Steeler's Fever Is Catchy!

Pan the Raccoon

On his way to work one day, my father came across a very young raccoon wondering around the busy road. It was scampering back and forth across the road, in a frantic frenzy. It seemed that it's mother was just hit by a car, and it did not know what to do. Being the kind hearted individual that he was, and somewhat absent minded, my father pulled the car over, picked up the raccoon, placed it in a box that he had in his car, and proceeded to drive back home.
You see, I come from a family who would help any animal that needed it. Though my dad did not admit to it, and always complained about the cats that my mother had, this instance proved that he had a soft spot for our furry friends.
Once home, my mother cared and nurtured this raccoon, until it grew and grew. "Pan" was the raccoon's name, I am not sure why, I was very little at the time. Being very little, I still remember coming home from shopping and finding out kitchen as if someone had ransacked it. Cupboards open, cereal boxes shredded, bread half eaten, and everything else that Pan could get into, ripped apart. Soon after this, there was some discussion of releasing Pan back into the wild, in the woods behind our house.
Not ready to release him, Pan stayed in our house for a little while longer, until the infamous day of the makeover on my father.
My father was a very hard worker, who left very early in the morning, put in a long day running the machine shop that he worked at, and came home around 5:30 each night. There was a ritual to his home coming. Well, not really a ritual, it was too short to be called that. He would walk in the door, walk to the living room, lay on the couch, and sleep until dinner.
One day, after an extremely long day at work, my father came home, and fell into a very deep sleep, sitting up on our living room sofa. He lay, legs stretched out, and head resting on the back of the sofa. We tried to wake him a couple of times to ask some questions, but it was as if someone had just switched him off. There was no getting a response out of him.
Now, Pan often laid on the back of the couch, so it was not surprising to see him jump up and start to get comfortable beside my father's resting head. As you know, raccoons and monkeys do very similar grooming activities. They search through each other's fur, looking for tiny bugs, and whatnot. Well, Pan, getting all comfy with my father, decided to search through my father's hair before he went to sleep. My sisters and I were sitting in the family room watching one of the three channels that we got on our television, when we noticed what Pan was doing. Being in such a deep sleep, my father was oblivious to Pan searching through his hair.
It wasn't until my father started jerking his entire body, did we realize that Pan was actually doing something to him. Trying to hold back our giggles, we watched as Pan pulled out little clumps of my father's hair! With each pull, my father would not wake, just jerk his entire body.
It was just too hard to hold back the laughter anymore. After five minutes of jerking, and pulling, our laughter got the best of us. With the laughter roaring out of our mouths, my father woke on Pan's last pull.
Jumping to his feet as if his shoes were on fire, my father picked up Pan, and carried him to our back porch. As my father turned to walk out the door, we finally got to see the back of his head. He looked as if he had just joined a colony of monks. There was a bald spot, the size of a half dollar, on top of his head!
Now our laughter was uncontrollable! Unable to speak, or even breathe, we laughed for what seemed like forever! Now, my father, who loved to play jokes on others, did not like to be at the other end of the laughter. "Don't look at me!" he shouted as he ran through the family room, to find a hat.
All through dinner, we ate looking at our plates. Each snicker that started to creep out was quickly extinguished by a swift kick in the shin by another family member. My father wore a hat for the next couple of months, and not long after that, Pan was released back into the wild.
That was the last time my father ever brought home another animal that he found along the road.

Fancy Pants Dance

Just Some Recent Pics of Vivi

Vivi Is Here!

Announcing the arrival of Vivienne Alleen Lovett! She was born on January 14, at 5:52 P.M. Our chubby, little bundle of joy weighed 7 lbs. 15 oz., and is 19 inches long. Both Dawn, and Vivi, are doing great!

Part 2: The Hill, The Cow Pies, and The Splinter

Every now and then, my wife calls me her "Fourth Child." (Well, that would soon be her "Fifth Child.") I must say that I proudly inherit that characteristic from my father. Though he was brilliant at his profession, loved working on cars, and was the glue that held our family together, in his heart he was a constant age of seven.

Time after time, you could find my father playing practical jokes on people. He would make sure he played every single game he could at each picnic that we had. And lastly, he was the most skilled artist at acting goofy that I had ever seen. (My Father-In-Law, and Brother-In-Law come in a close second.) A day spent with my father was never a dull day.

As I said in my previous post, we lived near a hill known as "The Monster Hill." An awesome hill for sled riding, this hill invited many a child, and young adult to try to master it's descent. Now, to master this hill, some individuals came up with every type of sled imaginable. They would use your basic runner sled, plastic sleds, inner tubes, and even the trunks of cars. (I honestly do not know how these people pulled car trunks up that hill, but I witnessed it, and was completely amazed.)

On his way home from work one winter's day, driving down Lovett Road, my dad noticed something in the field that someone had left after sledding. He pulled the car over to investigate. What he came home that day with an eight foot wooden toboggan. It had seen better days, and needed some work, but my dad was determined to get it up and running for this coming weekend. (We were in for some snow on Friday, and were already planning our sledding trip.)

Each snow as a child is magical. It is almost like Christmas morning when you wake up, and run to the window to see what came for you. Well, thank God, this time the reports were not wrong. ( If I remember right, the snow was deep enough to cover up my shiny sliver moon boots!) My dad was already in the kitchen making breakfast, and was telling me to get on the phone to call some friends over to go sledding. The toboggan was ready, and he wanted to use it. So, on the phone I was, and right after breakfast we were in the car driving to pick up four of my friends. (My father loved to drive in the snow! He would fishtail the car, and do doughnuts ever chance he could!)

All bundled up, looking like Randy from "A Christmas Story", ("I can't put my arms down!"), we walked up the hill with our variety of sleds. My dad stood at the bottom with the toboggan waiting for the final run of the day. He loved, and enjoyed, rating our wrecks! "That one deserves a 6!" he would yell at us as we tried to gather our senses after each wipe out.

As I said before, you can only go down this hill a couple of times before you are completely physically exhausted. We were ready for our last run, the run that would forever become known as "The Toboggan Runs, of All Toboggan Runs!"

My dad pulled the toboggan up the hill, to the top. My four friends and myself all jumped on, and my dad jumped on the back. As I also stated before, during the spring, summer, and fall, this field was used as a cow pasture by a local farmer. The cow pies that were dropped in those warm days, soon froze to become large brown rocks in the winter. During this day, and this was a lucky one, no one had come across any of these hidden land mines.

We started down the hill, and already we were picking up some great speed. The front end of the toboggan was slicing through the snow, and throwing it up in a wall of white. We were driving blind! We all just ducked our heads, and prayed for our lives. Most of my friends were now screaming in terror, and were wanting to stop this monster of a sled from racing down the hill. My dad, on the other hand, was laughing uncontrollably. His trademark "Goose laugh" echoed through the hills of Bentleyville.

I am not sure how far we made it down before we hit the daddy of all cow pies. This cow pie was so huge, that the cow who dropped it must of been saving it for a month. It felt as if we slammed into a boulder. The first thing that we heard was the sound. It sounded as if a gun had gone off right beside your ear. (My ears actually were ringing when this whole event was over!) Well, that sound was the wooden toboggan, that my dad had worked so hard on, splintering into a million different pieces.

Since there was no longer a sled beneath us, we started rolling, tumbling, flying, and screaming down the hill. Snow, then sky. Snow, then sky. This was the pattern that I kept seeing as I continued down the hill. The sounds of my friends tumbling, and screaming filled my ears next. It seemed as if we were falling down a bottomless hill.

Finally, I came to a stop. After laying in the snow for a couple of minutes to make sure I was still in one piece, I sat up and looked up the hill. What I saw was an amazing site! It looked as if we were in a war zone. Bodies, and pieces of wood, were strewn across the face of the hill. It was one of the coolest things I had ever seen! There were no pieces left of the sled that were bigger than six inches.

Slowly, my friends started to get up, and see the carnage for themselves. I counted to make sure I had all four friends with me, and we started to picked up our hats, and gloves that were knocked off. We started to tell each other all about our point of view of the wreck, and to show each other our battle scars. (Arnie actually went air born this time instead of the sled!)

None of us had any major injuries, thank God! I started to pick up my inner-tube when I noticed my father hopping around, and the bottom of the hill like a mad man. I guess because he had more weight, and momentum, that he made it all the way to the bottom. We all though that he was jumping around because he was excited about the wreck! (We thought that he scored himself a 10 on his scale.) So, halfway up the hill we all started jumping and screaming also in celebration! "We got a 10!" we all yelled!

We all ran down the rest of the hill to my dad, and then realized he was not doing some sort of weird celebration dance. He was actually hopping around yelling because he had one of those six inch pieces of toboggan sticking out of his left butt cheek! Our cheering soon turned to concern, and then to laughter. "It's not funny!" he yelled. "My butt has a piece of wood in it!" That was when we all fell down laughing harder.

Well, this was the day when I first got to drive a car. My dad laid in the back seat, face down , and butt in the air. My friends all bunched in the front seat with me, on the bench seat. Yelling out directions on how to make it home, my dad was my first "Back Seat Driver."

When we got home, my dad ran into the house to show my mom his "Sledding Injury." Hating hospitals, my father pulled the splinter out, put about ten Star Wars band-aids on his bum, and complained the entire time at dinner. (I guess it wasn't as bad as it looked!) Sitting crooked, with all of his weight on his right butt cheek, my dad talked about the day. Thinking that he was going to retire from sledding, I was waiting for the phrase of , "I'll never do that again!" But knowing my father, I should of know what he would say next. "You know, next time, I'll have to make some bigger supports for that toboggan. Then we will make it down that hill!" ("It will probably take him 10 years to put the thing back together!" my friend Dave leaned over and whispered in my ear.) There really was nothing left of that sled.

As I think back on this great time now, I sit and laugh to myself. I also realize now I had a great life lesson from this. Without really knowing it, my father had taught me something really special. What he taught me was that whatever poop is laid in your path, get back on that sled, and make it a great ride!