The Henney-mobile

I think that when I was in High School my parents must have stayed home a lot, because I got to drive the family car quite a bit. In fact, I used it so often that my friends called our vehicle the Henney-mobile. I actually think mom and dad were pleased that it got used so often to transport huge numbers of high school buddies around the city of Madison, WI. My friends and I were mostly athletes and cheerleaders, so we would pile in the Henney-mobile and go off to games, meets, matches,... If we were paricipating, of course, we would be bussed by the school, but we also went to other high school's events or events for sports that we weren't involved in.

One of the reasons the Henney-mobile was so popular was that it was a full-size 1965 Dodge van and I could carry a lot of kids. We once got 22 guys and gals into the van on one of our excursions.

You know what, though, there are disadvantages to having a popular vehicle. A small group of us used to do "commando raids." Started off with toilet-papering trees and houses, and then we would get a little more creative. We once saw a friend's little Corvair parked at his girlfriend's house. So, we picked up his car and moved it so the front wheels were resting on his girlfriend's front porch and the car was facing toward the front door. Then we rang the doorbell.

So, the problem was that many people in the neighborhood recognized the Henney-mobile and it was difficult to get away with stealthy exploits while driving the Henney-mobile. We put a cherry-bomb in a kid's mailbox once and blew it up. When we came back around to inspect the damage, the guy and his dad saw us and the kid recognized us immediately. Resulted in a late-night visit from the police department. My dad was of course not happy with my actions, but he also said that I should have known better than to use that van and expect to get away unnoticed.

A Beaver Creek Proposal

Joe's proposal to Rachel seemed so romantic, sunset in the middle of Sparks Lake while on a camping trip and all. It struck a familiar chord for me as my proposal to Barb also was offered on a camping trip. In a canoe in the middle of the lake? Well no, in my 4WD GMC pickup truck as we drove to Beaver Creek, CO for a weekend campout with our good friends, the Greisers.

Barb will surely expand upon what remains in my often abbreviated memory, but as I recall the proposal went something like this, "so, you wanna get married?" "Well, OK." Its a good thing I have other attributes that Barb finds appealing, because romance and recollection of those events where I have attempted it are certainly not what I am noted for.

There are hundereds of Beaver Creeks in the USA, and more than one in Colorado, but this was one of our favorite places and became even more so after the proposal. It is a 4-wheeling, fishing, camping, and wild kind of place centered in the Colorado Rockies:We got to Beaver Creek and pulled off the road. I locked in the 4WD, but Mike's pickup was 2WD, so he "aired down" the tires to give him better traction and off we went bushwhacking. We didn't go very far off the road, but I can't remember seeing another vehicle or person all weekend.

My littered memory otherwise remembers two other things about this weekend (maybe Barb will return from tennis soon and add some other more meaningful memories):

• we made a cobbler of some sort over an open fire, but it was more than we could eat, so I covered the creation and stored it in the bed of the pickup, where it later cast itself onto the sides of the bed as we negotiated the 4WD roads on the way out; (Barb sez "picture bright red cherry cobbler strewn over the snow covered truckbed")


• we slept in a tiny little green backpacking tent and were totally surprised when we awoke the next morning with over a foot of snow engulfing most of the tent.

Okay, Barb here, to add my 2 cents worth! I am always looking for basic luxuries (?) when camping, and I recall Dave and Mike promptly building us a latrine--a sturdy branch secured to a couple of trees we could sit on in the woods to take care of business :) A fine, fine work of art. It was hardly used before the big snow came and we thought we should at least get to a road before the weather became more severe.

I was ecstatic about the snow (except when we woke up with the tent smashed on our faces). The tent was a little two person tent and we were cozy in there with Olga and Rocky, our dogs. Greisers brought their cats, Big Foot and Sam.

When we were in a more secure spot (knowing we could get out), we stopped and made some little snowmen. It was something I missed from Nebraska--having enough good snow to build a snowman.

Some old photos

I've been carrying around a bag of old film for the past eight years. The photos were destroyed in a freak rain storm while I was living in San Diego but I kept the film. For my birthday, Rachel had the photos put onto a CD for me. Most of the pictures came out OK despite a little water damage. I thought I would share a few of my favorites....

I did not eat a bagel . . .

Rachel said we should blog if we eat a bagel, cuz Joe wants to hear what we are doing. I didn't eat a bagel, sorry.

We did have a productive few days and I am so excited that I have to share it with y'all.

Dave went out to our little cabin on Friday and singlehandedly removed four layers of shingles from the roof. What a superman. The roof has been leaking for years and years. That's why I am so excited. It was way past due.

On Saturday, Martha and Rick went out about noon and Tom and I got there a while later. (my brain wouldn't work--I left behind half of what I wanted to pack. Sheesh). Dave, Rick, and Tom put up plywood sheets to cover the old roof while Martha and I picked up the four layers of shingles that Dave had thrown on the ground the day before.

Dave and I spent the night and it was pleasantly cold. In the morning David Ambrose (one the profs where I work) came out at the crack of dawn to help, because he really talked Dave and I into getting this steel, snap together roofing. They put up the tarpaper and began to put up the roof--just like that. I continued to gather the shingles. Martha, Rick, and Tom all came out around noon and David A. left now that the new crew arrived. The roof came in premeasured sheets --about ten or twelve per the two sides of the roof. They worked and worked and voila! a roof. It is shiny and loverly and should last forever, they say.

Martha and I hauled everything we could out of the attic and started tearing down the drywall ceiling, because it was horrible even before it had been leaked on. I was on a mission and confess that I broke several things as I ruthlessly tore down the chunks of ceiling. The fam left cuz Cathy and I had planned to have a peaceful overnight on Sunday, but when she (and Jim, too) arrived I only had 2/3 of the ceiling down. We continued to rip with a vengence. Now it is bare rafters and I could look at that for a long time till I need to finish it. It's great!!!

Now, I want a bagel.

Prince Charming

Reading that romantic entry reminded me of when I was getting to know Dave. You know he's super wonderful and I do, too, now. At that time I was weathered and hardened from dating (bleah) and had pretty much decided I was through with men (age--about 26). He had such a calm and even way that I was really intrigued--I actually pursued him :)

Probably during the first month that I knew him, we went up to Aspen (lived in Colorado then) to drive around and see the mountains. This part was very Joeish, Dave wanted to use my old station wagon to drive on some 4-wheel drive roads. Well, we had fun and the car survived that but it got rear-ended out on the highway. This is making a short story long--but I was broke and there was a nice repair guy who was trying to find a used tailgate for my station wagon. During this time, about three weeks, I rode my bike to work (picture that!). Colorado is wonderful weatherwise for bike-riding. We lived in Golden and I rode over to the Denver Federal Center--not too far. This is where I get to the point of this story--whenever Dave would get off work early enough, he would intercept me on my ride home, throw the bike in his truck and rescue me (not in that order). It was so new to me--this consideration, thoughtfulness--and, dang, kindness. It honestly took me quite awhile to believe he was real. And we lived happily ever after.

I am getting married...

to the most wonderful woman in the world. She is my best friend and will surely keep me on my toes for the rest of my life!

Here's how it all went down. I knew for a long time that I wanted to ask her while camping at her family's favorite camping spot. They have been going there every year for almost 3 decades now and as long as I can remember talking to Rachel she has always described it as her happy place. I thought this would be an ideal location to pop the question. The only person who knew I was going to ask her is her Grandma Trudi, for two reasons, one, I knew she would be absolutely thrilled to be involved, and two, Rachel has always expressed a distaste for fancy, expensive jewelry so I wanted to see if Trudi had anything with more sentimental value that she wished to pass down to Rachel. She found just the thing, Rachel and I are going to wear her grandparents' wedding bands. I am greatly honored by this and think it is perfect for us given our strong connection to our families. So, while were were camping I asked Rachel out for a sunset canoe paddle. We made our way to the mouth of the lagoon at dusk, with the South Sister and Mt. Bachelor watching over us. Something came over her and she decided that she wanted to turn around in the canoe to face me. Lucky thing because I was trying to figure out how to pull this off with her back facing me. Turning around in a canoe is not a graceful maneuver regardless how steady your sea legs are and she nearly dumped us in the cold water. After settling down, she noticed that I was clutching something in my hand as I was paddling the canoe. She asked what it was and I knew it was time. 

I held out my hand, revealing a pretty little pin that her grandma had given to me and said, "your grandmother wanted me to give you this when I asked you to marry me, so, will you marry me?" She was taken completely by surprise as she was sure I was preparing to throw a frog at her. She replied "really?" Since I have been known to pull a fair number of pranks on her over the years, this was not a surprising response. Seeing the sincerity in my eyes, she quickly replied "yes" as her own eyes began to well up with happy tears. We spent a few more minutes in the canoe, just soaking in the moment and then headed back in to camp to break the news. Now Rachel's happy place has one more happy memory and every year when we go to Sparks we will enter the mouth of the lagoon and remember the time when we agreed to spend the rest of our lives together.

Veggie Burgers

We are having veggie burgers at the house tonight. I found some really good ENORMOUS 1/4 pound veggie burgers, not the usual little cardboard disks. We also have fresh avocado, lettuce, pickles, alfalfa sprouts, ketchup and mustard to put on them. A couple of our friends are coming over, we usually try to have people over at least a couple nights a week if we can...I think if it were up to us we'd have everybody just live at our house but apparently some people need a little more space.

My summer in Seattle is sort of winding down to an end. I am working on the Roman Forum presentation I have to give on my third day of my Rome trip. Also, practicing with my new camera, a lot. I take it EVERYWHERE with me. I have had it for a little less than a month and have already taken over 1200 images! Not all of them stick around though, most get deleted, but to get those few good images you really have to take a lot of photos!! It makes me really thankful for the advantages of digital photography. On my budget, I don't think I could afford all the film I would have gone through and practicing would be much less convenient.

Here is a cool image I took at Lena's 4th birthday party on Sunday(Happy birthday Lena!!). She had a local Seattle celebrity come to the party, the Bubbleman. He does a pretty cool show, makes the kids smile and relays his very liberal political messages to the adults, whether they like it or not! Of these messages, one is repeated, "CHEAP TOYS!" Most of the props in his act he found at thrift stores or recycled other discarded items. The reason I like this photo so much is because of the amazing echo of the profile of his cap, face and beard in the outline of the bubble he is creating....very cool.

Seattle puts me under her spell once again...

This city is definitely taking me for a ride. Summer comes every year just when I've had it up to here with grey skies and drizzle, this year it lasted through much of June. Then the sky clears, the forecast reads 75 and sunny as far as the weatherman can predict and the sun sets at ten o' clock every night, giving me a little extra time outside to enjoy it all. I fall in love all over again. Just look at this killer sunset I snapped just five minutes from my house down on Alki beach! Sometimes I feel like I live in a postcard....

Little Sioux

I have been thinking a lot about the times I spent at the Little Sioux campground. Mainly because of the tragedy that happened there last week. I have been having good memories about the place though. I think one of the camping trips I remember the most is our "wilderness survival" trip. The object of this trip was to work on requirements toward the wilderness survival merit badge. Now, as a scout, I do not remember being highly motivated to work towards merit badges or advancement in rank. I mostly just enjoyed camping, hanging out with my dad, farting around the campfire and goofing off with the other scouts. 

I remember working on this merit badge though because one of the requirements was rather intimidating as a kid. It involved sleeping out in the woods overnight by yourself in a shelter that you had constructed. Not so hard by itself I suppose, but we had the added challenge that we were camping in the middle of winter (not sure what month, but it was COLD and the ground was covered in snow) in Nebraska. 

Winters in the midwest can be pretty frigid and this weekend was no exception. Dad might remember better what the actual temperature was because he always had a really hard time getting me to wear a coat, even if it was well below freezing. I would be running around the campsite in sub-freezing weather wearing nothing but a t-shirt and I remember him asking me repeatedly to put on a coat, a reasonable request. What I don't remember is why I was so determined to give him a tough time, I guess it is a mystery only kids know about.  

Anyway, I spent the better part of a Saturday out in the woods constructing my shelter. I think that there was a distance requirement of how far "out in the woods" you had to be, maybe 100 yards from camp or so. I had read in my scout manual about snow shelters and decided that it sounded like fun to make myself an igloo like an eskimo. The scout manual had some basic instructions for igloo construction and said it would be a good insulator to keep me warm at night. The snow was rather deep but had been around for a while because the top layer was ice. It was the kind of snow that is crunchy on top but loosely packed on the bottom. Perfect for making igloo bricks.

I spent a couple hours carving out rectangular bricks of snow, using my hand like a knife to cut the snow. I stacked them in a circle about as wide as I was tall. I continued making and stacking bricks until the shelter was tall enough for me to fit inside. I used a blue tarp to make the roof and I think I had even made a block of snow that I could cover the entry way with to help conserve heat. My shelter was finished, I headed back to camp and the other scouts and I nervously waited until nightfall when we would test our wits and will against mother nature.

The next part of this story is a little unclear in my head, but I will do my best to make it interesting. After dinner, we sat around the campfire, doing what boys do best, seeing how far they can push their dads to the edge of insanity. To the dads' disapproval, we would constantly experiment with new things to throw in the fire, soda cans, insects, magnesium shavings, socks, various food items, each other, rocks, flammable liquids, etc. Another favorite game was to make "torches" either with burning marshmallows or burning sticks and then walk around the campsite until somebody got poked with the hot end of the stick, game over. Then there was the ever-popular past time of melting your brand new pair of snow boots by using the fire-ring as a foot rest, very entertaining to the dads.

After the campfire, we grabbed our flashlights and headed out to our various shelters. I crawled into my igloo, pulled the snow block over the entry way and nestled into my sleeping bag. I remember sitting in the igloo with my flashlight on and watching my breath. It was SO quiet, snow really has a way of muffling sound, and being inside a pile of it, the only thing I heard was my own heartbeat. As far as I can remember, I fell asleep inside my igloo without any issue. I can't recall how long I was in my shelter until something BESIDES the sound of my own heartbeat woke me up. It was the sound of something, rather, several somethings, crunching around in the snow directly outside of my igloo!

The coyotes were very curious about the most recent resident of the woods and his curious snow-shelter. I heard them sniffing all around the edges of the igloo. They started pulling on 

the twine that I had used to tie down the tarp I was using for a roof, making the tarp shake. I knew they were coyotes because they were making the little yip-yip noises that coyotes make and panting a little, like my dog at home. I have no idea how I resolved this situation, dad had always told me that coyotes are not to be feared, they are more scared of me than I am of them and I truly believed in this. I was still pretty much terrified though. I don't know if I shouted at them and made them run away, or if I cried for help and dad came to save the day, or if I just lay there, completely silent until they left. However I dealt with the situation, I just know that I ended up back at camp and slept in the back of our caprice classic station wagon with my dad. All in all, it was a very fun trip and a great memory, however, the wilderness had won this round, sleeping in the back of a station wagon in the woods doesn't exactly count as "wilderness survival."

Burt Street

I was thinking about Burt Street this week, under very unusual circumstances. I'm working with a company that is cleaning up lead-impacted yards in the eastern half of Omaha. One of the properties we are cleaning up right now is across the street from our Burt Street house (remember June's house)?

Most of the lead was deposited as wind-borne "fall-out" from the old Asarco lead smelting plant that was removed in the 90s and replaced by the Lewis & Clark Landing, a "passive" recreation area that covers other buried Asarco hazardous waste with an impermeable clay cap that prevents seepage of these wastes from their burial site.

I'm not aware of any other lead-impacted properties on Burt Street, so that is probably good news for us.

Summertime

It's so close I can taste it! I just received a "Special Weather Statement" on my desktop warning us that the temperature is going to get up above 80 degrees....can you believe it?!? I still follow the weather religiously, though it is not quite as exciting up here as it is in the Midwest. A Special Weather Statement in Omaha likely is followed by instructions on how not to get killed by a tornado!!! Here's our forecast for this week, I'm not sure what those strange yellow spheres are supposed to be on Thursday and Friday...we don't see that one often...

Anyway, last Sunday as supposed to be rainy but Rach and I took our chances and decided to plant a flower bed. While we were out shopping she asked me how I knew the annuals from the perennials. I didn't really know, I suppose all that time landscaping helped. I think I knew one from the other before that though and i think it has to do a lot with the beautiful flower beds mom would plant. The ones I saw her plant every year were the annuals, everything else, a perennial. I can't name a lot of the plants but I can take one look at most and tell you if it will make it through the winter. I remember the marigolds most vividly because of the bright colors and also because they made my fingers smell bad, that smell still reminds me of summertime at our house on Burt street. Also, snapdragons because you can make them talk. And also a plant with red leaves that got these vertical stalks of flowers that I always had to help her pull off. These seemed to be in the flower bed every year. 

The promise of warm weather also reminded me of the awesome kiddy pool we had with safari scenes on the sides. I'm pretty sure that you can still walk into most drug stores in the summertime and buy this same pool. We would fill it up with cold hose water and jump in. Even though it was often 90 plus degrees outside, our lips would turn purple from the frigid water. it was so much fun though, kids don't care! We would swim around and around in circles until we made a "whirlpool." Although, I don't know if this is strictly a childhood thing as I typically buy myself a kiddy pool every year still, though I now refer to it as an "adult lounge pool."

Northern Wisconsin

Boy Scouting was a significant influence in my early years. My Boy Scout troop went camping every month, regardless of weather, and in Wisconsin that's a significant challenge during the winter months. We backpacked into most places we went, carrying our tents, food, warm clothing, etc. There were many memorable camping trips while I was a Scout, but one that was particularly memorable was a week-long canoe trip in northern Wisconsin with our Explorer Post, actually two weeks for me because I went a week early to take Voyageur training so that I could lead the group that I would take out the following week.

Northern Wisconsin has striking natural beauty, which alone made the trip memorable, but what was truly special for me was that my dad was the adult advisor on the trip that I led (left photo, back row, right side).

The trip began in the upper peninsula of Michigan in Thousand Island Lake and ended near Boulder Junction, WI after 8 portages and 2 carry-overs. We saw numerous bald eagles, deer, porcupines, and there were ten times that number that saw us, but we didn't see them. We camped one night at a site on Palmer Lake that had been raided by black bears the night before and there was packaging and food scattered all over the campsite. The trip was physically demanding with breathtaking vistas throughout that made a lasting impression on both Dad and I.

We returned to this area of northern Wisconsin several times in the following years for family vacations, finding several good campsites and fishing spots that we returned to year after year. To this day, loon calls stir the same feelings in me that I experienced on that trip. When Dad retired, he persuaded Mom to move to Vilas County (a move she made out of love for him and not the appeal of northern Wisconsin winters), where they lived until he passed away.

The natural beauty and wildness is what drew Dad to this area, and also to vacations in Colorado where his mom was born in the mountains outside of Eagle in 1895 and where he spent some of his high school years after his family moved back there from Minnesota. Dad left us too early, but I'm thankful that he spent the last years of his life in the Wisconsin northwoods that he loved.

Fun n' Games (Part 2)

When we went out for recess at our elementary school, most often we played in the "Battlefield." Who knows how it got the name, but it was a large grassy ballfield at the bottom of a very steep hill, below the paved playground. We would play softball there...sometimes choosing sides, but most often playing either work-up or 500. In both of those games it was an individual hitter against the other players and in each case players could work their way up or earn their way to the hitting position. Since recess was a short time period, it was a perfect way to get some action without having to choose sides and wait for balls and strikes like a regular game.


Winter was when the Battlefield hill turned to ice from all the kids sliding on it. Not many sleds with runners, and some saucers; mostly scraps of cardboard and plastic. They were faster and of course, that's what turned the slope to ice. A few kids, Davy included, would try to go down the icy hill standing up and sliding only on the soles of their shoes. It was a must that you have leather soled shoes to do this, so you can imagine how much the moms enjoyed seeing their kids come home with soggy, beat-up shoes from sliding down the Battlefield hill. Speaking of moms and teachers, when I look at this activity from my perspective now as a parent and adult, I am certain that parents of today would raise hell and teachers would fear for their jobs if such things as sliding down a sheet of ice standing up were allowed to occur at on school property.


I had a friend named Butch (yeah, guys had nicknames like that once) who I'll always remember with a bloody face. He was the kind of kid that always wound up with the bloody face if there was one among us that was to be so afflicted (the designated bloody face). More than one of his bloody faces occurred on a slick Battlefield hill. Today, the school, the teacher, the City, and passers-by would all be sued if poor Johnny was bloodied through such activity.


So, what's the point of the story? I started this out thinking there might be a point to be made about life choices related to outdoor, sports-related activity and indoor, media-centered entertainment. But, now I'm not sure there is a point to be made. We had a B&W TV by the time I was 5, and I remember Saturday morning cartoons and westerns very well. Our kids had a lot more media options to explore, but they also spent a great deal of their free time outdoors in their elementary years. What is important is that kids do what their friends do and it's called socialization. I remember playing work-up and 500 with the kids, but I think they did it to humor the old man. So instead, just think of this as a story about what the old man did as a kid with his friends.

Fun n' Games

This is one of those stories that should start out, "Well, in my day..." There's something that has been on my mind for some time that is kind of fascinating and I'm not quite sure what to make of it. It has to do with kids' playtime and playthings.

Growing up in the frozen north of Wisconsin, you might think that a lot of my play memories would be of indoor activities, at least in the winter, but that's not true. My clearest memories are almost exclusively outdoors, winter and summer. Even at 4-5 years old, what I remember is playing with friends outdoors, which at that age involved pedal-driven toys, Cowboys and Indians, and secret clubs that met in dirty spaces under big front porches.

Once I was in elementary school, the playtime I remember was recess (morning, after lunch, and afternoon), and immediately after school. These were the times that naturally brought us together with friends and so most of the play was group activity. Once I was mostly past the allure of playground equipment, I remember first playing marbles...there were cat's eyes, steelies, aggies, and puries (although we pronounced them "peeries"). Those of you who wonder where my competitive nature comes from (Barb?), pay attention here. This is where my first memories of stress occur. You build your collection of marbles by risking your stuff against the other guys' (sorry gals, I don't remember a lot of little girl competitors). My prized marbles were the steelies, followed by aggies and puries, with the common cat's eyes being the everyday playing piece that contributed to your collection only in terms of boosting the size of your marble bag. When you risked an aggie, purie or especially a steelie, you wanted to feel sure that the odds were in your favor or the potential reward was worth the risk.

So what was the risk? Well, generally playing marbles meant that you were shooting your marble at someone else's in turn. Whoever hit the other player's marble, won that marble...simple as that. I remember only two types of games that we played, although there may have been variations. In one of the games, the classic game that you see portrayed most often, you drew a circle and shot at marbles in the middle, keeping those that you shot out of the circle. Most often we played more of a free form game, mano y mano (marblos y marblos) where you just toss your marbles on the ground and take turns shooting one marble at the other. Unlike golf, though, you didn't want to "lag" your shot up close to its target because if you missed, that left an easy shot for your opponent. I remember being a successful marble player, but I'm sure there were days when I came home in a blue funk, having lost one or more of my prized steelies, aggires, or puries.

OK, so this has gotten long for a blog piece, so I'll continue with more of little Davy's playtime fun in the next post, concluding with a response to the essential question, "Why are you telling me this anyway?"

Wow this is great

Thanks for putting this blog together, Joe. I don't remember being quite so heroic with the bat, but if you remember it that way who am I to change history?

When I was 6 we lived in a 2-story cottage on Lake Mendota in Madison, WI. I loved that place because in the back yard was the largest lake in the Madison chain-of-lakes and across the road in the front was a huge swamp (or at least that was what we called it...these days I think it is called a riparian wetland). We built a tree house in the swamp and played "Swamp Fox" (for you young'uns that was an old Walt Disney adventure about a Revolutionary War hero, Francis Marion...kind of like Robin Hood).

One of the most most fascinating features of the swamp was actually along the path we used to walk to elementary school (2nd grade). It was a large box culvert but I didn't know what that was at the time. To us it was "Frankensteins Cave." I remember well that we truly believed a monster lived inside, on the other side of a bottomless hole that only he could cross, because from time to time there would be boots, snakes, pieces of clothing, and other "evidence" lying in front of the mouth of the cave that he had tossed out instead of eating. Sometime before I actually designed these things as a Civil Engineer I learned the harsh reality that all these discarded items are actually washed into the storm sewer and carried away to where the box culvert empties into a drainage channel.

So why did your initial post remind me of this? At this cottage, we once heard noises in the attic. When my Dad went to investigate, he found flying squirrels (no moose, though). Of course, we were in a lake cottage, so he used a fishing net to round them up. That is why my first thoughts were of a fishing net and why you kids will look for a fishing net when some wild critter invades your home some day.

The Bat

I remember a time when Mom and Dad were downstairs and the three of us kids were up in their bed trying to go to sleep.  We started to hear a high pitched squeak in the room and turned on the light and there was a bat circling overhead.  The door was closed so the bat couldn't leave.  We started screaming for Dad and he came running upstairs and evacuated us from the room.   Then, he went and got a fishing net and heroically charged into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.  After five minutes of crashing and banging, he emerged with the bat in the net.  We all went down to the front porch where he laid the bat on the ground so we could inspect it.   It wasn't as scary now that Dad had the situation under control.

Our Hero!!!