I Believe – My Values

October  31, 2018  (Brad)

Josh had been doing very well as my replacement as sales manager at TPI.  In many respects I thought he was doing a better job than I did.  He was putting to good use his 15 years of manufacturing experience at TPI and refused to sell windows that were tough to build, not hesitating to tell small customers the windows they had been buying are obsolete, and moving them into mainstream  models.  Sometimes bordered on being an ass, but sales didn’t suffer and it greatly simplified things for a young unmotivated Conecuh county Alabama workforce.

Our time together as I trained him turned us into work buddies. I knew he had a quick temper but never realized the problems he was facing.  After a year and a half into the job it culminated with an explosion in his Dad’s office….(his daddy’s office…for this is the Deep South  and that’s the vernacular used…. always sounded very immature to me, but I continually hear it from men of all ages)  Jason, the company President was in the office as well, the only voice of reason I overheard.  The explosion really elevated and I was wondering what the hell had happened.  It culminated with Josh screaming  “I quit, all I ever wanted was to feel loved” followed by threats to kill them…Josh left the building yelling and slamming everything as he hit the door.

A minute or so later his brother Brent came running into the office shouting “Josh is in his truck with a gun and shaking something awful.”

As I walked down the hall to go check on Josh, I nervously smiled to myself with a quick prayer…Lord, I’ve often joked about being bullet proof since the installation of a defibrillator in my chest, I pray that isn’t tested today.

Approaching Josh’s converted low rider pickup, he held a pistol under his chin and was shaking uncontrollably.  Not remembering all the details, I cautiously neared his truck and said something trying to soothe him.  He responded, “step back, I don’t want to get this mess all over your clothes”.  I was at a complete loss what to say, and silently asked God for guidance.  Josh mumbled, “I really fucked up this time”.  He kept repeating it while he slowly rocked in his driver’s seat, still shaking.  I objected with something like,  “Josh, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but nothing is unfixable”.  He was adamant it couldn’t be fixed.  “Josh, God loves you and it’s no problem for him to fix if you let him.”  I reached thru the open door of the truck and put my hand on his shoulder and kept saying “Jesus loves you” because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Still shaking he lowered his pistol somewhat, but his shaking kept it waving around.  He asked me to get his cell phone off his desk so he could call his son.  I asked for his gun but he ignored my request.  He assured me he would stay in the truck.  I went to his office and got the phone.  As I returned less than a minute later, I noticed a gun clip on the ground below the step sill of the truck.  I fumbled the exchange when handing Josh the phone, dropping it on the floor of the pickup.  As I bent down to retrieve the phone, I picked up the gun clip with my off hand and slipped it into my pocket.  Josh was still shaking violently and couldn’t press the right keys to make the call.  I was grateful not thinking it was a good idea anyway, and thankful he didn’t ask me to make the call.

With the gun clip secured in my pocket, I  was a little more bold in my movements around Josh.  When the waving of the pistol pointed in my direction I’d ask him to watch where he pointed it.  I  again put my hand on his shoulder and repeated he was going  to be alright, that I loved him and Jesus loved him.  He was sobbing.  After awhile, he seemed to calm and said he was going to leave.  I told him I couldn’t let him go with the gun.  He had another request.  His key ring was somewhere in his office and it had all his keys on it.  He couldn’t remember exactly where it was, but I told him I wouldn’t take him into the office until he gave me the pistol.  He handed me the gun and unsteadily got out of the truck.  I slipped the pistol into the back pocket of my jeans and steadied him as we walked to the office.

Thankfully, the office workers made themselves scarce, and with Josh’s office near the front door, we found the key ring and exited without confronting anyone.  Josh had calmed enough to remove his work keys from the ring and handed them to me.  He crawled back into his pickup  and  drove off painfully slow.  I kept thinking I shouldn’t have let him leave but was clueless on what to do.

The next time I saw Josh was in December in Church at a faith based rehab center.   He greeted us warmly. The center of his problems turned out to be a drug addiction few were aware of, but those closest to him suspected.   He proclaimed his salvation and appeared to be doing well.  It will be a continual struggle, and we pray he will keep Christ as his center.  At Christmas time,  Josh walked away from the rehab center, saying he couldn’t take it anymore.  While our concern grew,  I was told he got a job with the gas company in Evergreen,  got divorced, and moved in with his mother.  Continued prayers.

I haven’t thought much about that Halloween day last year, but in recounting these events,  I’m thankful to God for many things.  Only working a few days a week in semi-retirement, I’m thankful I was at work that day.  I’m so grateful to God that he kept me calm.  I’m grateful Josh couldn’t make the call to his junior high age son, because I’m afraid had he I would have so regretted getting his phone. I’m grateful he showed me instantly how to secure the gun clip without notice, wonderful fumbilitis. And I’m even grateful for my lack of knowledge of semi-automatic pistols…. Being clueless that a gun without the clip can still have a bullet in the chamber.

Mostly for chases enjoyment—-

Pierce had one helluva day in the arctic temperatures that are the DAC yesterday….

It seriously affected his body and mind physically it was so cold.

Said it was the worst thing in his life and it’s not even close…

But I shared all that to share this…

After what was shortened to about 6 laps of constant movement/swimming…it was brick time!

For the girls, it seemed Justin threw the brick all the way to the depths of about…5 feet…for their retrieval.

Pierce steps up, and of course it lands on the incline closer to 10ft depth. Pierce is probably in a delirious state, but dives in for it. On his first attempt…he is able to get there and grab it (although he said “I was closer to drowning than failure”) and bring it in.

So I think he’s blessed if those 2 hours were the worst of his life, but they can’t be overstated.

When he said the drowning/failure line, I thought of you Chase.

I think the DAC is now responsible for 2 “mug worthy” coffee mug quotes.

“This job has taught me more the value of a minute than the value of a dollar”

December 8, 2017

This week was Taylor’s last week of 8^th grade basketball. After winning two games all year, both against non-league Leavenworth school Patton early in the season, we had the KVL post season tournament. Of the 8 teams, we were last because we didn’t beat any league teams during the year. Taylor was really the only player with any basketball experience, and we were super proud of her ability to get teammates involved – Taylor has a natural ability to see people before they are open, and often times we go from ‘having no chance to score’ to at least having an opportunity to score because of where Taylor passes it. Unfortunately most of the time the recipient has problems even catching the ball, but that doesn’t stop Taylor from her efforts to make the right play. Erin and I spent most of the season pleading for Taylor to shoot more – or at least be ready to drive/shoot those times you get the ball back in the flow of the offense..which most of the time means throw it to the wing, and back to Taylor, ha!

We lost the first two games of the league tournament but actually played well against the #1 seed. There were some good signs of effort that we haven’t seen consistently in some of the games we may have competed more.

Well the last game of the season, against Clark Middle School (Bonner) for 7^th place in the league – or ‘not last’ – we started out the game not catching a break. There was only one referee and he was closer to 80 years old, and while he had great spirit, he missed two unforced turnovers on Clark that ended up turning into 4 points in the first quarter. We were down from the start, and Erin and I were frustrated Taylor didn’t try to score more—although she did have several good drives that we thought she was fouled on, but no call, and no finish on those attempts. Taylor did score 2 in the first half and had a super fun assist at the buzzer of the first quarter when she passed to Abby on the block who finished. I believe we were down 4-8 after the first quarter, and then 6-14 at halftime. Giving up 14 points and expecting to win is about our limit over the course of the season, as our offense struggles to score, so it was dire at halftime.  The third quarter had several ‘in and out’ shots from us and it was an offensive struggle with LTMS scoring a free throw as the only scoring of the quarter. LTMS 7, Clark 14.

Taylor was far more offensively aggressive in the 4Q. I believe early in the quarter she hit a jumper from near the free throw elbow, and then the next possession she got fouled on a shot and went to the free throw line and swished both free throws to get us within 3 points. I believe with under 2 minutes left she found herself open at the top of the key and banked in a 3 pointer to tie the game!! It was so exciting to ‘have a chance’.  Clark ended up getting fouled on the next possession and made both free throws for their only points in the second half. Taylor came down and shot the ball to tie the game, but it rimmed out, and we got the rebound and scored to tie the game. We played strong defense and ended up going to overtime.

After a few back/forth exchanges without scoring, Clark was trying to apply a lot of pressure to Taylor, but she used a screen on the right side of the court and drive past her defender on the baseline and swished the go-ahead basket with about a minute left in overtime! We held them scoreless and got a put back to go up 20-16 and we held on for the improbable victory! The girls went crazy and I believe it was our first league win in about 3 years. What a finish! Taylor had 11 of the 20 points.

A mom from Clear Creek/MTMS (Lauren Payne’s mom) commented how super impressed she was with Taylor’s attitude and effort playing with so many girls that haven’t ever played before. That she’s so encouraging and helpful and positive. I will say Taylor’s attitude was much better than her parents in the stands 😉 – what a way to finish the season.

I, Delaina Ririe Stromberg, was born on February 24, 1945.  I was born in Rigby, Idaho, at the Rigby Maternity Home.  Interestingly enough, my mother and her brother’s wife were in the Maternity Home and I and my cousin were born on the same day.  We lived in a home in Ririe that my father built on 1st West Street.  The only memory I have of that home is when a chicken chased me and I can remember seeing my mother’s apron as I ran away from it.  Because of this memory, I have always been afraid of chickens and birds.  When I was 3, my grandmother, Leah Ellen Lovell Ririe, passed away.  I do not remember my grandmother, although my Dad told me that when we went to visit she would always put a piece of candy in my pocket.  I do remember my Dad lifting me up to see her in her coffin.  I can remember where the coffin was in her home.  After her passing, we moved into her home in Ririe, which is still there.  It is a beautiful rock home and now owned and maintained by my nephew, Dell Tyler and his wife Kate.  The rock came from the quarry that was up where the Ririe Dam is at this time.  I have always appreciated one of the stories my Dad told me about the home.  He said that his Dad was called on a mission to England when the home was being built.  His wife wanted to get the home completed as they were living in a small home next door, so she had one  of her cousins do some of the rock.   When my Grandfather returned, he was very disappointed in the work that was done and didn’t let him do any more.  You can still see a small patch of the work that he did and see that it doesn’t conform to the rest of the house.  We lived through the field from my Uncle Jim and Aunt Verna Perry Ririe.  They had a daughter, Elaine, who was only two months older than me.  We were best friends and are still best friends.  They had a large red barn at their place with a hay loft and we had many fun times playing Roy Rogers and Dale Evans in the barn.  I remember one time we were riding double on her horse and the horse lowered his head to get an apple off the ground and we both slid off.  Another experience I remember was when Elaine talked me in to letting her cut my hair.  We were about 5 and the hair cut was not good.  My mother was very angry at me and I never let anyone who didn’t know how cut my hair again.  Elaine told me later that she was jealous of my hair and that was why she talked me into letting her cut it.

In my 5th grade Social Studies class, Mrs. Mueller decided to immerse the class into understanding the American political process as a class project. She divided our class into two groups that she labeled ‘Conservatives’ and ‘Liberals’, and I’m convinced none of us knew the meaning behind either label. Upon first glance, I instantly found myself excited for the classmates and friends in my group, including my very best friend, Colton Walle. Each group was instructed to work within the ’party’ to identify a presidential nominee, and I was selected to represent the party.  Mrs. Mueller then said that the nominee was to name a running mate for the upcoming mock election that would encompass the entire 5th grade. The conservatives identified Georgie Porter as the nominee and he chose Jes Condray to join him. I remember having very little time to make a decision among the approximately 12 people in my party, and it was a no-brained to choose Colton…however, at the last minute I changed my mind and selected Erin Willoughby, in hopes of securing the female votes in the election.

That decision paid off, as I remember the victory as 59-3 in our favor. The very next recess, I remember riding the political high from the secured victory and I approached my vice presidential running mate with a wave of nerves near the basketball court, and I ultimately asked her ‘Will you go with me?”  This was a significant moment in my life. THE FIRST TIME I built up courage to ask a girl in person! Until this moment, the practice I was most comfortable with was passing notes/circling yes-no….But I had done it. Asked the question. Only to realize that I didn’t get an answer as quickly as I was expecting. The delay seemed to be an eternity, but realizing the weight of what I had just done, I saved myself AND Erin by saying ‘Don’t worry about it’, retracting my offer before the inevitable rejection that would have followed.

Just 4 years later, as my family was moving from Brentwood, Tennessee to Brenton, Alabama, my parents — presumably due to a level of guilt for moving our family once more — allowed Ty and I to attend the last 6 weeks of school in Minneapolis, Kansas, and live with my grandparents Ken and Darda.  It did not take me long to reconnect with Colton, and I remember specifically asking him what the girl landscape was at the high school. He told me he knew one girl liked me, but I was more interested in Erin.

We spent some time together in groups of friends, including several ping-pong matches with Jes Condray and Angie Rupert. But I do remember one occasion where several of us played some version of hide and seek on the golf course at dark. My crush continued. It took 5 years later for the story to continue.

In November of 1996 my roommate, Corey, told me someone left a message. He said ‘Aaron called’. That’s how I heard it anyway. When I saw he had listed a 913 area code, I knew…Erin! I called her back and we spent some time catching up, and I learned that Erin asked my grandma, Darda, how I was doing and grandma told her to call me and find out, giving her my number. Erin and I exchanged e-mail addresses and continued to stay in touch over the next few months. In March, I decided to

**never charged my phone bill until 2 weeks left/etc

I was born in Tallahassee, Fl on August 29, 1942.  My earliest memory is living on the farm about 10 miles south of Quitman, Georgia.
WWII was going on during this time and I very vaguely remember food stamps (food items, gasoline and most consumer goods) were controlled by the government and you had to have stamps to be able to purchase items that might be needed in the was effort. Daddy had an old car that needed a battery,or starter which he couldn’t get and he had to park on a hill and roll the car to get it started.
life on the farm was very simple and to the best of my memory, uncomplicated.  We ,of course were as “poor as churchm ice” but somehow I have no memory of privation.  We even had a maid named Willie Mae whom I can remember very fondly .  Her husband Joe worked on the farm driving the tractor and they lived in a little tenant shack across the dirt road from our house.  Their house was only one room, with very sparse furnishings a bed a couple of chairs,a table and a fireplace for heat.  Willie Mae and Joe were kind to me and I must have been a pest to them because my fondest activity was to go home with them to spend the night.  Their dinner was potted meat and soda crackers  or balogna ,or wienerswhich I considered a treat.  Joe would often come return from the fields with a gift for me, and I would always meet him in the afternoon Oreo see what he had brought me that day.  Often it was a baby rabbit he had caught, an arrowhead, some plums he had picked or just a wild flower.  I was really fond of Willie Mae and Joe.

        Being a voracious reader, I have accumulated books on subjects ranging from modern history to ancient philosophies. My favorite books, however, aren’t by Nobel Prize winning authors, nor do they have the fluorescent covers typical of philosophical texts. Instead, they are the three books written by my grandfather, Moshe-David Khayet. The books are about my grandfather’s life, and although I can barely read the Hebrew texts, they are extremely important to me and have had a lasting impact on my life.
One of the most memorable stories from these books concerns my grandfather’s fourteen year detainment as a political prisoner. At the same time America was recovering from a vicious attack by Japan and World War II was raging in Europe, my grandfather and his family were exiled to a labor camp in the Russian Far North because of their capitalist views. My grandfather was only sixteen years old, but he was appointed the head of the prisoners, among whom were some of the most prominent scholars and intellectuals of Russia. Much like my grandfather’s family, they had been incarcerated for failing to live up to the standards set forth by the Communist dictatorship. In the camp the prisoners were provided little food and clothing, and were subjected to demanding physical labor under extreme temperatures, often falling below minus forty degrees Celsius. My grandfather and his family were finally released after Stalin’s death in 1953.
My grandfather went on to marry, have two children, and become a construction executive. He is a courageous man who withstood the pressures of society in order to stay true to his beliefs, who overcame anti-semitism to find meaning for himself and his family, and who had dreams that he would one day write books as a free man. Moshe-David Khayet was only recently allowed this opportunity by immigrating to Israel, after the fall of the Iron Curtain. He is now a deeply religious man of 76, who goes to synagogue several times a day to pray for peace, not only in Jerusalem but the entire world.
My grandfather fought in Russia for the same freedoms and liberties that colonists fought for in the Revolutionary War. I have been taught through my grandfather’s life to follow my beliefs regardless of obstacles and misfortunes that stand in the way. My grandfather has been a role-model of the importance of hard work, honesty, and integrity. It is because of him that I learned to respect other people, never give up hope, and realize that anything is possible. Although I don’t often get a chance to see my grandfather in person, he is always with me; for he is in every decision I make, in every action I take, and every accomplishment I achieve.

Igor Khayet

November 15, 2002

One heard of more and more frequent clashes between the Soviets and the Jews.  It soon began to dawn on Moshe that his father was right, but he now no longer had any alternative.  He was by now simply afraid to resign from his position, lest he be accused of subversive nationalism and be duly punished.

He heard from someone about train convoys which were on their way to Lithuania with empty cargo wagons, on whose walls were scrawled in chalk the words “The hungry Lithuania”.  Once in Lithuania, the people were invited to eat meat, bacon, dairy and wheat products.  They would then turn back towards Russia, the slogans deleted from their wagons.  Moshe knew well enough that Lithuania had never gone hungry and there was no lack of food there; on the contrary, food was plentiful and often exported abroad.  This caused him no end of anxiety.  But one must not sit idle.

Moshe was involved with the town council (Selsovet) with whose members he sat till late in the evening.  They had long debates over giving credit for building new houses in the village for the peasants, putting in plumbing and many other daily issues.

He got home late at night, exhausted and uneasy.  He dropped into bed his heart pounding.  He took a pill to settle his heart and so, fully dressed, fell asleep.  Early next morning, he was awakened by the dreadful racket of engines.  He jumped up and ran outside.  The heavens were full of airplanes, black and huge.  What did this mean?  They had not come from the Russian side, but the opposite.  He started counting them: 20, 30, 50 – his mind boggled.  Then they flew over and all became quiet – an eerie stillness reigned.

Moshe did not yet know that last night’s meeting of the town council was to be the last one; that lying in his own bed as in the past would no longer be possible.  He re-entered the house perturbed, quickly washed his face, left the family fast asleep and went out into the street.  Were these indeed German planes?  It just couldn’t be.  We have a treaty with Germany.  He decided to slip into Anton’s – the secretary of the council – a quiet man dedicated to Soviet power, a communist since the age of 18.  Anton was a Veteran fighter for Soviet mastery since 1918, was imprisoned twice under Smetana’s rule, a skilled and indoctrinated politician.

At the entrance to Anton’s home, Moshe accidentally ran into Petrus, a past member of Shaulson.  He eyed Moshe up and down from head to toe with a murderous look growling:

“Aha, you’re already in a fright, you pagan Jew, you’d like to flee.  Don’t worry, we’ll meet again.”  And made a rude sign into his face.

“Get away, you fascist, while the going’s good.  If not you’ll come to a bitter end”, Moshe retorted boldly.  But his voice rang hollow and held none of its previous confidence.

“So, we’ll see who will come to a bad end.”

At that moment, Anton appeared at the entrance of his home, and the Shaulist disappeared in a trice.  Moshe stood as if rooted to the spot.  He was bewildered and unable to comprehend what was going on around him.

“Good morning, Anton.”

“A good year, alas the morning is not a pleasant one.”

“Did you hear what happened at dawn?”

“Yes, indeed I heard it.  But I can’t quite fully understand what it means … maybe…”  Anton was afraid to finish the sentence.

“I feel an inner disquiet,” Moshe ceded to his friend.

All of a sudden, as if in response to his misgivings, a thunderous explosion rent the air, shaking heaven and earth as dozens of airplanes flew low overhead.

“My dear Moshe,” Anton barely let out a whisper, “this is a real war and no laughing matter.”

Anton dressed quickly and again turned to Moshe.  “Let’s hurry to the District Committee; they will surely know what has to be done.  We must organize a resistance of dedicated members.  The Red Army won’t permit the Germans to enter Lithuania.  Only the underground organizations can now raise their heads, so we must be prepared for all contingencies.  Moreover, we must telephone Kedan, to learn what the county leaders have to say.”

Phoning Keidan was impossible, contact had already been severed.  The activists then decided to organize the communists and volunteers of the workers’ institutions in order to evacuate the residents of the shtetl.  It was agreed that some would remain in the shtetl, who could later lead under ground activity, until such time as peace and quiet were restored in the country.  Should the Red Army retreat, a group of partisans would be organized from among the loyal members to supervise the fight.  Anton was a good blacksmith.  After entry into Lithuania of the Soviet forces, he had decided to forge a new life.

Out of the 32- man activists and members of the District Committee and Council, eighteen gathered.  Of the rest, two were ill, the other twelve were not at home.  Some had managed to flee to the surrounding villages, others went into hiding in the village itself.  The traitors soon revealed their true colors.

Several of these who met advised sending a representative to Keidan to ascertain what should be done.  Some felt it unnecessary to evacuate the people, since obviously the Red Army would prevent entry of the Germans into Lithuania.

In the hours, while the meeting was still in progress, it was announced on the radio that Germany had broken the treaty and without any prior warning or declaration of war had bombed Soviet towns and crossed the boarder in many directions as well a into Lithuania.

Soviet airplanes also appeared in the skies, but not for long.  In their stead, there now appeared black clouds from the German side.  When the skies had quietened down, the pounding of cannon artillery fire became increasingly powerful.  The front kept on moving nearer and nearer to Krek.

In the evening, a directive was received from Keidan to make a quick evacuation of the inhabitants.  Moshe’s family, too, grabbed their most important belongings and packed up to move out.  According to the instructions, 18 persons, including Moshe, remained behind in order to conduct an underground partisan battle.  The treachery of the fascist and nationalistic elements was fearsome and savage.  They were like mice crawling out of their holes and immediately began to loot the abandoned Jewish homes.

It was far to the railway station from Datnova.  To drive there by car was not at all convenient.  The good cars had been requisitioned by the traitors and hidden outside the village.  Those that remained were in a bad state of repair.  There was no lack of horses to take everyone out in a cart.  Moshe’s family took this course.  He loaded them onto a wagon and bid them farewell.

“Have a safe journey, my dearest ones.  I hope we’ll be freed soon and you’ll be able to return home safely.”

Late at night battalions of the Red Army appeared, but their direction was not against Germany but a retreat to Russia.  En route, military vehicles with soldiers intermingled with the evacuees.  Those who had not succeeded in procuring a wagon pushed their packages in prams, wheelbarrow or loaded on their backs.  It was a motley crew – old and young, women and men, children and the sick, a mass of humanity streaming in the same direction.

A part of the Jewish community remained behind in the shtetl.

“There’s no need to run from the Germans.  We remember them in Lithuania after WWI, they did the Jews no harm… On the contrary, they behaved decently and in a civilized manner…”

Their thoughts were in confusion.  No one could quite believe that the Nazi Germans would torture and slaughter Jews.  It did not even occur to them that the Lithuanians too could do this – those with whom the Jews had been friendly for hundreds of years… The first disaster struck/unexpectedly soon.

Early the next morning, even before the entry into the village of the German battalions, the Lithuanian nationalist – “the death squads” – encircled the secret headquarters with all 18 members, including Moshe, and brought them into the center of the village.  On the same day, armed with machine guns and rifles, they led all of them outside the town and shot and killed each and everyone.  When this gruesome deed became known, everyone was dumbstruck.  The Jews realized that disastrous days lay ahead.  Shortly after, the escape routes of most of the evacuees were cut off and they were brought back to the shtetl.  The German army units took many Russian soldiers prisoner.

For two whole days, the bodies of the murdered committee members lay unburied.  On the third day, they were all buried in a mass grave.

The Lithuanian National-Socialist Organization called itself “totininkai”, but the Jews called them by their true name: “Teitininkai”, that is , beasts who spread death and spill innocent blood.

Most of the Jews of Krok, like in many similar towns and villages in Lithuania succumbed at the hands of the Lithuanian murderers.

When I visited Krok after the war in order to ascertain the fate of the local Jewish community, I found not one Jew left there.  The old Jewish cemetery was in it’s original place , but there was no new cemetery for those murdered during that war.  The whole of Lithuania was in fact a graveyard of the vanished Jewish communities which had lived there for over six centuries and were brutally slaughtered by the coldest blooded barbarians of the twentieth century.