May God's Love Be With You

A year ago right now, Aaron and I had our last discussion in frustration. Gone was the anger. He had inspired me to change my habits. Others were helping me change my character. Through the grace of God, I was becoming the Dad Aaron needed most, when he needed a Dad most. Aaron decided to leave our home and called a friend to pick him up. He had a week before turning 18 and it was time for Aaron to be on his own.

At 6:30 am, April 29th, Aaron called me. He'd been up all night talking with his friend. Aaron had reached the summit; he'd seen the light and was excited to tell me his final decision. We agreed that I would go to work, he would sleep and we would sit down in the evening to talk. Twelve hours later the conversation went something like this:

Aaron: Danny and I talked. He told me I need to make some changes. And, I agree. This is your house. Your rules. I have to follow your rules. I need to be responsible for myself...stop taking. I was wrong to take your car. I have a car and I need to pay for it. I need to clean up after myself and be respectful. I can't go anywhere until I'm ready. I need to finish high school, follow the rules. Stay clean and get on with my life. I have to stay away from some people. I can do it. I'm commited to doing the right thing.

Me: So what are you going to do?

Aaron: I'm tired. I think I'll take a shower and go to bed.

Me: That's good. I love you, Man. Thanks.

Aaron: Love you too. See ya later.

For the next ten and a half days, life with Aaron was perfect.

The Lyrics belong to Joseph Arthur. The feelings are mine.

I picture you in the sun wondering what went wrong
And falling down on your knees asking for sympathy
And being caught in between all you wish for and all you seen
And trying to find anything you can feel that you can believe in
May god’s love be with you
Always
May god’s love be with you
I know I would apologize if I could see your eyes
’cause when you showed me myself I became someone else
But I was caught in between all you wish for and all you need
I picture you fast asleep
A nightmare comes
You can’t keep awake
May god’s love be with you
Always
May god’s love be with you
’cause if I find
If I find my own way
How much will I find
If I find
If I find my own way
How much will I find
YouI don’t know anymore
What it’s for
I’m not even sure
If there is anyone who is in the sun
Will you help me to understand
’cause I been caught in between all I wish for and all I need
Maybe you’re not even sure what it’s for
Any more than me
May god’s love be with you
Always
May god’s love be with you

Lyrics by Joseph Arthur

I wish I knew where to find you tonight. We miss you so much Aaron.
Where have all the Good Times gone?

Love you.
Dad

April 23 and the fizz of Alka Seltzer

April 23, 1975. 7:00 AM. I was 16. My Dad was 47.

Why would I notice in the midst of disorder, and never forget, the Alka Seltzer fizzing in the glass?

This evening we attended a community grief service at a local church. In the last 12 months, five teenagers who I know and there may be more, from our little community died in car crashes. The epicenter of the catastrophes is DeForest. The waves of grief break on distant shores. So many people cry so many tears for these young men.

Today I have an idea about the thirty year question; The fizzing was a message about life. Life changes without warning, in an instant. In less time than it takes for two Alka Seltzer tablets to disolve in 7 ounces of water, the security of life as we know it, the conversations we intend to have, the promises we expect of the future are gone. Everything we have planned, expected, created, built, nurtured, overcome, loved is finished.

I'll pray tonight that all the Moms, Dads, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc, find a moment of clarity and peace.

Peace at 47 on April 23, 2006.

Tom

April 23 and the fizz of Alka Seltzer

April 23, 1975. 7:00 AM. I was 16. My Dad was 47.

Why would I notice in the midst of disorder, and never forget, the Alka Seltzer fizzing in the glass?

This evening we attended a community grief service at a local church. In the last 12 months, five teenagers who I know and there may be more, from our little community died in car crashes. The epicenter of the catastrophes is DeForest. The waves of grief break on distant shores. So many people cry so many tears for these young men.

Today I have an idea about the thirty year question; The fizzing was a message about life. Life changes without warning, in an instant. In less time than it takes for two Alka Seltzer tablets to disolve in 7 ounces of water, the security of life as we know it, the conversations we intend to have, the promises we expect of the future are gone. Everything we have planned, expected, created, built, nurtured, overcome, loved is finished.

I'll pray tonight that all the Moms, Dads, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc, find a moment of clarity and peace.

Peace at 47 on April 23, 2006.

Tom

As if you could kill time without injury eternity.

Aaron loved quotes. He collected them on a small yellow pad while in school at DeForest. At Mount Bachelor, Aaron wrote them in his journals. He would like the title of this post and this one, both from Henry David Thoreau, written about 1845, Walden: While civilization has been improving our houses, it has not equally improved the men who are to inhabit them.

On Monday April 24th, the Aaron J. Meyer Foundation will meet with RandyHaveson, http://www.randyspeaks.com to lay the ground work for bringing The HERO House http://www.theherohouse.org to Madison.

The HERO House is a place where college students in the early stages of recovery can live in a safe, healthy environment while continuing their studies and working on building a solid foundation in recovery.

Aaron understood the importance of a living arrangement like this. One of his plans for after high school included returning to Bend, OR to attend Bend Community College. He planned to live with some classmates from Mount Bachelor Academy. The idea was that these guys knew each other's challenges and they would be able to support each other in maintaining sobriety. They would run their home with the skills they learned at Mount Bachelor. A healthy, supportive, sober environment would give them a chance to live healthy while still being college students in an age where chaos was the the order of the day. I liked the plan.

At 6:00 PM to 7:30 PM on Monday April, 24th, Randy will speak at Edgewood College in the Anderson Auditorium. His topic will cover alcohol and drug use for high school and college students. All readers of this blog are welcome to attend.

Coincidently, April 24th is Aaron's sobriety date. I don't think he would mind that I share that piece of information.

Visit Randy's web sites for a little insight.

Peace,
Tom

The Wall

This morning, Cathy made her first visit to the wall. Our grief counselors accompanied us. Cathy decided it was time for her to see the place where her son lost his life. She had refused to see this place for almost a year. One of the counselors suggested she bring something and leave it at the site. For two weeks Cathy had thought about what to bring. Around 5:00 AM, Cathy woke and told me she had a dream about Aaron cutting down her yellow daffodils...he had done this more than once as a young sword fighter. She decided yellow daffodils from her flower garden and a photo of Aaron and her together would be fitting.

At 11:00 AM, with Bobbi and Murat beside us, Cathy approached the wall. It's an unexplainable feeling to walk in the path of your son's final moments of life. Nineteen years ago today we were becoming very quiet, contemplating our future with a child. Today we stood together, for the first time, at the very spot where our boy breathed his last breaths...and it hurt...deeply.

Cathy layed the bouquet and photo at the wall. Emotionally we went back to May 10, 2005 for a little while, hugged, cried, sobbed. Eventually we regained composure.

We walked back to the cars where we noticed the cooing of a pigeon. Sitting on the power lines about 100 yards from the wall was a lone pigeon. The bird continued to coo as long as we were there. The bird stayed in its place until we drove away and were along side of it's perch. At that moment, it flew to the west toward the wall.

Back at home we looked up the pigeon in Ted Andrews' book, Animal Speak. This is what the book tells us about Pigeons:

Keynote: Return to the Love and Security of Home. Pigeon is related to the Dove. (Dove is a symbol of Peace) The Pigeon has a long history associated with home and pigeons have a strong homing sense, able to find its way back home no matter how far it has gone.

It's a symbol for the time to return to the security of home. The are a symbol to draw on the energies of home no matter how distant. Pigeons huddle together during time of storm. A pigeon in your life is a sign that it is time to huddle with your family...there we have safety and security.

Father Mike told me last spring that he believes in signs from Heaven. He said they occur all the time, and we just have to be open to receive them. We agree with Father Mike. The pigeon on the wire was Aaron's sign to his Mom that he knows she was there and he's letting her know that he is OK, and that place of the wall is not home. Home is where the family lives- where there is safety and security.

As for that place of the wall? That's a death trap.

Huddling together with family in Peace,

Aaron's Dad

April and Aaron

April 23, 2004 Aaron and I spent a weekend together in Oregon. In this photo Aaron is standing on a platform overlooking a falls on the Dechuetes River. The platform was built in-memory of a young man. We wonderedwhat the situation was that led to the memorial.

On our way hiking to this point, Aaron and I were surprised by a giant "Bear of a Dog" which came charging around a bend in the path. The burly monster was likely an overstuffed, lighter brown, Chesapeake Bay Retriever. Face to face with this bear on the run, Aaron and I went "Ahhh" and I almost knocked Aaron over trying to scamper away. When we recovered, realizing it was a BIG dog with owners trailing, Aaron asked me "What were you going to do, if that was a bear?" I said "Run." Aaron being Aaron said "Duh, you can't out run a bear." "Don't have to..." I Jumped on the easy set up "I only have to out run you!" Aaron caught the joke. We had a good laugh.

April 23, 2005 was a memorable day too. Aaron was home with Patrick. Cathy and I were in Austin. I reached Aaron at home in the afternoon. He was watching the NFL draft on ESPN. When he answered my call I remember him saying, "The Packers drafted a Quarterback, named Aaron somebody." I told him "I remember where I was when Packers traded for Brett Favre. If this Aaron guy becomes anyone I will rememer where I was when I heard the news from you."

Aaron never saw Aaron Somebody throw a pass. Every time I see or hear of Aaron Somebody, I think of that conversation with my Aaron.

I am thinking of this coming April 23rd. Just noticed my teeth are clenched and my jaw is tight. The last time we had an April without Aaron was 1987. We were waiting for his arrival. I think he was due in April. We waited until May 6.

Air-Bear.

Peace.
Tom

The Truth About Aaron

Cathy, Patrick, and I are grateful BeckySchaefer, of the DeForest Times, chose journalism as a career and that she works for the DeForest Times.

Becky's article title The truth about Aaron, ran on the front page of the Thursday, April 13th edition of the paper. She presented the terrible events of May 10, 2005 with skill and compassion.

We were comfortable sharing the emotions of the day with Becky when she visited our home. Before we met, I had expected to not share all of the reports with her as I have a deep fear of reporters and editor's twisting and omitting facts or printing of partial quotes. (My brother-in-law likes the saying "Don't battle with people who buy ink by the gallon.") Becky put my fears to rest during our interview. In the end we gave her complete access to the file. Becky used the information to accurately portray the chaos of the afternoon last spring.

Families who live the loss of a child may have a common desire to keep the child alive in memory. We relate to that desire. To be more specific, I want my son Aaron to be a part of the world-community we live in, even if he can't continue to be a part of the community in person. Does that make sense? I think it's more than a desire that the person is not forgotten. I want Aaron to be a part of the community, if not the way other living persons are, at least in a way where he still makes a difference. As long as I am sending vibrations in this universe, I want Aaron to be doing the same. He earned the right to be remembered as the person he was, not what one or two persons thought he was.

Aaron's final day was mis-represented and his character trashed by persons who should have been trusted to be above grievous ignorance. I'm working on forgiving some people, but I'm not there yet.

An informed Sheriff Lt. would look at the scene and consider facts before passing judgment. Here are a few facts for the Dane County Sheriff's Department:

1.) http://www.roadtripamerica.com/DefensiveDriving/Rule33.htm No brake marks indicate the driver was going with what he knew about safe driving when the vehicle leaves the road. DO NOT BRAKE. I taught this rule to Aaron on a snowy day just months before he got his license when he was 16. In that experience, the vehicle left the road, went into a field and had plenty of room to come to rest without hitting any dangerous roadside structure.

2) http://www.iihs.org/research/fatality_facts/teenagers.html 57% of 18 year old drivers killed in a car crash are not wearing seat belts. Not wearing a seat belt is not an indicator of intent, unless of course 57% of the 18 year olds killed while driving a car are killing themselves on purpose. Not wearing a seat belt is an indicator that the driver might be 18.

3) The speedometer is Aaron's truck goes from 0 to 100. In a crash the speedometer can drop to one side or the other and end up wherever it ends up. If it was at ZERO would they have assumed Aaron was going ZERO??? No. Then, a logical person would say 100 is not an indicator of 100 mph.

4) If you think the speedometer is an indicator of speed at time of collision, then ask yourself if the tachometer should be an indicator of RPM's at time of collision. If the RPM indicator is 2500 does that match with 100 mph in the vehicle? Obviously not. 2500 is the rpm's at 55-60 mph in Aaron's vehicle. Use logic. It works.

5) http://www.iihs.org/brochures/default.html Damage to a vehicle is a matter of simple physics. This is the formula for kinetic energy: (Weight x 1/2) (speed squared) = kinetic energy. The Lt., who's name I wish to be removed from my memory, from the Dane County Sheriff's Dept told me the damage to the vehicle and the amount of wall that was moved suggested to him the speed was 100 mph. The vehicle is designed to absorb the impact to protect the occupant. The front of the truck was crushed, as it should be by design, and the driver compartment was intact. At 100 mph the kinetic energy would increase exponentially and the truck and occupant would come apart. Remedial basic physics education for the Dane County Sherrif Lt. is in order.

6) http://www.csgnetwork.com/csgtsd.html A speed and distance converter is a handy tool to have in a squad car. If you disregard all else, and still think the lack of brake marks is an indicator of intent, tell me if you can recover from leaving the road, steer, and brake in 50 yards before hitting a concrete wall. A concrete wall, by the way which extends from 24 feet from the edge of the blacktop to over a hundred feet perpendicular to the highway. At 100 mph you cover 50 yards in 1.015 seconds. At 58 mph, you have 1.74 seconds. Less time than in took for you to read the last sentence.

7) Roadside booby traps. See the link in point number 2 above. Roadside hazards are more common than driver suicide. Every day drivers hit trees, machinery, signs,...maybe even walls erected for business purposes. As unusual as it seems to the Dane County Sheriff Lt, who unfortunately hustled over to Vinburn Road last May, it is uncommon for a crash into a roadside hazard to be intentional. Once Aaron left the road, the power line pole was directly in front of him. He did steer to the right and missed the pole by inches. The wall left him no way out. He could not turn left, momentum kept him going right. He could not turn right; the wall exetended far to his right. It looked like Aaron hit the wall straight on. He did. But not until he steered right, tried to steer left and had no room to maneuver. The tracks were clear, until the grass was mowed for some reason, a day after the crash.


Well, I'm done for today. What started off as a posting of gratitude is becoming laced with resentment and bitterness. I'm going to post this just as it is. Cathy came in a few minutes ago and said our neighbor stopped over to say she just read the paper and this is the first she heard that Aaron's death was accidental. Ahhhh!!

Thank you to all who read the article, for learning the truth, and remembering Aaron as a good and kind person who just wanted to live.

Peace,
Tom

This Easter weekend, Cathy, Patrick and I will remember Aaron in private. I will continue to work on my resentments.

Turning Pages

April 2, 2005. The last hunt.

Starting in 1991 or '92, I used a "Priority Manager" time management system. It's basically a book. Aaron would relate that burgandy colored book to my life. He was probably dramatically opposed to keeping a schedule for himself. The simple act would make him too much like his Dad. Oh-know!

I liked that book. Flipping pages I could recount for my own amusement, or for the edification of the IRS as the sales person told me, all of my past activities. (at least the ones I cared to record)

Priority Manager was nearing the end of it's days in April. An entry for April 28 of 2005: All day TProducer Training. I was converting to the much hipper, less convenient system of an internet based organizer. Instead of lugging a cheap 8 1/2 by 11 inch binder with removable pages, my hands would be free, and the technology expensive. A year later, my hands are free, and I've not purchased the expensive device. In fact, maybe I'm more like Aaron-not handcuffed to an organizer.

For fun, I picked up my now disgarded planer and paged through the months of 2005-January, February, March, April, and May. Same as a book, the planner tells a story; where I was, who I was with, when I was there, what I did and way. There are no entries for months after May.

A couple of entries stand out:

January 24, 12:30 - 1:30 Jeff Ryan for AJ to discuss Horizon High School
May 6, 10:30 AJ- my office. Get money for his Birthday.

Tonight Cathy picked up a photograph of Aaron. According to the book, the event was April 2, 1:00 Pheasant Hunt, Royal Flush with Tim Kritter etc. One of several precious photos from that is at the top of this page.

The entire month of May had appointments logged. Things to do, commitments to keep. Living life. Nothing out of the ordinary.

For May 10th my schedule looked like this:

7:30 - 8:30 Fitchburg
11:00 - 12:30 Shorewood Hills
2:45 - Jeff K at his office
3:00 Elderberry

At 2:45 I was wrapping up something in my office, and then would be on my way to Jeff's office. I was late, and just getting onto the Beltline West when the cell phone rang at 2:52. My first thought was it would be Aaron returning my two calls to him. One from the morning and the other from an hour earlier. He had programmed my phone to show his mug when he called me. No face appeared. Who could this be? I wondered. The 266-???? number diplayed suggested it was somone from a government office.

Life frozen in time. 2:52 PM, 5-10-05.

Turn the page. Backward please.

Tom

My Favorite Football Player

Sophomore year, 2002. I think. Maybe Froshman??? I don't recall Aaron's jersey number for the Junior Varsity season. Maybe it was this 87 he wore in this photo, but this could be a jersey he was given just for the photo day.

When Aaron was born I noticed two things about him, his ears, with which he perfected a skill of turning them into the ear hole and then releasing them one at a time--and his long fingers. Piano said the doctor. Football said the dad.

Hand-eye coordination was never a problem for Aaron. Two plus two? Don't know, don't care. But throw Aaron a pass and he'd track it down with long strides and gobble up the ball with strong hands extending from those long-long arms.

Aaron's Froshman coaches discoverd how to give him the best chance of succes-- A few pass plays where he could run past defenders or catch a ball in or above a crowd. Aaron blossomed under their direction. I share Aaron's gratitude for their wise coaching.

The Sophomore team went undefeated. Aaron caught his share of passes. His first catch that year was for a long touchdown. A rarely called penalty for the receiver (Aaron) being behind, instead of on, the line of scrimmage negated the play. There were more big plays that year and Aaron had high hopes for his Junior year.

The Junior season was the end of an unraveling world. Even so, Aaron had a few shining moments in varsity reserve games. I think the last pass I saw him catch in a game was a long touchdown where he blew past the defender along the sideline, caught the ball in stride and coasted into the endzone. After the game Aaron called to me while I was walking out of the stadium. Aaron ran over to me at the fence and gave me a big hug in front of lots of parents. Lots of envy from them. Lots of gratitude from me.

When I visited Aaron at Mount Bachelor Academy we threw the football some. For many months Aaron kept the possibility of post high school football in his mind as an inspiration. During a home visit in September '04 Aaron and I went down to the neighborhood park where we had spent numerous hours of many days over many years throwing and catching a football. Casually we threw the ball. Instead of cleats and receiver gloves, Aaron's attire was baggy pants, barefeet or sandals. The intensity picked up a little, but I could tell the days of football were probably over. By chance, the quarterback from Aaron's first two seasons of high school football came by. The two combined for some very long tosses and effortless grabs...what once was and should have been.

Last week Wednesday night I dreamt I went to heaven. At the end of a tunnel I was met by a person who told me it wasn't my time, I would have to go back. I asked to see my son before I left and was told there would be no promises, but I could go through a side door. Opening the door I approached a the back of a couch. Laying face down was Aaron. He pushed himself up, turned toward me and said "Dad. Heyy. Good to see ya." After hugs and lots of laughing, we ended up in some park with a football. I threw a long pass which looked to be sailing way beyond his reach. Just the way I remembered, Aaron kicked in to the next gear, tracked down the ball, reached out his big hands and snatched the ball out of the air.

All was good again.

Dreams are nice. I miss you.

Dad

Sleepy Heads

Writing is relaxing,
Remembering is taxing.

A favorite picture, Amanda, Patrick, and Aaron. After a night of too many movies and too little sleep, we are on our way to Green Lake to return Amanda to home. Patrick is wearing a T-shirt which belonged to Amanda's brother Kristopher, handed over to Aaron, and then down to Patrick. Today, Amanda is a Junior at Pepperdine, Patrick just came home from visiting her, and the shirt was returned to Kristopher's parents for passing on to his name-sake cousin and God Son, Noah Kristopher. He will have to grow a bit, but I know the shirt will be well worn by the time it gets to Noah's brother, and Aaron's God Son, Alex

Most of my memories this spring have been recalling each day from one year earlier. So near yet so far. April has easy landmarks. There was lots of growth and change going on as our oldest was getting ready to leave the nest.

The time was right. I think Cathy and I were coming to terms with letting Aaron fly. I'm not terminally unique, so my anxiety over the first child moving out on his own at 18 was likely a shared emotion with others. Fear of loss, failure, control, and a host of other ofs might be what parent-child conflicts are made of. Projecting my fears wasn't much of a confidence builder for any of us. Not sure. my experience was too short, but having time to reflect, I suspect there might be something to the hunch.

I will see what I can learn from birds this spring-summer. They seem to have it right. I'm going to do better with Patrick.

Ready for warm spring days.

Tom

Tracking Memories

Cathy and I watched Patrick's first high school track meet on Tuesday. The last time I saw Patrick run in any manner was about this time last year when we played basketball for a Father-Son end of season basketball game. Since then, Patrick has perfected his pokey-puppy stroll of his younger days.

His first run at 100 meters was OK. Lest we one day forget, the dash is recorded here by memory of what I saw from 100 meters away. PT, never one to make a specticle of himself, gingerly loosened up his limbs. No jumping. No quick starts out of the blocks for practice. Just a little bending of the legs and stretching of the arms. If the muscles and tendons loosened, I don't know how. Surely they were slightly looser than Patricks mind. Patrick projects his nervousness of impending doom with frustration. More like his Dad and nothing like his Mom. Aaron was similar, but with sports he bottled up the nerves differently than his brother.

PT came down from the bleachers, right by Cathy and me at the finish line. He was ready to go to the starting line at the last call for his event. Without his running shoes on his feet or in his hands, Patrick asked "Where do I go?" We suggested to go to the starting end of the track. He agreed that would be smart. "What about your shoes?" I called out. "Oh, yeah" He went back in the bleachers to find his shoes; a pair of Aaron's white with red swoosh track shoes. They're well worn with Aaron's foot prints. I like to feel the places where his toes grooved their positions.

With eyes down the track we saw Patrick finally enter the starting blocks in what appeared to be lane 2. When the gun went off, Patrick says he flinched. I thought he got out fine. Within a few strides, PT veered to his right into lane 4, then back to lane 2. He spotted the rest of the runners a pretty good head start, and eventually closed the gap on the front runners, even passing a couple of guys, in addition to the fellow in lane 4. As he passed us, Cathy shouted some words of encouragement. Something like "Way to go Patrick!" I took in all of the unique experience of seeing my little, six foot tall, boy running, and with surprisingly quick strides. It's been 3 seasons since I've seen those shoes moving and the picture was bitter sweet.

Patrick's next race was a 4 x 100. We scanned the track looking for him. Not there. One-half of Patrick's foursome didn't find there way to the start. Maybe next time.

Before Patrick's race, we watched the hurdlers. Aaron was a talent in the hurdles. His first run was as a frosh at an indoor invitational. With long legs and a good stride he placed for the team. A letter winner in both Frosh and Soph seasons, Aaron placed 3rd in conference his Sophomore year. Gaining strength and skill, he would have been a force by his senior year. Aaron was gone to Mount Bachelor for his Junior season. His downfall began with poor choices he made with fellow athletes.

Aaron paid the price, made huge strides in his life and asked for a chance to participate or practice with the team. I listened to his phone call and conversation. Aaron's request was heard. He was told that the request would be taken up with whomever. The request was never answered. I don't know the politics that went into the DAHS decision and Aaron never heard back on his request. I'm proud of him though. Aaron showed courage in asking. Aaron never turned his back on people.

Aaron knew he did wrong and accepted that the people in charge might not welcome him back. Aaron didn't hold a grudge. His Dad did.

Tom

Flat Flip Flies Straight

Flat Flip Flies Straight. Those words were printed on the Frisbees in my house when I was a kid. I remember we had two. One was blue. The other orange. The words meant nothing to me. I didn't throw Frisbees too much as a kid. Footballs and baseballs yes. Frisbee was sort of a game like croquet; something to do in the yard if there were only girls around. When the guys showed up, we picked teams and got busy with serious competition.

In high school and after, the Frisbees in the closet became a source of a new game. The brother- in-laws and I would flip the platter to eachother for ridiculous lengths of time, making dazzling catches to keep long strings of completions running.

It was in college where I saw people who otherwise had no athletic ability doing amazing things with throwing and catching Frisbees. That's were I first learned the meaning of the four words: Flat Flip Flies Straight. Ahh, its an instruction! Directions! Flat Flip Flies Straight! The trick was getting the plate flat. Flipping not throwing. Genious. I never became the non-athlete Frisbee flipper of the great ones, but I was OK.

Going to my Mom's house in Antigo with Aaron as a little boy was always fun. He liked going through my junk that I left behind in 1977. We would go through the closet to find a new old toy to play with. There was always a beat up football, bald basketball, Jarts, and the Frisbees. Aaron must have been very young because I remember him asking "What's this?" If you never played Frisbee with a little kid who is first seeing one, try it sometime. Aaron couldn't make Flip it Flat so his Frisbee rolled like a wheel on the loose at best and at worst just flopped to the ground. Kicking it. Stomping on it and yelling at it didn't help. No different than anything I introduced Aaron to too soon, his experience wasn't good. Interestingly, he never gave up on those things which include Packer Football, Brewer Baseball, hunting, camping, playing football, baseball, ...etc.

The photo I posted above is an all time favorite. Frisbee could use it to describe the meaning of Flat Flip Flies Straight. Aaron was a summer boy. At Mount Bachelor he became and avid Frisbee guy. Frisbee football. Frisbee anything. On one trip out to visit him we purchased a Frisbee and played in a park...just him and me. Aaron complimented me for not being too bad for a Dad.

Spring is here now and it is Frisbee weather. Twice today I thought of something to tell Aaron and I made that quick reach for my phone. The one that starts with energy and ends with deflation. I'd really like to see Aaron running outside, tracking down an errant Frisbee. He has such long strides and long arms.

Missing my pal.
Dad