8 posts tagged “family”
Who is your Alert In Case Of Emergency person?
Do you know any war veterans?
Submitted by Fightin' 6th Marines.
Grandpa Bolt (now dead) fought in WW I. He was part of an engineer company. They built bridges and such. (He is the one in the bow tie. My grandma is the woman in the center.)
Grandpa Andrus (still kicking) was in the Coast Guard during WW II due to a perforated eardrum. He spend the war protecting New York Harbor.
My dad's brother (also now dead) flew bombers in the South Pacific during WW II.
Then of course there is my dad. He got a draft notice from the Marines his senior year in college, but before it went into affect he joined the Navy and became a radioman. So the same year I was born he was off to send radio signals around the world from a little place called Vietnam.
EDIT: My dad show my sister and I a Bolt family website that had some info and pictures of my grandpa and uncle so I added it.
On this Thanksgiving Day I believe a short story of stem glasses is in order.
About ten years ago, my mother purchased some nice stem glasses to use for Thanksgiving. She wanted something fancy now that her children were older and could appreciate them. Well apparently all but her oldest, me. While enjoying the meal I held up one of the glasses and asked, "Is this plastic?" Not waiting for an answer I gave it a squeeze. Lucky for me the glass simply cracked and didn't shatter and send shards into my hand. Mom gave me an exasperated look while everyone else laughed. They still laugh. Every time we have a family get together and fancy glasses are on the table, one or more of them ask, "Is this plastic?" with a smirk. I'm sure to hear it today. As silly as it may sound, it's one of the multitude of small reasons I love them.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING everyone! Don't break any glasses.
What are you thankful for?
Didn't we do this already? Yes we did--Here. I do want to repeat the first two. My family and friends are what make life, life. To bend a quote from Hamlet, I could be bound in a nut shell, but I would count myself king of infinite space so long as I have them.
He lost his mother
When he was nine.
I wonder
Does he think about it
Everyday?
Does he think
About the dirty handed surgeon
Who reached into the womb
That gave him life
And took hers?
Does he remember
Each time he goes to the movies
How he sat in a dark theater alone
And cried
Because no one could
Explain to a little boy
What happened to his mother?
Does he wonder if she
Wanted to be with him
As he cried
The way he wanted to be with
His children
Who cried
When Uncle Sam said
He had to spend Christmas in Taiwan?
If he does
Then it’s no wonder
He calls three times a day
Questioning if we did “that thing?”
No wonder he frets and worries
Over every little detail.
No wonder
He asks for advice
From everyone
Trying to make sure he does
The right thing.
The thing right.
I may make fun of him at times
For this behavior
I may malign him at times
For passing it on to me.
That doesn’t mean
If I had the power
I'd take this away from him.
That's the man I love.
That's my dad.
But if I did have such power,
I'd give him
All the time he wanted
With his mother.
--I LOVE YOU DAD.
Through a combination of my brother posting some old pictures he "stole" from our dad and Haze's poem I got to thinking. That thinking produced the poem below.
Grandpa
“Ask him,” my dad told me
“About when he was your age.”
But I don’t.
I am too shy.
I just stand there
On the porch
Looking at his wrinkles
Afraid of them somehow
He is so old.
I am so young.
A century between
His birth
And my graduating high school.
He was seven years gone then.
Now I'm back
Back on the porch.
Back when he is living.
Standing
Unable to create the questions.
Questions that rise with ease
Now that I am older
Now that I can’t ask.
“When did you see your first car?”
“What did you think of the Wright brothers?”
“Were you scared while fighting in France
“In the war to end all wars?”
“Was performing vaudeville fun?”
However
Above all these
One question
Burns.
The one I might have asked
Even then
Had I known.
“How did you marry grandma
“Only knowing her a single night
“Remaining with her
“Over thirty years
“Until she died?”
It was the Christmas of '97 I believe. Before leaving the parents house Christmas eve, I had asked not to be woken up too early the next day. I had been working swing shift and though I wasn't working that night I knew I wouldn't be in bed until sometime in the wee hours.
Sure enough I did not go to bed until three or four in the morning. And even though I had ask to sleep, the young Dustin (aka Lightning Bolt) 13 at the time couldn’t wait to open presents so had someone call me much earlier than I had wanted. Thus I was in a fairly foul mood to begin with.
This mood was made worse by my little red Metro (I sometimes miss that 3 cylinder hunk o’ junk) dying as I pulled out of the driveway into traffic. This most likely was the result of being in a rush and not letting it warm up, the weather being cold and snowy that day. After much cursing, cajoling and console clobbering it got started again and I was on my way.
I entered my parents house, arms full of presents, in a now
pitch black humor. Cassandra (aka Six's Wife) made some comment on how I was being grumpy. Kids don't poke the bear when he looks angry. I exploded. "F--k you!" I yelled to which she responded in kind. My mother hearing the exchange chimed in with something along the lines of, "Let's not have that kind of language on Christmas." So of course I had to lay into her. "I told you guys I didn't want to be f--king woken up so f--king early. My f--cking car staled, then I come in here and get called f--cking grumpy. I don't need this f--king shit. I'm f--king out of here." To wit I stormed out the front door. My brother Tyler, who I think was smoking outside during the blow up, ran around to the front as I was exiting and yelled, "Way to f--king ruin Christmas." "Yeah f--k you" I yelled then climbed into my car.
I didn't stop yelling as I drove home. Nor did I as I walked in the door back home, scaring the bejesus out of my roommate. I sat stewing for about a minute or so until the phone rang. My father who happened to miss the whole melt down was calling wondering what had gone on. I started first in anger then I broke down into tears as I relayed the mornings events. After soothing me and assuring me, he convinced me to return to the scene of the crime.
When I got there I spent several minutes apologizing to everyone individually, including our new sister-in-law who had just married into the family over the summer. Welcome to the family sis. Needless to say I spent the rest of the day in a state of embarrassment. Now however the incident has become a story told with much laughter. That along with my Thanksgiving statement, "Is this plastic?" but that's a whole nother post.
(Back yard Casa de Bolt. Uncle Jason watches 18 month old Porter while Frodo, aka Mr Stinky, frolics about. Walking around in the back yard Uncle Jason steps on a half eaten apple. Moments later Porter has picked up the apple and is eating it.)
Uncle Jason: No Porter that's yucky. (Takes apple and throws it into the garden. )
Porter: Eee (Looks at Uncle Jason as if he has been told he will never have chocolate ever again.)
Uncle Jason: Let me get you a good one. (Approaches apple tree. Noticing that the apples are just about palm-size he picks three.)
Uncle Jason: Watch this Porter. (Proceeds
to juggle the apples. Porter smiles, then holds out his hand wanting
his apple. Uncle Jason hands him the apple dejected at the nephew's
lack of interest in the juggling. He sits and begins to juggle two
apples with one hand. Enter three year old Heston.)
Heston: What are you doing?
Uncle Jason: Juggling. (Heston watches enthralled.)
Heston: Do it with your other hand.
Uncle Jason: I can't.
Heston: Why? (Pronounced Whyuh.)
Uncle Jason: I'm no good with the left hand.
Heston: Why?
Uncle Jason: I'm right handed.
Heston: Why?
Uncle Jason: I was born that way.
Heston: Why?
Uncle Jason: (Sighs and smiles.) Just because OK. Hey go get me another apple.
Heston: OK. (Runs full out to the tree. Uncle Jason slowly stands and begins to follow. Heston returns with an apple.)
Uncle Jason: (Waves his arms and puts on his best dramatic voice.) Give me some room.
Heston: Ok. Come on Porter. (Runs
to the back fence, turns to watch Uncle Jason and pushes his back into
the fence to give as much room as possible. Uncle Jason begins to
juggle. Porter oblivious to the entertainment charges his older brother
and rams him. Heston unfazed continues to watch the juggling. Enter
Papa Bolt checking his tomatoes.)
Heston: (Running up to Uncle Jason.) Let me try. Can I try coach? (Papa Bolt and Uncle Jason smile.)
Uncle Jason: (Hands the apples to Heston.) Sure. (Heston throws each apple one at a time into the air as high as he can letting them fall to the ground.)
Heston: Look I'm juggling.
Uncle Jason & Papa Bolt: Yeah! (Heston continues his juggling for a minute or two. Papa Bolt exits.)
Heston: (Hands the apples back to Uncle Jason) Juggle them high coach.
Uncle Jason: Alrighty. (Throws
the apples ten feet into the air. He has difficulty keeping them all in
the air at the same time while throwing them so high. Focused on the
apples high above, Uncle Jason runs into Porter nearly knocking him
down and treading on him.)
Uncle Jason: Whoa Porter! (Grabs Porter in a hug.) You ok? (Porter nods and smiles.) Ok that's enough juggling.
Disclaimer: The above is in no way a documentary account of what happened. The number of "whys" may have been exaggerated for comedic effect. Brother Dustin, his friend Ben, Ben's girlfriend Rachel, were all present for some of Uncle Jason's and Heston's juggling, but since the scene had gone on long enough the author thought he should cut that bit out. Also, the author was focused on keeping fruit flying in the air so may have missed other items of interest.
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