One Day In The Life Of Blog

Gayle

2009-06-29T00:37:00.005-04:00

I really did think I was going to ad a post a couple times a week when I started this. After retiring suddenly I have been so very busy on websites and every other way I can think of to make enough money to keep up with things. I don't know why I worry about it because God has taken care of us.
I was asked to post more photos of Gayle or the two of us together. Gayle is all most confined to bed but she is still the one that keeps me going. She shows me love in ways I can not even begin to say and even more important she lets me love her in ways I never thought of.
My relationship reminds me of my Dad and Sue. When she was sick they had a special kind of love and from the moment he got home he thought of her. That is how I feel about Gayle.
Well I am going to spend the rest of the time I have posting a few photos and I hope to come back with some stories soon.
Jim

When I started this blog I had the time

2009-03-15T00:14:00.005-04:00

When I started this blog I thought I would have lots of time to work on it. I retired in August and really believed I would have more time. Well not only am I now expected to do all the things around the LazyLake that I have been saying I would get to but the church has found about a dozen new jobs for me. Not really quite that many but enough to keep me going and I do love everything I can do working for Gods glory.
The Soddy-Daisy Fire Department which I am still a member of has enjoyed my retirement because I not only respond on more calls but I am the photographer for the department website that I built and administer for them (www.soddy-daisyfd.com) and I am getting a lot more good photos. In fact the Firefighters Association is buying a new video for me to start using with the still shots.
Now that should be enough to keep me busy but the best is to come. When I was kind of forced to retire I was not set up with enough income to cover all the bills. Especially with Gayle's medical bills I am still paying on.
When I was in the position of retiring I asked God what he wanted me to do. I felt he was very clear it was time for me to retire but I did not know what he had in store for me. Well I still do not know what he has planned for me but I am sure he has something that will be shown to me when the time is right. In the mean time he has been taking care of us as only he can.
I had my house insurance and property tax due at the same time and I had no idea how to pay it. I talked with God about it and told him I put it in his hands.
First I got a call from the Soddy-Daisy Kids Club. I had talked to them about a website a few times but it had been over a year with no word from them when all of a sudden they called and asked me to come out to talk with them. I met with them and left with a check large enough to pay the bills I had then I got a call from one of my oldest and best paying clients to meet with them. I was afraid they were going to cancel the website because I knew they had been downsizing the company. I left the meeting with a job of a large update of the website and a check for enough to pay the insurance and the property tax.
Each month I do not have as much income as I do expenses and each month I put it in God's hands. Each month I get a call from someone that I had talked to about a website months ago and I get a new client that meets my needs. The latest is the City of Graysville, TN and it is looking like the best website I have built yet. It is nearly completed and will be published soon at www.GraysvilleTN.org. I am at the point of needing some more money to pay the bills and they just told me the check is in the mail.
For 7 months I have not had enough money to make ends meet and for 7 months I told God I put it in his hands. For 7 months I have gotten a call from someone I had given up on asking me to do website work for them and for 7 months the new work has met our needs. For 7 months I have not found a job but only because God has shown me that each job I applied for was not what he has planned for me. I still do not know what God has planned for me but I know he will take care of us for 7 more months or as long as need be as long as I put it in his hands.
No that does not mean I am not busy. With all the new website work along with the new projects for current websites like we now record the sermons at First Baptist and I make a video which I post on the website I am so busy I do not know how I ever had the time to work a regular job.
Well I will post this and I will try to at least get back to cut and paste some of my old stories from time to time.
Remember if you will only truly believe and put your troubles in God's hands he will take care of them all.

They Were Real Troopers.

2009-01-12T01:11:00.004-05:00

Thinking about Paxson on my last post reminded me of one I need to tell your about.
When I was stationed in Paxson my wife, Robyn and I had two sons at that time. Jimmy and Justin. Jimmy was the older of the two and attended kindergarten in a one room school house for everyone.
The camp we lived at was at the intersection of Richardson Highway and the Denali Highway. The Richardson goes from Anchorage to Fairbanks and the Denali goes 135 miles from Paxson to Cantwell near Mt. McKinley also known as Denali.
A lodge called Tangles Lake Lodge is about 20 miles on the Denali from Paxson. The lodge was having a party that my family was going to. A trooper is on call 24/7 so we headed to the party. Robyn was in front and the boys in the back of my patrol car. This was in the days before child car seats so the boys were just in seat belts. We were taking and having a good time on the way to the party. We were almost to the lodge and I got a call of a car that had gone off the Richardson Highway and was upside down in the river about 30 miles north of Paxson. Robyn checked the boys seat belts and I turned on my lights and siren. I knew I was the only hope anyone trapped in the car had. The water was cold enough that if I could get to them soon they had a chance. As I turned around everyone got totally silent and we were off code 3. I knew the road like the back of my hand and visibility was good so I was traveling at 80 mph or more most of the way. As I approached the intersection I told Robyn I was going to stop in front of the camp and let them off. I made the turn onto the Richardson in front of the Paxson Lodge and came to a stop in front of the camp. As soon as I stopped the boys had the belts off, Robyn had the doors open and as soon as they were out and the doors closed I was off again. I stepped it up to speeds up to 100. I saw the car from about 1/4 mile away as I made the curves following the river. As I slid to a stop I jumped out. To tell the truth I do not remember exactly what happened next but it turned out no one was in the car and the driver was ok.
Thinking back on the ride it makes me realize something none of us thought of back then. I was not only an Alaska State Trooper but my family was too. A trooper in the bush does not just work the job they live it and because they are living it the family does too. My wife and kids lived a life that was like no other. They were as much a part of the Alaska State Troopers as I was. They were there when my car was bombed. I once left Robyn, Jimmy and Justin in our truck parked in a traffic jam when I went to a shoot out about two miles from where I left them. It was on my day off and I heard the call. It was hours before I got back to them and by then all the other cars were gone and there they set in the dark away form anyone or any house. I don't even remember Robyn complaining. She may have and she had a right to but I don't remember any complaints. She deserved better than she got and They Were Real Troopers.

The Hand of Death

2009-01-10T23:58:00.002-05:00

I was just thinking of when I was an Alaska State Trooper assigned to Paxaon. Paxson is half way between Anchorage and Fairbanks on the old highway. I did not see much traffic other than locals and pipeline traffic. One day I was driving north and a short distance from the camp where I lived when I saw a large pile of junk on the side of the road. I made a mental note to pick the junk up on my way back. As I went by it looked like bed sheets. I stopped and backed up to it and saw it start to move. As I got out of the patrol car two young men started to stand up from the sheets. They were wearing white bed sheets and had white bags that looked like they were made of sheets also. As I walked towards them the one that must have been the leader because he did most of the talking said "Hello brother". The other was a little younger. They told me they were on a mission for God. They looked hungry so I offered them some food but they said they could only eat what God tells them too. They had a big jar of peanut butter but no bread to put it on. They were allowed to smoke but only roll your owns. I asked where they were going and they said as far as God leads them. It was summer and not to cold but the roads were rough and they did not have shoes. I could see they had sores on the bottoms of their feet. I asked why they did not at least cover their feet with cloth and was told they did not feel any pain because God raises them off the ground when they walk and it does not hurt their feet. I thought sure that is why their feet are so clean and no cuts on them. I carried a lot of gear in my car and offered them socks but they refused. They said if it is anything other than white cotten it may have animal dies in it and that they can not touch dead things. The one that did not do much talking looked like he wanted it every time I offered something and would look at his leader like he was saying please take it. I asked if they can ride in a car. They said yes but it was not necessary. I was able to talk them into me giving them a ride to the end of my patrol area. I told them in this area the road was narrow and the truckers would run over them just for fun. They did agree to ride but the leader said the trucks could not hurt them because God would have the truck go through them without touching them. We did not talk about what the seats were made of. I got them in the back of my car and as we were going north they tried to talk me into hanging my uniform, gun belt and badge on the steering wheel and going with them. They would let me have a sheet. I told them I was a christian and I was following God's will as a Trooper and helping people. They accepted that but then started asking me about my gun and how could I hurt someone if I was doing God's work. I told them I have had to shoot people in the past but that too was God's will. That when a person is so full of evil that they will hurt others and the only way to stop them was to shoot them then it was God's will that I do it. The young man that had not said much asked if they died when I shot them. I said sometimes they did and that was God's will also. They both got very quite for the last 20 or 30 miles of our little drive. They were talking to each other in a whisper until they saw me looking at them in the mirror. When I stopped and they got out we were on the out skirts of Delt Junction and I told them the road was much safer for them to walk on. (Or was it for them to glide over with their feet not touching the ground.) I had walked around the car to let them out and when they had put their bags on the ground I reach out my hand to shake and said good luck and I hoped God would be with them for the rest of the journey. The younger man stepped back when I held out my hand and the leader said "Sorry Brother, I can not shake your hand. I can not touch the Hand of Death. I told them if they were going to rest they should move to the edge of the trees so they do not get run over. I got in my patrol car, went down to a driveway and turned around. As I drove by them I waved and wondered if I should tell them they were camping in front of Trooper Preshaw's house. He is the kind that if he saw them he would also give them a ride to the end of his district but they may not be able to walk very well when he dumped them off. In fact they may not even be able to eat the peanut butter when he got through with them.
I am a Christian and this is not the way I would do things now but when I passed them I could not help but laugh out loud and repeat "The Hand of Death"

Are the stories really true

2009-01-01T14:26:00.004-05:00

A reader asked me if the stories were really true.
I just answered "What do you think?"
What I would write to my journal was for me only. No one ever got to read it or even new about it for a long time. Because I was the only one that would read what I put to paper only needed to be real to me. My grandfather would tell me something and I may not think of it for 20 or 30 years. Then something would happen in my life that his words were a great help to me. I sometimes wounder if he really said what I was remembering or was it just that in my mind I was thinking what would he have said about the situation I was in at the time. Sometimes I am not sure but what does it matter. The story in my mind helped me through some difficult times and if I would have used the wisdom I remember from him (Real or not) I may have not made as many mistakes as I did.
I have taught a class to police and others for years on what I call "Thought Training". One of the main points of the class is what is the difference between a memory and a thought.
In your mind when you live through a situation it stays in your mind and if you are in a situation very similar again you do not have to think as much about how to handle it because in your mind you have already done it once. So if you are a police officer and you think through what you would do if a man with a gun jumps in front of your car you will put what is very similar to a memory in your mind. Now if a man with a gun jumps in front of your car you have a "memory" of dealing with it and can respond correctly with less time to think about it.
So are my memories real? They are real to me and that is all that matters. Someone standing next to me during one of the stories I tell may not remember the same thing the same way and who am I to say they are wrong. It is in my mind as I have written it down so it is real to me just as I write it. For you, What do you think?

He did it, He arrested, He in jail.

2008-12-21T20:00:00.004-05:00

Years before the "Help I'm Talking and I Can't Shut Up" T-Shirt I turned in an arrest report at my first police department in Sitka Alaska and it was my normal detailed report.
It was suggested I shorten the next report.
The next time I turned in an arrest report it said "He did it, He arrested, He in jail."
Jim

The worst thing that happened as a policeman

2008-12-19T22:33:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I had a man asking me what was the worst thing that happened to me as a policeman.

Well first I told him I was a police officer not a policeman. I have known a lot of great female officers.

To answer his question did not take any real thought. I have been in shoot outs, knife fights, car crashes and even motor cycle, snow machine and aircraft crashes but by far the worst was when my patrol car was bombed at my home. It was not for the reason you may think until you read my story.

I was an Alaska State Trooper assigned to “C” Detachment in Anchorage. My radio call was 1C14. In the state of Alaska the radio call was established to cover every department and every officer in the state. “1” indicated I was a State Trooper. “C” of course meant I was in C detachment and my individual number was 14.
The normal routine for troopers in Anchorage was that all the troopers graduating from the Trooper Academy in Sitka were assigned to major detachment headquarters. Anchorage, Fairbanks and Juneau were the main detachments. After an academy Anchorage would have an extra 20 or so new troopers. After just a few months they would start being transferred out to a post until the number of troopers in Anchorage got down to just enough to handle the traffic. It was a rare thing for a trooper working the streets to stay more than six months. I have never been one for being one to follow the normal way of doing things. During my time in Anchorage I got involved in a lot of extra duties. I became an FTO to train new troopers. I helped the start of the trooper motorcycle patrol. I then became the eyes in the sky in fixed wing patrol and later in helicopter patrol. I was given new cars to test out and just about anything else extra they wanted done. I had the pleasure (I think) of being the first FTO for the first two female Alaska State Troopers. One did not last and I think it was because she wanted to be the first Female State Trooper. The other turned out to be a great officer. I could see she had what it takes the first day while the other asked if this is where she keeps her gun when I showed her where the lockers were. I told her no that she had to be armed all the time. She said she did not want a gun at home because her kids may get it. Now tell me does that sound like trooper material. Now Diane, the one that I could see would make it not only did well but she answered the question if a woman could handle herself as a trooper. One day she was on patrol in Eagle River which is the northern part of our patrol around Anchorage. She responded to a call from a realtor that he had found someone sleeping in one of the houses he had listed. When she arrived and approached the man she did not know that this man had been arrested several times. Each time it had taken 2 or 3 people to put him down. He loved to fight and felt no pain. Well as she approached the fight was on. The realtor was a real man. He went to a phone and called that she needed help. The nearest uniformed trooper was over 45 minutes away. Diane was in luck. One of the troopers of the CIB was only 30 minutes away. From what I understand this bad guy could not beat her so he kept trying to just get away. He would knock her down and try to run but she would get back up and take him on again before he could. When the CIB trooper arrived he nailed this bad guy in the head with his flash light. In those days we could still do that. Diane could not win the fight but I do not know many who could. The thing is she did not quite. I don’t know where Diane is now but if she is still with the Troopers I will bet she is a Colonel. After that all the troops accepter her as one of them. She almost lost that when she showed up at the range to shoot for qualification on her day off. None of us had seen her out of uniform where she had her hair pulled up under her hat. She came walking onto the range in tight blue jeans, a tight sweater and her hair was down around her shoulders. She was absolutely one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Everyone there was trying not to show it but I am sure she could see that we all agreed she was what we called the Top Fox.

OK back to my story. I had stayed in Anchorage longer than most troopers. As a result I got to know the bad guys better than most had time to get to know. There was one guy that was not just one of the bad guys he was a true turd. He was known to carry two guns. A 9mm and a .357 mag. Anchorage City Police were working a double homicide where a man and his girl friend were killed for no apparent reason at a park made from what was a neighborhood before the quake of 64. They were both shot with a 9mm and a .357. This turd was known to have done it but no one could get him on it.
He did make a mistake he could be taken down for. I lived in an apartment complex on Sand Lake Road on the second floor. A federal employee had a pick up as a take home and he lived in the same complex. His truck was stolen. It was an Anchorage PD case but I put it together. This turd had taken it and put the engine in one truck and the transmission in another. Because I had been in the area long enough to make contacts and know more of what was going on I managed to work a case and had taken warrants out for him for two counts of possession of stolen federal property. The warrants had not been served yet.
I had a take home patrol car as all troopers did but I also had the motorcycle as a take home. In those days we did not have portable radios but I did because of the motorcycle. My brother was visiting and we were walking out side to get something from my patrol car. Walking towards the car I was about 20 feet from it when I was nearly knocked off my feet. My car had blown up knocking the trunk up and the doors open. The explosion was in the trunk area and it blew so hard the rear seat was bowed inward. I drew my .357 and ducked behind a car. I yelled at my brother to go call the police and he ran inside. I looked for anyone in the area but found no one. It seemed like 10 minutes to me and probably an hour to my wife before I remembered I had the portable radio in the house and ran in and got it. I said for everyone to stay inside and I went back out calling it in on the radio. I checked the car and found a large hole in the trunk where I could look right down into the gas tank. In the trunk was a canvas bag that contained road flares and it was on fire. I shot off the fire extinguisher into the hole and yanked the bag of burning flares out and got it away from the gas. The fire department was just down the street and they heard the explosion. They did not even wait for a call and they showed up in no time. The troopers started showing up and even the brass came out. I was told that night I was being transferred out of the area. They put out a call to all the troopers to check the patrol cars. The apartment complex was in the city of Anchorage but the investigation was headed by the CIB. It was a very simple way to blow the car. They found that someone had put 2 or 3 blasting caps in the gas tank filler pipe and put the cap back on. They ran the wire around the corner to Sand Lake Road. They waited for me but touched the wires to a battery a little too early or they would have killed me. If I had been in the car it would have at least knocked me out and if I had not taken care of the fire it would have exploded. The other thing that kept it from blowing the entire car is that troopers are required to fill the tank before going home and it did not have much room for fumes. The explosion had blown the hole in the trunk and sent pieces down thru the gas tank causing gas to leak on the ground. The gas cap was found stuck in the side of a house two blocks away and the license plate was almost that far. The brass ordered all trooper cars to have locking gas caps and locking hoods after that. The case was not going fast enough for me so I want and saw a friend that was connected with the mob. He took care of several under ground gambling joints. I asked him to find out who did this. He was married to my step sister and we saw each other a lot but did not talk about each others work. I told him this was family. The bomb was at my house. I knew if anyone could find who did it he could. He came back in 3 days and gave me the bad news. This turd who had now been arrested on my warrants had known I had the warrants issued and put out a contract on me. $10,000.00 for who ever put me down.
I will tell you the rest of the story another time because this is already longer than even I normally write and I still have not answered the first question.

“A man asking me what was the worst thing that happened to me as a policeman.”

It was not the contract. It was not the bomb. It was not even that it was at my home.
Inside that apartment was the woman I loved. The woman who put up with my long hours of work. Who put up with my being so busy I never told her how much she meant to me. The woman who took care of my children while I was so busy being a Trooper.
The worst thing that happened was that for about two minutes my wife thought I was dead.

Off all the things that have ever happened to me putting her through that was the worst.
Jim

Song Story

2008-12-16T20:13:00.002-05:00

A song story is not in the spoken word. It is music. I play and it allows me to see the story. I first played this song story on my flute when I was in my early twenties. I did not write this until many years later.
It is always a little different when I play but I always see the same story.
This is what I see when I play Song Story:

I am in a heavy wooded forest looking over low thick brush. The air is moist but warm and the wind drifts across the land lifting the sweet aroma of the herbs that grow next to the small stream just in front of me. The quite sounds of the earth spirits fill the air. The gentle movement of the leaves and small branches rubbing together in the wind. The slow movement of the water in the stream which is several feet deep but the clear water makes it look only inches to the large boulders that cover the bottom. The sun touches the rainbow of colors and are reflected back to the surface. Up stream the bed curves around a large fallen tree with its branches still holding leaves beginning to change color. The wind lifts several gold and red leaves and they float to the other side of the stream. They touch the ground at the waters edge and slide into the clear water. They drift down stream with the sun catching the colors one more time before the leaves disappear around the winding bend. Across the stream stands a row of tall trees with the branches intertwined high above the ground forming a roof over soft grass and wild flowers. The bright sun light fades as the grass grows taller further back under the trees.

From the darkness of the canopy something moves. A large gray wolf slowly slips from the shadows and carefully looks for any signs of danger. He sees everything. Moving his head back and forth taking it all in. The great wolf walks with his head high. At the waters edge he stands for a moment. His stance shows he fears nothing but is watchful of any danger to the one he protects. He turns his head to a movement in the darkness and is motionless. Even his breath has stopped.
Through the tall grass a beautiful Indian maid walks with slow steps, careful to not step on any of the brightly colored wild flowers. Her clothes are of deer hide, bleached white and softened by the skillful hands of the women of her tribe. It hangs from her shoulders nearly touching the ground with a thin red rope around her waist. Red beads are tied in rows around the bottom. Seven rows of seven beads. More red beads are accenting the neck and arms. The gray wolf moves to her side and brushes his head against the soft garment. She touches the large animal on his ears that are pointing straight up from his massive head and he seems to glow with pleasure. She carries in one hand wild flowers she has gathered. Yellow, red, blue and white. With the flowers are small branches of fern adding a slight touch of green. In the other hand she holds a small doll. It is made of wood and leather shaped to just barely show the form of a man. It holds no particular beauty or example of skill and looks old and worn. She carries it as carefully as the flowers. She slowly moves to the waters edge picking flowers as she walks. The wolf looks up stream and again takes the stance of a fierce protector.

A young man, riding a black horse is approaching. The horse walks slow with its head low sensing the heart of the man riding who also has his head lowered nearly touching his massive chest. His shoulders are slumped and his arms a limp with his hands resting on the neck of the tall horse. His legs swing free with the rocking of the slow pace of the horse. One eagle feather hangs from his long hair and the elk hide over his shoulder hangs as though it may fall to the ground. An eagle following the stream flies past the young brave and cries out as it passes him. The horse stops and the Indian brave looks up. His face shows the sadness of a lost spirit.
The eagle swoops down over the gray wolf and lands at the feet of the beautiful maid. She is startled and steps back but does not fear the eagle. They look at each other for a moment. The eagle stands straight with its white head held high. The eagle turns its head slightly and then leaps to the air. It soars to the tree tops and is out of sight. A lone eagle feather falls from the sky. It drifts slowly down to the Indian maid. She catches the feather in the same hand she so carefully holds the worn doll. As she looks at the feather the man who had watched the eagle approach her quickly and quietly leaves the horse and runs to the low bushes at the waters edge. He looks across the stream and his spirit comes to life again. His head is high and his shoulders are back. The muscles of his arms and legs pump with new blood. His eyes sparkle brighter than the stream bottom and chest expands with a new breath of life. He watches as the Indian maid forms a bed of wild flowers in her hand. She places the eagle feather in the bed and lays the doll on top as gently as if it were a new born baby. She kneels at the waters edge and kisses the doll. She then places the bed of flowers in the stream and before it floats away a single tear falls from her eye and lands on the old worn doll. A silence falls on the forest as both the maid and the brave see the bed of flowers for the last time. A tear forms in the eye of the brave. It falls to the water and as it breaks the smooth surface of the clear water a long, slow, sad tone can be heard over the total silence.

The maid looks up and sees the brave. There eyes touch and for a moment two lonely spirits become one. Both faces are now filled with the joy and peace of eternal love. The light from within them shadows the bright sun. The colors of the leaves are paled by the glow of two faces whose souls have met. The sparkle of the stream bottom is lost in the eyes of two who are of one heart. The brave stands. His face saddens. His body again goes limp. He takes the feather from his hair and drops it in the water. He watches it drift past the maid. She stands as the feather passes and turns away from the brave. She walks across the tall grass and disappears into the darkness without looking back which would show the pain in her face. The gray wolf looks at the brave and then follows the maid into the shadows with his walk showing the sadness he has felt from the heart of the maid. The brave mounts his horse and again rides with the look of a lost spirit.

On a hill high above the stream stands a tall brave wearing seven feathers in his hair. He is wearing bleached white deer hide much like that of the maid. He is older than the young brave and has the look of a great warrior. His face is strong and firm. His eyes are cold but from one eye a tear has made its way down his cheek. He touches it with his hand and looks at the moisture for a long time. He turns and walks away.

The song story ends with the sounds of the earth spirits but the story is not over. You see the maid had come to the place she had met her true love. The one who her spirit had joined. The one who as a boy had given her the doll to remember him. It was her wedding day and she knew she must say good-bye to the boy because she was to marry another. She gathered flowers for the last time knowing they will have no meaning for her again. She said good-bye to the beauty of the earth, to the spirit she loved and to the single eagle feather as worn by the brave who the boy had grown to be. The brave was indeed the boy of the maid’s memories and dreams. He to had come to the secret place where they had shared their love to say good-bye. She was to marry another. A good man. A strong man. A great brave. He would be a good husband. A good provider.
The beautiful maid could not declare her love for the young brave.
The young brave could not declare his love for the maid.
His spirit was lost. Her spirit was lost. They said good-bye.
The brave on the hill is brother to the young brave. He is to marry the maid on this day. His love for the maid is great. His love for his brother is great. It is that love that told him what he must do.
He returned to the people and told them of the love between the maid and his brother.
He asked the people to release him from his vow to marry so the spirits that he saw join for a moment could rejoin for all time.
The people saw that this was good and on that day a marriage was made.

Between the young Indian maid and the young Indian brave.
Two spirits who became one.
One Spirit for all time.

I will try to record song story and post it with the story.
Jim

Mullenix or Gibson

2008-12-01T23:52:00.002-05:00

I just had an old friend track me down and asked me why my name is Mullenix. Some know me as Jim Mullenix and he knows me as Jim Gibson. Well here is the story.
My mother and father were Paul and Helen Mullenix. They spit up and mom remarried to Bob Gibson. Now that should be it but if you know me nothing is short and simple.
Bob Gibson was a great Dad and I may be talking more about him in the future. He is in my journal a great deal. He accepted me as his son but did not adopt me. Mom pressured dad (Paul) into giving up rights and letting our names being changed. My brothers George, Ken and Don became Gibson's along with Bob's kids Gary and Mark. The house came to be know as "The Gibson's Boys Ranch". It was on the mail box and at Christmas time we would go cut mistletoe and bag it for us boys to sell in front of the local grocery store as from the Gibson's Boys Ranch. When mom got pregnant and had Nancy she was added to the mail box as the mascot. George was not to happy with Nancy coming when she did. He was going to get his drivers license just as she arrived and it delayed him getting his license by a few days. I went to grade school and then high school in Phoenix as a Gibson. I learned to spell my name by looking at our refrigerator. It was a "Gibson" brand refrigerator. After I left and traveling around I found myself in Alaska to see my father, Paul Mullenix. I started going by the name Mullenix right away. I loved my Dad (Bob) a lot and did not want to hurt him but I just had this thing that no matter what else your father leaves you the one thing is your name. I did not think anymore about it until I was getting married. I thought I had better talk to an attorney and he told me if I did not change my name I would be Jim Gibson and my new wife would be Robyn Mullenix. I started the legal process which did not get the final order until after we were married and moved to Arizona. I guess if some one had protested at the last court hearing I would have still been Gibson and Robyn would be Mullenix. George and Don kept the name Gibson but brother Ken went back to Mullenix without a court order which was not a problem unless you wanted to be approved for the National FBI Academy like me. I think he went back to the name to avoid some criminal activity he had been involved in.
It is off the subject of this post but it reminds me of when I arrived in Sitka Alaska. Dad asked me if I wanted to work or go to school. I had joined him because I was in LA living on my own, working and going to school at Resseda High School. The school decided I needed a letter from one of my parents even though I had been declared emancipated by the courts in California. I was not on very good terms with mom so I sent a letter to dad asking he send me one. He wrote back and said he would but why not come to Alaska. That sounded good for a change so I said ok. I told him I wanted to go to school. When he took me to the high school he was talking to the principle and I was looking around in the hall. I had two girls come up to me and ask if I was the new teacher. Now I am sure you can see about a dozen short stories coming from all that and you would be right. You will see more but latter. I am typing with a broken finger and need to stop.
At this time in my life I am really enjoying this even if no one reads it.
Jim

Christmas at mile post 101

2008-11-27T20:26:00.004-05:00

I have been very sick with some kind of bug and was not going to post anything but for some reason Gayle and I were talking about Christmas and I told her a story about Dad.
I was an Alaska State Trooper station at the Paxson in the middle of old highway between Anchorage and Fairbanks. No one traveled the highway in the winter. There were about a dozen kids that did not get to see Santa because it was an all day drive to Anchorage or Fairbanks. On a trip to Anchorage I stopped at a Fred's Department store an asked if they had a santa suite. I told them it was for the kids of Paxson. The sales man took me to the managers office and hadme tell him why I was looking for a suite. He told me the suite they had ordered for the santa in the store did not show up so they bought another one. Then the first one showed up. The extra one they had cost them about $800.00 but they would let me have it for $50.00 and they threw in the hair and beard. I took it back to Paxson and the wife of the man in charge of the state road crew made a fat suit. I was way too skinny without it. Well after the kids of Paxson got to see Santa I still had the suite.
I have to tell you about "Yawn" to understand this story. As a trooper I was sometimes called out for a long distance mission in bad weather so the only way to go was by dog sled. A local had the team and I needed a lead dog of my own. We picked up a dog while returning from a trip to Anchorage. Jimmy and Justin were asleep in our 4x4 trail duster and woke as I brought the dog to the car. The dog yawned and it scared the boys. I told them it was ok he was just yawning. That is what they named him. Now a team dog has to be kept on a short chain. I may explain why latter. Anyway he had caught a large rat and was eating it. I tried to get it from him and he growled like he was going to bite so I pushed him away with my foot, grabbed the rat and got rid of it.
Dad was living in an A-Frame house at about mile 101 if I remember right. My oldest brother George was in Alaska working the pipeline and my 2 little sisters and 2 little brothers were with dad. George and his family and me with my family joined them for Christmas. That night I gave dad the Santa suite and he went out side to put it on. We were all setting around the fire and the door opened and dad started calling out Merry Christmas. He was a perfect Santa. He had a big bag and was passing out gifts to everyone and then pointed to me and said "You don't get anything because you kicked the dog." Jimmy had told dad I had kicked the dog. When Santa said that Jimmy jumped up and said see Santa sees everything. You better not kick the dog again.

So with Christmas on the way you had better remember Santa is making a list and checking it twice so don't kick the dog.

Jim

Grandpa was a Leprechaun

2008-11-27T20:22:00.005-05:00

I have been thinking a lot about Grandpa the last few days. He told me lots of stories just before he died. Most of the family did not think he would do that. They said he was not that kind of man. Well maybe because he had decided to not take any more treatment for his bone cancer and he knew it was soon that he opened up to me. Most of the stories were the kind that years later something would happen in my life that I needed help for and I would remember one of his stories. Sometimes I would think of a story that helped me through a problem and not truly know if it was on of his stories or one that I thought would have been one of his if he situation I was in. He told me things like never go to bed mad at your wife or your wife mad at you. Another was remember to make a memory every day and if it is not good it is not a memory to remember and put it aside.
The best story was of Grandpa being a Leprechaun. Her is the story as I have it written in my book.

“Jimmy……Jimmy…….Come in here I want to tell you a story.”

I had just come in from the porch of the old house. Grandpa had lived here as long as I could remember. It was a great old house built by a miner in the early days of Globe Arizona. It had two stories with the lower a basement in front and an old garage in the back that had been remodeled into a bedroom. Entering the house from the porch you could not help but notice the old player piano. Pictures of Grandma and Grandpa were on the top and it always had the door to the player rolls open just a little. The room opened up into the dinning room that had the grand old table that would seat the whole family. The back wall had the wall size china cabinet that covered the old fireplace. I had found the fireplace while searching for hidden rooms that might hold the Indian Head Pennies that Grandma was said to have hidden before the took her away. Beyond the dinning room was the old style kitchen. I have always wanted a kitchen like that. It was big and had more cabinet space that any two modern kitchens. The walls and fixtures were white and the floor was white with black accents. The room always looked so clean and the smell of coffee and fresh bread never seemed to go away. No place in the world felt so warm and safe. I can still see Granny with the apron covering a long dark dress with flower designs. She was such a fantastic cook that I even enjoyed eating vegetables. She would pretend I was a great cook for cooking Angel Food Cakes form the new box mixes. I knew she was pretending but I would still cook a cake every time I got a chance. I had never had anyone brag about anything I had done.

Granny was an old maid school teacher from Minnesota that Grandpa had meet when on a trip to the holly lands. She always had a smile. The name Granny fit.

Grandpa’s door was next to the player piano. Like every other room in the house it was much larger than any modern home. The furniture was old wood with hand carved designs that looked like fine lace. The bathroom that had the iron tub standing on legs led to the next bedroom. That was my room. Just a large as Grandpas but sparsely furnished I could almost here an echo when I spoke.

Thinking back it seems a little strange for a 15-year-old boy to enjoy setting on the rail around the porch watching the trees and the birds. I enjoyed the peace and quite after living in Phoenix with five brothers and one sister. The greatest joy was listening to Grandpa when he felt up to telling me a story. Most of the time he could not talk long enough to tell a story or he would forget where he was. Once he forgot that he had sold his store nearly 20 years ago and told me to remind him to order a keg of nails for a new barn being built by one of the town folk. He would also get a little confused thinking he was at his store and I was with him.

Grandpa had gotten sick and Granny needed help taking care of him. He was dying of bone cancer. Perhaps that is why he was a different person with me than with any of the family. Every one said Grandpa was a very private person that did not talk much about himself. He was said to be a hard man and maybe a little cold. Business was business and a man must work hard to be a man. He was a penny pincher. One time when he was still smoking he broke a cigarette at the filter and scotch taped it saying it was the Scotch in him and that was how he paid for his new car.

“Coming Grandpa.” I never would miss one of Grandpa’s stories and for some reason I felt like this one was special. Grandpa was lying on his back with the blanket neatly tucked in around him. It was loose around his feet where his heel set in a donut made of old socks to keep them from hurting. I set on the edge of the bed and took his hand in mine. He liked me to rub his wrist as he talked. Next to him on the bed was a small wood box. It was plane and looked very old. After a few minutes Grandpa took my hand and held it with both of his hands.

He said “Jimmy do you believe in Leprechauns?”

Yes I think I do Grandpa.

You have heard they are from Ireland but they are also from Scotland.

Jimmy I am a Leprechaun.

I set without saying anything. It took a minute to sink in just what he was saying. Grandpa had told me many stories but they were always down to earth lesions of what I could do as a man or examples of what he had done with his life. Now he was telling me he was a Leprechaun.

You are Grandpa?

Well I was but I lost my powers.

You have heard that a Leprechaun has a pot of gold.

Yes Grandpa.

And Jimmy you have heard they put the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow haven’t you?

Yes Grandpa.

Well that is true but what does a Leprechaun do with the pot of gold when there is no rainbow?

I don’t know Grandpa.

Well Jimmy they tap the pot of gold three times with the Leprechauns Magical Gold Bar and say Tree or Rock and the pot of gold changes into the tree or rock. Now when the rainbow comes back out the Leprechaun runs to where he hid the pot of gold and taps the tree or rock three times with the Leprechauns Magical Gold Bar and says Crock Of Gold.

The tree or rock changes back to the pot of gold and the Leprechaun takes it to the end of the rainbow.

You know Jimmy I would get bored changing the pot of gold into a tree or a rock so I did something new. After a rainbow I ran to the pot of gold and taped it three times with the Leprechauns Magical Gold Bar and said shoes. The pot of gold changed into a pair of shoes and I put them on to hide until the rainbow returned. When the rainbow came back I jumped out of the shoes and taped them three times with the Leprechauns Magical Gold Bar and said Crock Of Gold. I will never do that again. I was in a thicket of thorns and had to run through the thorns with no shoes to get to the end of the rainbow. I will never do that again.

I was still bored with trees or rocks so I tried other things. One time I changed the pot of gold into a piggy bank and put on the mantel above my fireplace. When the rainbow came out I ran home, in the front door and straight to the fireplace. I looked on the mantel and found that a thief had broken in and stole the piggy bank.

Grandpa paused for a little while. Then he said.

They must have broken it because they had dropped something.

Grandpa reached to the old wood box and took the lid off. I stretched to see what was in it but all I saw was the bottom of the box. Grandpa lifted a small piece of some kind of animal hide. It had a light colored short fir and was folded over two or three times. Grandpa laid it on his chest and carefully opened the fold revealing two coins. He handed me the coins.

Grandpa said, “They had dropped a nickel and a penny.”

I put the coins in my hand and to my surprise they were gold. One was a nickel and the other a penny but both were gold. I turned them over and over in my hand and I wanted to say something but I could not talk.

When a Leprechaun cannot put his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow he loses his powers. I lost my powers and became mortal. I started ageing like everyone else and could no longer live with the Leprechaun’s.

Now if I could find the stolen gold and put it all together I could tap it three times with the Leprechauns Magical Gold Bar and say Crock Of Gold, it would change into the pot of gold and give me all the Leprechauns powers back. Once again I would be an immortal Leprechaun.

Now Jimmy I know my time is near. I know it is time for me to pass this on to my favorite grandson, you Jimmy.

What do I do with it Grandpa?

If you can find the stolen gold and tap it three times with the Leprechauns Magical Gold Bar and say Crock Of Gold it will change into the pot of gold and you will become an immortal Leprechaun. You will have all the knowledge and powers of a Leprechaun.

Jimmy there is a time limit for you to find the Leprechauns gold.

How much time do I have Grandpa.

I don’t know. He paused for a long time and I said Grandpa you can't say there is a time limit and not say anything more.How will I know Grandpa?

Grandpa reached to the box and took something out. He held my hand and as he placed it into the palm of my hand. Grandpa said.

You have however long it takes for the Leprechauns Magical Gold Bar to change from gold to lead.

I looked at what he had placed in my hand. It was a small bar. It was about ¾ an inch long, less than ½ an inch wide and about ¼ an inch thick. It was shaped like the pictures I had seen of the gold bars in Fort Knox. It was gold but mixed in with it was lead. It did not look like it was made of gold and lead. The gold and lead seemed to blend together. Like Grandpa said you could see it was changing from gold to lead. I turned it over and over looking at it from every side. It was heavy and felt cool. There was something else but I could not tell what it was.

Grandpa is this really a ……..

Yes Jimmy it is the Leprechauns Magical Gold Bar and it is yours now.

If you can find the rest of the gold, tap it three times with the Leprechauns Magical Gold Bar and say Crock Of Gold you will become a Leprechaun.

If you do become a Leprechaun you must know two things.

What is that Grandpa?

First, You may have heard that if a man catches a Leprechaun the Leprechaun must grant him three wishes.

Yea I heard that Grandpa.

Well it is not quite true. That is just in books and on TV. The truth is if a man gets the Leprechauns pot of gold the Leprechaun must grant him any thing he wishes for. Not just three. If the person who stole the piggy bank knew that and would have taken all the gold I would have been forced to grant any wishes to get my gold back.

You can’t let anyone touch the gold from the pot of gold. If they have the rest of the gold you will have to grant them any thing they wish for.

Second and even more important, if you get your powers you must never use your Leprechaun powers for personal gain. There once was a Leprechaun in Scotland that used his powers for himself and Poof, instantly he was changed into a cat. All the Leprechauns in Scotland came to the cat and each one plucked out one whisker from the cat to remind them to never use the powers of the Leprechaun for personal gain.

Once more Grandpa reached to the old wood box and with out even looking inside he picked up a single, white cats whisker and put it in my hand next to the two gold coins and the Magical Gold Bar.

I looked at what Grandpa had given me and thought for a moment. Then I asked

Grandpa will I find the gold? Do I have enough time?

Grandpa looked at me and with a special sparkle in his eyes he said,

I am not sure if you will find it but I do know that if you do not the gold in the Leprechauns Magical Gold Bar will remain long enough for you to pass it on to your favorite grandson just as I have.

Jimmy look in the top drawer of my dresser and you will find a small metal box. Put it all in that box and keep it with you always.

I opened the drawer and in with the watches, tie clips and old silver dollars I found a metal box. It was just the right size to hold everything Grandpa had given me. I put it in my pocket and looked back at Grandpa.

Grandpa is this all real? Were you really a Leprechaun?

Jimmy I was a Leprechaun until just a moment ago. I just did not have my powers. I am not a Leprechaun now though, you are. Didn’t you feel it when you held the Leprechauns Magical Gold Bar?

Grandpa turned to the old box again and took something else out.

Jimmy I want to give you one more thing. It is nothing special and has now powers. It is just something from when I was a boy and I want you to have it.

Grandpa handed me a small round stone. It looked like you could hold it to a light and see though it but the light did not show through. The color was also hard to see. It was red or was it black or maybe brown. It had been made round by chipping away small pieces. It was less than ½ an inch thick. I held it between my fingers and looked at it for a long time.

Do you know what it is Jimmy?

No Grandpa. What is it?

It is a marble. It was my favorite marble when I was a boy. It was my shooter.

I looked at it again and then said,

Wait a minute Grandpa. I play marbles and my shooter is always a little bigger than the rest and this is smaller than a regular marble.

Grandpa took it from me and held it up between his fingers and said,

But Jimmy you forgot,......... back then I was a wee Leprechaun.

Written in my book about 10 years ago. I will try to ad some photos of the coins and gold. The photo at the top right is Grandpa. The painting at the top of the old man is Grandpa as a Leprechaun. I will tell you all about the painting some other time.
Jim

How I came to LazyLake.

2008-11-27T20:20:00.002-05:00

I was in Phoenix and my boys had grown. I was alone and when offered a change of pace by moving to Denver I took it. That did not help. I felt even more alone. In those days you could post a photo and profile on websites to meet people. I met all the wrong women and took my photo and profile off. I never thought I could meet so many women that either turned out to be at least 10 years older and at least 20 pounds heaver than they said of all they wanted was some one to take them to bed. I must say I did also meet some very nice women that became good friends. I missed one of the websites when I removed my profile and I got a response from a lady from Soddy Daisy, Tennessee. Now who ever heard of Soddy Daisy Tennessee. She said we lived to far apart to meet but she liked what I had to say on my profile. I wrote back that the bad thing about the internet was you may meet the perfect person and never know because you are to far apart. Well after about three months of emails and phone calls she drove 1400 miles by her self and stayed 5 days. I did not want to rush her so asked her to marry me on the 2nd day. It took 30 days to close out the business and I moved to Tennessee. In 4 days we got married. It has been 9 years and even though she is ill and is almost always stuck in bed life is still the greatest. The posted photo is our wedding photo. What made it great to start with Gayle is she did the same as I did and as I am doing on this blog. I write what I think and change nothing other than spell check. That way you see who I am not who I might want to be.
Gayle and I live on the land her father bought when she was just a little girl. He had his priorities. Before he even started the house he put in the fishing pond. He stalked it and we still pull 15 inch big mouth bass from the LazyLake. That is what Frank, Gayle's dad called his little part of heaven. The house Gayle was raised in is still here and Gayle had added another house just before I arrived. I am sure you will hear more about Gayle and our LazyLake.

Jim

Remembering Dad......Paul Mullenix.

2008-11-20T10:58:00.012-05:00

I set here trying to work on my websites and I have the TV on mainly to give some sound in the room. The John Wayne movie “The Shootist” is on and as most of the older John Wayne movies do it reminds me of Dad. He was a big man and looked even bigger to most because of the way he carried himself. He should be rough and tuff and seldom showed his tender side but it was there. I don’t think he really wanted people to know but he was one of the most caring men I had ever met. He cared about his family. He cared about his friends. He cared about his community and he cared about his country. I watched him care for Sue with a tender touch and a firm hand when she was ill and needed it. I watched him come home after work every day and mop the floor before he even took of his jacket. It nearly destroyed him when she died but the strength of the man he was came through. In many ways he was never the same but he was still dad. I learned my style of police work form him even though we never worked together as officers. I learned to watch over the young, the poor, the widows and the abandoned children. I learned to try to make people smile even when I did not feel like smiling. I learned to always stand for what was right and always fight for justice. John Wayne often showed the same humor as dad. He often said things in his movies that were rough and course but made a point that could not be made as complete any other way. Thinking of dad and John Wayne reminds me of this that I have seen told to new police officers often. It sounds just like what dad would have said.

FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIVES,
YOU ARE GOING TO BE FACED WITH PEOPLE
WHO ARE FLEEING EVIL AND DANGER
YOU HAVE THE AUTHORITY AND THE MISSION
TO STAND UP AND SAY
“ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A SAFE PLACE?
THEN GET BEHIND ME BECAUSE I AM A COP
AND THIS IS AS FAR AS THE BASTARDS ARE GOING TO GET”

I will always remember dad with his pants cuff hung up on one of his Wellington boots. When I first went to Alaska I looked out the plane window as we arrived and there he was with one guff hung up on his boot. I saw what I am sure was a blooper on one of John Wayne’s movies where he was setting in a chair and his pants cuff was above his boot. When he stood up the cuff hung up on the boot. In the movie John Wayne’s horse is “Old Dollar”. That reminds me of dad and Odell (Peso) Dollar who was in the Highway Patrol with dad. The songs they sang together are great. I have a few of the old records and I keep looking for more. I have always said dad had the talent to play any instrument he wanted to. The piano, the harmonica and others but you know he really did not have that kind of talent. He just had the confidence and was out going enough to not be afraid to just do it. His confidence was one of his strongest traits. Did you know that at the same time he did not think he was good enough? Several very powerful men wanted him to run for Governor of Alaska and he would have won but he would not do it because he was afraid people would find out that he was not a high school graduate. He had left school to serve his country in WWII. Dad is gone now and I miss him so very much. I have the last photos of me and dad together in my bible. The same bible I keep by the bed and I take to church with me. Dads mind was almost gone but after about twenty minutes visiting with him he turned to me and with a tear in his eye he said “Jimmy” and gave me a big hug. That is when Gayle took the photo. Dad did not go to church much and did not talk about Jesus but I know he knew him. I think of that and of his pants cuff and I think of “The Final Inspection”.

THE FINAL INSPECTION

The Policeman stood and faced His God, which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining, just as bright as his brass.
“Step forward now, policeman, How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other check? To my church, have you been true?
The policeman squared his shoulders and said, “No, Lord, I guess I ain’t, Because those of us who carry badges can’t always be a saint.
I’ve had to work most Sundays, and at times my talk was tough,
and sometimes I’ve been violent, because the streets are awfully tough.
But I never took a penny, that wasn’t mine to keep...though I worked a lot of overtime when the bills just got too steep.
And, I never passed a cry for help, though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me, I’ve wept unmanly tears.
I know I don’t deserve a place among the people here.
They never wanted me around except to calm their fear.
If you’ve a place for me here, Lord, it needn’t be so grand...
I never expected or had too much, but if you don’t...
I’ll understand.
There was silence all around the throne, where the saints had often trod, as the policeman waited quietly, for judgment of His God.
“Step forward now, policeman, you’ve borne your burdens well.
Come walk a beat on heaven’s street, you’ve done your time in hell.

I looked back at the movie for a little and John Wayne is about to die of cancer. He still looks like twice the man of most and that is the way I will always think of dad. In the movie a man wants to write a book about him and he said “I will not be remembered for a pack of lies”. Dad may have said that and I know what I write may not be completely correct but is what is in my memories. My memories of dad will always be of a man bigger than life and loved as much as any man. On the movie he slipped and fell and the woman was helping him up when he said “dam”. She said you swear too much and he said “The hell I do”. Now that sounds like dad doesn’t it. Well that is enough for now. This will be part of my “Book” but I typed it for me. I want my kids to remember a little about him like I do so I think I will send this out to the family.

Jim