FDGC- R.I.P.

[jeffash]

A funeral was held at Horseshoe Canyon this past Saturday for the Fayetteville Disc Golf Club.
In a somber ceremony, the FDGC was given it last rites. Shortly afterwards, the FDGC's last will and testament was read.
The grateful recipient of the vast fortune accumulated by the FDGC ($900.00) was the NWADGA/WAFDA hybrid.
Any memorial contributions should be directed to NWADGA/WAFDA.
Your thoughts and prayers are appreciated.

[wander]

NWADGA/WAFDA.




That name just rolls off the tongue. Sounds like that old Iron Butterfly song.

Anyhow, still looking for a Fayetteville resident who would be interested in submitting Disc Golf Live at the local station. Help spread the word about our favorite sport. Its easy and free (the TV, that is, but the same can be said about dg).

Others who have community tv in their area can give me a shout and I'll get the show into your hands for local viewing.

Thanks.

Joe

[jeffash]

Joe,
I'll make a CAT call this morning.
Sincerely,
TDGFKAT
The Disc Golfer Formerly Know As "The"

Kinda' rolls off the tongue, too... :D

[jeffash]

I just spoke to CAT.
They are receptive, but I also noticed that they are listed on your website as already showing Disc Golf Live. :confused:
If you can get me your most recent show in the right format I can get it on. It will be a higher priority program if local disc golfers are on it. I don't suppose you have an episode with Aleksey "Boobs" Bubis on it do you? :) :D

CAT Website (http://www.catfayetteville.com/)

You're show is not on the current schedule.

[wander]

Hi, Jeff.

I'll be happy to send a DVD of the latest show your way. #10 is being copied now, just PM me a mailing address and we should be good to go. From the DVD a VHS or other tape can be made as necessary. Let me know if they use DVDs to broadcast directly as I have a special version for those stations.

I hadn't yet removed the station from my list since older shows are often replayed at stations (and earlier ones did air as far as I know) and I still hadn't given up hope of finding another broadcast partner. It would have been removed this week when I update my list on the web, and I hope I won't have to remove it now.

I have some Boobs footage kicking around here someplace.

Epi 10, the upcoming show, does have a LA States segment if that's any consolation. You guys are in the South, right?

Thanks for the reply.

[LarryQuinones]

And again Jeff I say well done. The separatist movement has been crushed. Oh wait, thats another movie. Seriously, unity has been boosted and my vote says lets take it even further and join WAFDA or at least check it out thoroughly. Breasts and disc golf clubs have something in common...the bigger the better.

[jeffash]

Breasts and disc golf clubs have something in common...the bigger the better.



For a variety of reasons, stemming from a variety of experiences, I have to disagree with that statement.

[racerb491]

Thanks to FDGC for all it has done in the past.
I hope that we can go forward and make you proud.

[accidentalROLLER]

As much as people bitched about FDGC, I sure miss it. At least the people in charge knew what they were doing.

[boobs]

Colin, you are being a bit of scmuck.

[accidentalROLLER]

Well apparently the Discussion Board is the only place to voice your opinion about the club and what the "heads" of the club are doing. Out at the course, you're not allowed to or it turns into "you are either with us, or against us." I do miss the FDGC. And I think the "coup" that took place was done without thinking things through. NWADGA is Ganzel's club to run in to the ground. If he was really serious about making this club for everyone and to prosper through the future, he should model it after Tulsa's club. WAFDA is now leading the charge in Arkansas and has done more in 2 months than NWADGA has done in over a year. They have a plan, and they are executing it, unlike NWADGA.

[jeffash]

I thought the NWADGA was now an affiliate of WAFDA.
Has the merge been formally consumated?
What signified, or will signify, that the merge has been consumated.
I have one more question... but this isn't the place for it.

[evandmckee]

All this griping puts a pain in my heart, I personally feel that the NWADGA is trying their very best just as FDGC did and TDSA does and "finally" having a sanctioned tournament is now something to gripe about? Why wasn't WAFDA slammed for having the Blowout during a work day? Did the 7 Tulsa players attending put a kink into the World Championships from happening? How many Tulsa members did not work that did not attend the Blowout? Why is'nt the work day scheduled on Tulsas Event Page? Tulsa's workday for 3-4 was on their schedule right with the Blowout. I have the deepest respect for anyone that tries to organize and push this great sport to the next level. We don't all see eye to eye and we are all from different molds but we must work together. That is how WAFDA has done what it has, by communicating and not being plain mean to each other.

[evandmckee]

The merge has not been officially consumated, WAFDA is still in its very formative stages, we have much to sort out before we can take on "official affiliates". However many members of WAFDA do want to see these merges eventually happen (sooner than later) and many members do support NWADGA and want to personally help in any way possible.

[superd]

The merge has not been officially consumated, WAFDA is still in its very formative stages, we have much to sort out before we can take on "official affiliates". However many members of WAFDA do want to see these merges eventually happen (sooner than later) and many members do support NWADGA and want to personally help in any way possible.



i'll second that. all in favor.....

[jeffash]

Thanks for the update Evan. :)
I wasn't sure what the status of the "official" relationship was.

[evandmckee]

Dave, I'm pretty sure that Andy introduced the sport of Disc Golf to the late great Steady Ed, so his PDGA number should be lower than his, probably an integer (like Andy's scores) of a -15 or so ;)

[racerb491]

Well apparently the Discussion Board is the only place to voice your opinion about the club and what the "heads" of the club are doing. Out at the course, you're not allowed to or it turns into "you are either with us, or against us." I do miss the FDGC. And I think the "coup" that took place was done without thinking things through. NWADGA is Ganzel's club to run in to the ground. If he was really serious about making this club for everyone and to prosper through the future, he should model it after Tulsa's club. WAFDA is now leading the charge in Arkansas and has done more in 2 months than NWADGA has done in over a year. They have a plan, and they are executing it, unlike NWADGA.



And we wounder why we can't get out of gear.

Anyone wanting to step up is more than welcome too.

Than again it's always easyer to sit back and point blaim rather then pitch in.

GROW SOME NUTS and take us to the promised land

[BobHarris]

I am a dues paying WAFDA member, anyone else? :confused:

[jeffash]

I am a dues paying WAFDA member, anyone else? :confused:



From March 1, 2006:

I am now an official WAFDAnite :)
Or would it be WAFDAnian?
WAFDAn?
WAFDAterrestrial?



I joined because I thought that the "we" that I'm not supposed to speaking for, or purporting to represent, had become a part of WAFDA, and because WAFDA is a "real" club.
I envisioned the NWADGA would slowly fade into the sunset as it's members were absorbed by WAFDA.
I viewed it as a symbiotic relationship that would benefit everyone.
As far as WAFDA's potential impact on Disc Golf in the city I live in, and love- Fayetteville- I think, in this case, bigger can mean smaller.
Fayetteville has many unique characteristics that make it a fantastic place to live. It wasn't ever supposed to be this big, so there just isn't a lot of room to grow. Fayetteville has made it difficult, if not impossible, for many developers, contractors, and companies/business to comply with the city's restrictive building codes and zoning requirements. Fayetteville has contently watched as the majority of "urban sprawl" continues to occur to the north- in Springdale and Benton County.
Fayetteville's Greenspace Ordinance has been praised for being innovative, and condemned for resembling extortion. As a Disc Golfer, and a resident of Fayetteville, I praise it. We need to preserve every square foot of greenspace we can.
I haven't been to a WAFDA meeting.
I haven't been to a FDGC/NWADGA meeting since the now infamous "Bloodless Coup" of January 2005.
I have maintained, for over 20 years, my personal and professional relationship with the wife of a man who impacted my life in a profound manner.
In 1985, at the age of 27, I applied for a Graduate Assistantship at the University of Arkansas so I could pursue a Masters Degree. If I didn't get it, I wouldn't be able to afford Graduate School.
The slowly fading fame that remained from my College World Series days as former Razorback baseball player turned out to be enough to get my foot in the door in the Intramural/Recreational Services Department as a G.A.
My "Boss" was Craig Edmonston. His wife was, and is, Connie Edmonston- Fayetteville's Parks and Recreation Director.
I knew Craig, and Connie, long before I became a Disc Golfer.
I finished my Masters Degree in 11 months. :eek:
Craig helped me get a Graduate Assistantship at the University of Mississippi, in Oxford. Yes, I went to school at Oxford- well, in Oxford. I left Fayetteville in the Fall of 1986 with one goal in mind- Get back to Fayetteville with a Doctorate and teach at the U of A.

to be continued... maybe? I assure you I'm getting somewhere with this. It's all about bigger can be smaller.
I'll be back... :D

[BobHarris]

Anxiously awaiting page two

[jeffash]

So….
I moved back to Fayetteville in July of 1995- without a Doctorate.
I was 3 hours short…. and a Dissertation.
I had the Masters Degree in Recreation Management that I left with in 1986, and an additional 46 hours of graduate work towards the Doctorate in Leisure Sciences that I bailed on.
I also experienced a world of life changing events while I was away from Fayetteville for those nine years:
-My best friend committed suicide.
-My 63 year-old father was arrested for assaulting a police officer.
-I began working with adults with developmental disabilities.
-I ran myself over with my own car and broke my leg. (Great story!)
-I saved a woman’s life using CPR.
-I saved a teacher’s career.
-I hit 211 home runs in one year playing softball.
-I stopped drinking.
-I saw my first disc golf courses outside of my hometown of Kansas City..
Fayetteville had changed a lot in those nine years. I had been back numerous times for visits, baseball reunions, even softball tournaments- but visiting a place isn’t the same as living there.
Other than the obvious cosmetic changes like Lindsay developments everywhere, neighborhoods where farms once were, and Frank Broyles assuring that the Razorbacks would have the best athletic facilities that the Stephens/Tyson/Wal-Mart accountants could write off, the other changes were more subtle.
My ATM asked if I wanted to conduct my transaction in English or Spanish, the grocery stores had mangos, Jose’s and Casa Taco weren’t the only two Mexican restaurants in town, and Gulley Park had a disc golf course…

More to come…

[jeffash]

Part 3-
Gulley Park wasn’t a park when I left Fayetteville in 1986, but I was very aware of the 27 acre property, and the story behind how the city acquired it. We had talked about while I was working on my Masters Degree. It became a city park in 1988.
Times were different back then. Randy Lee made a phone call to the P & R Director, Dale Clark, and asked if the city would put in Disc Golf course at Gulley Park. Dale Clark said “Yes”, and arranged for the city to make the baskets. BOOM!- There’s a course at Gulley Park. Ahhhh… the good ol’ days.
My obsession with watching softballs fly over the fence had been satiated in 1994.
My return to Arkansas in July of 1995 allowed me to obsessively approach a new passion- hiking. Hiking left me with very little time for other recreational activities.
In September of 1995, on one of my infrequent visits to Gulley Park, I was crossing a bridge following a solo round of Disc Golf and was stopped by an old girlfriend. I would have walked right by without recognizing the girl that had broken my heart, and spirit, a dozen years earlier.
If you’ve ever been hurt so bad that you were afraid to let it happen again, then you can relate to how I had felt for those twelve years. However, in one chance encounter at Gulley Park, I suddenly felt relieved of that burden.
“Jayuff?”
“Cheryl?”
She was divorced and had two kids. We were to be married; but by now would have surely been divorced. I hadn’t had a “real” relationship since the day we had broken up, and she moved out. Seeing her, and talking to her, gave me some closure. I felt ready to be hurt, again. Fortunately, I got to find out what love is before I found out what real emotional pain is….

[evandmckee]

Hey Ash, If you want all this info on your WAFDA bag tag you're gonna need a microscope to read it ;)

[jeffash]

Hey Ash, If you want all this info on your WAFDA bag tag you're gonna need a microscope to read it ;)


:D
Laser inscription, please. If they can get the whole Bible on the head of a pin, then you should have no problem with this task.
;)
I was worried that'd I'd put everyone to sleep.
I left the next section of drivel at home, so you'll have to wait for the 4th installment of The Chronicles of The. :(

[jeffash]

Part 4-
In early January, 1996, I went on a “blind date” with the woman that would become my wife.
It was actually a “blind hike”.
A mutual friend who knew of my love of hiking, and knowledge of local trails, asked me if I would be interested in taking a friend of hers hiking. Her friend loved to hike- but she didn’t want to go alone. I welcomed the opportunity, and decided that Hawksbill Crag would be a good place to go.
Liz Coleman, my blind date, was many of the things that I wasn’t. Liz was disciplined, focused, and organized. She owned her own home. She owned her own business- a successful daycare center. She had a Masters Degree in Education, and was finishing up her M.B.A. There was no way in the world a woman like that would ever take a Bozo like me seriously. I found her somewhat intimidating. She was also a beautiful woman, with a beautiful spirit. She also loved chocolate. A hike in the woods, on a day filled with sunshine and waterfalls, turned two strangers into man and wife.
As Liz and I began to spend more and more time together, she concluded that it would be of financial benefit to both of us if I were to move in with her. In July of 1996, Liz asked me to move into her home to share both our living expenses, and our lives! The only time I have ever answered “Yes!” to a question faster than I did that one was in March of 2003, when Ron Russell asked me a question.
See, I’m back to Disc Golf.
What did Ron ask me?
I’ll get to that. You didn’t really think I was going to go from 1996 to 2003 that fast did you? Wishful thinking…

[jeffash]

Part 5
Where was I….?
Oh yeah, I moved in with Liz in May of 1996. At the time, I was unemployed. In June, I was offered a job at a NYSP summer camp held at the U of A. I walked to work everyday from “our” home on Hotz Drive- a block off of Razorback Road.
My job was to provide one-on-one assistance to a 10 year-old boy who was autistic. It was the only way he could attend camp in a productive manner. I was offered the job by the woman who set up Liz and I on our “blind hike”.
After walking to the Student Union every day, I’d wait for the boy’s mom to drop him off. I had a lot of time to think as I walked, and waited. I had no idea what I was going to do for work when this 6 week job ended, so I spent a lot of time wondering what the heck I was going to do.
Every day I’d notice the same guy, at the Student Union, as I waited for the boy with autism to arrive. The “guy” was using the U of A transit system to go somewhere- where to I wasn’t sure. He was always dressed as a construction worker would dress. He’s have the same red and white Igloo cooler with him every day. As the days went by, I began to wonder where he was going every day. What did he do for a living? What was his job like? One mid-June 1996 day, I finally asked him.
In a “Sling Blade” monotone he told me-
“I’m building that wall out there behind the Chick-Fil-A.”
That’s all I really remember from our very short interaction. A few days later, he stopped showing up. I figured the wall was done, he had a different way to get there, or he’d been fired.
I didn’t give “the guy” much more thought until a year and a half later when I saw his picture in the newspaper. He has been arrested by the police on December 1, 1997. The diligent efforts of the Fayetteville Police Department resulted in the capture of the man, or “the guy”, who had killed my wife the night before- November 30, 1997.

[jeffash]

Part 6-
November 30, 1997
How many people can say that the happiest day of their life was also the saddest day of their life?
I’d had some happy days in 1997.
On February 1, 1997, Liz and I were married, and on July 17, 1997, our son Caleb was born. What else could top those two days/events?
Liz proposed to me, in early November, 1996, when she told me that she was pregnant- and that if she made it through the first trimester we were going to get married. Getting married while you are pregnant can tend to put a damper on the proceedings, and the “sanctity of the union”, etc… Prolonged labor followed by a C-section will also take some of the joy out of the birthing experience.
However, the day Caleb was baptized- November 30, 1997- was perfect in so many ways.
As Liz and I stood in front of our friends and family, and our Pastor held newly baptized Caleb up for the congregation to see, we were filled with an indescribable joy.
Lunch with family followed. When they all left town, we put Caleb down for a nap, and we found time to make love- for what would turn out to be the last time.
We got out Christmas decorations but before we got started putting them up a hungry Caleb awoke from his nap.
For some odd reason, November 30, 1997, was also the first day we fed 4 ½ month-old Caleb solid food. I got it all on videotape as Liz patiently introduced Caleb to the joys of nipple-free nutrition.
Her last words on the tape were- “That’s all for now baby, that’s all.”
Solid food had a hypnotic effect on Caleb and in a few minutes he was back down for a nap. As I got dinner ready, Liz changed clothes to prepare for her nightly jog. Around 5pm- after we had kissed each other and said “I love you!”- Liz walked out of the house to go jogging. I put up some Christmas lights, checked the dinner, and started a fire in the fireplace. I sat down in my recliner and actually thought to myself- “This is the happiest day of my life”. I drifted off to sleep as I waited to hear Liz walk through the door. That never happened- instead I was awakened by an urgent knock on the door.

[jeffash]

Several of you have asked me if I was ever going to resume “The Chronicles of The”. Many more of you probably were probably hoping that I wouldn’t. To the latter group- “I’m sorry, but I just can‘t stop”.

I’m skipping a whole lot of stuff, but I think I can do it without losing continuity. I hate to leave those of you that are interested suspended where I last left you. As you can imagine, that was going to be a tough part to write.

Chapter 7
Today is March 3, 2007.
I haven’t been to work since December 14, 2006.
I finally snapped.
I gave up
I decided that I was tired of fighting windmills.
The memory of that little girl standing there shaking and trembling with fear still haunts me as though it happened yesterday.
In November, 2006, I witnessed a teacher do something to a student- in front of her entire class- that met the standard for emotional abuse. I reported the teacher to DHS, and to my principal. No action was taken against the teacher. She was back the next day- never skipped a beat.
In December, 2006, a different teacher did something inappropriate to me in front of her entire class and the principal. No action was taken against the teacher.
The next day, I decided that I wasn’t going to go to work there anymore.
I flat-out quit.
At least I thought I did.
Five days into my self-imposed exile, I went to my physician to get a note to cover the five days I had missed. I told him that I was breaking my contract with the school district by turning in my resignation. He advised me to start on medication, and to get a psychological evaluation. He wrote a letter to the school stating that I was under his care through March 5. On February 5, 2007, the school suspended me, pending the results of a termination hearing. I don’t have to worry about going back to work at all until the Board makes a ruling on the Superintendent’s recommendation to terminate my contract.
A good friend of mine is the President of the Board. He went to my wedding, and to my wife’s funeral. I’m sure he’ll have to abstain from the vote. I’m a member of the AEA, so I have an attorney that is representing me.
Deciding to stop going to work back in December of 2006, ironically, began a “series of fortunate events” in my life that continues to this day.
1. My last paycheck was in December. In January, I learned that because the mortgage note had recently been rewritten I did not have to make payments in January, February, and March of 2007. Next payment is due 4/1/07.
2. My sister gave me my mom’s car in December. In January, I sold it for a decent price.
3. I received an income tax refund of over $3,000.00.

I knew we'd survive financially, but I knew it would be a lot easier if I could get rid of the Big Bank. In late January, I took my son to the Big Bank so that we could both meet the new guy that was managing my son’s account, and to ask them to voluntarily remove themselves as guardians of the estates. The Big Bank didn’t say “Uncle” so the next day I filed a Petition to Remove against them, and a complaint against the Judge. When I filed the Petition I found that the guardianship file contains a letter from Joe WinkyDink to Judge Teflon that is dated November 6, 2006. In the letter, Mr. WinkyDink informs Judge Teflon that he declined “your request” to replace Arvest Bank because his law firm doesn’t do that type of thing. Judge Teflon’s choice of offering my son’s guardianship to Mr. WinkyDink is telling. Mr. WinkyDink is a trial attorney- a criminal defense lawyer. His Yahoo directory lists his areas as “Personal Injury, Criminal, and DUI”. A Google search shows his defense of robbers and rapists. On June 4, 2004, Mr. WinkyDink was reprimanded, and fined $2,500.00, by the Arkansas Supreme Court’s Committee on Professional Conduct for failure to provide competent representation, and for not giving truthful testimony in a deposition in a court. Judge Teflon chose a criminal defense attorney who got caught lying to his client, and lying to the Court, to replace a guardian of the estate that lied to me, the SSA, and to the Court. Judge Teflon also inspired me to find out who the lawyer was that filed the complaint against Mr. WinkyDink. I had just played my final card in my fight against the Big Bank, and the Judge, yet I was still grasping for an Ace in the Hole.
On January 31, an attorney that had given me advice in the past could only give me one name when I asked him if he knew of an attorney that would be willing to sue another attorney for legal malpractice. I called up the man he had recommended and left a short voicemail. Later that afternoon, he returned my call. We spoke briefly and, to my surprise, he said he’d go by the courthouse and look at the file. I’ve tried to hire over 40 attorneys in the past three years- this guy was the first one to say he’d go look at the file. He said to call him on February 7.

On February 5, I went to my first counseling session since finishing a battery of tests in January. It turns out that I have “Generalized Anxiety Disorder” and “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder”. It’s good to put a label on what it is, and to know what it isn’t. The counseling was good. I’ve had a lot of it in the past, but not since I had been battling the Big Bank. The testing showed I was paranoid because I answered “True” to things like: “Authority figures have wrongfully used their power to take advantage of me.”, or “People are plotting against me and want to do me harm.” I got to explain to my counselor, for the first time, how the Big Bank and the Judge had broken the law and how I, and the SSA, had caught them doing it. I told him that there was an attorney interested in taking my case against the big Bank. I told him about all of the other positive things that had happened financially since I had stopped working. I left his office feeling about as good as an unemployed, mentally ill, disc golfer could feel about his current situation.
Then the phone rang.
Drat!
This always happens.
It’s gotta’ be bad news.
“Hello?”
“Did you hear about the Judge?”
“Noooooo……”
“He had a stroke yesterday, may not be back on your case.”
Silence.
I didn’t know what to say, and I don’t remember what I did say.
Two days later, my prospective attorney took the case against the Big Bank.

I have thought about the significance of how I had gone on a medical leave in order to preserve what little sanity I had left, and to prevent, or postpone, any physical problems my job was causing me. I remember the actions I had taken against the Judge a few days earlier. I remember the prayer I prayed that morning, and on so many other mornings. I have prayed for a full recovery for the Judge. I have never prayed for harm to come his way, or even wished for it. It hasn’t been a fair fight, but at least I’m still in it. It appears that he will have to tag someone ouside of the ring so that this fight can continue.

[jeffash]

Chapter 8
I’m still avoiding picking up where part 6 left off. What follows is the first part of a 2-part story. I wrote this part (the first part) in early 2001- before the second part had even happened. I haven't written the second part, yet. I’m not sure how it fits, but you don’t need the second part to enjoy the first. BTW- Everything you read in the Chronicles is true. Nothing has been embelished. This stuff really happens to me.
Remember this was written 6 years ago-

Last school year I bought a jigsaw puzzle for my students to assemble. The puzzle caught my eye because it was a puzzle of a beautiful castle. As we assembled it we noticed the name of the castle on the side of the box- “Neuschwanstein“. We researched it a little on the internet to see where it was but I thought little of the castle, until this school year. This year (2000-01) with a different group of students, we assembled the puzzle again. These students were a bit more interested in it than last years students. We found pictures of it on the internet, found out how to get there, when it was built, etc…
In October of 2000, I took a stack of postcards to school that my deceased wife had accumulated during her travels to Europe in order to inspire my students to write something creative. As one of my students looked through the stack she said, "Boy, your wife must have really liked that castle. She has three postcards of it in this stack." We all gathered around to see, and sure enough there were three different postcards of Neuschwanstein.
I was starting to feel drawn to the castle.
In late November of 2000, after a Thanksgiving trip to Amsterdam, I finally noticed a woodcutting that had been on my bedroom wall for the five years I have lived in our house, including the last three years in which I have lived there since my wife's death. Why I never noticed this woodcutting before I'll never know, but when I finally looked at closely, I realized that it was a beautiful woodcutting of Castle Neuschwanstein. I mean beautiful. It's made with 40 different kinds of wood, grain going in different directions etc. and all of the grains and wood colors blend to form a wonderful picture of Neuschwanstein. I took the woodcutting to school the next day to show my students.
I was really starting to feel drawn to the castle.
A week later, December 7, 2000, our house is in flames and my life is in chaos- again. Everything we owned was destroyed by smoke, water, or fire. But guess what? The puzzle, postcards, and woodcutting are in my office at school- safe from the fire.
I know now that I am destined to see this castle. In a few days, I had booked the whole trip.
Flash ahead to Christmas Eve. My family- mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, 2 nephews, son, 2 cousins, and aunt- is all gathered around as I tell the tale of the puzzle, postcards, woodcutting, fire, and the planned trip. We are all sitting around teary-eyed as they give me their blessing to go see this special castle.
My two cousins, and aunt are especially enthusiastic about it as they used to live in Belgium, have traveled all around Europe, and had been to see the castle.
On Christmas Day I am opening my present from my two cousins. It is a beautiful picture book of Neuschwanstein that they had purchased before I had purchased my puzzle, found the post cards and woodcutting, or had the house fire. They did not know about the puzzle, postcards, and woodcutting until Christmas Eve. They had no idea that I had been planning my upcoming trip or how special Neuschwanstein had become to me They bought the book for me in order to inspire me to go somewhere other than the Netherlands and Belgium. It was a complete coincidence. Can you imagine what they were thinking as I told everyone my story on Christmas Eve?

Next entry- Going to see Neuschwanstein via Amsterdam, and what happened when I got back to Amsterdam.

[sschumacher]

<font color="white"> Is it possible for you to put this on a DVD??? </font>

[jeffash]

Audio CD?

[sschumacher]

<font color="white">That will be fine. Just make sure it's in 5.1 surround sound. </font>

[evandmckee]

Screw Audio, we need Hollywood, I was originally thinking this guy for the part....




http://photos.ivillage.com/images/photos/resize/iv_Star%20Snapshots:%20Your%20daily%20dose%20of%20 celebrity%20eye%20candy_1159207386661_591863D.jpg


hopefully the therapy for the insanity works out so we don't have to consider these actors...




http://www.jonhs.com/mugshots/images/nolte2.jpg http://content.answers.com/main/content/wp/en/thumb/6/61/150px-The_shining_heres_johnny.jpg


If we have to go with the audio book, gotta get this guy.....


http://www.isaachayes.com/images/ultimate_isaac_hayes_cover.jpg

[tygrantham]

Where's Chapter 9? You know we want to hear about Amsterdam!

[jeffash]

Chapter 9- Neuschwanstein

Have you ever anticipated something so strongly, and for such a long time, that when the event you are looking forward to finally becomes reality that it’s almost impossible for it to live up to your expectations.
I’d already found out on my five previous trips to Amsterdam that being in one of Europe’s most vibrant cities and having, virtually, unlimited access to any type of food, drink, sex, or drugs that I may desire does not guarantee happiness; much less ease the pain I endured as part of the grieving process. It was a pleasant distraction- but not a cure.
This time was different. This time I had a “mission”. This time, my sixth trip to Amsterdam since my wife had died, I was going to travel over 5,000 miles to see the Castle. If I’d known what this trip would ultimately cost me, I’m not sure I would have gone. At the time, it seemed like the thing to do.
By now, I had the routine down to a science. The flight, customs at Schipol Airport, a train to Central Station, a tram to my hotel.
I was soon walking up the stairs to the room I would be using before, and after, my trip to see the Castle.
I had just arrived in Amsterdam, but I couldn’t wait to leave.
I spent the rest of that day, and the entire next one, getting ready for the long train ride to Fussen, Germany- home of Castle Neuschwanstein.
I thought that I had taken into account every possible eventuality that this trip had to offer. After all, I was an experienced traveler. This was my sixth trip to Europe in less than three years. What could possibly go wrong?
I almost found out.
Most European countries have relaxed attitudes toward soft drugs, but especially the countries I was going to be in on my Castle exodus- The Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, and Belgium.
I felt comfortable, and secure, traveling by train with contraband that I acquired in Amsterdam- until I realized that the train was making a scheduled stop in Austria. I hadn’t read the Eurorail map closely enough.
Hmmmm….. I hadn’t planned on that one. I was forced to make a decision without knowing what was awaiting me in Austria.
When the train stopped, I was told to get off and to go through Passport Control.
As I walked beside the train, two armed soldiers with a guard dog approached me. When they spoke, I had no idea what they were saying. Then I heard “Passport”.
I said, “Oh”, and quickly reached down to my right ankle and started to pull up my pant leg to get to my passport.
One guy barked out something, the dog went on alert, and the other guy reached for the gun on his hip.
I pull my hands away from my ankle and start pointing at it saying, “Passport! Passport!”
Realizing I was a stupid American tourist, they relaxed immediately, stamped my passport, and let me get back on the train.

By the time I finally got to Fussen, I could hardly stand it. I had arrived in time to be able to see the Castle from the town, but not enough time to go see it up close.
I decided to check into my hotel.
You never know what a hotel you have only seen pictures of will actually be like until you get there.
I was very pleased with my choice.
I was even happier when I got to my room and discovered I could see the Castle from my bed. It actually filled up about half of the window’s “viewing area”; and outside, from my deck/patio, I had an even better view.
Amazed with my good luck, I put up my things and went downstairs for dinner.
In keeping with my sudden run of good fortune, I was seated at a table that also had a clear view of the Castle.
As I ate a wonderful dinner, dusk settled over the Castle and lights began to illuminate the Castle.
It was perfect- except for one thing. I missed my wife as much as I ever had. As I ate, I swallowed my food in between tears of joy, and tears of sadness.
It’s going to sound cliché’, but I could almost sense Liz’s presence at one point.
After dinner, I went upstairs to rest and to get ready for my visit to the Castle.
As I fell asleep that night, the last thing I saw was the Castle outside my window.
The next day, I decided to get to the Castle a little different way. I hiked up to the Castle from the back side, and was rewarded for my efforts. I saw views of the Castle most folks don’t get to see, I witnessed the rugged beauty of the Castle’s surroundings and arrived in time for my tour.
I won’t go into much more detail about this part of the trip other than to refer back to the opening paragraph of this chapter. The part about expectation not being met. Looking forward to something so much, you have no choice but to be disappointed.
That was not the case with Castle Neuschwanstein. It surpassed my expectations in so many ways. It was worth whatever the cost would be.
I have to mention one part of the trip back to Amsterdam- my visit to the Lauterbrunnen Valley in Switzerland. That’s the prettiest place I’ve ever been to.
I guess now would also be a good time to bring up how I felt after I left the Castle behind in Fussen, Germany.
Going to see the Castle was the most therapeutic thing I had done since my wife had died, and certainly since the fire a few months earlier- but now what? What was next? How was I supposed to feel? What did the whole trip mean? I didn’t actually think that I would bump into my future wife as I turned a corner during my tour of the Castle, or that I would end up marrying my tour guide, but I was looking for some kind of “sign”.
I got back to Amsterdam around 5pm. I had two nights left there before I had to fly back to the USA. I put away my luggage, showered, and went out to eat. After dinner, I went for a stroll in Amsterdam’s famous Red Light District, and returned to the hotel.

AUTHOR‘S NOTE- “The Chronicles” are fortunate to have this board as a forum. I could write several chapters about the sex and drug trade in Amsterdam but this is not the place for that. The rest of this chapter does contain references to drug use and sexual activity. If that may offend you please don’t continue, just wait for Chapter 10.

When I got back to my hotel, I could hear music, and voices, coming from the room above mine.
“That’s got to be a sign!” I said to myself, “I better go upstairs and investigate”.
Staying in the room above mine, was a woman I had met on a previous trip to Amsterdam (she had a boyfriend, then). We had talked a couple of times on this trip before I went to the Castle. She knew about me, my wife, my son, and why I had come back for this trip. Let’s call her “Lisa”.
When I got upstairs to Lisa’s room, it sounded, and smelled, like an Amsterdam coffee shop. I could also sense a different kind of “vibe”. I was friendly with the 2 men at the party, and had met the other two girls that they were with.
As the five of them traded shots and drank beer, I enjoyed some of Holland’s finest. I was back safely from the Castle. I had had a great trip, and now I was with friends, and was ready for whatever life had in store for me.
Before we knew it, the others had left me, and Lisa, alone in Lisa’s room. Once we got over laughing about not noticing everyone else leave, Lisa asked me to tell her about the trip to the Castle. I felt really comfortable with her, and with my surroundings.
Next, she asked me to give her my point of view on the Red Light District. When I was done, she told me that friends had recently arranged for a male escort to visit her. I told her it would be an honor to be her escort. She motioned for me to sit next to her. I told her that I had taken advantage of the offerings of the Red Light District earlier that evening when I was out for dinner. She told me to go take a shower, and to come back upstairs. I was in Amsterdam, so I accepted.
As I walked downstairs to go take my shower, I couldn’t believe what had happened, and what was getting ready to happen. Could this trip get any better?
I’ll spare you the details of what transpired over the next two hours. What’s really important is what happened afterwards.
As a slideshow of pleasant memories from the past few days flashed before my eyes, I lay in bed counting my blessings and my good fortune. I didn’t know what tomorrow- my last day in Amsterdam- would bring, but today was a pretty good day. The last three and a half years have been tough, but things are looking up now. It doesn’t get any better! That kinda' stuff.
Lisa’s voice broke the silence.
“Jeff?” she said. “I have something to tell you”
“Yeaaahhh?” I replied as I began to imagine what it could be- transgender, HIV+, incontinent, etc…
“I’m a millionaire, and I live in Pompano Beach, Florida.”

[jeffash]

Chapter 10 - Ms. Yisrael

In the few moments before I heard the words “I’m a millionaire, and I live in Pompano Beach, Florida.” all sorts of things were flashing through my mind. I truly was expecting to hear something terrible- something that was going to screw up what had been an otherwise perfect trip. Stuff like my mom pointing her finger at me and saying “I told you what would happen if you didn’t eat your vegetables”, or a deep TV announcer voice saying “Hear how a European trip to see a castle ends in tragedy for a widowed father of one”. Then all of a sudden I heard Ms. Yisrael’s voice. “He has a special plan for you” I knew then that I didn’t need to worry.
I first met Ms. Yisrael in Sand Springs, Oklahoma, in the month of July, 1990; however, this story really started a few months earlier.
On the evening of January 2, 1990, outside of the resident cottages at the Parsons (KS) State Hospital and Training Center it was cold, dark, and windy. I left work ten minutes early, at 8:50 pm, so I could get to the liquor store before it closed at 9:00 pm. On that January night, making sure that I had some rum was more important than fulfilling my job duties. I never really thought about it until now, but I think that was the last time I ever cheated any employer out of their minutes, or “time”.
My car was parked in front of, and in the middle of, a 30 foot long telephone pole that was being used as a parking stop, or curb. My car was perpendicular to the telephone pole, with the front tires about four feet from the telephone pole.
In order to start my car I had to open the hood. Then, while standing by the left front tire, I had to cross the solenoid switch to engage the starter, and to start the engine. I was highly skilled at this procedure as I had performed it hundreds of times on this very car. I even made a special tool to do it with.
Tonight would be different.
A bizarre, and almost tragic, series of events would soon transpire. In a matter of seconds, my life would be changed in ways it would take me years to understand.
On January 2, 1990, at 8:50 pm, I left work early so I could get to the liquor store in time. I ran outside to my car and opened the driver side. I grabbed my tool, and popped open the hood. With the skill of a surgeon, I crossed the switch to engage the starter. The engine started right away, but the car began to lurch forward toward the telephone pole. In my haste, I had forgotten to take the car out of gear. The car was now driving itself.
As the car slowly lurched toward the telephone pole, I expected the engine would soon die. I thought it would surely stop when the front tires hit the telephone pole.
I was wrong.
The front tires slowly climbed up, and over the telephone pole, and kept on moving toward a barb-wire fence, and the fields beyond. I knew I had to get in the car in order to stop it. That’s when things took a really bad turn.
By the time I felt the pressure on my right foot, it was too late. I had not realized that as the car was lurching forward, it was also rolling the telephone poll with it.
The telephone pole had rolled onto my toes, and it was working it’s way up my leg. By the time the pole had rolled to my ankle, I knew it wasn’t going to stop and that I couldn’t stop it. I made a decision to lie down and make my leg horizontal to the ground.
The car rolled the pole over my ankle, and my shin, breaking my fibula along the way. Just as it got to my knee, the rear wheels rolled up to the pole and the engine died.
As I lay there on the frozen ground, with a telephone pole and a car on top of my broken leg, the first thought that came to mind was- “Darn, I’m not going to get to the liquor store in time.”
There wasn’t anyone around to help me so I rolled the car, and the pole, back off of my leg and hobbled back inside to get some help.
The next day I had on a walking cast, but I couldn’t return to work because of a policy that forbids employees to wear casts. An unusually warm January allowed me to play disc golf every day in my walking cast on Parson’s 9 hole disc golf course. This was the most disc golf I had ever played up to that point in my life.
Frustrated with the “no-cast” policy, I applied for a job in Sand Springs, OK- just outside of Tulsa. I turned down the first job I was offered, and was then offered a higher paying job so I took it. In March of 1990, I started work at the Hissom Memorial Center.
Hissom was a huge residential facility for adults with developmental disabilities. 300 residents and 1,000 employees. Hissom was under a Court Order to close down and to move all of it’s residents into the surrounding communities. It was a tough place to work.
One July afternoon, as I was looking through a resident’s “chart”, I heard an announcement come over the intercom. The announcement said- “Medical Emergency. Staff member down in the park.”
I was only 150 yards from the park, so I ran out of the back of the building that I was in, and headed toward the park. I expected to see a crowd of people watching the medical staff assisting the individual. It was going to be a welcome distraction from the monotony of my job.
As I got closer to the park it became clear that I was wrong. Nobody was there. Just an open book on a picnic table.
Then I saw her feet. She was laying face down on the ground. I shook her and asked if she was OK. No response. I turned her over onto her back. I will never forget the look in her eyes. No breathing, no pulse.
I started CPR and did it, alone, for 2 or 3 cycles until some help arrived. I was soon relieved of my CPR duties so I became an observer. The paramedics were able to get her heart started, but, when they took her away in a helicopter she wasn’t breathing on her own. .
The open book on the picnic table was a Bible. The woman, Ms. Yisrael, had been “witnessing” to another employee about Jesus Christ. Just the two women and the Bible.
Ms. Yisrael suddenly had a cardiac arrhythmia, and her heart stopped beating. The other employee went inside to get help for her. Through a twist of fate, I happened to be the first person to arrive on the scene.
The doctors and paramedics all said that if I hadn’t’ responded as quickly as I did that Ms. Yisrael would not have lived. She ended up making a full recovery, and she came back to work about six weeks later.
During the six weeks of her recovery, I thought a lot about the significance of what had happened. I kept thinking about that Bible on the picnic table, and how strange it was that Ms. Yisrael’s heart stopped beating as she was witnessing for Christ. I wondered over and over why I was the first one to respond, and if there was a deeper meaning to what had transpired.
On the first day Ms. Yisrael returned to work, I was told to go to the Administration Building because she wanted to meet me and to thank me.
As I was walking to the Administration Building, I felt waves of emotion washing through me. I was very apprehensive, and nervous, and I didn’t know why. I had a feeling something was getting ready to happen to me, and it made me feel uncomfortable.
When I opened the door to the Administration Building, I was greeted by a group of about 20 people. Someone in the group said- “There he is”.
As I walked toward them, Ms. Yisrael emerged from the group.
“Now I know why my ribs are so sore” she said looking up at me.
I laughed.
“Do you go to church? Do you have Christ in your life?” she asked.
Wham. I felt like I’d just been hit by a board.
“No.” I replied (in front of everybody).
“Well, God has a special plan for you. You have a gift you need to share with other people.”

To be continued…

[Muren]

Lets call her Samantha instead.