Wednesday, July 12, 2023

EVERYIONE NEEDS TO KNOW UNCLE DAVID -Tribute

  Everyone Needs to Know Uncle David







What do you get when you combine a mountain man, a cowboy, and a farmer? -The most incredible man alive. -Uncle David.
This man can live off the wilderness with nothing more than a knife in his pocket. If he doesn't have a knife, he will make one.


In his Southern Utah town, Uncle David acquires the feral horses no one wants and tames them with extraordinary methods. He helps anyone in need, even the hitchhikers he brought home to meet his family. Unbeknownst to Uncle David, they had just murdered a man.
Uncle David is larger than life, and that is why I asked him to take me on a great adventure.
"Why did you bring us here?" Heather cried on day three, deep in the slot canyons of Escalante, Utah. The backpacking trip had thrown challenges we hadn’t prepared for. When Heather woke up sick with a high fever, her spirit broke, but only for a moment.
Months prior, Aunt Marge warned, "Be careful going with David.” She rubbed her knees, still remembering her Mammoth Caves misadventure with Uncle David. "You don't know what you are getting into."
"It will be fun," I said, full of hope.
She shook her head.
Perhaps I should have heeded her advice. I am glad I didn’t.



I wanted to prove my worth to my hero and would do anything Uncle David had in store.
"We will descend Hell’s Backbone the first day. Make sure you bring plenty of water because we will not have a water supply until day two. On the second day, we will swim through a little bit of water. You’ll need to wrap your supplies in Ziplock and plastic bags to keep things dry." I did one better, I put the plastic-protected supplies in a dry bag.
Day two had me nervous, but I didn’t tell Uncle David. I get cold easily, and I didn't look forward to swimming in artic water that rarely saw the rays of the sun.
"Don't worry. It will only be for an hour or two," David had said. I guess I could swim in icy water for two hours.



We started day two by entering the narrow slot canyon with its rich sandstone and slick rock. My heart sank when I felt the water. Was it even 50 degrees? I gasped as the cold took my breath away. It felt like a million ice-needles put a paralytic toxin in my muscles. “I can do this. I can do this.” We floated the stream with our packs. The frigid water locked our muscles, making it hard to swim. To our surprise, we swam through water for the next day and a half, not the two hours that Uncle David had promised. I violently shook the entire time. I have no doubt I had hyperthermia, but I needed to look strong for Uncle David. I didn't complain. It had been an unusually wet spring, and the slot canyons had filled with high levels of water.
We did have moments of reprieve where we could walk on dry ground. At these times, I ran ahead to sprawl out on the giant black boulders to soak up as much heat as possible until Heather and Uncle David caught up. Then, I would run ahead to the next bolder for more warmth.







We propelled and dove off rocks and cliff edges. We saw little dry ground, seemingly to be more on a swimming expedition than a hike. I have never been so cold in my life, and I hope never to be that cold again.
When night came, we found a little slice of high ground and made camp. When I removed my gear from the pack, I felt devastated to find everything soaked through. My Ziplocks, trash bags, and expensive dry pack had failed me. I bit my lip to hide the sorrow. The temperature dropped. If only I had dry clothes and a warm sleeping bag to climb into.
The following day, we began again. Despite the cold water, Heather and I kept our spirits up. We loved the chance to reconnect. I also cherished this time with Uncle David. We hoped the water would soon end, yet we spent half the day swimming through it.
"What do you think?" I asked Uncle David as I looked across the black water. This section of slot canyon had no edges or sides to hold onto, only an ominous black stream. It snaked around a bend, so we couldn’t tell how long we would swim. There would be nowhere to escape once we got in.
"I don't know how long it is," Uncle David said, rubbing his chin.
Could we swim the entirety of it without gassing out? What if the water went for half a mile or more? We couldn’t see the end.
Uncle David said, "We have no choice." We had passed the chance to turn around a long time ago. We tossed our packs in the water, held onto them, and kicked our legs.
The freezing water had exhausted me. This next swim was deadly, and I knew I had to get through it. Somewhere within, a spring of energy came to life. I paddled my legs like a motorboat and eventually made it to the other side. Uncle David and Heather didn't have the same luck. Their leg movements did not push them through as they turned in circles and barely advanced. Their energy waned. I said a heartfelt prayer, then tossed a rope and helped pull them through.
-A miracle indeed.



In the later part of the day, we finally found more dry ground and less water. Eventually, we set camp and rested. The next morning, Heather woke up sick.
"You have to keep going," Uncle David told her, now a day behind schedule. “People will eventually worry about us.”
Heather, a champion in all realms, put her backpack on and continued the hike. We followed the water but thankfully had dry land to walk on. Unfortunately, poison ivy covered the edge, which we walked through for the rest of the day.
On our last day, we met the roaring Escalante River.



"We will only have to cross it a couple of times," Uncle David reassured us.
The torrent river tried to knock us down and claim us as its own. It took exceedingly skill to stay upright as we traversed it. Uncle David had not realized how full the river would be, and we crossed it twelve times. At least the water was warmer than the water in the slot canyon. Finally, we reached our car at about midnight and collapsed in our seats. Heather and I had gotten an adventure that would stick with us for a lifetime.



And that is how it is with Uncle David. He never does anything ordinary, and that's why I admire him. He has survivors’ skills that would get him through the apocalypse. He can eat anything with his iron-clad stomach and not get sick, even a rat. Uncle David sees everything as a problem to solve, and his brain immediately creates solutions. On his own, he built a garage triple the size of his house. —90% of the tools in the garage he manufactured.
Uncle David, an Airforce Veteran, eventually retired from farming, but he has never abandoned his worn cowboy hat and boots. Always a man of the land, he currently takes troubled youth into the rugged wilderness where they live during their treatment, and Uncle David teaches them valuable life skills.
Would I follow Uncle David on another adventure?
-In a heartbeat.



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Everyone Needs to Know Uncle David
by Stephanie Daich

DEAR VETERAN -Fictional Tribute

 Dear Veteran




Dear Veteran,

Please forgive my selfish heart. We sat together at the airport, and I only observed you during my layover. I regret not getting up and buying you a meal. You see, I was bitter at the two-hour inconvenience on my time. Yet, your military service took at least four years of your life. I should have at least said hi. Although I intended to work on my laptop, my eyes kept settling on you. You seemed abandoned as you slumped in your wheelchair. Your unkempt hair and dirty veteran jacket made you look like you were rescued from the street, only to be abandoned at gate B12.

I never saw one person approach you as if you had a disease they feared catching. The seats around you remained empty, although many people stood as if they would have liked a place to sit. Did you feel the people avoid you? Does that happen often?

What was your story? You were probably a badass during your day as you protected our country. I imagine you running around in your prime, hanging with your buddies, and chasing girls. What countries did you see?

Were you a young boy drafted into the service right out of high school? Did you leave a girl at home? Maybe you decided to enter the military and made it into a career. You could have had a family that followed you from base to base, feeling desperate to establish roots yet never could.

I hadn’t taken the time to notice what branch you served in. I should have. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live in the belly of a submarine. If you did, did you miss the sun? Of course, you could have been a tank driver, rolling the metal beast over anything that dared get in your way.

When you went to war, did you get shot? Chances are, you went to fight as a boy but came home as a man, possibly a broken man. Did your small town throw a homecoming party for you? I hope you have had the chance to lead liberty parades where you have been honored.

I don’t know if you are in a wheelchair because you stepped on a land mine in deployment. Could you have spent time in a dingy hospital in another country as foreigners nursed you to health? I bet that would be scary. Maybe you were a medic in the war and pulled your brethren out of the grips of death. Or, you could have been locked in a cell, a prisoner of war, unsure if you would ever hug your mom again. Speaking of your mom, how many sleepless nights did she spend on her knees praying for your safe return?

What did you sacrifice as you served our country? Did you leave for war during your college education, never having the chance to resume it when you returned? I picture you shivering in a foxhole as your comrades died around you. -or fighting in a field, not knowing if you would live for even an hour more. You certainly have experienced more fear than anyone at the airport. Were you ground-auxiliary or flying in the sky?

Are fireworks hard for you to listen to, triggering a horrific episode of PTSD?

As I watched you at the airport, the more my heart broke for you. No one seemed to notice you or even care. You seemed more like an abandoned piece of luggage than a human. You, who once fought for us, have been degraded to a wheelchair. At one point, you likely were the poster soldier for fitness. The world has forsaken you. Even I rejected you.

If I had to do it again, I would have taken you to one of the restaurants and bought you a meal. As you told me about your incredible adventures, I would have looked you in the eyes. I wonder when the last time someone looked you in the eyes was. Maybe if I had met you on the street, I would have wheeled you into a barbershop and gotten you a nice haircut. We could have gone on a shopping spree, where I would have bought you clean new clothes. You deserve to look sharp and be respected.

Who am I kidding? I probably would never do those things, even though I should have. Please forgive me for my self-centered behavior. Please forgive me for not getting to know your story.

Thank you for your service and sacrifices. Thank you for doing what I was too scared to do for our country. And if I ever have the chance to see you again, may I take the time to get to know you.

May God bless you for your service.


___________________________________________________________________

Dear Veteran

by Stephanie Daich



THE INCREDIBLE FLYING DOG -Fiction

 The Incredible Flying Dog




 

Maybe it was my fault. How could I have known what would happen that day on the beach when I begged my mom to bring our toy poodle?

"Please, can we take Shasta with us?"

Mom pulled the lunch meat from the fridge and dropped it in the cooler. She had spent the morning getting our things ready for the outing. I guess I could have helped, but I preferred staying wrapped in my blanket on the couch. Why did we have to get up so early on a Saturday?

"I don't know." Mom reached back into the fridge.

"Please, Shasta loves the beach."

"She's just a mess at the beach. She barks at other dogs. She poops. I just want to go to the beach and relax and not worry about some dog."

"She ain't some dog! She's family, and she deserves to go. And I will take care of her, so you don't have to."

"Sure you will."

"You don't believe me?"

Mom dropped the lettuce in the cooler and turned to me. "You always promise to help with the dog, and then it ends up being me that does it."

"No, I promise. You won't even know she is there."

"Err, I don't want this." Mom wiped her hands on her apron and placed them on her hip. This usually showed she had reluctantly given in.

We drove for five years until we reached the beach. The beach better be worth such a long drive. At least I had Shasta to keep me company as we cozied in my blanket. I ran my hands through her soft fur, ignoring her nasty dog breath.

Shasta bound out of the car when we got to the beach and ran in circles in the sand. I was right. She loved it there. Her tongue flapped on her face as she hunted the seagulls. She found an abandoned treat and ate it before I could stop her. 

Shasta barked at the waves, running in and out of them. She had found her heaven.

"Aren't you glad I brought her?" I said as Mom lugged our beach gear.

Mom didn't answer my question. A chair slipped out of her hands as she tried to balance the beach bag and cooler. "You could help carry more."

I had a pile of towels; didn't that make Mom happy?

"Well, I have to be able to help Shasta at any moment," I said, avoiding carrying more than I had to.

"Tsk."

After finding the perfect spot, we laid out the beach blanket.

"I am starving. Let's eat lunch first," Mom said.

I stood with my toes in the water. The coldness turned them into ice cubes. "Lunch sounds good to me." I had yet to commit to freezing my whole body.

I joined Mom on the beach blanket as she crafted our lunches. The warm rays messaged my body as I basked in the sun.

Shasta explored the water's edge and jumped on the blanket to join us. She collected sand on her way over, clumps of mud sticking to her fur.

She rolled on the blanket, getting muddy-sand everywhere! Mom lost it when Shasta plopped her body on the cutting board where Mom had fresh tomatoes.

"Get this dog off the blanket!" Mom yelled. 

"Mom, she doesn't know better." 

"But you do."

I grabbed Shasta and put her in the sand. Shasta returned to the blanket, making it a game.

"OFF, NOW!"

"Geez, you don't have to get so mad."

I rescued Shasta from Mom's wrath and ran with her across the beach while Mom shook off the blanket and finished preparing lunch. I didn't eat on the blanket because I didn't know how to keep Shasta off it.

With a satisfied belly, I plunged into the water. My breath left me as the coldness tightened my chest. 

"How is it?" Mom asked as she paddled next to me on the kayak.

"Freezing. Get in with me."

"No, I don't do the cold. I will just kayak while you swim. You have fun."

Bark. Bark. Bark.

Shasta had little dog syndrome, chasing after two Blue Healers.

"Go get that dog!"

I swam to the edge and ran as quickly as I could. Shasta crouched with her hair on edge. She snarled and bared her teeth.

"Shasta! Shasta! Stop it! Come here!" I yelled, but she didn't listen. Thankfully the other dogs only looked at her and didn't attack. They could have snapped her in one bite.

I bent down and grabbed her.

"Dumb, dog," I scolded, carrying her back to our things.

After a few minutes, I put her down and returned to the water.

"What are you doing? You can't leave her alone. She will just chase the next dog that comes by."

"What am I supposed to do?" I whined. "I want to swim."

"I told you she would be a mess."

Ignoring Mom, I kept playing in the water.

"What are you doing? I am serious. She can't be left alone."

I got out of the water and sat with Shasta on the beach. My mood soured. How stupid. I wanted to swim.

I watched other kids enjoying the water as I sat on the beach babysitting a dumb dog.

"What if I tie her leash to the canopy?" I asked when brilliance hit me.

"I guess that will work."

"Yay!"

I tied Shasta up and dove into the water.

Eventually, I joined Mom in the kayak, and we had a great time until the wind picked up. I don't know where it had come from because the weather had been pleasant up to that point. But it arrived like an angry school principal, with full fury.

Mom struggled to keep us from being dragged out to sea. We both paddled with all our strength and made little progress.

Meanwhile, a gust or, let's say, a tornado came and picked our canopy in the air. Poor Shasta dangled. At least she had a harness on. If the leash had connected to her collar, it would have strangled her.

"Shasta!" I screamed. I paddled harder so we could rescue my dog.

The wind hadn't finished. It sent the canopy across the beach like a tumbleweed. 

Poor Shasta. She barked and barked in a tone I had never heard as she moved across the beach. And with her leash tied to the top of the canopy, she flew in the air like a kite.

Shasta was a kite! The wind kept the leash tight as she soared to the side.

Despite the crazy storm, everyone stopped to watch a dog fly.

I jumped off the kayak and swam the last of the distance. I ran to the canopy and flipped it upright, catching my dog on her way back down.

"My poor baby," I said, holding her shaking body next to mine. Thankfully, later the vet said she was fine, with no broken bones. 

"Just shook up."

Someone posted Shasta on Tic Tok that night, and she went viral as the "flying dog."

"So, the next time we go to the beach, you will leave her home, right?" Mom said as we watched Shasta's video for the millionth time.

"What do you think about a dog playpen?" I asked.

"Then, you would have a dog in a flying saucer when the wind comes."

I laughed. I guess Mom was right. Shasta was a mess at the beach..

I realized that day how much work dogs take. But I also learned that dogs could fly.


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The Incredible Flying Dog

by Stephanie Daich