NOTE: This is a "Coming of Age" story. It isn’t pretty nor is it pleasant for me to recall. But life consists of pleasure, pain, success, failure, ugliness and beauty. If my legacy consists of memories of significant events in my life and if it is to be complete and honest, it...
Perhaps you’ve heard the expression: “Nobody wants to read your diary except your mother,” but if that were true, why do so many of us love autobiographies? Is it because we feel less isolated when somebody else shares his or her secrets? In Diane Keaton’s book: “Let’s Just Say it Wasn’t...
The Old Cherry Tree When I was eight years old we moved into the house that my father’s grandparents had built in 1882. Many of the plants and trees they’d put in over the years were still thriving. There was an abundance of hollyhocks, peonies, lily of the valley, tea...
On the road …again!Afghanistan to ZambiaChronicles of a Footloose ForesterBy Dick Pellek A Short Botanical History Of Home We youngsters might have taken the trees for granted when we were very young, but as we grew older those trees around the house became keepsakes. The old Pellek homestead on Church Street...
On the road…again!Afghanistan to ZambiaChronicles of a Footloose ForesterBy Dick Pellek Always An Amateur Life can be so disheartening when you grow up without good looks, athletic ability, high intelligence, or with physical limitations. Poor posture and annoying mannerisms also add to the handicaps that we may have and...
Carina recalls her early childhood....
When I was 10 years old my parents sold their house in Orem and bought a new one in American Fork. It was a brand new house on an acre and a third. Including our house, there were 4 new house, next to each other in the middle of the...
On the road …again!Afghanistan to Zambia Chronicles of a Footloose ForesterBy Dick Pellek It's Saturday, Where Is The Yardstick? There were seven kids in the Pellek household, so there was plenty of mischief under our roof, and elsewhere. Five boys and two girls kept our mom awake sometimes,...
On the road… again!Afghanistan to ZambiaChronicles of a Footloose ForesterBy Dick Pellek Knee-High By The 4th Of July Growing up in the snow belt of Northern New Jersey, the Footloose Forester was aware of the fact that our little town was about 10 degrees colder than in metropolitan New York...
I went to Third grade at Port Jefferson Station - Terryville, NY. My teachers name was Mrs. Rice. I didn't do very well in Spelling and Number work. Mom sent me to a neighbor who was a teacher for tutoring. He worked with me on these two subjects. I ended up...
Mom and Dad were trying to make a go of it again. They purchased a three bedroom track home in Brentwood, NY. Dad was laying tile at the time and every time he finished a job he would bring home any left over tile that he had. My Mom wondered what...
Once in a while my Dad would take us for a visit to Chick's house. They had a concrete back patio that had a 2" lip all the way around the outside edges. In the winter Chick would fill it with water and the kids could ice skate on it. We...
We seemed to move between New York and Florida more than once. On one of these return trips to New York, Ralph Kraemer, the only father I ever knew, picked us up from the airport. He had rented a house for us to live in. What I remember most about this...
SHOW AND TELL… One day after I returned from work, Michael, my youngest, came up to me bashfully and asked me if I was going to be busy Friday. I thought about it a moment. I told him that I was doing something, but asked what was on...
ALBERT BIERSTADT: On A Grand Scale So, you say you never heard of Albert Bierstadt, eh? That's what you think. You probably know his work, though you may not think of him right away. His story is unusual. No starving pauper, this artist; no tragic life to season his talent,...
Aunt Ruthie (Goff) Beatrice Macdonald’s sister Aunt Ruthie was one of my favorite people. It has been years since I’ve eaten any of her delicious cooking or experienced her warm hospitality – but I can still conjure up the sweet smell of her kitchen. It’s impeccably clean surfaces still...
When I was a boy growing up in Somerton, Arizona, I fancied myself to be vastly more skilled in the art of athletic competition than I was, and I suffered significantly for my foolishness. For example, I played football as a boy, and couldn't make...
DEDICATION TREES This tree is dedicated to: Jaelyn Hunt When I was born, the other baby trees in the nursery were much bigger than me; much cuter, too. But they were fun to be around and we all got along. After all, we are from the...
On the road… again!Afghanistan to ZambiaChronicles of a Footloose ForesterBy Dick Pellek A Very Strange Bird Is The Pelican Having a short name with only 6 letters didn’t limit the number of ways his family name was mispronounced or misspelled. In junk mail, in particular, it showed up as...
