Its been over two years since I posted anything here. No reason except that life's currents continue to sweep by fast and full. Following is a short story I scripted last year and seems relevant enough to post here with Father's Day drifting right around the corner.

Private Mutterings

I watched as the first ripple, the one you try so hard not to make, bounded across the shallow pool that lay ahead. Immediately a few wary trout scattered. Desperately I begged that they not alarm their brethren that finned just upstream at the head of the run. My sigh echoed the fact that this wasn’t the first time my clumsiness or lack of patient restraint had alerted fish to my presence, nor undoubtedly would it be my last.

The morning sun glinted off the clear water and warmed not only my skin, but also the blood of the coldwater residents that called this creek home. Life continued its daily routine oblivious to my presence, birds communicated through song-filled sentiments, flowers and bees began their dance in the breeze. And so I began my fishing routine as well, I breathed deeply, studied the currents, and stripped line from my reel. A few, brief false casts and my fly gently landed and began its float among the bubbles and debris of the near shore feedline. The fly floated undisturbed downstream past my feet. I repeated this process again until a brief flash engulfed my fly and line became taut, the connection between fisherman and fish was created anew. The small rainbow trout zipped and zagged, but soon quieted, and with the turn of a hook and the flick of a tail returned to an underwater retreat. I smiled with a sense of accomplishment, another jeweled memory to record and file away.

Peaceful and now relaxed after the brief visit from my piscine guest, I looked to the pool with plans for another aquatic reunion. A large splash boomed from downstream. My concentration shattered. What could possibly be invading my tranquil morning commune with this flowing river and its finned hosts? Unsure of what I might find, I turned to investigate its source. Not far away, much to my surprise and disappointment I witnessed my young son stooping to pick up a rock from the edge of the stream. Just off the edge of the stream bank, the turbidity from the previous splash still dissipated in the currents in front of him. He admired the rock that he had just selected unaware of my distant scrutiny, he was too intensely involved in the operation that had conquered his attention to acknowledge my intrusion.

The unkept curls he wore showed signs of the campground slumber from the night before. His blue eyes beamed, illuminated by the powerful tandem of imagination and discovery. His shoes were already wet at this early morning hour and his knees dirtied, neither of which he seemed to acknowledge or be concerned with. His lips moved, and I could faintly hear some of his soft intonations, the conversation seemed to carry importance, and was only truly available for his young ears. Eventually his glance wandered upstream, and I motioned for him to join me. I attempted to hide my displeasure as he approached, after all, the son of a fly fisher should be quietly watching for fish, not bombarding the stream with stony projectiles.

His footsteps jumped along the streamside path, and as he approached I noticed that the last cobble he had removed from the stream was still clenched in his fist. He wore a determined smile, and I wondered if he planned to attack the pool I was fishing with another aquatic explosion. I tensed at the potential confrontation. I wanted so dearly for my son to enjoy his outdoor experience, as unfettered as possible, yet I also felt the paternal push to enforce some discipline and impart some education on streamside ethics. His internal conversation continued to occasionally fall from his lips, his thoughts continued, unfaltering along their unseen path.

I laughed a little, remembering solitary moments spent creekside, where I too had enunciated a question or observation audibly, for only my own ears to hear, and perhaps for the eavesdropping local denizens of the stream. The moment of realization that one’s mental thoughts have slipped into oral speech would usually elicit a brief startle of surprise. These occurrences seem less out of place however alongside moving water; perhaps the setting justifies the discussion. Regardless, my son appeared to be carrying on the tradition of vocalizing his streamside mumblings exceptionally well.

His eyes caught my stare and soon we stood next to each other as the stream continued flowing on. His grip on the rock in his hand shifted, “Dad!” he exclaimed, “check this out.” I became anxious again, anticipating a splash careening through the tranquility that surrounded us. The impending lecture began to build like a cumulus cloud across my mind’s horizon. His wrist twisted, as he exposed the mossy underside of the rounded stone. His arm extended the rock forward and then held it steady at close range. I looked at him again, as his excited eyes danced with directed attention at the rock’s surface. My glance followed his, and it was then with amused relief that my eyes captured the source of his enthusiasm. Amid the moss and sand that covered the cobble wriggled a large stonefly nymph.
“What is it?” he implored, “It’s crazy-looking. It’s huge!”

I laughed again, as my previous concerns faded away. Instead I relished the unique opportunity to experience something again for the first time through the shining eyes of my son. I scooped the larva into my water bottle and sat down along the bank. He quickly followed, and grabbed a cobblestone seat, eyes glued to the creature that now crawled across the plastic confines of the bottle. I began, in very general terms that his young mind would comprehend, to describe the stonefly life cycle, and its relevance to the stream’s ecosystem. He listened intently, and for a moment we were both lost in the confines of a plastic encased world.

Eventually my diatribe included the trout that had brought us to this destination originally. A gasp exploded from his mouth when he realized that a trout could eat something so large and with such a ferocious appearance. I took this as a cue to open my scratched up fly box. Typically our journeys through the world of fly patterns occurred from the sterility of the warm cushions of the couch at home as I prepared for upcoming fishing expeditions. This time the surrounding had a more relevant reflection, and this time the search had a more defined target. I asked him to select the creation of feather and fur that most resembled the aquatic creature he had collected. Energetically he brushed his fingers through the lines of flies and nymphs and streamers, and another personal conversation began to emerge in short phrases, clusters of words that I myself had muttered over the same fly box in similar situations, “…not this one….almost…wrong color…” Finally he plucked a hook from the foam, and held it close to the bottle’s inhabitant, and then with nodding approval, my son placed the selected nymph pattern into my palm.

I tied the fly to the end of my tippet and quietly we approached the adjacent pool. He stood to my left, holding the plastic bottle and its treasure tightly. I pointed out the riffles at the pool’s head, and described a few likely places that a trout might hold; all the while the gentle stream currents swallowed our feet. Fly and line were sent hurtling forward toward the targets at the head of the run. Intently we watched the drift, two pairs of eyes sharing the same vision and the same hope. A twitch and a tug and suddenly the pool exploded alive. A splash again echoed through the valley, this one formed by a scaled inhabitant, and not from a rocky missile. We both whooped and smiled as the trout came to hand. My son beamed with accomplishment and inwardly so did I. We then watched carefully as the fish returned to its lie behind a mid stream boulder. A moment passed, no sounds could be heard but the gurgle of the creek.

Soon thereafter, the captured stonefly nymph was returned from its plastic jail into the cold currents of the stream, my son imploring him to go find a trout. He then turned to me, and with a continued smile said, “Thanks,” loud enough for both of us to hear.

That evening we told stories of our exploits, and I remembered to have a brief discussion about the reasons we shouldn’t remove rocks and throw them into the stream. I also was sure to recant that at one time I too tossed rocks into rivers, but had decided that throwing flies was far more rewarding, a difference that I like to think he too was beginning to grasp and appreciate. We roasted marshmallows and sang ridiculous songs. Later, as I sat around the campfire and listened to my son’s snores merge with the sounds of crickets and frogs I continued to reflect on the day. I had caught several more fish after he left my side at the stream, and he had continued on with his own personal adventures. But again my thoughts returned to an echoing splash, and a stonefly in a bottle, and an inquisitive young mind. Lessons were learned by generations today. Smiles were shared. Experiences were filed into memory banks, hopefully to be visited again. I realized that the first ripples, the ones I had tried so hard to make with my son, were having an effect as they bounded through the stream of his life. “Alright…” I muttered audibly, as I leaned back and closed my eyes.

BACK ON THE HORSE (cont’d)

Last night’s soccer game went well. After being overly self conscious about my foot for the first few minutes I fell back in to the rhythm of the game, although my touch was severely lacking, I felt no ill effects of the play on my foot or ankle, and this morning I walked out of bed without a limp. A large hurdle in my recovery has just been cleared. I think next week it may be time to test things out on the slippery moss-covered rocks of a trout stream.

Back to the long overdue update of the past few months…

I celebrated my 33rd birthday with a few new gray hairs, and a number of close friends that had already journeyed up to our pad to hang out at the aforementioned pirate party. We all went out to dinner while my parents hung around to put the boys to bed. We followed up with a few drinks and laughs as we all circled around the table for a game of Kings. We made up about half of the rules as we went along, but still had a fun time reminiscing over a classic college card game.

A few weekends later the boys headed south to Poway for a weekend with their grandparents while Rhiannon and I enjoyed a quiet weekend as a couple. We toyed with the idea of getting out of town ourselves, but in the end decided that a relaxing weekend away from any responsibilities or schedules seemed a better option than the complications that a last minute vacation might create. We found a few new restaurants in town including a great Mexican restaurant down in the canyon with huge oak trees rising out of its patio, and a new teppan Japanese restaurant that rivaled the always dependable Beni Hanna’s. We went to the movies twice which doubles the number of trips we made in all of 2007. I caught up on some college basketball (how romantic) and we both slept more than we probably had all year. It was a good break, but by the end of the weekend we were definitely jonesing for our son's little giggles to fill the quiet house they had left behind. The boys meanwhile enjoyed a fun weekend with their grandparents complete with a ride on the new commuter train, the Sprinter - they still haven’t stopped talking about it.

The first weekend of the NCAA basketball tourney I headed out to Vegas to enjoy the festivities with a number of friends, including all three of the Reynolds’ brothers. It was a little awkward hobbling around town in my walking boot, a few times I had to ask people to walk a little slower for me, but the lights of the city quickly washed out my anxiety. On Friday we spent the entire day at a poolside cabana, yelling at the television while our fortunes bounced up and down. USD pulled off the upset of the tournament by beating Connecticut, and much celebrating was had after their incredible win. It was a rare treat to spend a weekend with Ben, Nate and Jay, (not to mention Iwan and Justin) and we all began hashing out a time this summer when we can hopefully all again converge together at a river in Utah.

We had a fun Easter complete with several Easter egg hunts. Landon’s egg hunting skills have improved significantly over last year, and he also seemed to be aware of the widening gap between his skills and his younger brother’s. As the boys poked around the yard Landon would often find an egg and then pull Colt over to ask him if he could find the egg after pointing him in the general direction. Considering Landon’s love for the sugary jelly beans held within each egg, this was a very thoughtful and selfless gesture that kind of caught his parents off guard. Landon and Colt become better friends with each passing day. They now have conversations in the car together, invent new games, and generally seem to enjoy sharing the day. At night Landon gives Colt four kisses (because he is four years old) and wishes him goodnight. It’s awesome to watch them develop a bond that they will share for the rest of their lives.

The summer is rapidly approaching, and plans for the months ahead include a backpacking trip to the Sierras, a family trip to Hawaii, some family camping trips into the local mountains, and hopefully a trip to Utah. Next weekend I will be registering Landon for his first soccer season, scheduled for the fall of 2008, and I will be registering myself to be his team coach – I can’t wait!

I’d love to fluff up my feathers and announce that I will be back to this journal soon, but rather than make an empty promise, instead I will vow to visit here again…period.

BACK ON THE HORSE

I am going to play soccer tonight. It will be the first time I will have kicked the ball around for almost nine weeks. I got clearance to ditch the walking boot that was protecting my broken foot three weeks ago, and have been running a few times recently, crawled around on some boulders with the family at the local trout stream, and am ready to test it out between the chalk lines. Regrettably, those nine weeks also represent the last time I have written anything in this journal – not for lack of events or interest, but mostly due to a lack of time.

Six weeks in a walking boot and crutches is not a fun way to spend the end of winter/start of spring. No fly fishing, no surfing, no running after or carrying my boys. The end of lobster season came and went. I don’t think that Landon or Colt ever really grasped the extent of my injury. They would look at my funny shoe and acknowledge that I had an “owwie” and they seemed to understand that I couldn’t pick them up or carry them around. My crutches made fun toys to wave around. But almost every day they would hopefully ask if my “owwie” was gone, and disappointedly frown when I pointed to my still armored foot.

But all is better (knock on wood) and forgotten now. Last Sunday we journeyed over the bumpy dirt road that eventually parallels Trabuco Creek, and the boys spent the late afternoon throwing rocks in the water, looking at bugs, and generally relishing in getting dirty. I was able to not only pick them up, but to also navigate stream crossings and boulder hopping with a boy in tow. I didn’t see any trout, and the only newt I tracked down scurried under a large rock before I could point him out to Landon, but it was an awesome way to spend a spring afternoon nonetheless. The flowers and trees were embracing the season, there was even a small stone fly hatch to watch. Colt repeatedly licked dirt from his fingers.

March 1st we celebrated both of the boys’ birthdays with a pirate themed extravaganza at the local park. It’s hard to comprehend that Landon is already four and Colt now two, it seems like we were getting ready to go to the hospital only weeks ago. The party included a thirty foot long pirate ship bounce house and slide that dominated the park. We had a treasure hunt, cupcakes adorned with skulls and crossbones, and lots of kids running around with pirate hats on their bouncing little heads. Landon’s two close friends from school, Andrew and Jack, attended, and the three of them raced around like a miniature version of the three musketeers. I hobbled around like a peg legged participant, and even grew a pirate beard of sorts for the festivities. The boys both got overly spoiled with presents (again) and all of the family and friends coming together to celebrate our little munchkins made for a memorable afternoon.

A few weeks later we headed out to celebrate Colt’s actual birthday as a family, with a second attempt at an Amtrak ride to San Juan Capistrano. This time we boarded the train and Colt giggled as he bumped along on his first ‘real diesel’ train ride. We got a quick bite to eat at Ruby’s and watched the model trains chug around the ceiling. Then we raced back down to the station (as much as I could race on crutches) so we wouldn’t miss our return connection. We got there just in time and sat down on a bench to catch our breath and wait for the train’s arrival. And we waited. And then we waited some more. It was a hot spring afternoon so eventually Rhiannon decided to trudge over to the ticket booth to find out what had caused the delay. She returned with a look of disbelief - another bummed out person decided it was a good Saturday to die, and jumped in front of the train down in Solana Beach. This was the second suicide that had confounded our plans to ride the rail within the past three weeks! Either this is an epidemic that I was never aware of, or we are some sort of beacon, pulling miserable souls to the tracks like moths to a flame. Regardless, we were stuck at the train station with two tired boys in the ever warming afternoon sun. It was a long three hours, but we finally made it home. The boys were pumped again on the train ride, although I informed them that we wouldn’t be coming back for a very long time…

I have a lot more to write, but my commute home and soccer game are beckoning, so I will be back soon… I promise… maybe as early as tomorrow.

BAD MOJO

This past weekend had all the trappings of a relaxing, fun-filled escape from the toils of the labor force; Thursday night was Valentine’s Day, I had a four day break from the office, and Landon was set to turn four-years old on Sunday. What could go wrong? It turns out I somehow managed to lasso a dark cloud that has followed me since, and because of the shadow an increasing surge of bad luck has loomed over my shoulder. What follows is a painful recounting.

Thursday night was Valentine’s Day, however the strains of the work week and the care of our two sons had left Rhiannon and I exhausted. We anxiously dusted off our snowboarding gear in preparation of a rare trip to the mountains scheduled for early the next morning. It was going to be Rena’s first time on a snowboard in nearly five years. We fell asleep a little after nine o’clock, without even exchanging cards, oh well, we had an extended weekend ahead of us.

Friday morning the sun lit the sky as my parents arrived in our driveway, my Dad would be joining us on the slopes, while my Mom stayed behind to entertain her grandsons. It had rained locally the night before, and the San Bernadino Mountains had received a few fresh inches of snow. The day was looking perfect. Because of posted road closures to any cars not carrying chains we opted to take my Dad’s old Camry up the hill since neither of our cars have the required snow gear (although the Pilot does have four-wheel drive). I jumped behind the wheel and we were off. Not fifteen minutes into the drive we noticed that the car was running a little hot. We shrugged it off to the toll road hills and I eased back on the gas pedal. We hit the northeastern freeway and watched the engine temperature continue to climb. When we slowed due to some traffic the gauge continued to creep upward. The needle hung just below the bright red top of the scale. By the time we reached San Bernadino and the base of the mountains we decided that we had better stop to investigate, maybe a quick trip to the local dealership could have this problem analyzed and solved and we could be back on the road.

That turned out to be a bad call. An hour later we still sat in the waiting room, no progress on our wounded vehicle to report, we instead decided to salvage what was left of the day and head back home after all agreeing that we had zero confidence in the Camry climbing to an elevation over 6,000 feet without a repair. So we gently pointed the car south, and begrudgingly headed home without feeling the refreshing splash of fresh snow across our face. At least we still had the rest of the weekend ahead of us.

After returning to Rancho without having the car completely break down, I made a few phone calls, borrowed a truck, and headed south to San Diego with my parents with the dual purpose of ensuring that they were able to get the Camry to their local mechanic, and to secondly pick up a dining room table that had sat in storage for nearly two years. The table used to hold a place of prominence in my grandparent’s home, and so now it would migrate into our dining room ready for more memories to be shard across it. In general the transport was uneventful, the table reached its new destination, but my eyes continued to drift to the snow capped local mountains that dominated the horizon on the clear winter day. We found out later that the roads were open that morning and didn’t require chains after all.

That night Rhiannon and I exchanged Valentine’s gifts, which was nice, we shared a good meal and some memories, we watched a video of our wedding that I had converted to dvd. By the time we drifted off to sleep though Rhiannon wasn’t feeling great, and by the next morning she was plagued by the stomach flu, or food poisoning, or something that left her weak, and often curled up either on the bathroom floor or in the fetal position in bed. So I essentially was left in charge of three individuals for the rest of the day.

That afternoon while Rhiannon and Colt napped, Landon and I snuck away to the local trout stream for a little exploring. Without a doubt this was to be the highlight of the weekend. Landon had never been to the creek before and we both laughed and talked our way over the bumpy dirt road. We hiked around the creek, threw rocks and floated a few flies, I hooked a trout, we shared Gatorade, trail mix and smiles. Landon asked when we could come back and took a walking stick home as a souvenir. Other than a few pictures and memories, my only trinket that I took home with me was some poison oak. Luckily Landon was spared this infection. Saturday night was quiet, and we all went to bed early to prepare for the following day – Landon’s fourth birthday.

We awoke early, and Landon and I headed out for some donuts and juice smoothies. The donuts were good, the juice place was closed. Next stop was the Irvine Amtrak station for a trip down the coast for some lunch followed by a return trip on a real, full size diesel. Any illusion that Landon and Colt had lost interest in trains was shattered the instant we arrived at the train station – they were pumped. Only problem was that some depressed soul decided that it was a good morning to jump in front of a locomotive somewhere down the line, so all trains were delayed several hours to investigate and clean up this ‘incident’. The boys were saddened and confused, they obviously didn’t understand why their highly anticipated train ride had been cancelled.

In an attempt to salvage the morning we headed over to the Irvine Spectrum mall aware that they had a small train ride and a store stocked with toy trains. Good plan we thought, until we arrived and realized that the mall wouldn’t be open for another hour. We threw pennies in fountains until our pockets were emptied and then finally rode the little train and grabbed some food. We headed back home with plans to recharge with an afternoon nap and possibly another attempt to ride the railway that evening.

I had an indoor soccer game scheduled that afternoon that initially I had written off due to the day’s schedule, but with the change of plans I was able to attend. Five minutes into the game my left foot got hit from behind and rolled over its outside, I was pretty sure I had at least sprained it, but after walking around the sidelines I limped back onto the field determined to help my team to victory. Not too much later I scored a goal and was boarded roughly by the keeper. I lightly pushed the back of his head and told him to settle down, this was after all just a recreational community league and not the World Cup. Its probably also fair to recant that this keeper outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds. He quickly turned and threw a sloppy punch in my direction which thankfully missed. I laughed and told him to take it easy. He yelled and swung again, and again. I defended myself in disbelief, not throwing punches, just determinedly blocking his. Eventually he wrestled me into the boards at which point the rest of the players on the field removed him from my back. Somehow I emerged unscathed. I continued to limp around, scored another goal, and our team won 6 – 5.

After returning home I iced my injured appendage and watched as my foot continued to swell. By the time everyone woke up and got dressed we decided a trip to the local diner, where trains looped around the ceiling on tracks, might be an easier destination for my foot. We returned home, Landon blew out his four candles and we shared some cake. Landon opened his presents (more trains) and begged to play with them for a few minutes before he went to bed. His parents of course obliged, it was the least we could do considering how badly his birthday plans had floundered. We went to bed hoping to salvage what was left of the weekend with a trip to Disneyland the following morning.

When I attempted to step out of bed the next day a jolt of pain alerted me to the fact that my foot was still swollen and now also black and blue. So instead of the happiest place on earth, I headed off to our doctor’s office. Upon arriving I was directed to an urgent care facility across town because the doctor and his associates were all booked for the day. I waited at urgent care, I waited at the radiologist, and then I waited at the urgent care some more. Eventually I left with a pair of crutches, a walking boot, and a broken foot. The weekend (what was left of it) and the impending six weeks were all officially cancelled.

Aside from the trip to the local creek, nothing this weekend went well, and even the hiking trip came tainted with poison oak. I’m struggling to remember a worse stretch of bad luck that I have waded through – ever. And I can’t come up with one. Bad things happen all the time, and really none of the events from the past weekend were that tragic. The calamity and desperation revolve around the fact that for four days straight essentially nothing went right. I was actually relieved to get back to work on Tuesday.

Ugh.

Note: Aside from this past weekend things are going well for the Buhr clan (except for the potential layoffs facing our State due to predicted budget cuts). Both boys are growing and learning and laughing, and Rhiannon hasn’t left me yet. Dakota still wags her tail. Next weekend is the boy’s shared birthday extravaganza; I pledge to return here with a fitting summary of both the party and our lives from the past 2 months.

HOLIDAY SHUFFLE

It’s a busy time of year, holidays are flying around, presents beginning to pile up around the tree, money disappearing from bank accounts, temperatures falling and football seasons (both fantasy and NFL) are coming to a close. And some of those events have legitimately kept me away from this journal, and well, some of the others are just empty excuses. So in what is likely to be my only entry before 2008, here is a brief recap of the past Christmas light illuminated weeks.

This year our Thanksgiving rotation had us scheduled to celebrate the day with the Sharp family. As plans for the day evolved it became increasingly clear that the day would be a little less traditional than in years past. Aunt Andrea requested that we not start dinner until after the ‘trio’ went to sleep around 7:00pm, so our Thanksgiving meal would be pushed back several hours, undoubtedly overlapping with the Buhr boys’ normally scheduled bedtime. We took the change in stride, realizing that we could not probably even begin to understand the challenges that three, squirming six-month old babies might create.

Having most of the day free we decided to head west to Laguna for a few hours at the beach. The day was spectacular, one of those crisp fall days with little wind and clear skies, where the sun was warm and the shade was cool. The beach was empty of its summer denizens, and we had the entire cove almost entirely to ourselves. The boys and I investigated the adjacent tide pools while Rena took a much deserved nap on the sand. The intertidal zone at this beach was packed with critters including several species of fishes, sea stars, urchins, crabs and snails. The boys managed to stay dry for at least two minutes before piling into the pools poking sea anemones and giggling at hermit crabs. Landon asked why we didn’t do this more often – “it was so much fun” – I had no response but to agree.

That evening we headed over to Papa and Mimi’s house in Ladera Ranch. The three cousins and Rick and Andrea arrived awhile later. It had been several months since I had seen my nieces and nephews and the changes in them were more than significant. These once tiny preemies have exploded along the growth chart and Kaden is now barely smaller than Colt even though they are separated by 14 months in age. The ‘trio’ have rolls on top of rolls that our boys never had. All of the triplets appeared to be very healthy and if anything perhaps overfed. Unfortunately the babies did not understand the part of the evening’s plan that involved them sleeping, so attentions were diverted to keep their cries to a minimum and their mouths filled with bottles. The Thanksgiving food itself was delicious, but regrettably, only Papa Sharp and I were able to enjoy a warm plate, and the two of us broke in their new dining room, set for eight, with a quiet toast and chuckle about how crazy our lives had become.

We picked up a Christmas tree at the Lowe’s lot a week after Thanksgiving, it was earlier than I would have liked, but everyone else in the house had been asking about the tree while we still had leftovers of turkey and stuffing in the fridge. Last year we got an early tree, and by Christmas Eve the tree was no longer taking on water and brittle needles began to accumulate on the floor. This year I compromised on an early tree, agreeing to only getting a tree the day the shipment of evergreens arrived at the lot. After shaking around a few contenders we selected an 8 – 9 foot noble fir with quite a bit of width to it. Landon remarked that the tree was too big – I told him that that was impossible. We are in the process of converting one room in our house from a play area/storage room for the boys into a dining room, the room currently is empty, so we decided to take advantage of the extra space and place the Christmas tree right in the center. It looks great, and a few days later Rhiannon strung up the lights and the boys and I hung a few ornaments. Landon did a good job hanging up the various ornaments, although they were all hung at the same level, right at the upper end of his reach. Colt on the other hand seemed to enjoy throwing the ornaments more than hanging them, so after a few shattered bulbs, his duties were shifted from operations to management. Once all of the ornaments were up the boys would hunt around the tree searching out their favorite ones (mostly trains) and then pointing them out to each other. Having a tree in the house not only fills the room with some of the smells and twinkles of Christmas, but also serves as a constant reminder that the season is upon us, which instigates new projects like…

…putting up Christmas lights on the outside of the house. We live in a neighborhood where the majority of our neighbors have their lights hung outside before the Thanksgiving weekend is over. My guess is that if given the choice they would hang the lights July 5th, to ensure maximum enjoyment. Not only are the lights installed punctually, but they are also very extensive. Most homes have rows of lights adorning awnings on both first and second stories, and lawns are filled with reindeers, snowmen and Santa. Traditionally we string one row of large white bulbs along the awning in front of the garage, and leave the twenty foot high ladders to the rest of the hood. Did you know that more people are injured falling from ladders in December than any other part of the year? I just don’t want to add to that statistic. This year we did expand our normal lighting scheme to include a few illuminated snowflakes around the front window, and some strings of garland and lights around the two columns along the front walkway. Our second story however remains dark, and our lawn void of characters, but hopefully the additions will at least let the neighborhood know that we are trying.

Last week we got in the car and drove to another neighborhood in Rancho that gets citywide attention for its elaborate Christmas displays. We went with another family from up the street that has two young boys the same age as Landon and Colt. This long cul de sac converted into Candy Cane Lane has houses completely covered in lights, with singing Santa’s, and snow blowers that send snow-like bubbles into the air every half an hour. Front yards are adorned with elaborate Christmas scenes. The boys ran and giggled around, dancing with penguins and hunting for toy trains, and I happily followed with a warm cup of wassail in hand. Having two excitable youngsters to share the holidays with really does amplify the experience several fold. It’s hard not to smile and remember all of the excited anticipation that Christmas would bring every year, and all of the traditions I so eagerly looked forward to. The Christmas spirit is alive and well at the Buhr house.

A few weeks back we took the boys to visit Santa Claus for the first time (as luck would have it he was visiting at the nearby Irvine Park Railroad). We bundled up and waited in line for a chance to board the decorated Christmas train as it headed off to a small cabin in the forest that Santa was accepting visitors at. Once arriving we waited in another line to see the big man in red and white. This year is the first that Landon has fully understood the Santa tradition, complete with making a list for Santa, and being well aware that Santa is watching to determine who has been naughty or nice, and will only be bringing presents on his magic sleigh to the good boys and girls. To be honest, Santa is a great disciplinary tool, I kind of wish he was around all year. For the past month if Landon has started to misbehave I have pulled out my cell phone and threatened to call Santa to inform him about what was going on, and consistently he has apologized and ended the tantrum or disobedience. Landon definitely was impressed when finally seeing Santa in the flesh while we waited in line. He kept pointing him out to Colt, and emphasized that Santa was watching them. Predictably however, when our chance came to visit with Santa, Landon’s shyness prevailed and he refused to sit on Santa’s lap, and when we placed Colt on Santa’s lap his look of apprehension only fueled Landon’s concerns. Landon was able to enunciate the fact that he wanted “a bike and some trains for Christmas”, Colt looked at Santa and said, “woo-woos”, hopefully Santa knows what that represents.

This past weekend we headed down to San Diego for our annual Christmas party with friends. We traditionally have a secret santa gift exchange and everybody contributes to a potluck of holiday fare. Eryn supplies the latkas, and we typically bring some wassail. This year there was an extensive spread of treats supplied by Norm and Teri, as well other various other appetizers and snacks. Our Christmas parties have begun to evolve over the past few years as more and new additions to the next generation join the fray. This year we had four little tykes in attendance and a fifth (Jaxon) was home sick with the stomach flu. We got a chance to meet Adam and Diana’s new baby girl Allison and the she is a beautiful and quiet mixture of her parents. This Christmas party is always an event I look forward to every year - as our lives have all become more complicated and diverse, the times when all of us can get together are fewer and farther between. Gone are the weekly poker games and dinner’s out, now replaced by work meetings and household chores. It’s a great day every year when we can all get together and laugh and reminisce, and celebrate the strong friendships we have formed over the years. It is truly a Christmas gift.

The following evening was the Christmas show at Landon’s preschool. Earlier this year Landon had another brief show where the kids at the school sang a few songs, and Landon cried most of the time refusing to participate. Rhiannon and I both expected a similar result this time around, especially since Landon refused to divulge any information about the show itself or any of the songs he would be singing. We even warned his excited grandparents Buhr that it might not be worth the drive from San Diego. We arrived twenty minutes early to the school to find a quickly filling up church, within the next ten minutes it was standing room only. I was intimidated and I wasn’t even there to perform, things did not look good. Rhiannon walked Landon and his friend Andrew back to their classroom to get ready, and returned a few minutes later with the news that Landon was going to be one of the three wise men. Uh oh. My parents arrived just as the show was set to start. The school’s principal announced that they were just about ready to begin with only one bout of tears and refusal to participate to report. My gut said that the number of wise men in the nativity scene had just dropped to two. A few minutes later kids started to march down the center isle singing Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and after the reindeer and angels and shepards emerged three little kings! Landon proudly walked to the front of the church smiling, and even singing with a tilted crown on his head and a multi-striped tunic hanging from his shoulders. I was ridiculously proud. For the next thirty minutes Landon sang and performed. Flash bulbs flashed and camcorders turned and applause bounced through the church.

It was a learning experience for me as a father. The feeling of pride and happiness that flushed through me completely caught me by surprise. My heart raced through the entire shows and my eyes welled up. I wanted to run up onto the stage and grab Landon, squeeze him tight, and tell how stoked I was that he had done so well. Instead I waited until the reception afterwards and looked him in the eye and told him he did a great job with a smile plastered across my face. On the drive home Landon asked if “he did awesome?” – I told him he absolutely did. I thought about the years ahead, and the other accomplishments that Landon would surely achieve – if I was this proud after a Christmas play, I anticipate that my heart may explode at his high school graduation.

The past month has been unseasonably cold, complete with a few winter storms. The corresponding increase in fires in the fireplace and wassail in our mugs has added to the holiday experience this year. We have resumed our nightly viewing of a few scenes from the Polar Express each evening before bedtime for the boys, and have introduced the advent calendar tradition as well. It’s been a busy but rewarding Christmas season. The days ahead will likely be filled with last minute shopping runs and holiday traffic, but the excited anticipation of the boys as Christmas quickly approaches will help to keep our focus on the joy that the holidays are supposed to be about. I have a wonderful family, and the gifts I have received from being a father far surpass anything I expect to find wrapped under the tree.

HERE I AM!

Rumors of this journal’s demise have been greatly exaggerated…. True I haven’t posted an entry in over two months, and that if I hauled out the same, tired, redundant excuses about not having time, they would undoubtedly fall on deaf ears. So without excuse or explanation – here I am – back at the Streamside, months behind but eager to catch up.

School Daze –

On Monday, September 10th, 2007, Landon Wyatt took his first step into what hopefully will be a long and productive world of education and development. This fall he enrolled part-time at Christ Lutheran Preschool. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning he joins his Mom on her commute to her school (La Veta Elementary) and at 7:30 walks with her across the street to his conveniently located school. He joins a class of eleven other three-year olds where he stays until 3:30 in the afternoon. School includes play, instruction, snacks, a lunch and a nap – not bad.

Rhiannon and I were both a little apprehensive about this change. Landon would no longer have Stacey watch him, a relationship that started when Landon was only a few months old, and he would be going to a new environment, further outside of our control. The preschool had received very strong reviews from several parents at La Veta, and its proximity also alleviated some concerns. Regardless, this represented a first step of independence that Landon was taking down a path that would lead him farther away from the direct influence of his parents. We were slightly unnerved and unsure how to handle the change. With all of that being said, our initial trepidation has largely faded. Landon cried as Rhiannon dropped him off that first morning, and she dropped a few tears as well, but by the end of the week, the separation between the two became more routine.

Landon has excelled at school. He now recognizes and knows almost if not all of his letters and their associated sounds. He constantly is pointing out “L for Landon” on various signs and in his bedtime stories. His counting has improved, he can hold a pencil or crayon with two fingers and a thumb, and the side of our refrigerator is adorned with colorful art projects. Landon has a few friends, Andrew and Jack, whom he talks about and shares adventures with (a few weeks back we attended Jack’s birthday party at a local bowling alley). He periodically breaks into singing Christian themed songs, with the ‘Ballad of Johnny Appleseed’ being a repeat favorite. He listens and responds to questions, and has learned to interact and play with his younger brother without bickering or refusing to share. Basically, Christ Lutheran Preschool gets a big gold star in our book up to this point, and our sense of relief is substantial.

Sentences –

Colt has started putting words together and several short sentences are now intermixed with his ever-growing vocabulary. That being said he still also relies on an ever evolving personal language that no one but he can clearly decipher, for example his stuffed penguin that he has been dragging around lately is referred to as “Gunga”. He understands most conversations, and even sometimes does what he is asked, although as fast as his communication skills have developed, his own sense of independence has equally increased. Colt now firmly grasps that he is his own little person, with his own set of little wants and desires, the only problem is that he doesn’t always understand why those needs aren’t immediately filled. We are rapidly drifting into the stretch of the terrible-twos albeit several months early. The past month has seen a steady increase in red faced tantrums complete with moments where frustration out competes the need to breathe.

Transportation –

Both boys have become very proficient at navigating various vehicles. Landon’s favorite is his tricycle which he has become very adept at riding both forward and backward. Colt still has yet to master pedals, so he contently motors around on a Red Rider sit-down scooter that relies on foot-power. He enjoys taking the scooter off-road onto any available bumps and the structural integrity of his favorite scooter is slowly becoming compromised. Before the end of daylight savings time crippled our exploits, we would have regular bike rides around the neighborhood when I got home from work.

Earlier this fall, Landon and I took Colt on his first train ride on a full-size Amtrak diesel. It was a rainy Saturday Morning and we only traveled one stop from San Juan Capistrano to Irvine, but Colt seemed impressed with both the size and the sound of the engine. Once at the station we shared a lunch on a bench under a small roof while buckets of rain fell around. Giggles and splashes exploded around us which made the day that much more memorable. Our return train was cancelled so we had to call up Mom to rescue us from the abandoned station.

Trains still play an important role in our sons’ lives. The train table in Landon’s room is a frequent location of shared adventures between the boys and although Colt has learned how to put the tracks together he often seems to enjoy breaking them apart just as much. We still watch train videos (primarily Thomas) and the downstairs table has also become consistently littered with trains and train related items. Landon has developed the ability to integrate just about any object into his railroad adventures as some sort of important freight. With the holidays approaching I’m sure the amount of train related items at our house, which currently teeters at museum level, will only continue to expand. While at times I wish that this enthusiasm spread across several topics, I also am enthralled by how much investigation, exploration and creativity is stretched across the wooden and plastic tracks on our family room floor.

Halloween –

This year’s Halloween represented the first time that Colt was old enough to carry a bucket and beg for treats from the neighbors, and also represented the first time that Landon truly grasped how this great holiday works. Rhiannon got a pumpkin costume for Colt, and a week or so before the big day Landon decried that he also wanted to be a pumpkin for Halloween. So we had a pair of pumpkin brothers rolling around the neighborhood surrounded by various ghosts and pirates and princesses and super heroes. Landon also dressed up as a green crayon at his school and joined the other crayons in his class for some on-site trick or treating. We carved an angry and a happy jack-o-lantern, and played with pumpkin guts while watching Elmo’s Halloween Adventure. The boys continued to trick or treat for residual candy for the next few weeks until they (with a little help from their parents) had depleted their supply of sweets.

Wildfires –

The middle of October this year found Southern California smothered under a dark cloud of smoke. Several wildfires raged out of control from Santa Barbara south to San Diego. Two of these fires burned far too close to family and friends. In Poway, the Witch Creek fire burned within less than a block of my childhood home and the current residence of my parents. They were evacuated for close to a week and even spent a night sleeping on our floor. Their house was spared by the amazing work and dedication of the firefighters on scene, looking at the maps of the fire’s border during the evacuation I had pretty much written of the house, and was relieved that my parents had escaped. I haven’t been back down to Poway since the fires, but from all description the charred earth left behind is the tangible definition of a wasteland.

Simultaneously a second fire burned just north of our home in rancho Santa Margarita. Labeled as the Santiago fire, this blaze was set by some arsonist creep during the building santa ana winds. The fire devastated over 20,000 acres of primarily open space and natural habitat, a large portion of which surrounds the canyon route Rhiannon often takes on her commute to avoid the toll roads. Her first visit back she cried when she witnessed the vast destruction. The fire burned to within less than two miles of our home, if it had entered the adjacent Trabuco canyon (and its trickle of a trout stream) the devastation and threat to our home would have been immediate. Luckily the winds subsided in time for the fire to burn back on itself and over the mountains to the east. We walked to the park down the block several times during the week of the fires to watch the flames crawl over the hillsides north of our town. Thousands of neighbors and residents would migrate through the area throughout the day to check on the fires slowly advancing perimeter. We had boxes of valuables packed, but fortunately the call to evacuate never came. The smoke lingered in the air for close to two weeks keeping us primarily enclosed within the confines of our house, which after awhile had us all going a little stir crazy.

Summary –

There are innumerous other events over the past few months worthy of mention that I will only begin to list here. Rhiannon and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary (in Las Vegas), I joined an adult indoor soccer league in Rancho and although my knees are groaning it has been a blast, lobster season has opened again complete with a lobster tailgate with the Reynolds crew at a recent Chargers game, the saltwater fish tank is quickly outgrowing its glass confines, we’ve visited Disneyland a few times and finally waited in the line for the new Nemo ride, but most importantly we have been healthy and smiling significantly more than frowning. Life is good.

Buhr Family Vacation 2007

What follows is a brief synopsis of the recent trip to the islands the Buhr clan experienced. Each day is broken up into its own seperate post, complete with a few pictures relevant to the day's adventures. Enjoy.

Tuesday, August 7th, 2007

We woke up before dawn and piled the sleepy boys into the car in my parent’s driveway, and after filling their laps with cinnamon rolls and bottles of milk, flicked the headlights on and headed for the Sand Diego airport. The first challenge of the journey would be to check all eleven of our bags at the curb without leaving something behind, losing the kids, or getting the cars towed. The mad scramble went fairly well, although at one point after getting my driver’s license back from the check in clerk I turned to see the boys, alone in their stroller, staring blankly at the piles of bags around them, probably wondering if they would be checked next. Cars were parked in a long term lot, and my dad and I cruised through the security, and met up with the rest of the crew in front of a large indoor, kelp forest fountain. Colt and Landon spent the down time before boarding, checking out all of the planes and other vehicles that scurried around outside on the runway, anticipating their turn to take to the skies.

Rhiannon and I were very nervous about the potential madness that could ensue during a 5 hour flight with two young boys trapped within the confines of a few seats on a plane. We were prepped with toys and snacks and more toys, and blankets. And thankfully the flight was uneventful. Colt slept for a few hours, and Landon lap hopped playing new games with each family member along the way. When I explained to Landon that the plane was going really fast so that it could fly through the air, he looked perplexed since it didn’t feel like we were moving at all. I guess he had hoped to feel the rush of a 500mph wind flowing through his curly mop.

After touching down we got to do the same eleven bag shuffle, except this time in the tropical heat, but that humid blast of Maui air awakened old memories that made the sweat nearly enjoyable. We piled in a big black van and headed to our final destination Maui Sunset.

The condo we stayed in at Maui Sunset - sweet, sweet B219, had been my grandparent’s tropical getaway since 1980. During my adolescence our family spent at least ten Augusts in Maui at the condo, and not only do I have a bank filled with memories from those trips, but I feel that this time spent splashing around has had a significant impact on my development into the person I am today. To say that I was excited to begin my sons’ baptism into this inspiring arena would be more than an understatement. Admittedly, it did feel a little strange to be a parent, while my parents were now the grandparents of the two latest Buhr boys. Time marches on.

Landon passed out in the van shuttle to the condo and was tired enough that we could transfer him into a stroller where he slept for the next few hours. Colt wasn’t quite as interested in sleep, but we managed to get him to rest in his travel crib for awhile as well. This provided us with time to unpack, grab some groceries, pick up rental cars and install the mildew infused car seats provided by the rental company. More importantly we got a chance to sit on the balcony and stare through the palm trees at the familiar Pacific.

After Landon awoke he joined Rhiannon and I in a game of shuffle board. The courts are right below the condo balcony and have always provided a source of entertainment for the family. Granddad Mleynek was particularly fond of the game, and so of course pushing around the discs with my son caused another flood of memories that I realized would become unavoidable throughout the trip. At one point in the game Rhiannon built a lead of 28 to -1, but I managed to overcome the 29 point deficit and claim victory.

Colt and Justin soon joined us so we decided it would be a good time to visit the adjacent beach. The beach fronting Maui Sunset is a very thin strip of sand that becomes inundated with stranded green algae after high tides. This abandoned algae quickly rots in the island sun and expectedly begins to stink. The condo has contracted a local tractor driver to pile up the offending plant material and cover it with sand daily which works fairly well to minimize the stench and clear the beach. This trip the algae seemed noticeably less present so perhaps the situation is improving. We found a clean patch of sand and proceeded to throw rocks and coral rubble into the gentle approaching waves. The boys ended up covered in wet sand and smiles. Justin caught two small papio for them to investigate. The sun began to set. It was a great end to the day of our arrival. We had some great local fish from Alexander’s for dinner and all were asleep at a relatively early our, which turned out be a good thing because….

Wednesday, August 8th, 2007

….at 4:30 am Colt and soon thereafter Landon decided it was time to wake up and begin the day - it had after all been light for several hours back in Southern California. Not wanting to wake the rest of the condo up, and realizing that being locked in the bedroom with two energetic boys would be torturous, we plopped the early risers in the stroller and headed out for a pre-sunrise walk down the local street. The narrow street parallels the beach and is overgrown by the attempts at landscaping from the residents that call this street home. A few empty lots are overgrown with dense trees. As we walked the sun lined the peak of Haleakala with silver, and out of the darkness some of the local roosters began to welcome the day. Landon and Colt sat upright, listening intently for the next crow from the surrounding darkness. Our morning walk evolved into a rooster hunt, and for the rest of the vacation, any visit to this road, whether by vehicle or pedestrian became another excited search for roosters.

We returned to the condo and joined my parents on the balcony for a quiet breakfast. After finishing our meal, it was almost 7am, so we walked down to the local beach again but this time headed south. A little over 100 yards down the beach is a rubble construed coral reef that becomes exposed at low tides. As kids Justin and I spent hours on this reef turning over rocks anticipating what creatures might swim out and into our awaiting nets. So now some 25 years later I headed out on the reef again, this time holding a bucket and net for Landon while Colt babbled along in his mom’s arms. Before too long we had captured several different fish species which were investigated, kissed, and promptly returned to the water so they could, “go find their mommy and daddy” as Landon would explain. We then chased around a small octopus. I’m pretty sure this was Landon’s first experience with a cephalopod in the wild, so the squirts of ink and instant camouflage color changes continued to surprise and impress him. Eventually the octopus was corralled into the bucket so that mom and Colt could safely investigate. After a few pokes the octopus was also safely released. Soon Landon was hunting for crabs and catching the small ones with his bare hands and excitedly showing off his prize catches. Colt had some difficulty maneuvering on the wobbly substrate and eventually his frustration sent him and Rhiannon back to the condo. I really enjoyed revisiting the reef with my marine science background more developed, and relished the opportunity to introduce my son to some new ocean friends. Landon and I poked around until the morning breeze kicked in and then we too returned to determine our next destination.

It was decided that we would rive down to Kamaole Beach Park II for the remainder of the morning. This beach is a short drive to the south and includes a large sandy beach surrounded by lava points on either end. The southern of these points was our daily morning fishing destination in year’s past. This morning however we left the fishing rods behind, and instead replaced them with sand toys and beach chairs. The water was near 80ºF and the air temperature was slightly warmer. The boys rolled around on the beach and played in the small surf making sure to get sand into every possible nook and cranny. I pushed both of them into a small wave on a bodyboard, an experience that Colt seemed to enjoy more than Landon, although neither asked me to do it again. Both boys also got trips into the “deep blue water” in their dad’s arms, and giggled as the ocean surge rolled them back and forth while they stared at the islands that dotted the horizon line. I swam out for a brief snorkel and marveled at how little the reef had changed. The same coral structures and fish assemblages were present now that inhabited the reef a decade ago. The permanence of these communities, while the rest of my life has changed, provided comfort.

The afternoon was spent relaxing while the boys napped. Rhiannon and I challenged Justin and my dad to a game of bocce ball on the lawn which we handily won. We drank some pog, it was beginning to feel like a vacation.

That evening we journeyed down to the shore south of Makena to a lava encrusted stretch of coastline where we had spent many hours fishing and watching the sun disappear in the past. My cousins Ben and Leah and her daughter Chloe joined the rest of the Buhrs on the trek. We found a patch of sand with a large adjacent tide pool that the boys bombarded with stones. We tried unsuccessfully to get Chloe to catch a fish. A large green sea turtle came within a few feet of the shore grazing on algae, providing an opportunity for everyone to observe the massive marine reptile. Landon recognized the creature from his frequent viewings of Finding Nemo. The sky filled with color as the daylight slipped away and we packed our wet family into their car seats for the short ride back to the condo. Some local food was picked up from Da Kitchen on the way back, and we enjoyed a dinner of kalua pig out on the balcony while discussing the day’s events and the plans for tomorrow. It was a perfect introduction to the trip.

Thursday, August 8th, 2007

The morning had a more relaxing start, as our tired boys slept in until at least 6am, and their grandparents mercifully entertained them for a few hours after that so that Rhiannon and I could catch up on some much needed sleep. Colt went down for a late morning nap, and while he slept Rhiannon, Landon and I slipped down to the pool to splash around with Chloe. The pool itself is not well designed for a small child like Landon without any developed swimming skills, so he was restricted to hanging out on the steps when not being dragged around the shallows while playing “motorboat” with his dad. Landon is very cautious around the water, which is a good thing for my peace of mind, and would only venture out from the safety of the steps when his arms were firmly latched around his dad’s neck. I look forward to the days ahead when he will be able to swim comfortably through the aquatic realm.

Colt awoke shortly thereafter and we all piled in our cars for the half hour commute west to the town of Lahaina. The drive parallels the coast most of the way, and I immediately fell into the old habits of scanning the horizon for breaking waves. Unfortunately, as was the norm for the entire trip, the Pacific was exceptionally tranquil and the waves that lapped the shore measured less than a foot in height. After driving the wrong way down a one-way street in town we navigated to a safe parking spot and joined the rest of the family for lunch at Kimo’s. This waterfront restaurant was another favorite of my grandparent’s and we all ordered a round of mai tai’s and other tropical concoctions in their honor. Our table was directly against the seawall, and Landon was enthralled to discover some large shore crabs crawling over its rim. Leah and Chloe were not nearly as excited. We had an outstanding lunch, and any remaining leftovers were thrown over the wall to feed the hungry fish that cruised the shore. Landon and Colt had a blast as their uncle tossed French fries into the water and then pointed out the different fish that came to investigate a free meal. We all agreed that the lunch had far exceeded our expectations.

Landon still holds a strong addiction to trains, and has now fostered equal enthusiasm for the railway in his younger brother. To accommodate their obsession we ventured across town to the Old Lahaina Sugar Cane Train for a ride on the steam engine. The restored engine takes passengers on a round trip to the neighboring town of Kanapalii and back. The old line was bumpy, and the open coaches were hot in the windless afternoon, but the boys relished every minute. They scanned the views, studied the tracks as they passed underneath, pointed at the railroad signs and smiled. After we returned to the station from the hour long ride, both were ready for a repeat trip – their parent’s were ready for a drink.

After returning home we had a quiet evening and dinner while we watched the light fade on another day. After the boys drifted off to dream of the sugar cane train we gathered around the table for a few rounds of Boggle. Then as my parents also began to tire, Justin, Rhiannon and I walked down to the beach and shared a few drinks and stories under a big tree while the moon glistened off the ocean at our feet.

Friday August 10th, 2007

One of the driving reasons behind our family excursion to the islands this summer was to honor and memorialize my grandparents Mleynek and their recent passing. One request we planned to fulfill was to have their ashes scattered together across the Maui seascape that they treasured so dearly. The property managers for Maui Sunset also agreed to assist us in our tribute by planting a palm tree on the grounds to honor Frank and Harriet. So Friday morning, my parents accompanied Landon and I down to the front lawn to watch as a large tractor (the same guy that pushes around all of the seaweed) planted the tree. The palm itself was a significant tree, easily measuring over fifteen feet in height, so watching as the tractor hoisted and then dropped the entire tree and root mass into a large hole in the ground was quite a show. On the Maui Sunset property there is a large landscaped sign comprised of flowers that reads Maui Sunset. The sign measures over 100 feet long and grows on a small hill, located directly between the balcony at B-219 and the ocean. The tree was planted on the top of the ridge, directly in the middle of the signs upper perimeter. It was a well deserved and prominent memorial for an incredible couple. In the years ahead we plan to return and establish a plaque at the tree’s base. I could feel my grandparent’s smile from the balcony as we watched the palm fronds catch the late morning breeze.

By the time the tree was firmly secured it our stomachs began to signal that it was time for lunch. We headed down to Ma’alea where we met up with my Aunt Sheryll and Uncle Darryl and the rest of their crew for lunch at Buzz’s Wharf, another family favorite. The restaurant has a great ocean view of the small harbor below and the ocean and island beyond. The reef surrounding the break wall for the harbor is home to “Freight Trains” once labeled as the fastest right breaking wave in the world. Justin and I spent many summer days slipping into barrels here in the past, however on this afternoon the spray from the waves did not even reach above the rock jetties. Lunch again supplied us with good food, and also gave us a chance as a family to discuss and plan that evening’s memorial service for my grandparents.

The Maui Ocean Center Aquarium is located in Ma’alea, so after eating we ventured down the road to look at some of the splendid underwater residents of the islands. Both of the boys laughed and ran through the dark tunnels of the building, peering through illuminated windows displaying local organisms and their striking shapes and colors. The Aquarium has a large open ocean tank that is home to the only Tiger Shark in captivity in the world. The shark was impressive, and definitely appeared more menacing than other sharks that I had viewed in the past. It swam with a subtle power that was both intimidating and inspiring. It was great to sit right up against the glass with boys and with them chase fish around the enclosure with wonder filled eyes.

That evening at sunset we gathered around the recently planted palm tree and shared a quiet memorial to our family’s patriarchs. Small containers filled with a portion of the ashes were buried is the fresh soil at the palm’s base, flowers and stones were placed, and prayers, poems and memories exchanged. Then as the sun sank into the ocean Justin and I walked out to the tip of the rubble reef point and with quiet appreciation scattered the remains of Frank and Harriet Mleynek to the winds and colored skies of Maui. The trade winds gusted as we mouthed our goodbyes. We began our walk back to the bluff where the rest of the family awaited our return. As our feet touched the sandy beach, the usually predictable and powerful winds abruptly stopped. The coast was quiet and still. It was almost as if the island was also taking a pause to remember. The evening continued back at B-219 with dinner and drinks and happily shared memories and appreciation of family. The younger generation gathered around to play a few hands of Uno, a card game that always entertained our grandparents during family vacations. The night, as a whole, and in a greater sense the entire vacation served as a perfect tribute to the people that has influenced all of our lives so importantly. Rhiannon, Justin and Leah slipped out to the beach later that night; I decided to get a good night’s sleep in preparation for the arduous day planned ahead….

Saturday August 11th, 2007

…at 5:30am I felt a tug on my foot, and there at the foot of my bed stood my dad, dressed and ready for our early morning hike. We grabbed some bottles of water and snacks and jumped in the car, next stop the outer rim of the crater of the Haleakala volcano. After a winding drive through the upland grassland of the mountain we arrived at our trailhead at an elevation of nearly 8,000 feet. It was early and cold, and I was glad to have the long sleeved shirt I had stuffed in my back pack. A pair of Nene geese greeted us in the parking lot, along with a vanload of Japanese tourists that clamored over each other to get a picture of the rare endemic birds. We headed along the Halemauu trailhead on a hike that would descend 1,400 feet to the crater floor below, with a final destination of the Holua cabin. Total distance traveled on the hike would be just over 8 miles. As we descended the switchbacks into the volcanic landscape below the sun rose higher in the sky and so did the ambient temperature. Layers were shed and water was enjoyed as we plodded forward, pausing to share the expansive vistas. Fourteen years ago my dad and I trudged completely across the crater on a hike that still brings back hot and thirsty flashbacks of dragging through trails covered in volcanic sand. This return trip would be shorter than that preliminary excursion and avoided the trails that held names like the “shifting sands trail’. After that first hike I swore I would never hike the crater again. But now, as a father myself, I looked forward to the chance to spend the day along with my dad in the warm Maui sun, sharing the experience of a hike, a passion of his that he has nurtured throughout his life. We reached the cabin, took a few pictures, saw another pair of Nene geese, and checked out a shallow lava tube. I plopped a lava rock in my pack for Landon to share this experience across three generations of Buhr boys. We returned to our car at the trailhead by 2pm and looked forward to the fortification some food and a soft couch might provide.

Rhiannon, the boys and Justin spent the morning at the local beach in front of the condo. They had a relaxing time rolling in the sand and chasing sand crabs. Upon our return from the volcano Landon was still sleeping his nap away, and after the long hike in the heat a jump in the pool sounded more than refreshing, so Rhiannon, Colt and I headed down to plunge into the water. The experience with Colt in the water is far different than the time spent with Landon at the pool. Colt dunks his head underwater and laughs, and constantly motions for someone to ferry him around the pool while he squirms and wiggles, ambivalent to the possibility that he might slip out a grasp and sink into the water surrounding him. He splashes and squeals with delight and exhibits no signs of trepidation which is fun to watch but can be a little unnerving as well.

Refreshed, we loaded the boys into the stroller and walked down to the Big Wave restaurant located just down the road in Kihei at the Azeka marketplace. Chloe joined Rhiannon, the boys and I as we ventured down the local road on what evolved into another exciting rooster hunt. The roosters didn’t voice their presence, but we were able to locate a few pecking around a lawn for food. Everyone joined together for dinner and another night spent around the table with family was shared. Once returning to the condo my dad quickly propped up his feet and fell asleep on the couch. We took this as our cue to enjoy one last trip down to the tree which was highlighted by a meteor shower that occasionally zoomed across the night sky.

Sunday, August 12th, 2007

This morning Landon, Colt and I decided that we would make another trip out to the local rubble reef with nets and buckets to see what new critters we might be able to discover, and without much persuasion my parents decided to join us as well. A short while into our exploration we managed to corral a small, purple and yellow striped moray eel. Landon seemed to instructively know that this little guy could give him “owwies” so he gave the fish the respect that it deserved. Ha caught a few different species of reef fish again, and after catching one small mullet Landon asked to hold the little fish. Knowing that this might be a tough squeeze (literally) for the fish, but also realizing the impression holding the small creature might have on him, I relented to his request. He carefully grabbed the fish between his thumb and fore finger and then proceeded to tell me he liked to eat fish and began to place the wriggling fish into his mouth. I pulled his hand away before he was able to chomp down although I’m pretty sure he got a good salty taste in his mouth. Begrudgingly he agreed to release his potential meal and the little fish spiraled away back into the ocean. Colt and Landon both threw rocks for awhile and then we decided it was time to return to check on mommy. We chased sand crabs along the beach, until Landon decided it would be more fun to imitate the little crustaceans. We played a fun game where he would race ahead of us and then lay down like a crab to block our path. Once we dodged the obstacle he would run ahead to repeat the encounter. Both boys giggled excitedly, and enjoyed the game enough that we still play this game occasionally back at home in California.

We drove west to Lahaina again for a repeat lunch at Kimo’s which again did not disappoint either in the quality of food, or in the crustacean and piscine entertainment for the younger members of our group. This was Leak and Chloe’s last day, so we invited them for a short impromptu stop at the beach on the way home. We pulled the car over at the shallow reef and narrow beach of Olowalu. Justin, Chole, the boys and I splashed around in the water while Rhiannon and Leah observed from the safety of the sand. I dug a pair of goggles out of the trunk and paddled Chloe out on a bodyboard to check out some of the reef fish. She had lived her entire life on the Big Island of Hawaii and had never been snorkeling before, so this was an exciting experience for both of us. I’m not sure who enjoyed it more. It was great to interact with Chloe as a child, so often she acts like more of an adult than I do, and her animated points and responses about the fish we discovered were awesome. Soon thereafter the trade winds kicked up and the gusts picked up the fine sands on the beach and sent the grains hurtling into our exposed skin like tiny, stinging missiles. We retreated to the safety of the car and returned to the condo wet and sandy but mostly unscarred.

After returning to the condo we cleaned up and Rhiannon and I headed out to dinner, alone, and left the boys in the care of my parents. We headed south to Kihei and stopped at Pupu’s Grill along the main coastal road. We sipped a drink at the bar and waited for a table outside on the patio to open up. The time alone gave us a great chance to recant about the trip that was so quickly coming to a close, and also to discuss future vacations for the family. For dinner we shared a heaping sampler of pupus (appetizers) served on a rotating circular tray with a volcano like flame extending from its center to warm/cook the food. The food and drinks were enjoyable, and the time together alone was special. After over ten years together, Rhiannon can still make my smile erupt into laughter and warm my heart with her caring ways. I feel so privileged and blessed to have her as my partner through all of our crazy adventures.

After dinner we swung by the condo and picked up Justin enroot to a bar just down the street called Tip Up’s. The three of us had a good time watching the local residents interact while a few tourists fumbled around the dance floor. We walked back to Maui Sunset, at which time Justin headed up to bed while Rhiannon and I decided to stay out and continue our night down at the beach. We watched the continuing meteor shower and listened to the waves roll along the sand, and shared stories and thoughts, not worrying at all about what time might read on the face of our watch, lost for a few hours on a deserted Hawaiian beach. It was perfect.

Monday, August 13, 2007

The morning of our last full day of vacation was spent lazing around the condo, trying to decide how we wanted to spend our final hours of the trip. By late morning we packed into the car and headed south to Wailea and Ulua Beach. This beach sits among several of the high end resorts located in Wailea and displays a wide, white-sand beach, with a lush, tropical back drop due to the landscaping from the adjacent resorts. Lava points and their associated reefs to the north and south provide some good snorkeling, and the waves that lapped the shore were again small and benign. At this point of the trip, after spending several days playing in and around the small surf, both Landon and Colt had become noticeably more comfortable frolicking around in the ocean’s surge. They would giggle and flop themselves down in front of the incoming whitewater, unconcerned as water rolled over them and tossed them around. They both continued to leap into any available arms willing to carry them out into the deeper water beyond the swells, where again their comfort level in the water was significantly more apparent compared to similar ventures made early in the trip. Landon commandeered an abandoned sand castle that had roads and tunnels for his trucks and trains - it didn’t take too long however until hurricane Landon struck the compound, leveling it down to beach level in a few glee filled moments. The air was still on the beach and as the morning temperatures continued to rise Rhiannon joined me for a swim out to the reef to take a look at some of the local underwater residents, it was great to hold her hand as the ocean’s surge pushed us gently along the top of the reef.

We put the boys down for their final, Maui fever induced naps and Justin, Rhiannon and I slipped out for some last minute souvenir puirchasing. We ended up at Pupu’s Grill again and were distracted from our original shopping target by a few happy hour mai tais. From there we walked around the nearby flea market, but the only gifts purchased were a set of bibs embossed with Hawaiian prints for the triplets. Nothing jumped of the shelves as a fitting tribute to help memorialize our trip, and as the hours ticked away from our last afternoon we scurried back to the condo to pack up everyone else for one last island sunset and evening of splashing waves down at our traditional south shore beach.

The boys crawled into a large tide pool again and repeated their games of throwing rocks into the surging ocean. Justin caught a snapper species that we had never hooked before in all of our previous trips. The fish was released into the boys’ tide pool and swam around their excited feet for a few minutes before finding its way back out to sea. The sun flicked between clouds on the horizon, coloring them pink and orange as it slipped below the water. It was a beautiful end to the vacation.

As dark crept in, Justin piled into the backseat of our sedan and wedged himself between the car seats to join us for the drive home. The back seat erupted into a laugh filled ruckus developing first from the boys both screaming “Ducky!” at their uncle at the top of their lungs. No one is completely sure how this nickname developed, but the boys found it hysterical. The laughter then turned into a dance party as Justin and the boys kicked and squirmed to the beats emanating from the radio which was nothing short of hilarious. As we drove for the last time down the local, ‘rooster hunt’ road in the dark, Rhiannon jubilantly screamed as she pointed to a toad hopping across the road. I stopped the car and she jumped out, grabbed a net from the trunk, and proceeded to scream even louder in disbelief as she captured the warty amphibian. I drove the remaining few blocks to the condo with my hand out the window, holding the net and its imprisoned prize until we could park the car so Landon and Colt could investigate. Both boys seemed impressed by their Mom’s bravery and skill and after a few pokes and prods the toad was released to go find his, “mommy and daddy”.

My parents picked up Alexander’s again on the ride home, so the local fish that we enjoyed as our first meal of the vacation would fittingly also be our last. The food was a delicious repeat performance. We then headed upstairs to say goodbye to the rest of the remaining Mleynek family before they also left behind their island home for the colder shores of Portland, Oregon.

Soon thereafter, inspired by Rhiannon’s hunting prowess, Landon and I snuck out in the hopes of capturing a few more toads under the supervising glow of the moon. With flashlights and nets in hand we crossed the perimeters of the Maui Sunset lawn, and our exploits were not to be in vain. Together we located and caught eleven brown, bumpy toads, several of which Landon caught without any assistance from his Dad. It was another final trip down the memory road as Justin and I had underwent similar late night toad hunts under our dad’s supervision some twenty-five years prior. We returned to boast of our successes, and Landon’s pride filled descriptions of our adventures were the absolute prize of the hunt for me. After tucking the boys into bed we headed down to the jacuzzi for a short soak, and then joined my parents and Justin in a final game of Boggle. The game was filled with laughs and recollections and sighs as we realized that tomorrow morning our wonderful family outing would draw to an abrupt close.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Our last morning was filled with the unmemorable tasks of packing all of the piles of gear and toys into suitcases, returning rental cars, and jumping into the airport shuttle. As we drove through the green sugar cane fields Landon declared how much he liked Hawaii and that he had a lot of fun. He said he would miss “the Hawaii ocean and the Hawaii palm trees”. Our flight home was uneventful, and at just after 8pm California time we touched down in San Diego. At 11:30pm we crossed our doorstep in Rancho Santa Margarita where we were greeted by the wagging tail of Dakota. It was nice to be home within our familiar walls, but already I missed the ocean views and warm breezes of the balcony at B-219.

It has taken me a few weeks to find the time to record this brief history of our Hawaiian exploits. Life continues to be busy now that we have returned to the hectic lifestyle that unfolds around work schedules and day care and all of the other minutia the drapes itself across our days. A few final thoughts that might be worth recanting here before I turn away from the computer and hit ‘Save’ one final time. I never described previously the relationship that developed between my dad and Colt during the trip. No matter where we were or what we were doing, Colt made a point of searching out his granddaddy and squealed with delight every time he came to rest in his lap. I think the bond warmed both of their hearts. There were also some late night shenanigans that involved my cousin Ben that developed into an entertaining side story to the trip. For a trip that involved little fishing and no surfing, I had a tremendous time. More than anything, I came away from this trip awash in the good fortune that has permeated throughout my life. I treasure the early experiences that I was able to undertake as a child, knowing with such confidence the impact they have had on the person I am today. And I am motivated to ensure that my sons get to partake in a diverse and stimulating childhood as well. I want them to be able to look back on their past with the same appreciative smile that I wear as I type this. More than anything though, I hold tight to them and my wonderful wife, my companions as we tread through the life we share. I couldn’t have imagined a better team.

Aloha.