More high school

I was surfing the net last night and stumbled upon a name of a friend from high school. I had driven past Oceanside High School several times in the past year and was observing new things happen there. I didn't know exactly what was happening but I knew it was big. In high school, at Oceanside High, the Pirates Green and White was everything.

My brother was not a football sized guy. He eventually got to be really tall but not during the early high school years. Instead he became the team "manager". Over the course of a couple of years he kept stats and water and towels for the guys that loved him for his spirit. He became very good friends with the guy pictured above. We actually went to church with him and got be great friends over the course of the years. Wally Molifua was a football great. But more than that Wally had a heart as big as Samoa. He never had an enemy, unless you could count the team members at Carlsbad High. And that was only during the game. After that Wally was everyone's friend.

My brother and Wally spent hours together on church activities, seminary and luaus. At church dances after all the food had been consumed, the only thing left usually was Jello. Wally got us all saying "there's always room for Jello!" It became a catch phrase in our group of friends.

Back to the construction at Oceanside High. The Pirate logo was brilliant. Then I got a look at the gymnasium the last time I was down there. Wally Molifua Gymnasium. They had named the gym in honor of Wally. Wow! That is super. Everyone knew what a great he was. Wally had graduated the year I was a freshman. He went on to play at MiraCosts college and then on to BYU. At BYU he and his wife lived downstairs from us. They had a HUGE! dog. I couldn't believe my eyes the first time I saw him come up to the apartment. I blinked twice and then realized it was my long lost friend from high school. It was like he never had been away. He was loving and kind and treated as well then as when I was in high school. He asked about my bro and we caught up on stories of family and friends.

So why the gymnasium? Well once Wally finished college he went back to his old high school and began teaching and coaching there. He was the first Samoan to be hired as a teacher by OHS. Wally gave back to his community as a teacher and mentor for so many years. In 2004 he was diagnosed with Cancer of the stomach. He began getting treatemtns and was actually responding well. In April of 2005 however, Wally suffered a massive heart attack that took his life. He was only 53. In May of 2006 Lavell Edwards, BYU Football coach was on hand at the dedication of the gym in Wally's honor. He extolled the story of Wally's life. The service rendered and the friends made. Wally was a keeper.

He was met on the other side by his mom and dad and a sister. I can bet that my brother was there for the "Jello"! It's good to know that he is reunited with good friends and family.

High School Rah, Rah, Rah

Well, neither of us were cheerleaders, that's for sure!

No. My bro was into theatre. I have so many stories I could tell, but this one first. Senior year he decided he wanted the lead in the biggest play of the year. It was Flowers for Algernon. The stage version of Charlie. (Not that Charly!) He worked very hard on his audition, the day came, and he got the part. He was the best retarded guy around! heh.

His performance won him Actor of the Year that year. His range was well developed and he went from retarded guy to really smart guy, and back again so well, it moved you to tears. Most performances there wasn't a dry eye in the house. It was great seeing him do so well.

In the play there is one line that cracked you in half. Charlie has discovered that Algernon, the mouse in the experiment, can no longer run through his mazes with lightening speed. Something is wrong and Charlie figures out that, he too, will begin to lose all of his abilities that he has gained and will become just the "dishwasher guy" again. It is really sad. One day, as he is experiencing the loss of knowledge he cries, "Please God, don't take it all!" and the audience simultaneously birsts into tears. It was so moving, and heart wrenching to see his rapid decline back to the man he once was.

That is another reason I decided that I had to begin recording these memories. Because like Charlie, I am losing things, memories, clarity and that "seems like yesterday" feeling I have for years. Memories are fading and before they've completely left the building, I need to get them on paper, or bytes or where ever!

His performance, was such a delight. His friends were stoked. He had a simple school boy romance with the lead, and got a taste of the hollywood fickle romances. It came and went and was bittersweet to see it end, yet how they were still such friends. But then again, the brother was not one to make enemies. He had more friends than most and if yo run into one of them today, they all still have fond memories of time with him. He was like a magnet, he drew people in and made them feel apart of him, and the group. It was wonderful.

That's just one high school story, I've got plenty more. Stay tuned.

One of the first memories

For as long as I could remember we walked to school. When I started kindergarten we would get ourselves up and fed before school started. Once our mom got home from work, she worked nights as an R.N., we'd kiss her goodbye and she'd send us off to school.

There were adventures on the way to school, but this one actually happened just before we got to school. We usually lived a few blocks from school and while we walked we entertained ourselves. Keep in mind that my brother was the experienced one. He had already spent a year in school and he knew the ropes, so in a pattern that would become the pattern of our life, I did what he said to do. He could talk! Even at that age he told me the rules about school. You needed to pay attention, and always follow the rules. Stuff like, make sure you freeze during the freeze bell, never question the teacher, and never, ever be late.

We were engrossed in talk and I was learning well, we had just about reached the schoolyard, when suddenly I noticed I, for some unknown reason, was still wearing my pajama bottoms. There they were underneath the skirt of my dress. I was agahst! What should I do? I could go home and take them off and rush back to school! No, looking at his watch, (yes he could already tell time!) I'd be late getting back, you'll just have to wear them all day. What? How could I do that? He told me to just hike them up and keep them scrunched up over my thighs. Tug at them now and then and no one will notice. Do you think that will work? Well, pull them up, see, you can't see them. You'll be fine! Off I went to class.

I must have been so obvious to my teacher. I kept tugging and pulling and "stressing". I wasn't myself and while it didn't seem any of the other kids had noticed, my teacher knew something was up. About two hours into the day, she came to ask me what was up? I pretended that there was nothing wrong (another pattern I had begun to adopt) and why was she asking? She tehn told me I seemed to be having a problem with my "skirt". Well, in an act of humility, that always happens when I'm embarrassed, I crumbled quicker than a cookie in the hands of a three year old. I told her my predicament. I told her what my brother recommended. She was so sweet. She explained that sometimes boys, even when they're great older brothers, know nothing about fashion. That why did n't I simply take the bottoms off, she'd give me a bag to put them in so no one would ever know, and then I could relax and enjoy the rest of the day like usual.

That was my first lesson in fashion. My brother, the genius, knew nothing about being a girl!

My brother, my best friend, my protector

My brother was the one person in life that I knew I could count on. He was there for me before anyone else. There is not a time that I do not remember him not being there. He was older than me by 14 months. We were babies together, he got here first and I followed shortly thereafter. We were children of the mid-fifties and our life was certainly not Ozzie and Harriet or Leave it to Beaver. But we were there, together through anything, friends for life.

We were both born in a bitterly cold state. Just weeks prior to his birth a tornado ripped its way through the center of the city my parents lived in. My mother said it was a preamble to his birth. He came out screaming, and never stopped. Finally when I was born, I began to scream too. We screamed in unison. My mother, being exasperated and worn, took us to the doctor and said if he couldn't get us to stop, she would give us back. She could no longer take the screaming. After many tests, it was discovered, that we were allergic to breastmilk, and no matter what, we were going to scream if that's all we were going to be fed. Our diets we adjusted and we stayed with mom. The parents then moved us to the west coast, to get out of the snow, which my brother couldn't handle either, and there we've stayed. Grown and raised Californians. Not natural Californians, so we don't have to like Avacados, I always say.

Come along and I'll tell youa story or two of him. The guy I loved more than anyone else. (Until of course I met my husband.) His life was short, he died at 32, in a horrible accident. It was the day that the life went out of me in a way. I never looked at life the same again. I tear up as I write, and it was so long ago. Still I miss him terribly and while the pain is not new and sheer, it lingers on. How can it not when someone like him leaves so suddenly?

It was 1985, my husband had just graduated from college. We were waiting for a tax refund check to arrive by mail so we could move to California. The husband had been accepted to graduate school and we were returning home, and graduate school. We had been at the pool all morning enjoying the gift of sunshine that rarely shone in the early days of May in Utah. As we were changing out of swim wear the phone rang. My husband was on the line, his words "Oh no. no. Let me let you talk to the chronicler (me), he handed me the phone. It was my mother, puzzled I asked her what was up? She told me my brother had died in an accident on that road. He was with his oldest son, on a day trip to San Diego. They had been in an accident. It took both thier lives. Crushed, in a moment, of few words, my life was crushed.

Three weeks earlier the phone rang at the apartment. I was in the middle of finals and really struggling with one class. If I got out with a "C" I was going to be happy. I answered the phone, it was my brother, keep in mined he's my older brother and I want to be like him. My life, in my mind, can have no flaws, I am tough, he's taught me to be. So when he asks "how are you?" I lie. I don't want him to know I'm possibly failing a class. We resort to small talk and the excitement of moving back to California, being close to him and his family again. We talked for a few minutes and he said "I know there's something wrong, what is it?" Again, I tell him "nothing, I'm just in the middle of studying and it must be wearing on me is all". He's not happy with the answer and responds "Well, you may think you're okay, but I know something's wrong. Just remember, when you need me, I'm always here and always will be. I love you and you can rely on me for anything. Will you remember that?" I told him I would. It was the last time we talked. Ever. It seems like yesterday.

Now my husband and I go places and do things and mention how much he would have enjoyed being there and doing those things with us. There is a loss. But there is also hope. Because I know I will see him again. With a surety. I know we'll be together again, in the eternities. And boy will we have a lot to talk about.

Earthbound Chronicles

Memories. Memories can be defined as something remembered from the past; a recollection.

We are all sharing the planet together. Earthbound Chronicles will be a beginning of remembering. I will use the space here to collect memories. We have all been touched by people in remarkable ways. We have had simple interactions with strangers that became people to us. Superhero girl mentioned this experience recently. This person had been touched by their interaction at the post office. These people are people. They shape how we see the day, or we help shape theirs.

And then, they're gone. Whether it's a move, time, or death, they leave our lives. Who were they? How did they entrench themselves in the fabric of earth? How did they shape the world while they were here? This will be my attempt to remember a few of those people.

In keeping with that effort, if you have a special person in your life, with whom you'd like to share a memory with us, send it to me by email. I'll post it for you here.