The eldest doth wed.

 

Joel married.

He is the first born of the North-by-Northwest clan of DuPont Saxmans and also the first to wed.  At university and during his years meant for chasing a political science major, his heart had seemingly found a new beat to march to and her name was Denice. 

We must back up just a wee bit. 

A year prior and upon his invitation, at the beginning summer of my junior year in high school, I had purchased a $20 Grayhound ticket to visit this older brother in the green (rainy) college town just south of the Canadian border, Bellingham, Washington.  His intention was to show me the ‘college life’ and I was unabashedly smitten with younger-brotherly respect for this visit.  In a typical rented college-town house that he shared with maybe three roommates, he had one of the “cool upstairs bedrooms.”  A gigantic American flag adorned on one of the walls.  

He showed me his new town.  We strolled through the Western Washington University campus and showed me what a “real lecture hall” should look like.  We dined at a downtown Mexican restaurant (where his whispered insight pointed out that they “…should have larger water glasses if they are going to serve such spicy food.”)  We chatted about family things and we chatted about brotherly things but I could tell that he had matured substantially since moving away from that old French explosives plant in the South of Tacoma, Les DuPont.

During that trip, my brother was the most independent person I knew.  Joel had exchanged his subwoofer-ed Dodge Aires for a blue manual Ford Tempo, I believe.  I met some of his friends, Pat, Ally, and Nate.  They seemed, in a, “roast-your-big-brother-kind-of-way,” like the coolest people I had ever met.  During dinner he inclined to be warry of what it means to use a credit card and to always tip the wait staff.  Joel is my brother from the same mother.  Goes without mentioning, you’d assume, but this was a proper brotherly move on his part.  He also told me that he had met a girl and that he liked her and had bought her a ring.  Joel wanted to marry her.  Nope, that’s not it.  Joel WAS GOING TO MARRY HER.  The way he talked about how her… he was enamored.  He was nervous but nervously confident.  I felt impressed to witness this fervor.

One year later, en route to the wedding weekend, myself and Jordan caught a ride with Ben in his 2-door Acura Legend (burgundy mid 90’s coupe with a Thule roof mount.)  It’s about a three-hour drive to Bellingham from Tacoma but we caught some rush-hour traffic.  Let’s just say we listened to his Collective Soul CD more than once.  I remember that Grandpa made the trip.  Might’ve been his last visit to the west coast.

A sunny weekend save for the rain’s cameo appearance during all things reception.  The rain be damned.  It was a beautiful wedding.  Can’t live in the Pacific Northwest and then complain about the weather.  It’s abhorrent to your health.  The complaining, that is.

I was cool until they played that damned video showcasing the progressing pictures of Joel and Denice from young-till-now, bleached hair to norm, proposing on a hike whilst some heartfelt ballad serenades us all as if that particular artist was only thinking of these two when they wrote it.  That’s when I always get teary-eyed.  Those videos ALWAYS get to me.  Watching the summation of two humans…finding that they would rather try it together than alone.  Just a story with a great ending that sneaks up on you.  Can’t do that.  I cannot handle that much story crammed into what, 3 minutes?  That video needs to be like 80 years long. 

Bubba arrives

Bubba as we knew her. 

After asking my mother the origin of ‘Bubba’ as a name, she answered, “I think it means ‘grandma’ in Czech.” I believe that was the extent of such research. 

We were many and we were small and she was only one and small also. Typically, in the summer season, Bubba would fly via USAir out to the northwest corner of these continental United States and stay for a few weeks at a time. 

This side of the family eventually grew to a total of ten children, of which, each individual’s high school graduation could expect another visit from the Bub.  These memories begin back at a time when entire families could walk all the way up to the boarding gates within the airport. We would all get cleaned up and dress pretty. Earth-toned pants and polo-shirts with curled collars for the boys and floral dresses and socks with doilies at the ankles for the girls. Sometimes my sisters donned large white ‘heading to the horse race’ hats if it Spring was in the air. Other accepted outfits were typically ‘Penn State’ related t-shirts and or any custom hand-made shirt from the guest of honor. 

I remember staring out of the big windows and admiring the ginormous size of the airplanes as they arrived and departed and all of the moving people that made such arriving and departing happen. 

We never showed up late. At some phase in her upbringing, my own mother must have been partially raised by a herding breed of canine. Austrailian Shepards, perhaps?  Well, judging strictly by the ten even sets of forehead bangs, a la, children-of-the-corn-style, more likely she was reared by Sheepdogs. How else could one explain that natural ability to corral so many little Christian soldiers to get squeaky clean, pile into a blue van and find seatbelts, drive fifty-five oldies-laden minutes, park, and then mob through an airport to the correct arrival gate? 

Half of the plane would file out of the doorway and then we would see, a pair of loose but comfortably-fitting, deeply-pleated, baby blue capri style polyester pants, and coke-bottle style prescription sunglasses covering up a warmly welcomed Bubba.

Big hugs ensued. 

Heading to the baggage check, it was always a curiosity that any drug-sniffing dog working through the luggage would choose to ignore the roughly sixteen pounds of ‘chipped ham’ nestling snugly among Bubba’s toiletries. 

Bubba visiting meant that Mom and Dad could go out for dinner at least once during her while. We would get sent upstairs at our normal bedtimes and then we would take turns tiptoeing back down to see what we could get away with. Peering around the kitchen corner one might find a Bubba standing two feet away (one might even call it arm’s length) from the living room television whilst holding the remote control and attempting to glean the local news’ nominal riot.

There seemed to be no weaknesses to this babysitter’s ruling methods. She represented what my parents wanted quite keenly and we respected her for that.

MINNIE (the forgotten Saxman)

Minnie Rogue Saxman  (or whatever middle names the girls gave it,) was born into this world as a rodent.

One fine day, a giggling gaggle of Saxman girls arrived home, likely from some strip-mall pet store. Maybe it was located within the B&I in Tacoma with that old gorilla that lived there. Ivan was his name? Not important.

I believe the 'all-black' option (eyeballs/fur,) was chosen by Mom because she felt the white fur/red eyes was horrid and amplified that the animal was, in fact, "..looking directly at you." Minnie came complete with wire cage, bag of sawdust for her living room floor, and water dispenser. There was alot of playing with Minnie during the initial two years of her stay at 611 Louviers Ave, intersecting Penniman St. and across the street from the playground.

"Playing with Minnie" consisted of; passing her back and forth, feeding her carrots, making 'squeaking sounds,' and taking her out of her home (cage) and placing her basically anywhere in the world. Minnie, likely in shock and recovery from the heart attacks that she obviously incurred during each of these 'play sessions,' would typically sit rigid with a heartbeat so fast that you could only know what it felt like if you were a offensive lineman during play-action in an electric football game.

Minnie lived to be 5 years old, 8 years old, 16 years old!? I do not know her final age. I'm not certain that anyone remembers when she expired. After a few years she was pretty much left to squeak out her final squeaks in that hospice also known as the 'den.' Perhaps, somewhere underneath those shredded Lakewood Journals in the sky, Minnie is looking down upon that particular corner of that house and smiling, as she attempts to bomb it with a few cloud-dusted poop pellets.

"In my old country I was a surgeon." She sighs.

more of the BLUE VAN

So anyway, let’s talk about the blue van. Who remembers it? Of course we all remember the tear in the upper portion of the back seat which was repaired with duct tape. Of course we also remember how the years of hot summers beating down on that tape, would produce a nice, gray, stickiness on the backs of our heads, coats, ponytails..

Pop quiz! Supposing a vehicle has 8 seatbelts, how many Saxman passengers can it safely carry?

Well, if you guessed 8, you’d be wrong. The answer is 14. Haven’t you ever heard of “doubling-up?” That’s right, if, for some reason you can’t find the other half to your seatbelt, just sit patiently for a few seconds and one of your siblings will tattle to mom about your illegal van-riding methods.

I remember that more often then not, that van wouldn’t start. Mom would crank it over and over until signs of a diminishing battery life were obvious. Never mind the fact that each round trip from Dupont to Steilacoom only earned that van a $1 investment of gas. Leave it to Mom, always the auto mechanic, to jump right into her only known remedy. It seemed to be some sort of random pumping of the gas pedal before and after numerous cranks. Eventually, Mr. Frank Serfus would get sick of hearing this sad engine whine and cross the street only to perform the exact same gas pedal-pumping method that mom used! The only difference being, one or two cranks from Frank always guaranteed a sure start. Go figure.

Cali 2010

Okay, I know we're barely into 2010 but as most of you know we should all be making a trip down south to the sunshine just before summer.

You all know I'm a planner and I realize most of you haven't thought twice about it but figured a good place to start would be to get some feedback about potential "family" arrangements while we're down there.

Take some time and then give me some feedback for the following:

Are you interested in staying in a house (location would be La Jolla) with other family members.

Approximately how long (days/nights) do you think you'd be at the house?

If you stayed the max nights (3-5???) how much would you be willing to pay for that time.
General Example: 20 adults @ $150/each = $3000 4-5 bedroom house (cost in La Jolla) for 3-5 nights.

**Travis and I are planning to visit Disneyland for a few days prior to our arrival and would love to have anyone else join us. :)

Thanks for your feedback!

Gla

Family Vacation Idea

I think I ran the idea by most everyone of having a family vacation every other summer so that everyone could be there.

As expected, Dad had an "idea" which I, personally, think is a pretty good one...here goes!

Time of year: Feb - March

Place: Lake Havasu (bear with me)

Pros:
Usually we are willing and looking for a way to escape the dark, dull, dreary, rainy days and nights here in WA, while those in CA wouldn't have to travel far at all!
Cheaper to vacation during that time of year vs summer.
Ken Marsh...yep, I said it! You know he had to come into play eventually! We could take advantage of his toys such as a few waverunners, "party" boat (one of those flat ones that holds like 15 people), come and go from his pool, etc, etc.

**The thought is to attempt to locate a "monster" house on or very near the lake that could handle us. I know this might sound impossible, but you never know.

Here's where you all come in: I need to know how many people are interested in entertaining this idea and then dad and I would start the research should there be enough. Let me know your thoughts as well and other ideas you have.

Gla :)




okay, to add to this and maybe tweak your interests, check out this "example" of a retreat we could all get away to. http://www.homeaway.com/vacation-rental/p174552 For those of you that like the math done this would cost us $3500 for the week and breaks down to about $175/adult. Just an idea....

Christmas in DuPont

5 giant cans of popcorn

4 games of Scrabble

singing reindeer in the kitchen hallway.

Family Time

At the end of August we will have several siblings in town so I thought we should all get together at some point. My thought is to plan something for Saturday, August 29th. This date seems to be the day that allows everyone to participate. So, hanging out in Nupnop would be fine, but I thought it would be even more fun to get some ideas about what we could do for that day. So, post your ideas and we can all decide on something!!

At any rate plan to be with your delightfully wonderful siblings et al on that day!

guk :)

YES, THERE REALLY IS A JIMMY YOSHIDA!

Going to Costco with mom.

SAMPLES!

hold on to the cart.

8 gallons of milk

5 pounds of pretzels

400 loads of Tide

STILL, THE PIERCE COUNTY LIBRARY

VHS:

-Mouse and the Motorcycle
-somethin somethin and the Stamp Collector
-The Great Race
-Laurel & Hardy
-Abbott & Costello

16MM PROJECTOR. PIERCE COUNTY LIBRARY

-Soup & Me
-The Super Duper
-Jooooooooooeeeeeeeey
-Srawberry Shortcake & the Professor Pieman
-the never-ending donut-making machine where the rich lady loses a diamond ring..??
-the Peanut Butter Solution



Popcorn would be popped in that old popcorn popper with the yellow, transparent top.
A white sheet would be tacked up somewhere in the living room.

Tang or something similar would be brewed.

The Marshes would visit.

The "flap flap flap" of the reel as the movie comes to an end.

The Story of the Customized Apple Tree Branches...or, How Not Sparing the Rod Can Be Eco-Friendly

by Joel

Once upon a time, whilst I was near 10 or 11, I discovered the secret of how the 'switches' used on our bottoms (and legs when we would twist despite many warnings not to do so) were so smooth yet so similar to the knobby branches sprouting from the apple tree in our front yard.

The mystery was unraveled when I spotted someone carefully peeling the little knobs off the branch with a steak knife so as to minimise the welting-effect. This was kind and thoughtful, I rationalised. I don't recall exact circumstances, just knew that I was not intended to see said activity but I knew immediately where those 'whistling petes' were coming from. Never ate those apples the same way again. And I pounded into that tree lots and lots of those 12-penny (3 inch) nails to hold the various boards/steps as payback for what that tree contributed to me.

Years later I find out that the actual 'trimming' technique was learnt via shared knowledge from one of our favourite neighbours up on Barksdale.

Now I am a parent...and fortunately that little sapling in my front yard is still a good many years away from sparing any branches for the cause.

Next...Chapter 2: The Jose Canseco Model or, How the Threat Hanging Over The Top of the Fridge Can Be More Effective Than the Act Itself

AROUND THE HOUSE

MAMA'S VAN.
LOTSA LOTSA KIDS.


FORGET THE DOG. BEWARE OF KIDS


YOU TOUCHA DA KEYS
I BREAKA YOUR FACE


WHEN I CHILD IS SILENT
somethin somethin somethin..very sick or in trouble..somthin


Welcome Easter
Merry Friends
Happy Christmas


mom's half-full glass of water on top of the microwave

SMASHIN' PEWS

remember when jordan decided to use the rear pew at ECC to break his pull-up record ? It fell backwards but luckily his upper lip was there to break its fall. dr glen dayo stitched him up as if he was a pig's gall bladder entry-point.

remember when susie attempted to shatter jordan's pull-up record by using that heavy table in the basement of the AICF church? well, surprise, surprise. it, too, fell. fortunately, susie had learned from her big brover to utilize her body to break the fall of that which was being pulled down, smashing her finger into smitherings. (what is a "smithering?") i'm sure everyone panicked and somebody probably even paged jay wiggins, whom was probably standing 33 feet away.

remember when i dropped firewood onto my finger and broke it?

remember when joel, glory, and bethany all broke their wrists?

remember when ben, jordan, charity, and i all blew out our right ACLs?

remember when julie needed her scalding hot chicken noodle soup so badly that she tried to ingest it through her chest and shoulder?

BIG, BLUE, SINGING, SONGBOOK!!

his name was psalty. he was a book. he was a male book. he was blue. and he led human children choirs.
THAT's not confusing.

let's talk about Antsilvania. a story about a disobedient, adolescent, talking ant.

or the music machine. wah-wah, chicka-chicka, bonk-bonk.

NOW YOU CAN BE ME

here's the skinny: i've been rather busy lately and so cannot keep posting new blogs as fast as you'd like. Now i will give you the power to post blogs of memories on this page whenever you please.

Step 1. Login as micahsaxman@gmail.com
Step 2. Password is: passball
Step 3. Click on "New Post"

Be sure to sign your name at the bottom of your post or else all of your thoughts will be attributed to ME.

SUNDAY SCHOOL

why did nobody ever explain to us little chitlins in sunday school what exactly we were singing about?

"Father Abraham, had many sons. And many sons haaaaad Faaaaaaather Abraham! I am one of them, and so are you (Wait, what?? what do you mean "i am one of them?" I am confused..) i know who my parents are. their names are, Mom and Dad. songs like this should be broken down and explained to a kid

more @ 611

i really admire dad's idea for the "fencing in" of the back yard. it accomplishes what he wanted: a little privacy without closing off the yard completely. it's a unique design idea and looks and feels fitting.



on another note, how many visitors do you think there have been over the years that would use our bathroom in complete fear that someone was going to walk right in on them? it's funny to watch the entire routine they all go through:

Miscellaneous unknowing non-saxman: "Hey, where's your bathroom? Could I please use it?"

Any of us: "Sure! It's right over there, across from the bottom of the stairs."

Miscellaneous unknowing non-saxman: "Hey, thanks! I don't mean to be giving out too much information but my stomach has been making some rather peculiar noises. I think that McDonald's Apple Pie your dad gave me was a bit stale. I mean, I was a little hesitant to eat it, at first, because I thought that I saw him pull it out from under his seat in his red truck. "

Any of us: "No prob. Do what you gotta do. Don't worry about any of the 4 toddlers running in circles around the house, they won't bother you."

Miscellaneous unknowing non-saxman: (confused look on face) "Bother me? But how could they...? Hmm, whatever."

Then there is that precious 15 second period when you watch the person walk into the bathroom, find the light switch and flick it on and then swing the door closed behind them. WE all know what is happening on the other side of that hollow door; somebody has closed it and have moved on to the simple process of locking it. They begin by rotating the little locking tab, only to find that the tab...KEEPS TURNING. They fiddle around with it a few times and then either

a). accept this situation.

or

b). poke their head back outside the door and try the knob from the outside a few times before accepting this situation.

Either way, their fate is sealed. It is only fitting that after the 30 second-mark into their "bathroom duty," Ethan, as if he were being graded on his truancy, would, at full sprint, bust through the door for no apparent reason other than to wash his hands.

deliveries

one fine spring day, i was out delivering fliers to every house in DuPont and after about 45 minutes i had decided that i didn't want to deliver them anymore. it occurred to me that the best way to "finish" my job and still get paid that awesome $7 was to dump about 200 fliers in the dumpster behind the city hall. needless to say, mother was a bit surprised to see me back home so soon after i had started and i think i told her that i jogged or something. then, about two hours later, the day had become a blustery one and as a result, about half of my "delivered flyers" had found their way out of the opened dumpster and down barksdale and louviers.

VERCAMMENS and other random visitors

PLAY GAMES, ALL SOWRTS

joel, ben, jordan, and i would play street hockey in front of the house. we would use milk boxes from Costco as goals. I would be the only one to wear roller blades whilst my brovas always found it easier to stop and turn in shoes. whatev, we knew who had all the flair. once, and i think the ONLY time, we got Josh Davis to play with us. He slipped on some loose rocks and fell down on his bum. Not surprisingly, Josh cried, really loudly, yelling, "OWIEE! MOMMY!" and ran home. He even forgot to take his hockey stick with him. Yikes! oh well, he was a dynamo in the sandbox! josh really knew how to dig a tunnel. oh yeah, there was also that thing with him and the blue van. Ben knows more about that than i

NEIGHBORS

I wonder how many of them ever noticed saxman kids, sun-bathing on the roof.

TELEVISION AT 611 LOUVIERS AVE

remember the old television that we had to pull and push the power knob to attempt to settle the vertical hold? that thing would start going crazy in the middle of a MacGyver episode. Just when you'd think Pete Thornton was about to jump into Jack Dalton's plane to escape Murdoch's evil scheme to trap MacGyver's flame of the week, the tele would start flippin' out, spinning up like the wheel on The Price is Right.

Tim the Toolman Taylor became "once-a-week" family time for a short spell.

And so did TGIF. Remember Step by Step? mom thought the "Code-man" was hilarious.