Before Yoc-Town There Was West-Sac (Part 2 of X)

One of my earliest memories as a child comes from the house of my friend/accomplice Bryan Goddard. One day while playing, we decided to find out if his small dog, Blazer, could fly like Snoopy. So we took him to the top of the stairs, balanced him on the banister, and gave a shove. It turns out that dogs behave more like rocks than birds, at least when it comes to flying. Included below is a picture of my reunion with the beast, taken before my senior year of high school, roughly 13 years after the incident just mentioned. Blazer has since passed away, but he lived to be well over 100 in dog years. Clearly what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.


For some reason a lot of my childhood memories were with dogs. My neighbor Andy had a dog named Duke, who was just as mean as Tammy was (see previous article), only more powerful. I don’t remember what kind of dog he was; must have been a Rottweiler, or maybe a pit-bull. Anyway, one day Duke got out, and Andy was trying to find him. For some stupid reason, some of the neighbor kids and I were helping him. Andy ended up leaving us and going around the corner. Next thing we knew we all heard a scream, "DUKIE!!!" and saw Andy running back around the corner, with Duke the savage rot-bull hot on his trail. We quickly joined the fleeing Andy as we looked for the closest house to enter to avoid being eaten by Duke. It was like the Sandlot, but real life. We entered Andy’s next door neighbors house until the moment had passed. I don’t remember what happened after that, but I am still alive to tell the tale and that is all that matters.

Before Yoc-Town There Was West Sac (Part 1 of X)

I now share some of my earliest memories. These memories range from age 3.5 to 5.5, while I was living in West Sacramento. It is the prequel to my life in Antioch, much like The Hobbit is the prequel to The Lord of the Rings series. Enjoy.

One of my favorite pastimes as a small child was searching the house for candy. Most of my efforts were fruitless, but success has a way of finding the diligent. I remember the time I discovered the large chocolate chips in the freezer, which must have been the size of Hershey kisses! What a glorious, glorious find. I don’t know what my mother used them for, but I was glad they were there.

Sometimes my search for sweets yielded punishment, and no, I’m not talking about the parental kind (although that probably happened as well). One day, for instance, I discovered a canister full of what I thought must have been candy. The canister was full of individually wrapped cubes. Experience had taught that candy was frequently wrapped, and I had also seen sugar in cube form, so perhaps it was a pleasant combination of the two. I unwrapped one and popped it into my mouth. It was not sugar, nor was it candy. It was vicious and attacked my mouth until I spit it out. Even to this day I feel like the warning “Keep Out of Reach of Children” should be placed on containers of bouillon cubes.

Let’s meet the neighbors, shall we? Next door we had Bob and Nonie. The only thing I remember about them was their mean dog Tammy. I was Tammy’s enemy, and she was most certainly mine. Across the street we had the house of Andy and Willy. Katie (big sistuh) was Willy’s friend and I associated more closely with Andy. When I was probably around five, a new boy—perhaps a year younger than I—moved in a few doors down from Andy. When I met him, he told me his name was Brad. I had never heard this name before, and in an attempt to clarify, I repeated back a word that I was quite familiar with:
“Brat?”
“No, it’s Brad.”
“Brat?” I was confused, and he was losing patience.
“No! My name is BRAD-D-D!!!”
“…Brat?”
I was a slow learner, but eventually understand that his name was indeed Brad. In an ironic twist, my best friend in the years to come was also named Brad. Perhaps if I hadn’t had this preliminary experience with the name our friendship may not have taken root.

Beyond Platform 9 and 3/4 - Part 2 of 2

I now conclude my travels.

A young couple sat behind me--boyfriend and girlfriend I would guess. Originally, I thought they were enemies who were forced to sit next to one another. I kept hearing comments like, “You are so unintelligent” and “I don’t want to see you ever again!”, said with much more colorful language, of course. I got the impression that they both took a lot of French in high school. Then about half way through the trip, somebody flipped the switch and I heard things like, “Oooh, baby I looove you.” I enjoyed the change in atmosphere, but I don’t think their wiener dog did, because shortly thereafter he left a foul present for his owners. Consequently, many people were forced to temporarily evacuate our car as ungrateful recipients of the ill-bestowed gift. It was a negative externality if I ever smelled one. Thank heavens I studied economics, ere I miss this real world application.

On the train they have a place called the observation deck, which is basically a car with more windows so you can look outside. My first trip to the observation deck was while we were going through the sierra nevadas. I sat on the side facing the mountain because the side facing out was mostly full. I quickly observed how the snow combined with the earth of the mountain to form a beautiful, harmonious image of nature in its finest, speckled by rocks of all sizes and shapes…it was perhaps the most thought-provoking 17 seconds of my trip. After that I arose and went back to my seat, a few cars back.

Fortunately I was able to sleep a little bit during the night hours. However, it seemed like every time I awoke we were at a stop point. I wondered sometimes is we were moving at all. Turns out on one occasion, just outside of Utah, we actually weren’t. The guy behind me, who had apparently left his seat sometime earlier, comes back and says, “It appears we have been delayed two and one half hours from reaching our destination.” Atleast I think that’s what he said. I couldn’t really tell, it was mostly in French. It turns out Monsieur was only partially correct: we had been delayed, but for only an hour. Shortly afterwords we were chugging along our merry way again. After going through Salt Lake City, I arrived in Provo Utah around 6:15 a.m. My friend Brad was there to pick me up, and we gave Billy a ride back to his apartment. I was dropped off next and went straight to bed for a few extra hours of sleep.

And thus it was that I concluded my train travels. I must admit, it wasn’t what exactly what I expected. The trolley of magical candy never passed. Tom Hanks never appeared singing and dancing in the isle while serving “HOT! HOT! HOT CHOCOLATE!” I never heard the train say “I think I can!”, nor was I the only survivor at the end of the day, as was Bruce Willis. Although it was long trip, I would definitely do it again: its cheaper than flying, and much more the adventure. I would recommend the train to all those seeking such travel conditions. So let it be written. So let it be done.

Beyond Platform 9 and 3/4

Over the Christmas break I had the opportunity to travel by train. Most, much like myself until a month ago, are unaware that train travel still exists. Due to this general lack of information, I now take the time to share my experience.

So Christmas break ended and I found myself at the train station in Sacramento, California. I stepped on board and waved goodbye to my family. I still felt a little unsure about this whole train business. I felt unprepared. What I really would have wanted was a wand, but decided to risk it without one. I put my luggage on the first floor and made my way up to the second floor where all the passengers sit.

I sat next to a boy who was also returning to Hogwarts. I mean BYU. For privacy’s sake we’ll omit his real name and call him William. I soon found Willy was likeable enough, although I couldn’t understand him at times because he spoke upwards of 9 different languages. Infact, later on during the evening he woke up and said in a daze, “Que horas son?” This time I recognized the language. This was Spanish for “What time it?” I was tempted to respond with my favorite Spanish phrase, “por supuesto!” But, of course, that phrase was not applicable to the current situation and probably would have confused poor Bill. So I refrained and informed him it was 11:30.

Shortly after the train started its journey I was struck with hunger. Buying food on the train would have cost two arms and five legs, so luckily my dear mother had prepared a sack lunch for me, just like the good ol’ days. I quickly found most of the necessary goods: sandwiches, triscuits, sliced apples with caramel dip, etc. But something was horribly wrong. I would have screamed if not for fear of being sent to the caboose for misbehavior. Where was the chocolate?! What on earth was I supposed to do if the dementors came?! Wandless. Chocolateless. Hopeless. Why was this happening to me, and where was Chuck Norris when I needed him the most?

I calmed myself down. A few hours passed and we were informed that the toilets in our train car were out of order (located underneath us), and that we needed to go to a different section of the train to use the restroom. A light went on above the stairs reading “TOILETS OUT OF ORDER.” They repeated the announcement many times over the loudspeaker throughout the trip. It baffled me, however, to see that several people still got up and went down to use them. I concluded that train riding must cause some people to become temporarily deaf and illiterate. I’ll be sure to ask my doctor about it during my next check-up.

OK that’s it for today. Stay tuned for the conclusion of my travels next week.