The Story of My Life: Kids Club

Throughout my childhood, there was a consistent summertime staple that was created by our moms as a way to get us all together on a weekly basis. They called it Kid's Club. My mom, Alice, Sue, and eventually Missy would organize and drive it each week. The location always varied as it usually rotated around each of their houses. And at minimum, there were 13 kids involved. This number would sometimes grow as friends were brought every now and then. It may not seem like much at first glance, but it was the summertime outlet I needed.

So what was Kid's Club? The main purpose was for all us kids to do things together. The bare bones structure was that everyone would go to one of the houses mentioned previously and spend the afternoon doing activities together. Sometimes that would involve arts and crafts, outdoor sports, or recreational activities we hadn't played before. The cool thing was that once the scheduled activities ended, the day had not. We would spend hours coming up with our own adventures and having about thirteen friends made for some good times.

Kid's Club was more than a way to get together. It provided so many opportunities and experiences I probably wouldn't of otherwise had. We went on a lot of "field trips" with this group. Some experiences were split up into smaller groups, and some were altogether. These were some of those adventures.

There was a local potato chip factory in town called Martin's. They make some of the best kettle cooked chips in my opinion. They offered tours of the factory while in operation. So Kid's Club took a trip to see it. I remember having been immersed in the whole experience. We had to put on the goofy hairnets so as not to get hair in the potatoes. The tour began seeing the large semi trucks empty tons of potatoes onto a conveyor belt. The potatoes were then washed and peeled. We moved behind glass watching as machines sliced them. Workers would check for bad ones as they came through. We were given the chance to taste a raw, ripple cut, potato slice. It obviously didn't taste very good, but the texture was still fascinating. Then we watched as they moved through cooking ovens and came out on the other side as crispy chips. They still needed to go through a few more processes before they were bagged and ready to sell. At the end of the tour, they gave us free lunch box sized bags of chips and popcorn. It was a fascinating experience.

I wasn't always on board with what was planned and a fine example is when one of our field trips was to a greenhouse. I had no desire in gardening nor plants, but a trip to a massive greenhouse with all my other friends swayed my perspective. It was like wandering through a warm, lush, jungle of many plants I knew all too well and others I did not. We spent a good amount of time there exploring all the plants before we had to move on to the second portion planned for the day. We had a larger group of kids, including my cousins because the next part was spent at Al and Sue's where my grandfather was going to teach us about his carving. I loved watching the kids faces light up as he showed them some of the many birds he had brought forth from a block of wood. The coolest part, however, was that we each were given a bar of soap. Then some charcoal paper to trace an animal design on the soap and an exacto knife to "carve" our creation. I chose a rhinoceros design and managed to get a decent rhino out of that bar of soap; another memento I've hung onto all these years.

We visited many other exciting places over the years that included a few nature centers, movie days at the library, a picnic and fishing at Codorus State Park, a children's science museum, Kid's Kingdom playground, a pottery factory, and many more interesting and fun places. However, field trips were not the only things we did. One summer we had a water day at Alice's. The cast of characters involved were me and my siblings, Maggie and Katherine, Melinda and Joanna, my buddy Joe and his brother Danny, and a few smaller kids that Alice would babysit. It started out with some normal water games like water balloon toss and hose tag, but some newer ones were instituted as well. One of those was a large blanket with water balloons. Every kid grabbed an edge of the blanket and the goal was to 1) use the blanket to toss the water balloons into the air without breaking them and 2) try to break them on someone else if you could. This lead to a lot of chaos and squealing, but a lot of great fun. The day was capped off with swimming in a big above ground pool. Lots of splashing, lots of sharks and minnows, and lots of whirlpool making. That was a fun day.

Not everything always worked out the way it was supposed to. Sometimes rogue weather forced a change of plans or events got cancelled last second for unclear reasons. But the biggest thing for Kid's Club that never came to fruition was a play. All the moms came up with an idea to have all the kids perform a play for all the other parents. The theme was the Oregon Trail and we were a wagon train headed way out west. All of us kids were on board with the idea. We spent a few weeks planning and actually got as far as beginning to write a script. But sometimes, trying a huge project with a lot of young children doesn't always pan out. There were some who didn't want to do it from the start and only agreed to participate if they had a very minor role. Then some decided it was too much work and simply weren't going to do it anymore. Because of this, the story had to change and it caused some tension among other participants. Eventually it became too much and with not that many kids willing to do it anymore, the moms decided to let it go and try other things. Overall it was a good idea and would've been fun if we could've pulled it off, but some things just weren't meant to be. 

The thing I cherished most about all the moms putting this together and keeping it running for so long was that gave us kids an excuse to be and do things together more often. What I didn't mention clearly in previous chapters was that even though we were a tight-knit group, we all went to different schools so it wasn't like we interacted with each other as often as we did with our school friends. Kids Club let us build stronger childhood bonds, go on adventures together, and even provided us with summers that weren't boring. I will add that not every session was sunshine and roses, but that's part of life and happens with anything we do. Kid's Club will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Author's note: The next chapter is going to touch on a very dark and emotional part of my life. I did not want to start off the new year with that being the first entry so I saved it for next month. I did promise when I started this project that I would not only detail the good parts, but I would also share the rough parts as they also shaped who I am. I am warning you now that it will be long, won't be an easy read, and may pull at the heartstrings. We are also coming to a point in my life where there were three very rough years from 2001-2005. I wanted to make you all aware so you know what you are getting into in the coming chapters.

The Story of My Life: Christmas Magic

I love the holidays, especially Christmas. It's essentially a month long holiday from the day after Thanksgiving to the big finale on December 25th. The classic Christmas songs hit the airwaves. TV stations constantly broadcasting Christmas classics. Cities and their grayish gloom from winter's dull touch become adorned with wreathes, ribbons, bows, and trees. Friends and family hold and attend numerous holiday themed events all month long. And every year when it rolls around, I feel as if there's a touch of magic in the air.

Every year, Christmas came in threes for me. Always starting things off was Christmas eve at my grandparents house on my dad's side with my aunt, uncle, and cousins. Then Christmas morning was gifts from my parents and finally a return to my grandparents around lunch time for more Christmas fun, but this time my great aunt and second cousin joined us. Next is a breakdown of what those three events looked like through my eyes.

Christmas Eve put my excitement level at an all time high. Weeks of buildup, helping Grandpa and Grandma Watkins decorate their house including the Christmas tree that would soon have wonderfully wrapped presents beneath them, led to sheer joy overload when the 24th of December made its appearance. My parents would dress up me and my siblings in nice clothes and after dinner, it was off to Grandma's house we went. The lights were twinkling, the table was covered in goodies, and there at the foot of the basement stairs was the tree and it's gifts. We raced down the stairs to find Grandpa either starting or stoking the fire. Once everyone was downstairs and settled, my cousins, some of my siblings, and I would hand out the gifts. Then began the destruction of the wrapping paper, followed by the fun of playing with the shredded paper. To finish off the evening, we'd head back upstairs for cake, cookies, candy, pop, and all the sugar our hearts desired.

Christmas Day usually started with us kids wanting to play with our new treasures from the night before, but we had to add to them with gifts from Mom and Dad. Santa wasn't a big deal for us and we were fine with that, but we tried to do our best not to spoil him for the other kids. As lunchtime approached, and depending on the year, we'd either go back to my grandparent's house or head out to my great aunt's house. There we would enjoy a Christmas lunch followed by another round of gifts. Us kids would spend the rest of the day playing with the new goodies or outside in the snow (if there was any). 

One of our favorite pre-Christmas activities was when our parents bundled us all up after dinner, packed us in the old station wagon, and drove us all over town to see all the different ways the neighbors adorned their houses with twinkling Christmas lights. Some houses went all out with every edge and eave covered in lights, their front yard protected by inflatable snowmen, and good ol' Saint Nick and his reindeer smiling from their roof. Other houses simply had one tree dressed in a rainbow of lights, which may not seem like much, but it was more than we did and it was awesome. As I got older I did come to learn that this was an inexpensive form of entertainment and a good way to have us pass out around bedtime. I still, as a man in my 30s sometimes slowdown by twinkling houses when this time of year rolls around.

With Christmas came traditions. Especially when it came to cookies. We'd joyfully retrieve the Christmas themed cookie cutters as my mom prepared all the baking supplies. Once everything was in place, we'd grab our personal aprons off the hook and get to work. There'd be mixing and stirring and rolling and dough sampling and spoon licking. Our faces would be covered in batter and our hands in flour. Then, as the dough was complete, we would bring forth the Christmas shapes hidden inside it. Snowmen with top hats appeared, as did Christmas trees, candy canes, and of course, the face of Santa Claus. Before the finishing touches could be applied, we had to wait out the baking. We'd know exactly when they were done because back then, we had a little wind-up timer that let out a buzz or ring so loud you could hear it anywhere in the house. It didn't matter if we were watching TV or playing intently, that timer's song was enough to make us drop everything and run to the kitchen. Once the cookies cooled, we began icing them (and eating some of it in the process) with the homemade icing that was made for them. Some were lucky enough to be covered in sprinkles or sugar coating. They wouldn't last long in our house, but when they ran out, simply making more was the way to go.

I don't think that last paragraph was enough to truly portray how serious my family took Christmas cookie making. Every Christmas, without fail, Grandma Watkins would makes many batches of many different arrays of cookies. Any days we spent at her house during December, we'd be tasked with helping, which we didn't mind. Grandpa would help too, but his help consisted of eating the finished products before they could be packaged up. Grandma would scold him and let him know that the more he ate, the less there'd be at Christmas time. But why did she make so many? Because they made the perfect gift to give to many people. The table in the breezeway would be covered in tins filled with cookies until they were delivered to their recipients. To this day, my family still practices the art of cookie making and it's become a staple Christmas tradition for us.

No two Christmases were ever the same, but the magic that came with them was always there. It came in different forms, shapes and sizes, but it always reminded me why I love this season so much. Here are some of those magical moments.

Let's kick things off with the Christmas of 2000. Every year Grandma Watkins wanted a list from us. She didn't care how long it was, just as long as nothing on the list was more than $20. So every year, I went through the Christmas Lego Catalog and made a list of every set I knew my parents would be okay with me having that fell under $20. If I wanted a particular set more than the rest, I put it near the top of the list. However, it was very rare that I received any set close to the $20 value because Grandma and Grandpa like getting us multiple gifts rather than one bigger one. Well in the summer of 2000, Curtis was over at my house and he brought his new Lego set that had just come out out that year. It was part of the new Adventurers line which was my favorite. The set was a large airplane called the Island Hopper. It was the biggest one I had seen and had a lot of bells and whistles. I was in awe of the two large propellers on the front, the secret compartment in the back, and it even came with a Lego Pterodactyl. I think I talked my mom's ear off about it that summer, but didn't think I had a chance at getting it because it cost exactly $20. I spent the rest of the year looking at it in the Lego catalogs and dreaming about how I'd play with it if I owned it. December eventually arrived and Grandma asked for a list. I put together probably one of the longest lists I had ever made. My memory isn't 100% here, but I'm pretty sure I did not put the Island Hopper on the list because I thought I wouldn't get it. Christmas Eve came as it normally did and once at Grandpa and Grandma's, I was excited to hand out the gifts. I zoomed back and forth from the tree to the person whose name was on the To/From tag. Even though I had handled most of the gifts with my name on them, none stood out to me. I decided to open the smaller ones first to build up to the "better" gifts. After a few oohs and aahs, I grabbed what I deemed to be a medium sized present. I tore into it wondering what it could be. The first tear was enough to freeze me in my seat. I couldn't believe what I was staring at. I let out a shout of joy and tore off the rest of the paper. There in my hands was the Island Hopper. It took me totally by surprise and hit me with a blast of sheer joy. I ran around the room showing my mom, dad, uncle, aunt, and grandparents. They all knew as they were in on it. That big, beautiful plane was mine and would be fully assembled by the end of Christmas Day. This was most certainly one of those Christmases where the one single, thoughtful gift made Christmas a memorable one. The Island Hopper is still proudly displayed in my room to this very day.

The year eludes me, but sometime in the mid 90s, one Christmas in particular was memorable not because of the gifts alone, but because of all the events leading up to it. The first occurred on a chilly night. My parents dressed me up in a nice vest, dress shirt, and dress pants. We then went to a holiday party where My Uncle Randy, Aunt Tina, and cousin Dave also were. It may have been a company party or special church party, but that didn't matter to me. There was a large, decorated tree in the corner that lit up that section of the room. Next to it was a device that was meant to return golf balls putted into it. I'm pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be left out as no clubs nor balls were in sight. Dave and I discovered it after the dinner. Since we didn't have golf balls, we used pieces of corn left over from our plates and set them in the return machine. We then put pressure on the plate to trick the device into thinking a ball was inside. The device would then flip it's flipper and send our corn kernels flying much to our delight. Christmas music played throughout the night and at one point, a man dressed as Santa Claus showed up. All the kids in attendance were lined up in front of him. I some how ended up in the front of the line. I was scared and didn't want to go first so I ran to the back of the line. As I watched the other kids go, I saw nothing to fear. As soon as they set me on his lap, he asked me what I wanted and I didn't know how to say the name of the hot wheels car track I wanted, so I told him that I wanted super zooming cars that went on a crazy tracked and zoomed everywhere. He nodded his head, said Ho Ho Ho and Merry Christmas. Spoiler alert, I didn't get it because I'm pretty sure it was the most expensive hot wheels track that year and I don't think I told my parents. That night may have been the last time I ever sat on a strange man's lap who was dressed as Santa. It was also the earliest Christmas party I can recall attending and as a child, made me appreciate this season much more. 

Later that month, a large package showed up on our doorstep. It was early Christmas presents from my Uncle Bob and Aunt Cici in Wisconsin. It was filled to the brim with stuffed animals. One was a bear with overalls that I thought was strange but awesome at the same time. I named him PJ. PJ didn't supplant Bernie Bear, but he was part of many childhood adventures. As Christmas drew closer, my parents took us to a retail store known as Hills to do some Christmas shopping. Normally this meant we would get to see all the Christmas decorations the store had for sale and to ogle the toys in the toy aisles. Some toys had holes in the plastic with a "try me" button to give you a taste of what the toy could do without opening it. I didn't care that we weren't spending money, I always had a blast. This time was a little different. We had been given some Christmas money and could get one thing. As we wandered the aisles, there was a stack of boxes with the toy that was inside them displayed on top. I knew immediately that was what I wanted. I didn't even need to look at the other toys in the store. On top of that massive pile sat a black monster truck called "Buffalo". The magic about it was that it was remote controlled. In the 90s, the remote controlled cars made by Tyger Toys were all the rage. And I was going home with one. You better believe I ran that thing until the batteries died and needed replaced. Since it had big tires with rubber spikes, I could drive it across grassy terrain. So of course I did. Never did I imagine that simple trip to a retail store would be a wonderful Christmas memory burned into my mind for ages to come.

Christmas Eve and Day that year seemed like the best Christmas I ever had simply to everything that led up to it. One thing I haven't mentioned about my grandparent's house is that every year my grandma would put out a plastic dish tree on the table. Each little dish would hold a hershey kiss or reese's peanutbutter cup as the "decorations". Grandma would let us fill that tree and the rule was that if you ate a decoration, you had to replace it. It was simple, yet an important part of each and every Christmas. 

I have other Christmas memories I am going to share, but those I was to save for as we move along in the timeline because they were instrumental to those years of my life. I hope you have a wonderful holiday season and goodwill and blessing to you all. 

Vaya Con Dios Enrique

A little over 10 years ago an older friend, Jose, called and told me he had met a young person not far from where he lived and that young person would be joining our youth group for our Fall Harvest Day. That young person was Enrique. Only in 7th grade at the time, he was a well spoken, bright young man whose presence could be sensed from a mile away. Normally for the Fall Harvest event, we would go to a large farm-like property and spend the afternoon there doing all sorts of activities and eating all kinds of delicious food. This year was a little different as we decided to do a little gospel sharing first. In this case we went door knocking. I was unsure of how Enrique would handle being with a bunch of strangers knocking on the doors of strangers. As we went out, he had fliers in his hands and placed them on doors when no one answered. Eventually we asked him if he'd be willing to talk to the next person who opened a door. I was expecting him to say no, but he jumped right in and executed his greeting flawlessly. To say I was impressed would be an understatement,

Thankfully his introduction to us didn't scare him off. In fact he kept coming back and became an integral part of our youth group throughout his remaining Jr. high and high school years. He and my brother Stephen became pretty fast friends so I saw him more often than most. Through my interactions, I found out that he loved football and like me was a Philadelphia Eagles fan. We'd invite him to watch games and we would talk Eagles football for hours. 

In the summer of 2014, we took our youth to an Indians baseball game and Enrique came along. It was a day game, it was hot, and our seats were in the sun. There was almost no offense as both teams only scored 1 run each all game. After nine innings of play, the teams were still tied and headed into extra innings. The opposing team quickly took the lead and the small crowd that remained thought it was over. In the bottom of the 10th, the Indians managed to load the bases, but had two outs and Nick Swisher had two strikes. Then the opposing pitcher threw a meatball and Swisher didn't miss. I jumped in jubilation as I got to see my first grand slam sail over the fence in person. I then hear Enrique groan "Finally!" I looked at him funny and said "Don't you realize what you just saw?" He gave me a dead stare and said "We won and now we can go home. It's hot and I'm tired." All I could do was laugh because there was no reasoning with him.

Speaking of meatballs, Enrique loved those too. So much so in fact, that for a period of time, it became his most commonly used word. I would ask him how he was doing and he'd respond in a funny accent "Meatball". If I asked him what he was eating, sometimes he would say "meatball" even if it wasn't. And then there were times I'd try to get a longer response about something and would only get "Meatball." Thanks to Enrique, every time I eat a meatball, I can't help but think about him.

Sometimes we'd butt heads in disagreement and Enrique had a unique way of going about it. If things got to a boiling point, instead of raging or going into wrestling mode, Enrique would start shouting at me in Spanish knowing darn well I couldn't understand or properly respond to anything he was saying . Some of those arguments ended with me laughing and him still refusing to speak English until we were on better terms.

After high school, Enrique took a different path and I didn't see him much anymore. I still thought about him often and tried to reach out every now and then, but it was hard to keep in touch. Then, a little over two years ago, he reached out to me directly. I can't tell you how much joy I felt to hear from him. Shortly after, he showed up to help drive some of our kids out to an event in Willoughby. When I saw him walk through those meeting hall doors, I didn't say hi. I walked straight up to him and gave him a big hug. I rode in his truck to Willoughby that night and we talked the whole way catching up on all the lost years. I learned about his HVAC work and of course we talked a lot about the Philadelphia Eagles. Being able to spend time with him again was a breath of fresh air and I'm so glad I treasured that because I did not know it then, but that night would be the last time I saw him.

I received a call this past Sunday morning that Enrique had unexpectedly passed away. It came without warning and I couldn't believe it. Processing it was hard as I was tasked with breaking the news to others around me that knew him. Losing anyone is hard, but even more so before the age of 30.  

One of the things I loved most about Enrique was his heart. From a young age, he was always willing to help and cared a lot about the people around him. As he matured into a young man, he was definitely a people first, me second kind of guy. When we needed someone to run the sound equipment for Sunday services, he jumped onboard. It was rare to ask him to help move stuff or clean-up because he was already involved before you could. 

The other major aspect of Enrique that was so special was that he had become a man after God's heart. I was there when we baptized him and it was special. When I read through the facebook posts and listened to people talking about him at his visitation hours, they talked about his passion for God and love of Christ. Being one who has served youth all these years, nothing gives me more joy than seeing a young person commit their life to Christ. 

Enrique's time on this earth was really short and provides another reminder that tomorrow is never given and life is truly a blessing. Vaya con Dios Enrique, until we meet again my dear friend.

The Story of My Life: The New Millennium Has Arrived

If you were to ask me which year had the most spectacular new year's celebration worldwide, it was hands down when 1999 gave way to the year 2000. To say you were alive at the birth of a new Millennium is not a mundane feat. And spoiler alert, the dreaded computer crash never happened. Being 9 years old meant no extravagant parties for me, but watching the world celebrate on TV was thrilling. NYC was more hyped than ever with even larger crowds, the best and brightest in the entertainment industry putting on performances of a lifetime, and the glitz and glamor was on overload. London was ablaze with with a brilliant fireworks display over Big Ben. Sydney, Australia one-upped them with their own legendary fireworks display, so much so that you could see the Opera House clear as day. Many more extravagant parties were happening all over the globe as 2000 was welcomed and we sadly said goodbye to the 90s.

The summer of 2000 was another special one for me as two major things happened. First, the summer Olympics returned and they were in Sydney, Australia. This was the first year I gained an interest in them and fell in love with everything that they were. The swimming was unreal that year with legendary Aussie swimmer Ian Thorpe (The Thorpedo) flat out dominating in the pool. But little did he know that a new legend was making his first appearance and would challenge him for years to come. That man was Michael Phelps. Sydney put on an exciting Olympic games that would be memorable for years to come.

The second memorable moment was that for the first time in four years, my family returned to Wisconsin. Instead of one week, we stayed for three. And those three weeks were a huge up and down roller coaster that would give me life experience for years to come. As a child, spending three weeks on a farm out in the country and away from home was both a blessing and a struggle. Being able to play with so many pets, explore big open land, go fishing and boating more times than I could count, and spending a lot of time with family I don't get to see often added to my growth. But because I also was dealing with anxiety issues and the fact my dad couldn't stay the whole three weeks made some days harder than others as I dealt with my struggles and homesickness. With all that in mind, let's dive into the memories of these three weeks.

Farm cats are always in plentiful supply and this year was no exception. There were three generations of calico cats. The third was a kitten that stole the show. It was white with orange fluff spots. At the time of our arrival, I don't think it had a name. But my aunt Cici picked him up one night when he managed to sneak into the house and I swore I heard her say "Come here you little melon." From that point on, I called the kitten Melon and the name stuck. Thankfully Melon was slightly understanding of children because every time we returned from an outing, as soon as we saw him, the first one to him got the rights to hold him. With five children all wanting a turn, that poor kitten was passed around like dishes on thanksgiving. But he was a tough cookie and graciously put up with us.

What would three weeks in the country be without fishing and swimming right? Lucky for us, my Great Uncle Wally and Great Aunt Lorena had a cabin by the lake. They had it well stocked with pool toys and a nice dock that were were able to run and cannonball off of until our hearts were content. The fishing off the dock was pretty good too. One afternoon, after I decided I had done enough swimming for the day, me and my brothers took out the fishing poles and tried our luck. Baiting the hooks with earthworms that we had dug up on the farm, we casted those lines towards the lily pads. The sunfish must've been mighty hungry as they were gobbling up our worms faster than we could bait them. We caught a decent lot of them and were placing them in a large Styrofoam cooler that had water inside of it. By the time we were done, we probably had 10-15 fish inside. We left it on on the shore near the edge of the water by the dock. Later, when I came to get them to take home, I found the lid half off and only one dead fish inside. I was flabbergasted and wondered how so many fish could disappear. The truth was never fully known, but apparently my mom thought they weren't getting enough air and opened the lid partially. Then, since the cooler was so close to the shore, the waves rocked it enough that maybe gave the fish a chance to jump out. That's the theory anyway because no one could explain the complete disappearance of that many fish. 

I loved collecting things. Hot Wheels cars and Legos being the two most desired during those days. I managed to start three new collections while living on the farm. The first was pop cans. The room I was staying in had this nice wall shelf at the foot of the bed. It was a perfect place for storing empty pop cans. And since my mom's side of the family loved that fizzy drink more than anyone I knew, I was able to fill that shelf with many colorful cans. The second thing I began collecting was stamps. I had no intention of doing so at first, but when my aunt Cici gave me a small baggie filled with them, lets just say I went on a stamp collecting craze. Any piece of mail that came with a stamp I didn't have, I claimed the discarded envelope, tore off the corner with the stamp, floated it off in warm water, and added it to my collection. While they aren't worth anything due to being used, there's a lot of history tied to them. I stopped adding to my collection years ago, but that collection reminds me of bygone eras and the fun I had acquiring them. The third and final thing is something you probably wouldn't suspect. Newspaper clippings of Snoopy statues. I loved the comics as a kid, especially the ones that came in the paper. My grandfather was also a big fan and would always show me the ones that he liked the best. Peanuts was one of them and was one of the most famous comic strips. Snoopy was my favorite character in that strip. In the year 2000, Charles Schulz, the cartoonist who created Peanuts, passed away. As a tribute to him, the state of Minnesota erected a lot of Snoopy statues around St. Paul. Because of the area my mom's family lived in, they received a local newspaper that reflected things of Minnesota. Each daily paper had a picture on the front of a different Snoopy statue. I thought they were the coolest things ever and cut each new one out, hoping to one day see them. Cutting these out and looking at them also helped with my bouts of homesickness I would be subdued by during our trip. I still have all those clippings in a box in my parent's attic to this day.

My cousins at this time were living just down the road. The youngest, Aaron, would come over to the farm almost daily to play with us. We were always coming up with different things to do. Some days he'd want to go clay pigeon hunting. There was a big marshy field at the bottom of a large hill where my uncles and other friends would shoot clay pigeons over. Not all of them would be shot, nor break when they hit the ground, so Aaron took this as an opportunity to collect them. Now the vegetation out there was extremely tall and Aaron was concerned with getting lost. So he'd have me sit on top of the hill and every once in awhile, he'd toss a broken piece of clay pigeon in the air and ask if I could see it. If I did, he knew he was still in range of the edge, if I couldn't, he had gone too far. Sometimes I wouldn't respond as I'd get distracted by the the occasional bird or pesky bug. Aaron wouldn't be to pleased, but what did you expect from a 9 year old?

Life can throw curveballs sometimes and I experienced two of them during this trip. One was a learning experience, and one was a scary experience. As much as I loved to fish, I had not yet learned (nor did I want to) how to take a fish off the hook. One day we were at my great Aunt May's and I was fishing off the dock. I began hauling in tiny panfish left and right. After I caught one, I would run back down the dock and up to one of the adults seated up by the house. I would as them to take it off, then I'd run back down to the dock with both the pole and fish in my hands, trying my best not to drop either, and then giving the fish a heave-ho into the lake. This process was repeating itself frequently enough that Aunt Cici finally had enough. The next fish I brought her she refused to take off. She sternly told me "I showed you how to do it and now you have to do it yourself. If you want to catch fish, you have to learn how to let them go as well." I began throwing a fit. The tears came flowing as I was afraid the fish was going to die. Aunt Cici still refused to help. If I wanted to save that poor tiny fish, I had to do it myself. I sat down on the dock and carefully wiggled the hook. In a matter of seconds, it was no longer in the fish's mouth. The fish sensed this, gave two kicks of its tail and flopped towards freedom, back into the lake. The terror that enveloped me turned into relief and satisfaction. I was now a true fisherman. From that point forward, I had no problems releasing my own fish...well except for the ones that swallowed the hook. 

The scary experience happened one evening after dinner. My grandfather, some of my uncles, and a few other family friends were all out talking by the feed barn. I was bored and went over to see what they were doing. There was two-wheel boat trailer propped up against the barn. I went and stood by it as that was the best spot to hear what they were saying. Eventually I got tired of standing still and leaned up against the feed barn, or so I thought. I was suddenly being forced to the ground at an alarming speed. I knew I was pinned and I heard a bunch of wild shouting all around me. Then I felt the weight that was on me disappear and a pair of strong arms stand me up. It took me a moment to realize I had leaned against the boat trailer, caused it to fall forward, and pin me to the ground. Thankfully, I managed to avoid all the extended parts and the slow fall only caused a small bump on the back of my head where the trailer initially caught me. I was also grateful there were a lot of strong arms nearby to get it off me quickly or who knows how badly that could've turned out. 

On one of my down days, Uncle Bob took me in his pick-up truck to go up into the fields and check the gopher traps. Apparently, the gophers were digging holes and were damaging the crops. That truck bounced and jostled all over the place as we climbed our way up the narrow and slightly eroded trail. Eventually the truck came to a stop and as I climbed out, I could already see the holes in the ground. My uncle went over and pulled two traps out of two holes. Each one had successfully caught a gopher. I asked him what he was going to do with them and he said "Give them to the cats." I was feeling a bit nauseous and didn't want to ride in the truck the whole way back, so I picked the two gophers up by the tails and walked all the way back down the trail to the barn where the cats were. As soon as I called for them, they came running out knowing a treat was waiting for them. I didn't want to see the cats actually eat the gophers, so I set them down quickly and ran off. Later when I returned, there was not a gopher remnant to be found. 

One last memory I want to share is the day my Uncle Duane, Aunt Linda, and Aaron went to the county fair. It was probably the first one I had been to. The day was overcast and drizzled on and off, but that didn't quell the fun Aaron and I had. We saw many animals, rode some crazy rides, and sampled the delicious fair food. At one point, Duane gave us a few bucks to play some carnival games. Aaron and I gravitated to the cork-gun game where you had to shoot pop cans to try and win a prize. I believe I hit 3 out of my four shots and watched as those cans plunked off their shelves. I ended up with a couple of colorful feather clips and a basketball made from teddy-bear material. That was a great day.

We had many more adventures during that trip which included many campfires, s'more making, more lakes that we swam and fished in, lots of exploring, food, and family. Eventually it was time to head back to Pennsylvania with 20ish hours of driving ahead of us. It would be another four years before we returned, but what an incredible 3 weeks I had.

There were many other small moments that helped usher in the hope that came with the new millennium, but the return to Wisconsin was by far the biggest impact in my life that year. Stay tuned dear reader because next month I will be sharing my favorite pre-2000 Christmas memories with you all. 

The Story of My Life: Labor Day Shenanigans

Labor Day never had the allure that July 4th, Thanksgiving, and Christmas did. But I looked forward to it every year because that weekend was a mini vacation for me. A lot of the church groups that came together at Camp Wabanna twice a year also held a weekend church conference in the Washington D.C. area every Labor Day weekend. There was no giant lodge for everyone to stay in. Instead, many of the locals in the D.C. area opened their homes to those coming from out of town. I loved it because it meant eating food I normally didn't get to eat, playing with toys I didn't own, getting slightly spoiled by our host family, and making new friends. It was the moments I spent in these homes that I remember the most.

The first host family I recall staying with were the Kings (yes that was their real surname). They had two daughters who were much older than I, named Jennifer and Joanna. In the down times between meetings and in the evenings after they meetings, they would play with us, but they were more like older sisters than baby sitters. I spent a lot of time in their basement because that's where all the toys were. There was a door down there that led to a storage room. On the front of it where very bold warning signs that read "Beware of Vampires!" Do Not Enter...poisonous snakes!" "Angry Sleeping Bears". There were at least six of those and I asked my dad if they were real. He sighed and said they were meant to be a joke. 

That basement was also part of one of the most legendary moments in Watkins kids history. During one of the evening meetings, my Dad decided to stay back at the house with us. My dad, my siblings, and I were all playing in the basement when we all noticed Nathaniel had suddenly disappeared. For perspective, he was a toddler. Upon noticing that he was missing, we turned around and found him at the bottom of the stairs. We all stared in disbelief. His face and hands were completely covered in blue icing, with cake fragments oozing between his little fingers. Then out of his mouth came his two most famous words..."Got cake." I ran over and saw that the beige carpeted stairs had a trail of blue icing all the way up to the top. My dad and I followed the trail up to the kitchen the find that the leftover birthday cake that had been left out on the counter displayed evidence that toddler hands had been in it. My poor dad had to spend the next hour or so cleaning all the rich blue icing out of the carpet and off Nathaniel. When everyone finally came back for the night, my dad explained what happened and the Kings were very understanding especially since the cake was leftover. To this day it's one of our favorite stories to tell as it was quite epic.

The King's generous hospitality kept on giving. One night after a long day, Jennifer and Joanna got all of us kids into the living room, sat us in these huge, comfy, black chairs and popped in one of my favorite Disney movies of all time. Robin Hood. I called it Robin Hood the Fox to distinguish it from the much older real life movies and literature. To be able to watch that movie on a bigger screen than a tiny tube TV and in those large chairs made me feel as if I was in a movie theater. They also allowed me to play on their computer where I discovered a lot of fun games like Gizmos and Gadgets, Freddie the Fish, and fun little battle tank game. I was in childhood heaven.

After back to back years of staying with the Kings, the third time around was something else. We stayed with a new family known as the Millers. The Millers were like us and had a large family as well. I don't remember exactly how many kids they had, but I think it was at least 6. So imagine a house of four adults and at least 11 kids. It was both pure bliss and chaos. One of their younger boys, Kyle, was about my age. We hit it off really quick and spent a lot of time playing with legos and pokemon cards. One of my favorite memories was actually coming back from a meeting. My parents were driving an 90s Chevrolet Caprice station wagon. It was blue and had a backwards facing bench seat in the trunk. As my Dad put it, that car was a bad investment, but us kids loved it. This time, Kyle and I were sitting on the backwards bench seat. We were cracking jokes at the most ridiculous things as we noticed them. Suddenly, the wind whipped a helpless plastic bag right across the back of our car. Kyle then said something about a wimpy bag and I lost it. I wish I could recall the full context of the joke, but being there at the birth of an inside joke is something truly magical. 

Something else pivotal happened at this conference. Wesley asked why we never stayed at his house during the conferences. I didn't know, but made up some story that the people in charge placed you where they felt best and if you wanted to stay in a specific place, you had to be request it. He asked if we could request them. A lightbulb went off in my brain. I told my dad after the conference that we should request to stay at Wesley's place each year. Actually I begged him. At the time, the situation seemed bleak. But come one year later, as we were preparing to leave, my dad came up to me with a grin. "Guess where we're staying!" he said. "Where?!" I asked excitedly. "Wesley's house!" Like a pinball launched off a flipper, I began bouncing off the walls. And here's the kicker. Every year after that for the Labor Day conference, that's where we stayed. When him and I were together, shenanigans were bound to ensue. 

Wesley was big into anything military related. He had toy soldiers, guns, helmets, and pretty much all the bells and whistles. I guess it makes sense as he eventually joined the Navy when he was old enough. When the weather was good, we'd don the plastic green and sand colored toy helmets and find the perfect spot to set up our base. We'd pretend we were fighting in historic wars and even fictional ones where we were the stone cold generals who led our armies to great victories. Sometimes the enemies would be our unsuspecting siblings who were not even included in our fictional battle. We'd pretend to attack them from afar and they were "eliminated" if they didn't notice our shenanigans. However, our mission would fail if they caught on. His sister Bonnie was our primary target most of the time. Actually some of our games involved messing with her because we were deep into the "boys rule and girls drool" phase. It was never malicious and she sometimes got us back. One time when Wesley and Bonnie were arguing, Bonnie said something that caused Wes to unload a phrase I used throughout the rest of my childhood. He stared her down and like a machine gun unleashed, he fired the words "I am rubber, you are glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you." The dagger had been thrown. All Bonnie could do was stick her tongue out and storm off. Wesley let out an evil cackle as he claimed victory. 

Like the Kings before, Wesley's house was like a kid's paradise. They had an in-ground pool which we utilized extensively. They had a camper trailer that they let us sleep out in one night instead of in the house. And they also had a computer that Wesley had a lot of games on. It was here I was introduced to Roller Coaster Tycoon, Sim City, and the ever classic Ages of Empires. Their mom, Cindy, also pulled out all the stops when it came to breakfast. When Reese's Puffs were released, she made sure to stock up on a few boxes for us. Reese's Puffs are still one of my go-to cereals. 

The children's service meetings were a whole different story. When young children are placed with a large group of their friends, things could go in any direction. Wesley would constantly be challenging others to a battle of wits. Chess matches could get intense. And creating games out of the limited things at our disposal was a common pastime. It was in one of these children service craft times that I taught myself how to fold a paper airplane. Followed promptly by attaching objects to it to make it more like a missile that I could launch at people.

I wish my mind would release other memories it is holding hostage from these days as there were some moments that shaped me. One last highlight was at the end of one of the conferences, before we made the drive back to Pennsylvania, Wesley's family took us to the Potomac River. I remember gazing in awe at the raging river and then promptly begin rock hopping. That short experience was a perfect way to cap off another labor day conference. What a time it was to be alive.

The Story of My Life: Camp Wabanna and a Life Changer

Nestled on a small peninsula in Maryland directly off the Chesapeake Bay, sat a large, but quaint camp known as Camp Wabanna. Beginning in 1997, our church along with other sister churches on the east coast decided to have a bi-annual retreat and this was the chosen location. Sitting on 23 acres, the camp consisted of a large lodge, many bunkhouses and lodging areas, a gymnasium, beaches, a craft house, a small farm, and many other interesting facilities.

I always looked forward to visiting Camp Wabanna because it meant many fun activities, a road trip, seeing all my friends from the DC area, and so much more. We almost always went down in a three car caravan. Al and Sue drove one of their cars, my parents drove another (usually the Ford Aspen) and Alice drove her camper van with her daughters Melinda and Joanna. That camper van was incredible. It was built to go on long road and camping trips so one could live in it. The bench seats were parallel to the wall, facing  a little table in the middle. Behind the bench seats were windows with curtains we could open and close at will. It was always a treat for us to ride in it especially on long car trips.

Whenever we went, the first night was always simply check in and settle down. But if you were feeling ambitious, they'd have a campfire on the beach, where a small group would gather and enjoy some songs and the sound of the crashing waves. We decided to check it out once and we met up with the Bishops there. Wesley and I spent most of the time hopping around on the empty log seats, possibly annoying some adults in the process. Eventually our parents decided it was time to get us off to bed, but right before we left, Wes and I sat down on a log and he he pulled a small stack of cards out of his coat. "Have you heard of Pokemon?" he asked. I told him no as this was 1998 and the game had just landed on US shores, but the craze hadn't erupted yet. He explained what it was and gave me two cards to start a collection. I received a Weedle and a Drowzee. I thought these were the coolest thing ever and my introduction to Pokemon had officially begun.

A typical daily schedule of events looked like this: Breakfast in a large room in the main lodge (or in a large outdoor tent), morning meeting for adults, kids to children's service, lunch, afternoon was a free-for-all full of activities, dinner, adult meeting and kids in children's service, and finally end of day. The schedule sometimes varied depending on circumstance, but that was the general plan. 

From my perspective, there were no boring moments throughout the day. You might think that the meal times would produce some yawns, but on the contrary, they were always exciting. I was able to interact with many different people because we weren't split up into age groups. I would usually gravitate towards kids playing a Gameboy or whomever Wesley was eating with (if not me). Sometimes I would be at a table with kids whose parents thought the best form of entertainment were dad jokes and they usually were. Every once in awhile, something unusual would happen including a scary moment. The incident happened one of the years we ate in a large outdoor tent. The morning announcements had just been made and the staff was preparing to serve the food when a nearby golf cart motor roared to life. No one thought anything of it until someone on the staff shouted "Oh my god there's a kid on there!" Lot's of people stood up to see what was going on as the staff raced out of the tent to attempt to wrangle the wayward golf cart going in circles with a young boy at the helm. Much to everyone's relief, one managed to jump into the rogue golf cart, ease it to a stop, and return the boy safely to his terrified but relieved father. Then came the thunderous applause from everyone in the tent for the heroic actions of the staff. It was a happy ending to a scary moment.

During the adult meetings, which took place in the Lodge, the kids were left with a handful of adults in various designated places. Sometimes we ended up in a small building with a lot of chairs where some people would play instruments while we would all sing songs. Then a Bible lesson would be given and my favorite ones were when the lesson-givers created a skit. Watching adults be silly and goofy had us enthralled and was even better when they used some of us kids in their skits. After that portion, we'd be split into groups. Some of us would end up in the craft hall and the rest in a large gymnasium. If we found ourselves in the craft hall, we would spend the time constructing a craft based on the bible stories we just heard. Some were cool and some not so much, but either way we were proud of our creations and ended up excitedly showing them to our parents. Some crafts made the trip back home, some did not, and most ended up being thrown out eventually as they became interesting pieces of clutter. The gym, however, was the best part of the whole children's service. This was the place where we got to burn energy, play large group games we normally didn't get to play, and really get to know a lot of new kids. It was at this very camp that my out-of-state friend circle grew. Wesley knew many of these kids beforehand because they lived close to him in Fairfax, VA. Sure enough, I made some fast friends who I could always have a good time with on trips like this. The short list of those people include Andrew B. and his older sister Renee, Paul G. and two of his sisters Mary and Elizabeth, Rebecca G., Kyle M. and his older brother Morgan, and Asher W.

The first half of gym time always consisted of organized group games that the adults set up and we had to play. Sometimes they were fun and other times they were torture. One game in particular is one I will never understand why adults thought it was a good idea to play with mixed age groups, sometimes themselves included. It is none other than the classic game of Red Rover. The game was simple. Split the group into two teams with the same number of people on each team. Then everyone would line up side by side about 50ft from the other team and face them. Each team would then link hands and spread out as far as their wingspan would go. One team would be declared it and they would call out "Red Rover Red Rover, send (name of person on the other team) over!" That person would then let go of their chain and charge full speed at the other team's chain and try to break it by running through a pair of linked hands. If the chain broke, the runner would get to choose one of the two people in the broken link to join their side. If the chain held, the runner had to become part of the opposing chain's team. The winner was declared when a runner broke the last link of the final two people on a team. Now when this game was played with just kids my size and my age, we had tons of fun trying to crash trough each other's arms. But when we were the smallest ones there, the bigger kids targeted our arms because they were the easiest to break through and it was near impossible for us to separate their arms. One of the times we played, poor Wesley got clothes-lined when he went for what he thought was the lowest chain link and ended up smacking his head into the arm link and going down. He ended up being fine, except for maybe a bruised ego. I don't think I managed to break through any arms that day either. 

The real fun began when we could play our own games. The gym had basketball courts, volleyball nets, and floor hockey goals. The most popular games were Knockout and floor hockey. For floor hockey, we'd pick teams schoolyard style naming two captains and they take turns picking players. We never had to worry about uneven numbers or someone not getting picked because we let everyone play and it was pure chaos. Imagine 20 kids with hockey sticks as a mass horde charging a bouncing ball or puck. Sure kids fell, crashed into each other and got the occasional whack from a poorly placed stick, but no one took it personal. One time I had a really good game and scored a few goals. Sometimes we wouldn't play a game, but instead have someone stand in the goal and see how many shots they could stop. No pads. We were hardcore.

After the adult meeting ended, our parents would come get us and we'd go get lunch. Then came the afternoon free-for-all. This meant a few hours of doing whatever you and your family decided to do. If you wanted to take a nap, you could do that. Explore the camp? You could do that too. The camp also offered tons of fun things to do. You could go paddle-boating or canoeing in the bay, rock climbing in the gym, horseback riding, hiking, and so much more. The first time I tried rock climbing, I failed to make it to the bell. But the next time we went, I was determined to ring it. I went fast and furious up that wall, but about the halfway point I started to struggle. I took a minute to get back in the groove and continued upward. The bell was in reach. I was going to ring it! But then my muscles started to ache. My sweaty palms started to slip. Was I really going to be denied this close? I forced my body to make one last grab, gave myself a little boost, swung my hand at the bell and heard the sweet, sweet "DING!" I felt like a legend in that moment. And to prove it wasn't a fluke, after a few minutes rest, I went up the wall again and rang the bell a second time. I was on top of the world that day.

One year they had a special pendulum swing. You had to be a certain age and sign up for a time slot. Once it was your turn, they put you in a harness, attached you to a release cable, and pulled you until you were at a high angle off the ground. Then, whenever you were ready, you'd pull the release handle and let gravity do the rest. Instant freefall and sheer thrill. Unfortunately I was too scared to try it at the time, but Wesley did it and had a blast. 

The swing-set was a popular place for kids my age to go. There was one year where Wesley, Morgan, Rebecca, and I would claim all of the swings and spend most of the time swinging away and talking about Pokemon. We would kill what seemed like hours doing this and usually ended by seeing who could jump the furthest off the swings. 

The afternoon time was followed by dinner and then the last adult meeting of the day. For this time, they sent all the kids straight to the gym and had everything done in there. The singing, the stories, the group activities, and the free-for-all. To me, the evening times were way better than the morning ones, but it was at one of these times where my life would take a drastic turn.

I had a love/hate relationship with thunderstorms as a kid. In the summer, they were the coolest thing ever and fun to play in after the lightning stopped. But if they happened in the dead of night in a place where I was far from home, I couldn't stand them. One of my irrational fears as a kid was being in a place where an ocean, river, or lake would severely flood the area. During one of the evening times, all of us kids were in the gym. It was a free-for-all period and due to it being hot out, they had the large doors pulled open to let some air in. Wesley, my siblings, and Melinda and Joanna were occupied with other activities. I can't remember what I was doing, but I remember hearing the low rumble of thunder in the distance. I went over to one of the open doors and saw large black clouds coming off the ocean. I looked back into the gym and saw the chaos of happy children, running, playing, and being obnoxious and also saw that the small number of serving adults didn't have an eye on every kid. These adults were not my parents and to me, it didn't seem as if they cared about the coming storm. Fearing the storm and not knowing what was going to happen, I decided to put a plan in motion and plot my next move. I casually walked just outside the garage door and began staring at the vending machine, acting as if I was going to buy something. Then I managed to fully conceal myself behind it, peeking back into the gym to see if anyone noticed. No one had. Then at the next rumble of thunder, I bolted. I ran as hard as my little legs could carry me across the open field towards the lodge. I didn't look back until I had made it to the lodge doors. Once there, I looked behind and saw that not a single adult had come after me. Not one. I weaved my way through the lodge to the doors of the meeting room. I slowly pulled it open and saw hundreds of people listening to the speaker. The speaker was making closing remarks and then noticed me. He said something along the lines of "It appears that a storm is coming and I think it's time to pick up the kids as one has shown up. Hundreds of eyes turned upon me. A terrifying moment became more terrifying. My mom and Alice recognized me and rushed over. They asked me who brought me here and I told them no one. I said I saw the storm coming and ran over here. Concerned for the rest of my siblings and Melinda and Joanna, they brought me to Dad and then took off towards the gym. Right as they made it to the gym, the storm came sweeping through the camp. Loud thunder, violent lightning, and high winds thrashed about. It took out the power. None of the kids that were in the gym were able to leave as it was the safest place to be until the storm passed. All I could think about was what would've happened if I had stayed there. I was concerned for my siblings and friends, but I was more concerned for myself. Finally the storm passed, but the power wasn't restored right away. My mom and Alice eventually returned with everyone else in one piece. Everything should've been fine...but it wasn't.

That terrifying experience that I went through caused me to develop cruel anxiety. Because no adults kept an eye on me in a scary situation and because not a single one came after me as I fled, made it incredibly hard to trust adults who weren't close friends or family. I don't fault those adults now as I realize they were short-handed and had way too many kids to handle, but to let a kid under the age of ten escape without notice could've made for a bad situation. The anxiety that I developed from this experience ruled over my life the rest of my pre-teen years and into my early teenage years. It impacted the way I acted, experiences and opportunities that came my way, as well as many other facets of my life. It ruined a lot of things for me and it began before the turn of the millennia. 

Now I don't want to end this chapter on a sour note, so I'll end with this. Camp Wabanna will always hold a special place in my heart. It allowed me to experience life outside my small little world in Pennsylvania. I got to experience many little joys of life that I didn't get to otherwise. I had the best of times with dear friends I only got to see a few times a year and we always picked up where we left off. Many of them I haven't seen since childhood and the memories of this camp reminds me of all the fun we had in those days. There are more small stories I could tell, but I may save those for another time. 

The Story of My Life: Saying Goodbye to the 90s

I hope you enjoyed those themed segments of memories, but a brief intermission for the normal timeline. I've already discussed most of the important tales from 96 and 97. Now it's time to enter the last two years of the 90s. I didn't know it then, but the 90s giving way to a new millennium was the end of a decade that meant the world to me.

1998 made a big splash with the arrival of Pokemon to the US shores. It had already been released in Japan since 1996, but once the craze was introduced here, we couldn't get enough. The games, cards, and toys flew off the shelves. Burger King introduced the creatures as a toy in kids meals and they sold out in hours all across the US. Kids couldn't get enough of a digital world where you could go adventure, capture strange, but charming creatures, and battle with them. Pokemon cards were a hot commodity which kids collected as many as they could to try and get them all. The search for the ever elusive holographic Charizard caused gullible parents to spend a lot of money on packs of cards hoping their kid would pull it. Unlike the Beanie Baby craze, this one had some weight. Because today in 2021, Pokemon is still going strong and those in my generation who are now adults are getting hit with the nostalgia of their youth and buying up cards everywhere. That holographic Charizard in near perfect condition goes for $300,000 online! Imagine if your kid was lucky enough to find one of these and kept it in a card sleeve all these years. Their college tuition and a mortgage would be covered. Pokemon was more than a craze. It became a cultural phenomenon. 

A big change entered my life late 1998. Elise's dad's job offered him a five year deployment in Germany. Just like that at 7 years old, my best female friend was moving halfway around the world. I was definitely a little sad at the time, but my young, stupid self couldn't fully comprehend the weight of what was happening. Someone who I knew pretty much my entire existence was leaving for a long time which would ultimately cause us to drift apart. When she left, we wrote back and forth via letter a handful of times that first year. Her family even sent us a large package with German goodies inside. But my family didn't have the technology we have today and combined with the lack of desire I had for writing letters, our contact simply faded. It's hard to fault a young child for that. Many are a product of their environment and can make new friends as easily as they lose old ones, but I never did forget the ones I had before. There are times I do wish younger me knew the true value of that friendship and fought to keep it close. But life continued on and I still had my main core of friends around me to keep me going.

Somewhere around this time, two new friends entered the scene. They are brothers by the names of Matthew and Curtis, but we called them Matt & Curt. Their mom Melissa (Missy) started meeting with us on Sundays and that's how we came to know them. It was really good to have more boys around who weren't my siblings. They fit right in with all of our shenanigans and at time brought some of their own.

Legos really took off for me during this year. I signed up for the Lego magazine and each time one came in the mail, I read it cover to cover many times over. So much so that the pages would become tattered and torn from excessive use. If I liked the magazine enough, I'd keep stapling it back together. My 1998 Christmas catalogue should be in the Smithsonian. It was also because of the magazines that I saw more and more sets I had to have. I remember one day in the middle of the summer, I burst into my mom's room while she was on the phone. I was upset because I didn't have any new Lego sets. The person on the other end of the line was my grandma. Mom told me to talk to her. She settled me down and told me to mention one I liked that was under $20. I told her I liked the Land Jet 7 from the Extreme Team collection. And that was that. No she didn't go out and buy me the set on the spot. And I eventually forgot about it.

Summer gave way to Autumn and Autumn fell to Winter. Christmas was looming around the corner and I couldn't be more excited that my favorite holiday was upon us. All December long I jammed to Christmas tunes on cassette tapes, watched Frosty the Snowman at least five times, ate delicious iced Santa cookies, and dreamed of a white Christmas.

Then Christmas Eve arrived. My parents had spent the day wrapping gifts, making food, and dealing with our extra bouts of energy. After dinner, we all bundled up and piled into the car. The trunk of the station wagon had gifts for my grandparents, uncle, aunt, and cousins. We cruised down the road to Grandma's house, gazing in awe at all the Christmas lights along the way. When we made that all too familiar left turn into their driveway, you couldn't really tell they celebrated Christmas unless you saw the wreath on the door. There were hardly any decorations on the outside to be seen. Yet, the inside was truly what mattered.

Walking through the front door into the breezeway, I was greeted by the musical Christmas lights, the smell of the cookies lying in wait, and the glow from the basement was a beckoning beacon of warmth. I rushed in and said hi to Grandma and Grandpa, surveyed all the goodies in the kitchen, then rushed down to the basement where the fully decorated tree stood, guarding all the colorfully wrapped gifts tucked underneath it. It wasn't long before everyone arrived and assembled in the basement. Grandpa had an stove-like fireplace and a black cauldron next to it where he stored all his carving wood scraps. It didn't take him long before he had a nice roaring fire. He'd give me and my cousin Dave the task of keeping it going by feeding it the wood blocks. Then came the fun part. Handing out the gifts. Being able to see the size of every one, the type of wrapping paper that adorned them, and simply being able to find mine was such a blast. I ran all over the basement, scooping up gifts from under the tree and delivering them to each person whose name was displayed upon them. After all the gifts were handed out, us kids were given the green light and we began ripping the colorful wrapping paper to shreds. I liked to start with the big ones first and finished with the little ones because to me bigger meant better. At one point I had a average sized package in my hands. Like the presents before it, its wrapping paper was rendered useless. My jaw dropped. I was not expecting this. There in my shaking hands was the Extreme Team Land Jet 7 Lego set I had asked for 6 months ago. I was in shock, but overjoyed. My grandparents, aunt, uncle, and parents all beamed knowing they had helped make this Christmas that much more special.

Normally we would wait until the next day to assemble and play with the Legos, but this one couldn't wait. Dave, who also received a Lego set, joined me at the little square table and we began the assembly process. Before long, we both had completed sets which we promptly set aside to go play in all the shredded wrapping paper all over the floor. The rest of the evening was spent enjoying lots of goodies and good company before our parents had to get us home and to bed at a decent hour.

Fast forward to 1999 which leapt upon us like a tiger in the grass. It was the last year of the millennia. There was much excitement and anticipation in the coming of the year 2000. But there was also a significant amount of unwarranted fear. Why? Technology was developing at incredible lengths. Home computers were becoming more popular and efficient. The internet was charging us full steam ahead into the future. So much so that everything was beginning to be run by it. The fear that arose was that the computers did not have a way to compensate for the calendar leaving the 1900s and entering the 2000s. There was a panic that everything would crash. As silly as this sounds, the fear of such a catastrophic event loomed over 1999.

Another major event that I was well aware of at eight years old was the ongoing impeachment of President Bill Clinton. I did not know what that meant, but I remember it being all over the news, the bumper stickers of people's cars, stickers on light poles in Walmart parking lots, basically everywhere. It was odd that this was happening to the only president I knew (George H.W. Bush was president only until I was 2 years old). For a young kid who was already fascinated by history, this event was strange and annoying as I didn't fully understand why it was happening and was sick of seeing it everywhere. Ultimately the Senate acquitted him and he finished his final term, but his reputation was forever tarnished.

One of my favorite Backstreet Boys songs of all time was released this year. Titled, "I Want It That Way" this song ruled the airwaves and continued to surge their popularity and that of the boyband generation. Years later, this song has still made for memorable mini jam sessions with my fellow 90s babies.

By the time the 90s were nearly over, two other things had become a large staple for me. Labor Day conferences and Camp Wabanna. These were two large annual events that a handful of east coast churches put together. The Labor Day conference meant we would go down to Virginia over Labor day weekend, stay with a family down there, and attend meetings with 100s of other people. Camp Wabanna was a large camp facility located on the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland where all the same churches would gather in the spring and fall for a fun-filled retreat weekend. I'm going to go into detail on these two events later on, but I bring them up now because two major things happened in my life revolving around these two events. 

With the Labor Day conference, our family met another family whom we became extremely close friends with. They are the Bishops. Their eldest son, Wesley, and I became fast friends and best buds. He became my closet friend in the DC area. His family consisted of parents Brian and Cindy, a sister Bonnie, and another brother Grayson. His youngest brother Joseph came a little later. Whenever we got together, we were two hooligans who drove everyone around us nuts. Whether we were pretending to be soldiers in a great battle, annoying our sisters, or coming up with new adventures, life was always good around him and his family.

Camp Wabanna led to very significant change in my life that impacted me for years. It occurred between 1998 and 1999, although I do not remember the exact year. It wasn't great and was life altering. But I need to save that story for the next chapter and am only mentioning it because it happened in this part of the timeline.

I'm sure there's some things that I want to share with all of you that may be buried in the back of my mind at the moment, so I apologize in advance if I flash back on them later. All that being said, we say goodbye to the 90s, the decade I came into existence, began to form my identity, and is still to me one of the best decades of my life. On to the new millennia!