Shawn D. Congleton's Blog

My Tribute to Rosemary, the lady from Ch. 22. You won’t believe what she did.

I would like to begin by reading something I wrote about Rosemary a few years ago from when I first met her and she helped me come to know Jesus.

Rosemary was so full of life! She was always interested in having fun and was warm, kind and welcoming. She made me feel like a million bucks, like I was the most important person on earth. She had a gift for loving teenagers and I was a teenager who needed love. She quickly became like a second mom to me.

(Long before I was even interested in her daughter), Rosemary’s way of bringing me into the family was to treat me like I was her son. She was affectionate with hugs, compliments, and lots of laughs.

Though Rosemary was religious, she listened to the stories of my life and was simply amazed that I ever survived. She treated me like I was a lost war hero and was worthy of honor and a meritorious award. It felt great to have someone know about my life and appreciate me and what I went through. 

While I shared stories about my life, she shared stories about Jesus, the church and her own life. 

Simply put, Rosemary was Jesus to me before I knew Jesus. She brought me to Him with her love and helped me to know Him in a personal way.

Amazingly, years later I started dating her daughter, and we got married. Yet, nothing changed from Rosemary, she loved me the same. She always considered me part of the family, from the very beginning. I want to say she loved me more, but she didn’t because she already loved me that way.

This church had a large part of me becoming to know Jesus as well and significantly impacted  my call to become a youth pastor. As a youth pastor of nearly ten years here, Rosemary was my biggest supporter. Even starting as a volunteer together when we lost our youth pastor, Rosemary had 30+ years of youth ministry experience and a lifetime of following Jesus, she never acted like she knew more than me or was better than me, she treated me as an equal. 

Then when I became a youth pastor, she followed my lead in every way, ready and willing to do whatever was asked or needed of her, even when teenagers threw smoke bombs in her cabin at Camp Cotubic or live mice at St. Mary’s Campground.

We have countless hilarious Rosemary stories from youth group days,(like leftover chicken in the bathtub) but suffice it to say that I would not have survived any of them without her. Even if she did almost get me fired for leaving a couple of students back at the hotel when the group left to return to Camp Cotubic for the closing service of our Fall Retreat weekend.

We may not have always agreed theologically with some of her old school thoughts, but in the end we did because she taught me the way to follow Jesus was to love people and there is no better theology than that.

I will dearly miss being loved by Rosemary in the flesh and I can’t wait to see her again.

Speaking of which, that really is what all of this is about today. She has entered paradise, returned to husband and her God and is dancing a jig, telling many great stories to those that went before her that have already heard them time and time again.

I’d like to close with my details of coming to know Jesus and ask you to consider joining us or rejoining us if you’ve gone your own way.

On Sunday, (in Marine Corps boot camp at Camp Pendleton) we had chapel services in the field. We sat in metal bleachers that were there for training exercises. Every week during boot camp, I attended chapel services for two primary reasons. First, it was our only time and way to get away from the drill instructors. We had about an hour and a half of freedom. Second, I still loved singing songs. Many of the songs were more traditional hymns rather than the popular choruses that I learned at High Street, but I enjoyed them just the same. My friend had actually become our platoon lay-leader and led prayers each night before bed. I hadn’t really paid this much attention yet, since it wasn’t real personal for me. 

That Sunday morning though, we sat in the bleachers and listened to a Navy Chaplain tell us about the lifestyle of many Marines after boot camp. He talked about how they go out to bars, get drunk and start carousing around. He talked about how they slept around. He talked about how sometimes Marines live such a party life that it will land them in big trouble with the Marine Corps itself. 

I began thinking about my life and how I was a pretty good kid. My dad lived that drinking life he talked about, but I rejected it not wanting to turn out like him. I never drank an ounce of alcohol in my life. My dad was violent, but I refused to be that way. I refused violence even when I had a chance to hurt my dad back. My dad was racist. I refused that attitude and embraced equality. I opened myself up to learning about different types of cultures and their ways of living. My dad thought men were better than women and thought it was okay to  dominate them. I refused that mindset and knew that men and women are equal, just with different qualities and characteristics. My dad had been so selfish in life and abusive to us in many ways that I had been determined to never be like that when I had kids. I never settled for the example that he gave me.

Despite all of the ways that I felt I was not a bad kid, I knew I wasn’t perfect and I needed a savior. I can’t fully explain why. It wasn’t a mental thing. It wasn’t an emotional thing. It was a deep down thing. I believed the message that Jesus gave his life for me, I put my faith in Him, repented of my sins, and asked Him into my life. That morning, I stepped down out of the bleachers and went forward to pray. I told the Navy Chaplain what I thought and felt God was doing in my life and he led me in a prayer where I accepted Jesus into my life.

When I opened my eyes, I was filled with peace and joy that I had never experienced before. There is much more I could tell about how Jesus changed my life after that morning from cleaning up my mouth to forgiving my dad to helping me become a better dad and husband, but none of it would have been possible without Jesus in the form of Rosemary loving me when I needed it the most.

Thank you Rosemary, I look forward to wild antics and tall tales, er… timeless tales when I see you again in Heaven. If you don’t have a current relationship with Jesus, I strongly encourage you to consider one today. Rosemary can’t wait to see you again!

Ohio to Alaska in 8 days, Day 3 (San Francisco)

You know how when you see popular travel destinations in a movie, you get this almost feeling that it only exists on the big screen. That our imaginations almost make it up. That the place is so surreal, that it doesn’t actually exist. Until you see it.

The fog began to dissipate and we exited the San Francisco Oakland Bay Bridge into the downtown area and at first nothing looked familiar. Suddenly as we followed our GPS through the towering structures certain views became very real. 

The streets started to rise and fall as the San Francisco hills interrupted our city drive. Memories of so many movies and shows ran through our minds, particularly when we saw the Cable Cars filled with passengers rise and fall on the side of the street.

The sidewalks were overpopulated and street crossings were overfilled with pedestrians as the lights turned red and vehicles were forced to wait their turn.

We passed Caffe Trieste in what appeared to be an Italian neighborhood as we neared the waterfront area. My mind wandered back to my time in the Marine Corps when I fell in love with lattes in Italy.

We were on a six-month deployment in the Mediterranean Sea. Our only chance to get off our naval vessel was during a port and most of my fellow Marines enjoyed the time away by touring the local establishments that served alcohol. I, however, did not drink alcohol, due to the way I grew up (read all about that in my book, NEVER SETTLED). I wandered around Trieste, Italy touring the local establishments that served coffee. While I had always loved the smell of coffee, most people I knew drank coffee black and the taste never appealed to me. Until, I tried a cappuccino, that is, the real thing right in Italy. I walked from place to place trying different versions of their favorite drinks. 

Needless to say, I fell in love with Italian cafes and lattes quickly became my favorite recreational drink. So, as we passed Caffe Trieste in San Francisco, I was transported back to Italy and knew that I must stop and partake! Yet, we had our itinerary, so we continued on to the waterfront area to quickly take in the sights and flavors that we had researched. 

On this, our third day of the trip, we were on an expedited journey of San Francisco. 

We had five hours. 

(If you missed the first story in this series, you can find it here before you move on.)

FIVE HOURS IN SAN FRANCISCO

We drove through the entire Fisherman’s Wharf from Pier 35 to an area near Presidio Heights passing In-N-Out, Boudin Bakery and Ghirardelli Square. We passed more Cable Cars and wanted badly to just stop and jump on, but parking was unclear and we were fearful of being towed without finding a paid spot. 

We turned around near an entrance to the Presidio at the Lyon Step Podium, which sounded awfully familiar but we weren’t sure exactly what it was at the time.

As we drove back toward the piers on Lombard Street, we came across and then drove down, “the crookedest street in the world.” 

You must see it to believe it. Watch a video from Mike’s Road Trip.

We quickly returned to a parking area near Pier 39 and paid the pricey fee to cover our parking until 5 pm. We set out on foot from there wondering if we should catch a cab or take the bus to expedite our travels with the short amount of time we had. Since we already forked out some good money just for parking we continued on foot. 

The sights, smells, sounds and activity of the bay was just incredible. The birds flew overhead waiting for tourists to either drop some goods or offer to provide a free bite or two. The city was abnormally cold, we thought since it was about 60 degrees on this early August day. But, we had been warned it might be. The wind was also brisk since we were so near the water so we were glad we wore layers. 

Tourists were everywhere. The streets were packed, the sidewalks more so. We hustled our way through the area searching for In-N-Out because we were hungry and ready to try this west coast burger joint.

When we arrived, the place was PACKED. Lines were so long, but we hoped it would be worth it so we waited. Thankfully they moved quickly and we ordered from the few options provided. We were given a number and quickly used the restrooms while we crossed our fingers for quick service. Once again, we were relieved to get our food quickly. 

We didn’t hesitate to eat as we evaluated our food according to our research. Much like Steak-N-Shake in Ohio, I thought. But, more costly, I laughed. Each meal was about ten dollars which seemed like a lot to me, pre-COVID. Very good, but not much better than we already had in Ohio. Yet, we were so glad to fill our bellies and happy to check it off our must-do list. 

We continued our walk along Jefferson Street, but crossed over and checked out the waterfront area and retail spaces. Beautiful green space parks lined the area past the retail spots and we followed the trail through the park strewn with people on this now beautiful day that was still cool and slightly windy. We continued out to the end of Municipal Pier getting a crystal clear, direct view of Alcatraz Island which once housed a fort, a military prison and eventually a most famous federal prison that Clint Eastwood once escaped. 

Not far from this spot was a gorgeous view of the Golden Gate Bridge. We spotted a path that allowed us to get closer, but it was all so surreal as if we were walking on the set of a movie. I was just waiting for some giant sea creature to jump out of the water and tear down the bridge as it came after us. 

We continued our walking tour of the city and followed the path to the bridge. As we did, we passed by Ghirardelli Square again where we voiced our mental note to get some chocolate goodness on the way back. We traversed along the edge of the Presidio of San Francisco to Fort Point National Historic Site to get up close and personal photographs of us with the remarkable and legendary bridge.

We then followed the path up toward the parking area immediately preceding the automobile entrance across the bridge. We debated how much time we might have to walk across it and finally decided to at least walk a portion of it. The wind was strong and it was still very cool so we only walked about 100 yards and turned around after taking the obligatory photos on the bridge. 

We decided to take a city bus back toward Ghirardelli Square due to the short time we had left and were thankful we did since it was further than we remembered walking. We were ready for a treat! As you might imagine the lines were long in this area as well, but there were so many spots to explore all of the chocolatey goodness available. We tested sample after sample before deciding on a chocolate shake to share. 

We quickly headed back toward the piers, knowing our time was running short. We needed to grab dinner before we hit the road again. But, one goal was still not met. We needed to find our souvenir cup from Starbucks! That was my favorite coffee place at the time since it was the closest to my Italian coffee roots that I could find and Caffe Trieste was now too far away. And our collection of souvenir mugs from Starbucks was just beginning to grow so we could not miss this opportunity.

We found a Starbucks, which wasn’t too hard since they seem to be everywhere in most tourist destinations but we decided to get a souvenir water bottle instead. We quickly traveled back to the pier area and began to wander around quickly trying to decide what to eat for dinner. After some debate, we decided we just needed to make a decision and we stopped at Boudin Bakery.

Though the lines also looked very long here, we were convinced that was for a very good reason. Thankfully they also moved quickly as we were able to order and taste the incredible sourdough bread bowl filled with clam chowder! We were now stuffed but forced our feet back to the car to hit the road. We knew we needed to reach our campsite in the Redwood National Park for bedtime. 

Heidi was also emphatic about finding Palmier cookies that we had researched at Miette Patissiere & Confisierie so we quickly added them to our GPS when we reached the car and raced through the city before they closed so we could hit the highway and return to our scheduled itinerary. We barely reached them before they closed then we hit the highway, hopeful to reach our destination before dark. 

This was also our opportunity to drive across the Golden Gate Bridge which was as momentous as the entire day. Just thinking about the humongous structure and the enormous amount of work and money it took to erect it back in the 1930s. The sky was clear blue and the fog was mostly gone. Our hearts were just a little fluttering and we were overwhelmed with such an expeditious tour of this iconic city.

Traffic was busy, but we moved as quickly as it would allow. Our eyes were seeking tall trees and we wondered if we would see them before dark. 

Unfortunately we didn’t and darkness seemed to arrive quickly as we raced up the highway to our campsite. We arrived about ten o’clock and finding our location was relatively easy. We did the after hours check in and drove around in the dark to find our specific site. We could tell we had reached the forest, with deep greens in the dark being illuminated in bits by our headlights. 

We found our site, grabbed our tent for the first time on the trip out of the trunk and set it up. We snagged our blowup mattress, sleeping bags, pillows and rested our weary heads and eyes.

What happened the next morning could only be explained as a trip to Jurassic Park… stay tuned until next week to find out why.

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Shawn’s wrote a book about his life growing up on the move titled—NEVER SETTLED: a memoir of a boy on the road to manhood

Ohio to Alaska, Day Two, Pt 2

Our first stop after Papa Joes’s Gas and Go was the most breath taking of the day. Red and tan rocks filled our hearts and minds with awe and wonder. Though we had just stopped for gas, we had take in the sights and pause our long trip for the day when we came upon Black Dragon Canyon View Point. The pictures here say it all, though a picture cannot come close to capturing the feeling you get just standing and staring.

We traversed quickly across Utah on I-70 into the afternoon, but at Salina we exited on to Route 50 which quickly became a two-lane highway on a plateau with hills and low mountains all around. It felt like we could see forever as the cerulean sky met the khaki landscape in front of us.

(If you missed the first story in this series, you can find it here before you move on.)

It seemed like all of the sudden, the light clouds rolled in and became dark and furious. Suddenly as we were driving the dry plateaus of dying vegetation, the angry clouds began to pour on us, drenching the road, our car, and everything around us as if we were its enemy. 

This forced us to slow down to about 45 mph as we were sure to maintain a safe pace while not stopping completely even though we wondered if we should. We were persistent, if nothing else, as we continued down this desolate highway. The rain stopped and the sky became blue just as quickly as it had filled with water and mist.

We entered Nevada where our route officially became The Loneliest Road in America as deemed by Life Magazine in 1986.

While we did pass a vehicle moving in the opposite direction periodically, we rarely saw another vehicle on our side of the road. As we noticed the road sign indicating the name of our route, we wondered about how long we might go without a gas station so we were sure to stop at the first sign of gasoline. 

We filled the tank, then quickly returned to our escapade. We drove and drove and drove with very little in sight. Tumbleweed after tumbleweed crossed our path as we noticed that we were also following along the original Pony Express trail.

We passed a sign for the Great Basin National Park, but alas our journey kept us on our route focusing on reaching Carson City, Nevada by bedtime. The entire route exuded historic, old west scenery such as an old saloon we passed in Eureka, Nevada which they advertised as The Friendliest Town on The Loneliest Road in America.

As we neared our destination, we passed some huge sand dunes in the distance that looked like a humongous pail of sand was just dumped from nowhere.

Finally, the sun began setting and we followed the directions to Heidi’s cousin’s house passing a cute little family restaurant named Heidi’s. It was late and we didn’t have time to stop so we continued on. 

As we arrived, we remembered that they were not going to be home, but they were very hospitable, leaving us several little gifts, bedding and bath towels to refresh ourselves before the following morning. We were thankful for the good night’s rest.

The next morning we were up at 5 am again. We showered quickly and hit the road, excited about getting to explore San Francisco for a few hours and see the Golden Gate Bridge in person for the first time. 

As we traversed the hills, turning into mountains, we began to see more and more evergreen trees, rocks and beautiful rocky scenery all around. Suddenly we were enveloped in a new landscape of mountainous terrain and slowly traveled the curvy roads up and into the Lake Tahoe area. We passed several camping areas that beckoned us to stop and explore even more. It was like a scene straight out of the 80s movie, The Great Outdoors with John Candy and Dan Akroyd. 

Then, suddenly as we rounded a corner going back down the other side of a mountain, Lake Tahoe itself covered our entire backdrop. The gorgeous blue water in the center of the mountains with evergreen trees as far as the eye could see was incredible and just waiting to be rediscovered again and again. Yet, we continued on as we entered California. 

As we drove through the area and passed on the backside of those mountains, I made a mental note to return to this area as soon as possible when her cousin Wendy and family were home and we had time to stay and explore. The highways we drove on became more and more populated as traffic began to grow. 

We continued straight through Sacramento and traffic slowed us down several times, but we didn’t lose too much time. The mountains gave way to hills which gave way to valleys which gave way to plains as we continued along the northern California pathway to San Francisco. The highways widened with more and more lanes and traffic continued to grow as the landscape reminded me of episodes of CHiPs from my childhood.

Finally, we reached the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge, a grand bridge in its own right, and I wondered for a moment if it was the Golden Gate Bridge, but quickly realized it wasn’t. At the time, the fog was covering the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance, but we didn’t know that yet since it was all new to us. 

The San Francisco skyline greeted us as we continued driving and excitement filled the cool, crisp air as we exited the highway to make our way through downtown, past Chinatown to the Northern Waterfront where all of our pre-trip research and movie background scenes became reality.

Stick around until next week to find out how we spent five hours in San Francisco, set up our tent in the pitch dark and woke up in Jurassic Park.

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Shawn’s wrote a book about his life growing up on the move titled—NEVER SETTLED: a memoir of a boy on the road to manhood

Ohio to Alaska, Day Two

How does one describe beauty that gives new life? It’s not so much something you can describe, but something you feel. Possibilities are endless. Good things await. Beauty surrounds all, exudes all, is all. The grass is greener on the other side. 

Day Two

As we left Denver, we rose up the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. I-70 provided this gateway to a landscape unlike any other. Red Rocks beckoned as we passed the green highway sign indicating the exit. The literal red rocks jutted up from the earth at extreme angles and in contrast to the surrounding green evergreens and aspen trees and my mind wandered back to U2’s Sunday Bloody Sunday erupting from the speakers at this otherworldly amphitheater in central Colorado.

Red Rocks AmphitheaterPhotos from our trip this summer to Red Rocks

(If you missed the first story in this series, you can find it here before you move on.)

The sun was rising on our backside as we continued west. The highway moved quickly as we rose into the mountains. Beautiful, evergreens lined the view along with shades of jagged gray stone that looked as if a giant toddler had tossed them around and left them sitting in their unnatural spot strewn across the landscape. The curves in the wide gray road were sharp and lined the river as the blue and clear waters cascaded over the rocks and around the bend.

I was just starting to get the hang of driving without cruise control as we ascended into the mountains and began to even forget about needing to maintain a certain speed as the road dictated our safe velocity. My heart began to pump that new life through my veins and my eyes wandered about.

Left. Right. Up. Down. And everywhere in between, trying to return my eyes to the road only as needed to keep an eye out for slow moving big rigs and older vehicles that had lost their one time great power. 

As we drove the road signs of excursions also called to distract us from our mission of Alaska in 8 days. Idaho Springs. Georgetown. Silverthorne. Breckenridge. Copper Mountain. My memories went back to my high school days from Colorado and I recalled many adventures into these rocky mountains; hiking, camping, skiing, and roadtripping. 

Yet, we continued on without a stop, except for the obligatory Starbucks pitstop in Frisco (Breckenridge) to awaken all of our senses with caffeine. We have been huge coffee lovers for some time, but not just any coffee because we can’t drink it black. We love our coffee in the most foofoo way—flavored lattes. Starbucks was the king of our lattes (at least at this time in our lives.) We also needed to purchase that also obligatory Tourism Mug indicating we made our stop at Starbucks in Colorado. 

What started as a seemingly endless road into the mountains of Colorado, ended rather quickly as we descended on the other side just four hours later. The magnificence of what we witnessed and experienced on our drive captivated us in such a manner that time seemed to stand still. It was all ending much quicker than we expected. 

The highway curved sharper and the rocks became rockier. The water pumped quickly through the gulley along the highway and we descended through the beauty of Glenwood Springs and eventually Grand Junction, Colorado. 

Sidenote: Grand Junction was the location of the busiest McDonald’s in all of Colorado. I only know this because my sister Terri and I had worked at the 2nd busiest McDonald’s in Limon, Colorado shortly after I graduated high school.  

The mountains began to fade in our rearview mirror as we drove along the plateau of western Colorado and entered Utah.

While we were pleasantly surprised when we entered Colorado the day before and the speed limit went up to 75 mph, we were almost blown away when Utah declared our safe driving speed as 80 mph. We’re going to make some good time, I thought as I pressed on the gas pedal. But, just as I did that, I noticed we were low on gas and we began to look for a place to stop.

Worry began to creep in because after we left the Grand Junction area, we had not seen much civilization. The area was desolate and very few signs even strewn along the highway. My mind began to imagine being stuck on the side of the highway without a gas can, cell phone service or any way to obtain our needed fuel. We were on a timeline and needed to drive more than 16 hours that day to reach Heidi’s cousin’s house in Carson City, Nevada. 

We were certainly making good time with the higher speed limit, but couldn’t afford to be walking along the highway at that slower rate of speed. Suddenly, we noticed a sign that indicated the option to Moab, Utah and Arches National Park. Oh, how I would love to go to that area, I thought. Time to make a mental note for a future trip. 

“I would love to go south here,” I told Heidi.

“What’s Arches National Park?” she asked.

“Oh, my. It’s some incredibly beautiful red rocks across a red desert landscape. It’s kinda like what I was telling you about Red Rocks near Denver, but everywhere you look,” I explained. “I don’t know much else, but I’ve seen some pictures and it looks amazing. It’s too far off our path and would take too much time, but we have to come back!”

“Sounds like fun, but first things first,” she laughed. “We need gas. I hope there is some at this exit.” 

As I pulled off, I noticed a building off to the right near the exit. It had some strange signs around it and kind of looked like it might be another deserted gas station from days gone by. That’s when I noticed several old cars parked near it, that were dressed up to look like cars from the Disney cartoon movie, Cars.

“Oh gosh, look at those,” I pointed. 

“That is too funny. Those are so cute,” Heidi responded.

“Well, let’s see if they are actually open and have gas,” I wondered out loud. 

We pulled into the gas station that looked desolate and a bit deserted, hoping to refuel. As we drove over a tube on the dusty ground, a ding, ding sound rang out and I almost laughed remembering gas stations from my childhood. 

“Sounds like someone is here, look they even have pay at the pump,” I pointed out as we pulled up to the gas pumps. 

“We’re using cash,” Heidi reminded me. “Until it’s gone anyway.”

“I know,” I said even though I had forgotten. “I just thought that was a good sign for actually still being in business!”

I caught site of another vehicle that was painted up like the Mystery Machine from Scooby Doo across the way.

As I got ready to pump the gas, I noticed the sticker indicating that I had to prepay in order to use cash so I went inside to give them my deposit. It was a small gas station with quite a few food items to purchase in the small space. It felt cluttered and congested even though I was the only one inside besides the clerk behind the counter. 

I handed him two twenties and said that I was going to fill it up. I walked back out and filled up the car while Heidi went to the restroom. As I finished filling up, I returned the gas nozzle to the pump and walked back inside to get my change. Another traveler had arrived and was inside, making the small space feel even smaller. I waited for them to check out and looked around, not so much for food because we brought that, but more to check out my surroundings and see why it was so cluttered. 

As I did, I noticed several signs with pictures up on the wall for missing people, mostly women. That’s when I noticed, it wasn’t several, but they were everywhere. Sign after sign after sign. 

Missing person, last seen in the area in February, please contact if you have seen her or know anything. Reward available. My mind began to wander as it suddenly felt like a scene from Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I quickly checked out, received my change and then ushered Heidi out as she exited the restroom. 

“What?!! Why are we in such a hurry?” she asked.

“Let’s just go. I’ll explain later.” 

“Don’t you have to go to the restroom?”

“A bit, but I can wait. Let’s go. Get in,” I said as we arrived back at the car.

We got back in the car and without peeling out, but wanting to, we quickly exited the gas station back onto the road and quickly back onto the highway. 

“I wanted to see those CARS up closer and take a few pics!” Heidi exclaimed. 

“Yeah, me too, until I saw those signs inside. Didn’t you see them?!?”

“No, you rushed me out of there! I wanted a pack of gum too!” she explained.

“Sorry, but I think I was saving your life. Mine too,” I assured her. 

I went on to describe what I saw and she was more than appreciative as we headed back down the highway. Utah moved pretty quickly too as we continued 80 miles per hour down I-70. 

That is, until we got to Salina where shortly after we started on “The Loneliest Road in America.”

More on that next week.

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Shawn’s wrote a book about his life growing up on the move titled—NEVER SETTLED: a memoir of a boy on the road to manhood

Ohio to Alaska, Day One

The idea of an epic trip is one thing, actually going on it is quite another. While the trip was challenging in some ways, it was also one of the most amazing trips we’ve ever taken and spurred our love of travel to a whole new level. That trip birthed an idea for our lives that we didn’t even know at the time.

(If you missed the first story in this series, you can find it here before you move on.)

Day 1 started early at 5 am and was the most boring day. We knew it was coming and we were certainly excited about this opportunity of a lifetime, but it required driving past the cornfields of the midwest that we were used to—the flat plains of Kansas. We dreamed of the mountains and pacific sea shore as we drove along. This was also a trip I had taken many times in my early adulthood back and forth from Colorado to Ohio. There was nothing new to see and Kansas seemed to be an eternity.

In addition, I was relearning to drive without cruise control. My foot felt like it was lead and then it was on a cloud and then it was lead. I just could not get it to stay in one place to keep a consistent pace. Getting a speeding ticket early on our trip was definitely not something I wanted to happen. Not to mention that we had a long drive the first day, nearly 17 hours and definitely did not want to extend that driving time by sitting on the side of the road with a peace officer. I also didn’t want to extend it by driving too slow and losing too many minutes without even realizing it. 

This was also our first day of making smoothies in the car while heading down the road. We pulled our fruits out of the cooler while getting gas and blended our nutrition (spinach) & sweetness (bananas, peaches, strawberries, and blueberries to name a few) up quickly while taking expedited restroom stops at the same time. We just couldn’t afford wasted moments while refueling.

For dinner, we had lunch meat, more spinach and tomatoes (for me) and other veggies to wrap up in whole wheat or spinach tortilla wraps. And chips, Heidi could not go without her potato chips no matter how healthy the rest of our diet was. She didn’t need to do this anyway, she was primarily supporting me since she mostly enjoys healthier foods anyway and definitely did not need to diet. 

It was good, we made good time on our drive, and thankfully did not get pulled over that day. Though it was early August and the days were long, we pulled into Deer Trail, Coloardo after dark around 10:30 pm. We had made it to the east coast of Colorado as I used to say in my high school days to differentiate between the eastern portion of the state that looked like Kansas and the mountainous westside.

My sister Terri was living in a new-to-her house since we had last visited and we slowly creeped down the dark street looking for house numbers along the dirt and dust. After finding it, we quickly exited, greeted my sister and her family and tried to minimize conversation so that we could get as much sleep as possible for our 5 am departure.

5 am came early. But, we were ready and excited for the day ahead. As we awoke, we realized that Deer Trail would not have any latte’s waiting to awaken us fully so we broke out our Starbucks Frappucino bottles and drank up. They were small, but met the minimum need of bringing my body to life. We pulled out shortly after getting our showers and started down the wide open highway of I-70 peering at the horizon for the mountains rising behind Denver.

Memories came flooding back as I began to recognize the sights along the way, first passing Byers, the location of my high school graduation town and my first job, The Golden Spike Inn. Strasburg came next, where my wrestling arch-enemy attended high school. Next up was Bennett, where we lived when I was seven, where my sister lived and we had Christmas one year at 75 degrees and where another wrestling arch-enemy attended. Lastly, we began to pass through Denver as I recognized many of the sites along the highway. Exits, buildings and even the old Stapleton Airport filled my mind with memories from long ago.

As we passed through Denver, we began to see the mountains get larger and larger, clearer and clearer since they started as mere shadows in those early morning hours. Finally, we began the raise in elevation and started up the foothills, and that is when the trip began to change us.

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Shawn’s wrote a book about his life growing up on the move titled—NEVER SETTLED: a memoir of a boy on the road to manhood

HOW we planned it—Ohio to Alaska in 8 days… (pt 2)

How do you break a SIX THOUSAND MILE car trip into days, sections, and stops? 

Very intricately—start with day one.

(If you missed the first story in this series, you can find it here before you move on.)

How do you keep the trip CHEAP?

Inexpensive lodging—camping & staying with friends/family. 

Inexpensive food—buy groceries. 

Inexpensive gas—drive a Chevy Spark (41 mpg).

Where it really started…

As many of you know if you’ve read NEVER SETTLED, I grew up moving a lot. Almost 80 times before I graduated high school which meant that I spent much of my childhood in the backseat of a car traversing the countryside time and time again. We never took a vacation, but we definitely saw much of the country by moving by car. And, unfortunately we brought just about everything we owned! 

Traveling long distances in a fairly new 2014 Chevy Spark was not going to be a big deal to me, I thought.

While Heidi grew up in the same town, same house and even the same bedroom her whole life, they took many vacation trips in her childhood. They even owned several different types of RVs. While she can get car-sick from time to time, as a married couple, we almost always traveled by car because flying was just too expensive for us! She loved (and loves) traveling on vacation to see the country.

Three things made this trip more doable for us.

We enjoy being together. That sounds weird to say, but I know many married couples that don’t actually spend much time together because they really just don’t enjoy being together. We do! We enjoy each other and have a lot of fun together. We plan well, but practice flexibility. We have learned in our lives and travels to plan our trips with a fair amount of detail, but we know from experience that things don’t always go as planned so we must stay flexible! We know how to do cheap. We survived our kid’s childhood by vacationing frugally. We lived on one income most of that time and a very modest income at that. We know all the tricks. We are definitely willing to vacation below the poverty line, while doing all we can to escape it.

Itinerary – I love planning trips so I started the route and began breaking it down into days. We figured we could drive about 15 hours a day, sleep about 8 hours and use the extra hour to get ready in the morning and/or to prepare for bed. We decided to spend about 5 hours in San Francisco and a full day in Seattle.

Lodging – Since the lodging wasn’t a big part of the trip, but a necessary expense, we decided to camp in a tent much of the way. We also scoped out our entire route and began brainstorming people we knew along the way we could possibly stay with. We found my older sister Terri in Colorado, Heidi’s Aunt Wendy near Lake Tahoe and her high school friend Marsha (and my former Marine friend, her husband, Mike) near Seattle.

Food – Heidi and I had just started juicing! Meals were easy… and also challenging! We bought groceries and brought our juicer and inverter so we could make smoothies in the car while we were driving. We also ate tortilla wraps on the move while driving. We only ate out a few times because as we learned from our research, you can’t go to California and not get In-N-Out Burger or San Francisco and not get a Boudin Bakery Clam Chowder Bread Bowl! Oh, so good.

A few things were new to us. While most of us have gotten used to paying at the pump in the last twenty years, we decided to pay mostly cash for gas. That meant going into the station and prepaying so they would turn on the pump. Also, while Morgan had a brand new Chevy Spark, it was the budget version and did not have cruise control. That took a day or two to get used to, but after our first 1,500 miles or so, it was not a big deal. Lastly, this was the first time we had to drive on a fairly tight itinerary. We had a destination six thousand miles away that we had to reach in eight days. We had to stick to our agenda pretty tightly.

Our itinerary went something like this…

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Day 1 – Drive to Terri’s house in Deer Trail, Colorado. (17 hours)

Day 2 – Drive to Aunt Wendy’s house in Carson City, Nevada. (16 hours)

Day 3 – Drive to San Francisco, California. (4 hours) 

– Walk the city and tour the sites. (5 hours) 

– Drive to Redwood Forest campground. (5 hours)

Day 4 – Drive to Portland, Oregon. Eat lunch. (7 hours)

– Drive to Marsha & Mike’s house near Seattle, Washington. (3 hours)

Day 5 – Spend the day in Seattle. Stay the night with Marsha & Mike again.

Day 6 – Drive to campground in Dawson Creek, British Columbia, Canada (15 hours)

Day 7 – Drive to campground in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, Canada (15.5 hours)

Day 8 – Drive to Anchorage, Alaska (13 hours)

Remember: An itinerary is one thing, the actual trip is another. In our next blog, you will hear about waking up and stepping out of the tent in Jurassic Park, being kept up all night by the wind & threat of a serial killer, and almost running out of gas with no money on the Alaska Highway. 

Stay tuned…

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When you love to travel, how it started… Ohio to Alaska in 8 days (pt 1)

Like many Americans, my wife and I have developed a love of travel, particularly within the United States. This age-old adventurous idea of exploring that been experienced over and over again by travelers from Christopher Columbus to Lewis & Clark to author Charles Steinbeck with his dog, Charley.

My own love of travel began with a very unique situation. Growing up, my family moved nearly 80 times before I graduated high school and we “settled” in almost 20 states. (Read more about that here.) I was able to call Colorado, Montana, Arizona, Indiana, Illinois, California, Nebraska, Texas and many more states, “home.” While there were many aspects of this life I did not care for and required me to overcome, I did fall in love with the idea of road tripping this great nation.

(Recent pic of us this summer before our travels.)

My wife, Heidi, grew up with a bit more of a traditional travel experience in the early 70s and 80s. Their family camped, motelled, and RVed their way around the nation from Ohio. They enjoyed their southern Spring Break and summer trips, but they also traveled for ministry out west to places like Arizona.

While our love of travel took us south and on the east coast from Ohio while our kids were growing up, we fell head over heels in love with traveling further west with one particular trip—by car—to Alaska.

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The idea started with a seemingly innocuous first conversation.

“The Air Force won’t ship my car there!” my daughter, Morgan exclaimed.

“What do you mean they won’t ship your car? But, you will be his wife!” I retorted.

“I know, but they will only ship his car since we weren’t married when he was first stationed in Alaska,” she explained.

“Well that doesn’t make any sense. You will be his wife and you will obviously need a car. How are you gonna get your car from Ohio to Alaska?!” I wondered out loud. 

“I dunno, maybe I’ll have to sell it and buy another one.”

“But, you just bought your first new car. You gotta be able to take your car with you,” I continued.

This is how it began, or something like this.

Morgan, our eldest daughter, was going to be married in a few weeks. Her husband-to-be, Kade had joined the Air Force and was now going to be stationed at Elmendorf Air Force Base, just outside Anchorage. It seemed they could ship his car to Alaska, but even though they were getting married soon, would not ship her brand new Chevrolet Spark to Anchorage where they were getting their first apartment together as a married couple.

A few days later I remembered that my dad had always wanted to drive the Alaskan Highway. When he talked about it, I imagined some long desolate road to nowhere. I also envisioned some rough backroads that probably needed a 4X4 vehicle to pass. My dad had a way of taking regular automobiles to places they had no business going.

One such example was when we took the “backroad” trail to Bodie, California, a ghost town near the Nevada/California border when we were kids. I don’t remember if it was a Chevy Impala or one of our Studebakers, but I do remember it was not a 4-wheel drive vehicle and trust me, that path required it. We broke down in the middle of nowhere and I have no idea how we completed our path to Bodie, but I definitely remember that beautiful ghost town in between the Nevada desert and the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range in California.

This all got me curious though so I jumped on the internet and started researching the Alaskan Highway. Turns out, it’s called the Alaska Highway, no “n.” And it extends from Dawson Creek in British Columbia (Canada) to Delta Junction in Alaska (USA).

Oh, I thought, I wonder how we would get to it from Ohio.

I google mapped Springfield, Ohio to Anchorage, Alaska. Turns out, it was only about 3,900 miles. No big deal, I thought, that’s barely more than the entire length of the United States.

But, wait a minute, that route barely runs anywhere that I really want to see and is mostly through Canada where it’s usually pretty cold (I hate the cold) and on top of that, Google’s route wasn’t going to take us on enough of the Alaska Highway if we were to do it. Let me check another idea, I thought.

I google mapped Springfield, Ohio to San Francisco, California since it looked pretty much due west. Turns out, that goes through Colorado, right by my high school hometown of Byers, Colorado and through those beautiful, majestic Rocky Mountains. The route also ran through desolate, but gorgeous Nevada and right through a route around Lake Tahoe, an area I had heard about and ending in San Francisco, a city that I had always wanted to see with a Golden Bridge that nearly everyone recognizes immediately.

Turns out, we could head north through the Redwood Forest and into Seattle, an epic destination, no doubt. But, that would not be our final destination. We would have to drive north into Canada and intersect that Alaska Highway that my dad had dreamt about. And from there, we would have to traverse the mountain ranges in Canada before even entering Alaska. Talk about an epic trip that would last nearly SIX THOUSAND MILES.

How cool would that be?! I thought. But, no way anyone would want to do that with me. I couldn’t imagine Morgan would want to take her car all that way and what would my wife, Heidi think? I had to find a way to broach the subject with her first.

“You know how Morgan said that the Air Force wouldn’t ship her car to Alaska?” I asked her. 

“Yeah, that’s crazy, huh. I definitely would have thought they would.”

“Yeah, crazy.” I said thinking about another crazy idea. “The only other solution I could think about would be for someone to drive it there, so I googled it. Turns out, it’s almost four thousand miles of desolate driving mostly through Canada.” I continued quickly, not stopping for her response. “FOUR THOUSAND MILES. Can you believe that? And almost nothing to see along the way.” I continued. “That doesn’t seem like a fun time at all.”

Her expression was a little quizzical and I could tell she was trying to understand what I was getting at.

“Yeah, that would be nuts,” she replied.

“But,” I continued, “it turns out, if you go due west from here, you can go through Colorado, the Rocky Mountains, Nevada Desert, Lake Tahoe, California and hit San Francisco at the coast. Then you could head north through the Redwood Forest to Seattle, and then go into Canada and catch the Alaska Highway which would lead you into Alaska and finally Anchorage. It’s a few more miles that way, but definitely more scenic and fun!” (TWO THOUSAND MILES more to be exact, but I withheld that information at the time.)

“What? Why would you do that?” she asked.

“I mean, if you wanted to make it ‘scenic’ and see some great stuff along the way,” I explained.

“No, I mean, why would you google that? Who is going to drive her car all that way? She can’t drive that!”

“Uh, well, uh. Me?”

“You?!!”

“I mean, I would take Morgan with me, but I could drive her car all that way with her and we could see a lot of cool stuff. I could actually drive the Alaska Highway that my dad always dreamed about!”

“What?!? You are not driving all that way without ME!”

“Oh, you would want to go all that way in her car?” I asked.

“YES! No way you would drive that without me!”

“Well, I mean, I know we’re a team and all, but that’s a long way. I never would imagine that you would try that. Are you sure?!” I asked, a bit stunned that she would even consider it.

“And there’s no way Morgan would drive that with you! She is flying there after their honeymoon. She already has her flight.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense. Well, if you’re open to it, we can see if she wants us to do that. We could make an anniversary trip of it. I think based on her wedding timeframe and when we would need to leave before school starts, we could probably get there some time around our anniversary. But, we would have to fly back right away because school starts shortly after that.”

Heidi and I had both been working school jobs which afforded us the opportunity to utilize our summers however we wanted. We had definitely taken advantage that summer as we prepared for Morgan’s wedding and now, apparently A TRIP OF A LIFETIME.

Morgan was just as surprised as Heidi was, but definitely open to the idea. She couldn’t believe that we would drive her car that distance, but she wanted her car and she loved the idea of having us visit her new life in Alaska.

We were all in! But, next, came the challenge of making the trip as cheap as possible and breaking it down into days, sections, and making lodging arrangements.

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When you love to travel, how it started…

Like many Americans, my wife and I have developed a love of travel, particularly within the United States. This age-old adventurous idea of exploring that been experienced over and over again by travelers from Christopher Columbus to Lewis & Clark to author Charles Steinbeck with his dog, Charley.

My own love of travel began with a very unique situation. Growing up, my family moved nearly 80 times before I graduated high school and we “settled” in almost 20 states. (Read more about that here.) I was able to call Colorado, Montana, Arizona, Indiana, Illinois, California, Nebraska, Texas and many more states, “home.” While there were many aspects of this life I did not care for and required me to overcome, I did fall in love with the idea of road tripping this great nation.

(Recent pic of us this summer before our travels.)

My wife, Heidi, grew up with a bit more of a traditional travel experience in the early 70s and 80s. Their family camped, motelled, and RVed their way around the nation from Ohio. They enjoyed their southern Spring Break and summer trips, but they also traveled for ministry out west to places like Arizona.

While our love of travel took us south and on the east coast from Ohio while our kids were growing up, we fell head over heels in love with traveling further west with one particular trip—by car—to Alaska.

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Subscribe

The idea started with a seemingly innocuous first conversation.

“The Air Force won’t ship my car there!” my daughter, Morgan exclaimed.

“What do you mean they won’t ship your car? But, you will be his wife!” I retorted.

“I know, but they will only ship his car since we weren’t married when he was first stationed in Alaska,” she explained.

“Well that doesn’t make any sense. You will be his wife and you will obviously need a car. How are you gonna get your car from Ohio to Alaska?!” I wondered out loud. 

“I dunno, maybe I’ll have to sell it and buy another one.”

“But, you just bought your first new car. You gotta be able to take your car with you,” I continued.

This is how it began, or something like this.

Morgan, our eldest daughter, was going to be married in a few weeks. Her husband-to-be, Kade had joined the Air Force and was now going to be stationed at Elmendorf Air Force Base, just outside Anchorage. It seemed they could ship his car to Alaska, but even though they were getting married soon, would not ship her brand new Chevrolet Spark to Anchorage where they were getting their first apartment together as a married couple.

A few days later I remembered that my dad had always wanted to drive the Alaskan Highway. When he talked about it, I imagined some long desolate road to nowhere. I also envisioned some rough backroads that probably needed a 4X4 vehicle to pass. My dad had a way of taking regular automobiles to places they had no business going.

One such example was when we took the “backroad” trail to Bodie, California, a ghost town near the Nevada/California border when we were kids. I don’t remember if it was a Chevy Impala or one of our Studebakers, but I do remember it was not a 4-wheel drive vehicle and trust me, that path required it. We broke down in the middle of nowhere and I have no idea how we completed our path to Bodie, but I definitely remember that beautiful ghost town in between the Nevada desert and the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range in California.

This all got me curious though so I jumped on the internet and started researching the Alaskan Highway. Turns out, it’s called the Alaska Highway, no “n.” And it extends from Dawson Creek in British Columbia (Canada) to Delta Junction in Alaska (USA).

Oh, I thought, I wonder how we would get to it from Ohio.

I google mapped Springfield, Ohio to Anchorage, Alaska. Turns out, it was only about 3,900 miles. No big deal, I thought, that’s barely more than the entire length of the United States.

But, wait a minute, that route barely runs anywhere that I really want to see and is mostly through Canada where it’s usually pretty cold (I hate the cold) and on top of that, Google’s route wasn’t going to take us on enough of the Alaska Highway if we were to do it. Let me check another idea, I thought.

I google mapped Springfield, Ohio to San Francisco, California since it looked pretty much due west. Turns out, that goes through Colorado, right by my high school hometown of Byers, Colorado and through those beautiful, majestic Rocky Mountains. The route also ran through desolate, but gorgeous Nevada and right through a route around Lake Tahoe, an area I had heard about and ending in San Francisco, a city that I had always wanted to see with a Golden Bridge that nearly everyone recognizes immediately.

Turns out, we could head north through the Redwood Forest and into Seattle, an epic destination, no doubt. But, that would not be our final destination. We would have to drive north into Canada and intersect that Alaska Highway that my dad had dreamt about. And from there, we would have to traverse the mountain ranges in Canada before even entering Alaska. Talk about an epic trip that would last nearly SIX THOUSAND MILES.

How cool would that be?! I thought. But, no way anyone would want to do that with me. I couldn’t imagine Morgan would want to take her car all that way and what would my wife, Heidi think? I had to find a way to broach the subject with her first.

“You know how Morgan said that the Air Force wouldn’t ship her car to Alaska?” I asked her. 

“Yeah, that’s crazy, huh. I definitely would have thought they would.”

“Yeah, crazy.” I said thinking about another crazy idea. “The only other solution I could think about would be for someone to drive it there, so I googled it. Turns out, it’s almost four thousand miles of desolate driving mostly through Canada.” I continued quickly, not stopping for her response. “FOUR THOUSAND MILES. Can you believe that? And almost nothing to see along the way.” I continued. “That doesn’t seem like a fun time at all.”

Her expression was a little quizzical and I could tell she was trying to understand what I was getting at.

“Yeah, that would be nuts,” she replied.

“But,” I continued, “it turns out, if you go due west from here, you can go through Colorado, the Rocky Mountains, Nevada Desert, Lake Tahoe, California and hit San Francisco at the coast. Then you could head north through the Redwood Forest to Seattle, and then go into Canada and catch the Alaska Highway which would lead you into Alaska and finally Anchorage. It’s a few more miles that way, but definitely more scenic and fun!” (TWO THOUSAND MILES more to be exact, but I withheld that information at the time.)

“What? Why would you do that?” she asked.

“I mean, if you wanted to make it ‘scenic’ and see some great stuff along the way,” I explained.

“No, I mean, why would you google that? Who is going to drive her car all that way? She can’t drive that!”

“Uh, well, uh. Me?”

“You?!!”

“I mean, I would take Morgan with me, but I could drive her car all that way with her and we could see a lot of cool stuff. I could actually drive the Alaska Highway that my dad always dreamed about!”

“What?!? You are not driving all that way without ME!”

“Oh, you would want to go all that way in her car?” I asked.

“YES! No way you would drive that without me!”

“Well, I mean, I know we’re a team and all, but that’s a long way. I never would imagine that you would try that. Are you sure?!” I asked, a bit stunned that she would even consider it.

“And there’s no way Morgan would drive that with you! She is flying there after their honeymoon. She already has her flight.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense. Well, if you’re open to it, we can see if she wants us to do that. We could make an anniversary trip of it. I think based on her wedding timeframe and when we would need to leave before school starts, we could probably get there some time around our anniversary. But, we would have to fly back right away because school starts shortly after that.”

Heidi and I had both been working school jobs which afforded us the opportunity to utilize our summers however we wanted. We had definitely taken advantage that summer as we prepared for Morgan’s wedding and now, apparently A TRIP OF A LIFETIME.

Morgan was just as surprised as Heidi was, but definitely open to the idea. She couldn’t believe that we would drive her car that distance, but she wanted her car and she loved the idea of having us visit her new life in Alaska.

We were all in! But, next, came the challenge of making the trip as cheap as possible and breaking it down into days, sections, and making lodging arrangements.

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Tribute/Eulogy for Terri Hoffman (Congleton)

Today marked the lost of my first sibling, Terri Hoffman (Congleton). We held her funeral in Deer Trail, Colorado where she lived most of her adult life. I had the opportunity to share a tribute for her.

As the crowd funneled into the fairly new school building and auditorium, there was a sea of blue and orange. Everyone was invited to wear Denver Broncos gear in her honor since she proudly cheered on the home team. And honor her they did since close to 90% of those that attended do so.

After the pastor settled us in and my nephew kicked things off with a tribute song, I went to the podium to share some memories. But, before I shared my memories, I informed the audience that I was wearing a Broncos shirt for the first time. (Side note, I never liked or rooted for the Broncos even when I lived in Colorado.) I also made sure to mention that while I wouldn’t be rooting for the Broncos anytime soon, I did plan to wear my Broncos shirt again (in her honor.)

I started my tribute by sharing a paragraph from Chapter 5 of my memoir, NEVER SETTLED when I was about 6 and Terri was about 12.

Terri, my oldest sister by six years, fell in love with REO Speedwagon’s, “Hi Infidelity” album. We spent many days singing Take it on the Run together using her hairbrush as a microphone and enjoying the music. Terri had this bright red hair and such a fun, enthusiastic attitude. She had freckles spotting her whole body as numerous as the stars in the sky. Some people complain about this type of complexion, being red-haired and full of freckles, but she wore it well! She was so social and made music so much fun. She was so innocent in life and took things as they came. She was usually the one to get all of us kids together to have some sort of singing or dancing contest to the latest hits.

I went on to share this following lengthy story from Chapter 15…

Initially, when we moved back to the plains of Colorado, we moved to a very small town called Deer Trail. Deer Trail is the Home of the World’s First Rodeo if that tells you anything about the kind of town that it is. Most of the streets in the town were dirt. Not gravel, but dirt. And dusty. The rodeo grounds sat at the northwest outskirts of town and the K-12 school sat at the southwest edge of town. We settled down just a few blocks away from the rodeo grounds in a small trailer court nearby. This was where I first began to become a big fan of music myself, as I finished out the seventh grade here.

Deer Trail was a small, public high school that housed a community swimming pool. I only had eight total classmates in my grade at Deer Trail, so coming by friends was a bit more difficult. These small town kids were only into cows or basketball or both. I was not. They had all grown up with each other for the past eight years of school. I had not. However, the one area I may have been able to connect with them was music. Due to my dad’s influence, my musical tastes coincided a bit, as my favorite artist was Glen Campbell and I loved the song, “Rhinestone Cowboy.” That is, until my older sister, Terri came home.

Terri graduated high school with her foster family the year before and spent the following year at a community college in Indiana. She decided that wasn’t for her after her spring term was complete and she returned home to live with us in Colorado for the first time since Christmas of her freshman year of high school. I continued to be the family chef, but Terri helped out also; making pizza and brownies as her specialty. Another of our family favorite meals was sausage gravy and biscuits, but Terri introduced us to her version which included chocolate gravy instead. I hated it, but others in the family enjoyed it.

“You’ve got to listen to some better music!” Terri exclaimed. She hated my Glen Campbell. He wasn’t so popular in southern Indiana in 1985 when she graduated high school.

“Well, what else would I listen to?” I responded, not really knowing many artists or band names.

“Johnny Cougar, for one!” she said proudly. “Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, and Bryan Adams,” she continued.

“Well, put them on. Let me hear ‘em.” We had been making pizza for dinner and Terri had just placed the pizza pan in the oven and was getting ready to put some brownies on the upper rack. She placed them in the oven and ran down the hall of our trailer. She went back to her room that she shared with my younger sister, Shelby. She returned with her boombox and a few tapes. She slid a tape in the cassette slot and pressed play. The boombox erupted with, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper and she started dancing all around the kitchen.

Terri had this way of just letting loose. She could fully live in the moment and enjoy music or the company of friends. I couldn’t believe the years we had lost without her and I was loving getting to know my sister again. I imagined how much fun she was to hang out with as a friend in high school. She often talked about her friends from that time, confessing stories of their parties and activities. I wished I had been there to experience it with her. I also wondered what it was like to stay in Loogootee and experience a somewhat normal life for four years. The song ended and she stopped dancing.

“Here’s another great one,” she said as she pulled the tape out of the boom box and replaced it with another. “Summer of 69” by Bryan Adams filled the room.

“I got my first real six string…” Terri began playing air guitar and rocking around the room, singing every word. “Bought it at the five and dime… played it ‘til my fingers bled… was the summer of 69!”

Her boombox blared at the top of its lungs. That was the only way to listen to music in our house. We didn’t just want to hear the music, we wanted to FEEL IT! And feel it, we did.

Terri continued to exchange tape after tape, introducing me to John Cougar Mellencamp’s “Pink Houses” and Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” and Rick Springfield’s “Jessie’s Girl” and Toto’s “Africa.” We jammed and laughed and had a great time. Suddenly, we noticed smoke coming from the oven. We were having so much fun we didn’t even notice the burnt smell of pizza and brownies emanating from the kitchen.

“Oh, crap!” Terri yelled.

“Dad’s gonna kill us!” I screamed back. Terri opened the oven, grabbed a dish towel off the counter top because we didn’t use oven mitts. She quickly reached into the oven with the dish towel and pulled the pizza out. She tossed it onto the counter since the heat was searing through the thin dish towel. Then she quickly grabbed the brownie pan out and threw it onto the counter, as well.

“Oh my gawd,” Terri said, “What are we gonna do?!” I stared down at the charred remains of the pizza and brownies and wondered if any of it was edible.

“Do you think we could eat any of it?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Terri said and then went into our utensil drawer for a pizza cutter. She pulled one out after scurrying through the drawer for a few minutes.

“Let it cool,” I said. “We should try it in a few minutes. We’ve got to get these windows open and get this smoke and smell out. Dad’s gonna be home soon.”

We quickly scurried to the windows and rolled them open. The windows opened by a hand roller that you twisted counter clockwise to rotate the window panes up while keeping the bug screens in place, similar to an RV. It didn’t provide much relief from the smoke since the window openings weren’t very large. I opened the front door and Terri went back to the hallway where a box fan was blowing air through the house. She grabbed the fan, unplugged it and brought it near the front door. We strategically aimed it out the front door and plugged it back in. Smoke began to roll out the door, but we didn’t know if it was going to be quick or effective enough.

“Dad’s gonna be home soon!” she said, unsure of what would happen. Terri was an adult now and Dad was treating her quite well since we hadn’t seen her in so long. But we didn’t know how Dad would react when he got home. Terri took her boombox and tapes back to her room and I started cleaning the kitchen of the extra mess. We scurried as quickly as possible, eliminating all of the reasons we might get in trouble besides the burnt pizza and brownies.

“Oh, no!” I shouted, “The flies!” I pointed to the front door as I noticed flies coming in from outside. Flies were extremely prevalent in Deer Trail. And Dad hated flies in the house. Terri closed the front door and started to set the table for dinner. I grabbed the most recent Denver Post and wrapped up a couple of sections into a homemade flyswatter. I quickly moved throughout the kitchen and living room swatting every moving thing I could find. I knew I had to get rid of them before Dad got home.

Not fifteen minutes later, the front door opened and Dad stood in the doorway. I sheepishly looked up and nervously wondered what he would notice and how he would react.

“What the h*ll happened here?!!” Dad exclaimed. Terri stood in the kitchen near the front door and responded first.

“Our timer must have broken. We burnt dinner,” Terri said apologetically.

“When are you guys gonna get your sh*t together?” Dad asked and shook his head. He walked over to the counter, looked at the scorched pizza and noticed Terri had tried to cut it. He reached down and grabbed the pizza cutter with his big burly hands. He rolled the cutter onto the burnt pizza and started laughing.

“You’re gonna need a chainsaw to cut that pizza!” he said. He reached over, grabbed the butter knife on the counter by the brownies and attempted to place it into the hard and blackened brownies. “You got a hacksaw?! We need a hacksaw to cut these brownies!” He laughed. So, we laughed. Our emotions were running rampant inside of us, but we let out a barrage of chuckles.

“Terri, I don’t know what they taught you in that foster home, but Shawn had his sh*t together here and knows how to cook. You make Texas Chainsaw Pizza and Hacksaw Brownies!” He just laughed so hard as if it was the funniest thing he ever heard. We laughed with him because we knew this all could have gone down so very differently.

I concluded the eulogy with this reminder.

Terri was simple, sweet and fun.

I am thankful I got to know her and spend time with her.

We all hugged, cried and prayed together.

How To Love Your Teenager — Lesson 1

I’ve been working with teenagers for about 26 years. 

AND if there is one thing I know, it is how to love teenagers. 

I’ve been a parent of a teenager for 13 years and if there is one thing I learned,

it was how to love MY teenagers.

I was a youth pastor for nearly 10 years and trust me, I was an expert at loving teenagers…

Until I became a parent. It is one thing to care for the spiritual guidance of teenagers for a few hours a week as a youth pastor and quite another when they live in your home.

I’ve worked with teenagers in more ways than I can count, but I think I learned the most about how to love teenagers by actually being one!

The problem we sometimes have as adults, and particularly as parents, we forget what it was like to be a teenager—to be constantly in transition, to love our days of childhood, but can’t wait to become adults ourselves, to have a genuine excitement about the future and to know that we have so many opportunities in front of us. 

And yet, much of the joy of being a teenager was to live life for today! To really be present, in the moment and enjoying each day for what it has. I still remember as a senior in high school, preparing to graduate and looking at what my future might hold, I thought, “I’m going to miss high school so much! I’m never going to get another chance to live life so free without responsibility!”

These were the thoughts of a young man who played three sports every year, worked 20-30 hours a week and took at least a couple of college-prep classes while buying my own car, paying for my own gas, and buying my own school clothes.

For the next few blog posts, I’m going to remember what it was like to be a teenager and use those thoughts to remind us all HOW TO LOVE YOUR TEENAGER!

Sure, things have changed. Times are not the same. But, some things are ageless. 

Coming of age. On the cusp. Ready for the world. Teenagers go through many of the same experiences and need many of the same things no matter what social world they find themselves. 

Lesson 1: How to Love Your Teenager

Listen.

One aspect of teenage life is they are learning who they are, they are developing their identity, they are becoming adults. They are no longer small versions of their parents, but are learning to think on their own. They are deciding for themselves what they accept from the adults in their lives and what they refuse to accept. 

Therefore, teenagers need space to work these things out, to process on their own. So, it seems, and sounds like they just need space, which they do and we will discuss later, but they need adults (especially PARENTS) who will listen to them without judgment and without a critical mind. 

Teenagers work through how they see the world and what they think and feel about it through their words. They want to talk, but they only want to talk when they won’t feel judged or criticized.

This can be such a fine line for a parent, coach, or teacher whose job it is to provide guidance. When young people share ideas or thoughts that don’t align with their wisdom or reality as the adult knows it, our tendency is to quickly clap back, to set them straight. Yet, what they truly need is someone to listen and allow them to process as they talk.

Listening also builds relationship. Teenagers love to express themselves. But, if they feel put down, they will quickly shut down. As you listen to them, you will find out things about them you never knew. Ask questions! Get to know them as if they were strangers, more than likely they will be if you remember them just a few years ago when they were ten. They change so quickly!

Listening well, without judgment, helps them feel accepted. Teenagers need acceptance. We all need acceptance! Listening well gives them a safe space to belong. It helps them know that they are loved no matter what. Who doesn’t need that?!?

Right now, you may be thinking that listening is an obvious way to love your teenager. You may think you are doing a great job at it. But, here’s one sure fire way to know if you are actually doing a good job. Does your teenager love to talk around, with or to you??? Or are they in a hurry to head off with their friends constantly? 

Oh, I know they are social creatures and they love to be with kids their own age that they share many things in common with, but the reality is they also LOVE to talk to ADULTS that will listen to them. Are you one of those?

If not, now is a great time to be one. Start by listening. And asking questions. Fun questions. Without judgment or criticism. Give it a try. 

It can also sound easier than it is to practice! 

What are your thoughts about this? Challenges? Failures? Successes?