part is when he makes a song about it, "Sing a song, put a towel up." Also when he tells the stool to "stay right there" and then moments later seems to be disciplining it for it's failure to cooperate. You have to admire his can-do spirit all the way through till the end whimper when he puts his li'l head down after Elisa unfortunately has to tell him she doesn't think he can do it, that it's time for bed.

FYI, I'm still updating the blog with old stuff, keeping it chronological by when it happened. But if you've never seen this, and you're not cynical (if so, why are you reading this?), it's worth a view.

Disc Golf in Wrightwood (my first video edit - 2002)

2002-08-27T23:07:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I didn't really post this on 8/27/2002, but that's the date I made the video. Plus I wanted it archived way back! If you've never seen disc golf (aka "frisbee golf" or "folf") before, you might want to watch my short explanation of it that I made for my relatives in Canada. You might want to watch it regardless. It features the old "short-hair glasses-wearing" version of me, and my nephew Johnny as he looked back then (fairness to him: this was his very first day folfing).

As for the video, well it was my first time exploring video editing using my computer, so please forgive the bugs.