Broken Glasses

The Orangeburg chapel in Modesto is one of the most awesome buildings I've ever been in, at least from a boy scout's point of view. There are so many nooks, crannies, and secret passageways in that building that playing indoor tag or hide-and-go-seek actually requires real effort. Alas, this story isn't about the indoor maze, but about a small brick utility building on the grass outside.

On this particular day, the scouts were playing a game of tag after our regular meeting. It was a wonderful summer day and we were having a good time. On that very day (or perhaps the day before), I had been to the optometrist to get a new pair of glasses. Mom had gone with me, and the three of us had a long discussion on the merits of glass versus plastic lenses. Glass lenses won't scratch as easily as plastic (a common problem for me), but glass will shatter easily. For the first time in my life, we agreed that I would get glass lenses. I felt responsible.

Of course, this was the period in my life when I wore my glasses all the time. I wore them to school. I wore them to church. I wore them when I played outside. I was wearing them when I turned around and my face found the corner of that brick utility shed on the grass lawn of the Orangeburg Chapel, and the glass lenses shattered.

The Scoutmaster (I don't remember if it was Brother Fairbanks or Brother Blazzard) wanted to make sure that I was OK. He was especially concerned that I may have gotten a glass shard in my eyes. I didn't care about that. I knew that I back to the plastic lenses. And so it was.

Other memories:

- Deborah doesn't get kissed by Dave Spencer (barely!)

Anjanette is born

By request, this is what I remember about Anjanette being born:

February is cold in Montpelier, Idaho. February is also the month of the Blue and Gold Cub Scout dinner. The night Anjanette was born it was both cold and the night of the dinner.

There is a long tradition at the Montpelier Blue and Gold dinner, which probably plays out across Cub Scout dinners across the country. Boys and their mothers slave over baking the perfect cake, whether it be adorned with all things chocolate or baked in the shape of the Millenium Falcon. The single goal is to have the most impressive cake as recognized by your fellow cub scouts. The scouts admire the cake, individually decide on whose is the most awesome, and then cry if their parents get outbid on their own cake.

As much as it pains the parents of two cub scouts to buy back two cakes (at a relatively high price if they are as awesome as ours were), it is even more painful for the brother whose cake was not bought.

On just such a night in February of 1983, my mother attended the Blue and Gold dinner, 9 months pregnant. She went home, went into labor sometime that night, and went to the hospital where Anjanette was delivered.

The two of them ended up in a wing with a window, and while my father did not take us in to the room, he did help us climb the snow drift outside their room (I told you it was cold) so that we could have a peek at our new baby sister.

I don't remember, but I suppose we may have gone home and celebrated with a slice of cake.

Other memories of Anjanette:
- Anjanette gets poop in her eye
- Anjanette answers the phone
- Anjanette gets baptized