A day for the victims – judge sends Yates to prison for 408 years

 “How can you take my mother and bury her in your yard? And your family walk around my mother for two and a half years?” – Wendy Engeldinger to admitted serial killer Robert Lee Yates Jr.

From The Spokesman-Review newspaper (Spokane, Wash.)

Friday, October 27, 2000

By Kevin Blocker

Staff writer

They attacked with the only weapons they had: words.

Reckless, unfeeling, useless garbage. Sociopath, monster, animal.

One by one, 18 relatives of Robert Lee Yates Jr.’s victims stood up Thursday in a crowded courtroom to talk about their loved ones and their loss.

“Mr. Yates, you deserve to die now,” said Dan Oliver, whose brother, Patrick, was killed by Yates in 1975.

In a brief statement, Yates apologized to the family members.

“Nothing I can say will erase the sorrow, the pain and the anguish that you feel, that I have caused in your lives,” Yates said in his first public comments since his arrest in April. “I pray that God will right the wrongs I’ve committed.”

Superior Court Judge Richard Schroeder sentenced Yates to spend 408 years in prison and pay $620,000 in restitution for murders dating to 1975. He will now face two murder charges in Pierce County. It may be harder to reach a plea agreement there than it was in his home county.

The sentencing brought to a close a plea bargain that saw Yates plead guilty to 13 killings over 25 years, including a string of 10 women with ties to drugs and prostitution in Spokane from 1996 to 1998.

The killings led to a community outcry and the formation of a special task force, which is still investigating him for other unsolved murders.

Yates also pleaded guilty to trying to kill Christine Smith and admits murdering Shawn McClenahan.

Spokane County Prosecutor Steve Tucker did not charge Yates with McClenahan’s death. If Yates decides to appeal his plea, Tucker will file that murder charge against Yates and pursue the death penalty.

Tucker didn’t believe the aggravating circumstances – common scheme or plan and robbery – could have held up on an appeal if he had pursued the death penalty against Yates.

Yates is charged with two murders in Pierce County and will be arraigned in Tacoma on Tuesday at 12:30 p.m. before Superior Court Judge John McCarthy, said Gerry Horne, Pierce County’s chief deputy prosecutor.

Pierce County Prosecutor John Ladenburg said he believes the aggravating circumstances necessary to get a death sentence are present in the murders of Connie LaFontaine and Melinda Mercer.

Schroeder released Yates, 48, into Pierce County’s custody and Yates is expected to be transported there before the beginning of next week, Tucker said.

With Yates in court Thursday was Roger Hunko, his Pierce County attorney. Hunko has handled several capital cases during his career.

In March, Hunko helped convicted murderer Mitchell Rupe escape the death penalty in Thurston County. Rupe is serving a life sentence for the 1981 murders of two bank tellers in Tumwater, Wash.

Hunko praised Tucker for reaching a plea bargain with Yates and forgoing the death penalty in Spokane County.

“I think Spokane should be very proud of its prosecutor,” Hunko said. “It’s a just settlement, and he (Tucker) used good judgment. I know the pain and grief of long litigation.”

But such pain and grief may never last as long as that felt by the families and friends of Yates’ victims, as well as his own family.

Countless tears were shed in the courtroom Thursday. And Yates, the man who was responsible for them, will never be able to wipe them away.

Dan Oliver discovered the body of his brother, Patrick Oliver, and friend Susan Savage in July 1975 after Yates gunned them down in Walla Walla at a picnic in a park.

Oliver told Yates he has stigmatized his (Yates’) wife and his five children, and added that Tucker had been “duped” into bypassing the death penalty by Yates’ defense attorney Richard Fasy.

“We moved on, but we never let go – we never let go,” said Chris Oliver, another of Patrick Oliver’s brothers, as he addressed the court during sentencing.

Tucker said he wasn’t surprised to hear Dan Oliver say he believed he’d been duped into making the deal.

“I still think I did the right thing here regardless of what happens there (in Pierce County),” Tucker said.

Shannon Johnson, the daughter-in-law of Shawn Johnson, told Yates his ultimate judgment still awaits him.

“Someday, Mr. Yates, you will have to face the real judgment day,” she said. “And when you do, I hope you get what you deserve.”

Audrey Oster and Ondraya Smith brought Sunny Oster’s cremated remains with them to the podium to address Yates.

“Sunny Gail Oster,” her sister Audrey said. “Don’t you ever forget her name.”

Wendi Engeldinger, one of the daughters of Melody Murfin, asked Yates why he buried her in the yard of his South Hill home.

“How can you take my mother and bury her in your yard? And your family walk around my mother for two and a half years?”

Engeldinger and her sister, Ann Davis, had Murfin’s remains cremated after the sentencing Thursday.

Yates’ oldest daughter, Sasha Yates, also wanted answers from her father when she addressed the court.

“No one deserves to be killed like that, no one,” Sasha Yates said. “I may never find out why, the reason behind this.”

But Sasha Yates told her father she loved him.

“Like the old saying goes, blood is thicker than water. I still love you, Dad, even though you did this,” she said.

Sasha Yates said life has been hell since her father was arrested in April.

Kyle Yates, who at 12 is the youngest of Yates’ five children, still hasn’t talked to his father because he’s afraid of him, Sasha Yates said. Kyle is his only son.

Also in the courtroom was Yates’ wife, Linda Yates, another daughter, Sonja Yates, and his father, Robert Lee Yates Sr. Linda and Sonja Yates did not address the court or talk to the media.

And, as expected, Robert Lee Yates Jr. provided no answers. However, Fasy didn’t rule out the possibility that he might one day.

“I think that if Mr. Ladenburg agrees to forgo the pursuit of the death penalty (in Pierce County), this community and the people in Pierce County will have some much better explanation,” Fasy said.

Sheriff’s Lt. Doug Silver, a member of the Homicide Task Force, doesn’t think Yates is sorry for what he did, despite the fact he apologized to each victim, his own family, Spokane County and the country he once served in the Army.

Silver said Yates is a sociopath and is adapting to a new set of circumstances – that of convicted killer. “I definitely question” his apology, Silver said.

Silver said police are not finished investigating Yates. He’s still considered a suspect in numerous other unsolved killings in Spokane and around the country.

Outside the courtroom, the pain and suffering felt by family members proved to be just as intense as it was in court.

In addition to the Olivers, none of Yates’ victims had waited longer for Thursday than Nancy Page and Barbara Buttice, the sisters of Susan Savage. Patrick Oliver bucked hay bales that summer of 1975, and Savage had just earned a degree from Washington State University in interior design. Savage had taken a job redecorating a Walla Walla condominium. Supplies for the job arrived during her funeral.

“They had all kinds of potential, really ready to go in life,” said Page, watching the sentencing on TV from an adjacent room in the courthouse.

Buttice said her sister’s murder left her protective of her own children.

“They’ve grown up with a mother who is terrified when they’re late,” Buttice said. “This murder created a fear we’d never known before, a fear of the darkness.”

Both sisters said they expected to die not knowing the identity of their sister’s killer.

“This gives us some knowledge of what happened,” Buttice said. “It’s good to know, but it doesn’t close the book for us.”

Staff writers Mike Roarke, Jonathan Martin and Bill Morlin contributed to this report.

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2012
05/26
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“No one would believe me” … Jackson said he found daughter and buried her out of fear

In 2000 as the court reporter for The Spokesman-Review newspaper I covered three of the most of heinous court proceedings that Spokane County had seen in decades. Even veteran observers of the court could not remember three such tragic and bizarre cases to come through the court system in the same year. The trial of William Bradley (Brad) Jackson was the second of three court proceedings that occurred that year.

From The Spokesman-Review newspaper (Spokane, Wash.)

Tuesday, October 3, 2000

By Kevin Blocker

Staff writer

Brad Jackson thought he would be called a liar if he reported his daughter’s death.

“I knew I didn’t do anything, but I knew no one would believe me,” Jackson said Monday.

He testified that on the morning he reported Valiree Jackson missing, he was awakened by her crying. He went to her room and comforted her after she told him she had a nightmare. She then went back to sleep, he said.

Unable to do so himself, Jackson said he later went back to Valiree’s room to check on her.

“I went back and saw blood on her pillow,” Jackson said. “I tried to wake her up, I turned the bedroom light on, but she didn’t move. She didn’t stir. I shook her. … there was nothing.”

Prosecutors are scheduled to cross-examine Jackson this morning. Testimony is expected to conclude later today, and Judge James Murphy expects attorneys to present their closing arguments Wednesday.

Jackson, 34, is accused of killing Valiree, burying her south of the Spokane Valley, then exhuming her remains and placing them in a shallow grave in Stevens County last October.

Detectives found the grave by planting a tracking device on Jackson’s vehicle. On Oct. 18, he reported her missing from his parents’ Valley home, where he and Valiree lived.

Defense attorney Jim Kane has argued that Valiree died from an overdose of the prescription drug Paxil, an anti-depressant. He said Jackson became irrational when she died, which led him to bury and then rebury the girl.

Jackson said on Monday that he didn’t consider a Paxil overdose as a possible cause of Valiree’s death until defense attorneys raised the possibility. Jackson did not say what he thought caused Valiree’s death when he found her on Oct. 18.

Jackson’s voice cracked at times during 3-1/2 hours on the stand though he never cried.

His parents and siblings became so emotional when they testified last week that Murphy briefly stopped court proceedings for each of them to gather their composure.

In testimony, Jackson said he took action instead of calling 911 immediately.

He testified that he removed Valiree’s pajamas and dressed her body in school clothes. Jackson put her next to him in the front seat of his truck and started driving.

“I needed to hide her and have some time to think,” he said.

Jackson went to a wooded site south of the Valley, dug a grave and placed a plastic shopping bag over Valiree’s head to keep insects off her, he said.

“Valiree hated bugs,” Jackson said.

Jackson drove back to his parents’ home, went to Valiree’s room and hugged her teddy bear, he said. Jackson said he next put Valiree’s backpack on the front porch, hoping it would appear as though she had been outside and was getting ready for school. Then he ran frantically through the neighborhood asking if anyone had seen Valiree.

“I knew I screwed up really bad,” Jackson said. “I knew I couldn’t bring her back.”

Valiree’s body had been decomposing almost a month when Jackson removed it, wrapped it, put it in the front seat of his pickup and drove to Stevens County.

When he arrived near Springdale on Nov. 10, 1999 to rebury Valiree, Jackson said he placed her face down because he didn’t want dirt to get on her face.

“I know this will sound silly, but I was kind of hoping there would be an air pocket there,” Jackson said.

Before Jackson took the stand, defense witness Dr. Edward Ezrailson — a toxicologist from Houston who never examined Valiree’s body — told the jury he believed Paxil caused her overdose.

NOTE: Jurors found Jackson guilty of first-degre murder. Judge James Murphy later sentenced Jackson to 56 years in prison.

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2012
05/23
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Who was the worst?

I left the newspaper reporting business in April 2005. In 15 years in that profession I met amazing people doing fantastic things for themselves – mostly for others.

From sports writing to education coverage and the police beat, each year seemed to bring something different.

Then there was 2000!

Near the end of calendar year 1999 the editors of The Spokesman-Review newspaper in Spokane, Wash., assigned me to covering the court system. Without much in the way of a legal background the assignment seemed daunting.

I was going slow and learning to speak attorneyese when approximately two months into the assignment the Spokane Serial Killer Task Force arrested a man named Robert Lee Yates Jr. Little did I know I was about to have a “career year.”

If you’re a sports fan you know that a career year is one for the ages; when an athlete hits his or her peak. This had less to do with me unveiling events as it was a series of other events coming to a conclusion upon my arrival on the court beat.

In a 12-month period I was part of team coverage that involved Yates, Stanley Leonard Pietrzak and William Bradley Jackson.

To this day I can’t figure out who was the biggest monster of the three.

* Yates was a serial killer; his monstrous rampage was voluminous.

* Pietrzak decapitated his victim, burned her remains and faced allegations of cannibalism.

* William Bradley Jackson suffocated his daughter, buried her body in a shallow grave, unearthed her fearing she’d be found and transported her remains to another site.

Over the course of the next three days I will post three previously published stories that illustrate the maniacal nature of the murders these men committed starting with Pietrzak.

 

2012
05/22
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Cannibalism testimony heard

From The Spokesman-Review newspaper (Spokane, Wash.)

Friday, August 11, 2000

By Kevin Blocker

Staff writer

A Spokane man accused of murder told neighbors dining in his home that they were eating the remains of his victim, two witnesses testified Thursday.

One of the diners asked Stanley Leonard Pietrzak what they were eating. “He said they’re eating Kelly Conway,” witness Amy Bofto testified.

Defense attorneys are expected to argue that the jury should never hear that testimony, as well as information about two earlier deaths linked to Pietrzak. Superior Court Judge Linda Tompkins will rule on those pretrial matters Monday, when opening statements in Pietrzak’s first-degree murder trial could begin.

Pietrzak, 46, is accused of strangling Conway and burning her remains. Prosecutors say he told as many as 10 people that he had committed the crime, but Thursday’s testimony was the first public mention of alleged cannibalism.

Upon hearing the testimony, a sister of Conway’s burst into tears. After a recess, she did not return.

Witnesses Shannon Christensen and Bofto said they were at Pietrzak’s residence at 173 S. Adams in November 1998, shortly after Conway had been reported missing.

They said they often used Pietrzak’s phone to talk to Greg Bofto – Amy Bofto’s brother and Christensen’s boyfriend – while he was serving time at the Geiger Correctional Facility.

While they were waiting for him to call one day, Pietrzak was serving stew to some of the tenants at the apartments, Bofto said.

Christensen testified that Pietrzak claimed he had stashed Conway’s remains in the freezer. “He said he took it out and made the stew,” Christensen said.

The two women said they thought Pietrzak was joking. But when detectives found Conway’s remains in the furnace in April 1999, they began to believe that Pietrzak may have cannibalized Conway’s remains.

They jury was not in court during the pretrial hearing.

A third witness is scheduled to add to the testimony of the two women on Monday. The court is in recess until then.

After the third witness, prosecutor Jack Driscoll and defense attorney Al Rossi will present arguments on whether the testimony should be allowed.

Tompkins also will have to decide whether to allow prosecutors to introduce details about two other deaths prosecutors believe are connected to Pietrzak.

Driscoll told the court that in 1976, Karen Pietrzak, Stanley Pietrzak’s first wife, was found dead at their residence. And in 1998, another woman, Allison Weaver, was found dead at Pietrzak’s home.

Pietrzak called police and reported both deaths, Driscoll said.

“He told them (police) that he didn’t know what happened,” Driscoll said. “They were found dead in his bed after a night of drinking.”

Driscoll presented no other details of the women’s deaths, and neither he nor Rossi would comment after the hearing.

Barbara Pietrzak, Stanley Pietrzak’s second wife, said she knew of Karen’s death before the couple married. She didn’t know where they were living at the time of Karen Pietrzak’s death.

When contacted at her Michigan home on Thursday, Barbara Pietrzak said all her ex-husband ever told her was that his first wife died of a heart attack.

Barbara Pietrzak said she left Stanley when they were living in Spokane in 1989 and hasn’t seen or talked to him since.

Rossi asked the judge to sequester the jurors to prevent them from exposure to media coverage of the material that surfaced Thursday. Tompkins denied the request.

“It (publicity) started early and often,” Rossi said, “I don’t think the media has acquitted itself well of the misreporting of some of the facts in the case.”

Tompkins said she wasn’t worried about media reports of the case before the trial, but she did admit to having concerns about the reporting of Thursday’s testimony.

However, the judge said she was confident the jury would refrain from reading newspapers or viewing and listening to any electronic devices.

NOTE: Jurors found Pietrzak guilty of first-degree murder. Judge Linda Tompkins later sentenced Pietrzak to 40 years in prison.

2012
05/22
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Looking back, but not too long

I got stuck in 1984 this past weekend and it may take a few days to get out. But at 44 years of age now I can’t afford to stay there forever. I drove to Tacoma from Spokane this past weekend with a good friend to see the band Van Halen.

This is the tour marking the return of the band’s first lead singer David Lee Roth. Their album titled “1984” was the last one recorded with Roth before their famous split the following year.

This all took place between my junior year of high school and freshman year of college. Now in middle age, one of the things I’ve been consciously keeping an eye on is “my frame of reference.” Too me there is nothing more awkward and difficult to watch than a man or woman remain fully entrenched in the era they came of age in.

I appreciate reminiscing just as much as anyone – maybe even more so sometimes – but at some point: Don’t we all have to move forward? I know people my age who haven’t listened to new music in at least a decade.

Once upon a time we kept up on the latest trends in music, movies, books, clothes, etc., for the purpose of trying to either be or stay cool. Now, “keeping up” has the ability to determine whether or not you’re a viable candidate for a job or being able to retain the position you have.

Keeping pace is all the more exacerbated today in western societies where technological advancements make months feel like eras.

In a previous job I once held as an employment and training specialist, one of the single biggest complaints I heard from the ranks of the unemployed was that they hated the fact that the overwhelming majority of businesses only accept on-line resumes and applications. Not only did they miss the personal touch of face-to-face contact and a handshake, many confessed they weren’t computer savvy and were intimidated by the technologies employed in job search.

A friend of mine, who I consider smart, articulate and well read, recently confided that he doesn’t want to learn anything new in the workplace, as he doesn’t desire to upgrade his work skills or abilities. All he wants to do is his job in its current fashion. Sadly he’s not close to retirement age; he’s barely 40!

Most of us take on – voluntarily or involuntarily – more responsibilities as we age. The disposable time of our youth can evaporate quickly, so we can be forgiven for not knowing the latest trends.

However, in the sudden dizzying disorientation of my life – which in the last two months has included an economic downsizing, a death in the family and the continuous responsibility of raising three children, for at least 48 hours it was a joy to turn back the hands of time and listen to music of an era gone by.

Despite the fact nearly three decades have passed since 1984, for some unknown reason I was saddened to see David Lee Roth emerge without that trademark mane of hair that ‘80s rock bands used to define an entire genre.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one thinking the same thing.

In the bathroom I heard this exchange.

Guy to his buddy taking a leak: “I’m disappointed, I was hoping to see more long hair and mullets tonight.”

Other guy’s response to his buddy while he was taking a leak: “Man, we all lost our hair years ago.”

“Can’t you see me here I’ve got my back against the record macheeeeeennnn…”

“Hey, Dad, what’s a record?”

I have to confess, that the trip, as enjoyable as it was, left me a little dazed as I attempt to return to the 21st century. Where did the time go? How has it been accounted for?

In 1984 I was 5-feet-10 inches, 140 pounds, applying to colleges, playing high school basketball and thinking of how I was going to spend all of the money I was going to earn once I graduated from college.

Well, I’m still 5-10 and play basketball. I did just that at Whitworth University with a group of men this morning, some of whom are only in their early 20s. In the last game of the day I helped lead a comeback scoring the last eight points of the day.

Damn, it felt good too! I’m going to at least savor ’84 a little more before this ends.

“Might as well jump!”

28 years later…

1984 heading into my senior year of high school.

2012
05/07
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“Oh, whoa…”

Sooner or later every life form that has stood upright with opposable thumbs and grunted the word “football” will wonder if he did anything worth a damn in his life.

  • Did he leave a positive influence on those around him?
  • Did he turn off the coffee pot?
  • Is he caught up on child support?

Well, I don’t know what the rest of my life has in store, but I know this much. I gave my son a story to share with my grandchildren once they hit school age.

During the orientation at the beginning of the school year – my son, a first year middle school student – the principal talked about what we could expect to see from these people who have our last names but whom we are sometimes reluctant to claim publicly.

“These are the years in which frontal lobe development will take place,” she said. “This growth in the brain extends into the early 20s. It’s why behavior can look the way it does sometimes,” she said.

And to think I started drinking alcohol at the age of 18 when it was legal in the state of Colorado.

As for my son, quickly this school year started to evolve into a wrestling match between he and one particular teacher. I’m not entirely sure why; but frontal lobe development suggests there really is no why.

It became commonplace for his mom and I to be notified by this teacher about his chattiness and occasional combativeness in class. Finally, last week, I had had enough.

I’m the son and grandson of retired teachers, my sister and brother-in-law are teachers, my former brother-in-law is a principal and former sister-in-law is a teacher – hell – my son’s mom is a teacher! Family gatherings are a PTA fundraiser!

If that’s not enough to turn your act around then what’s left?

That’s when I knew I had to step up my game. I contacted his teacher the following morning and told her that I wanted to be present before he came to class. She loved the idea.

He came strolling into class with one of his “boys” and made it halfway across the room before his eyes widened and he declared: “Oh, whoa…!”

The day before I showed him the email the teacher sent to his mom. She stated that he was constantly out of his seat. When I showed it to him he said: “Well, my pencil rolled off the table onto the floor.”

As he approached me in class he asked why I was there. I told him I was there to make sure his pencil stayed on the table.

Not only did his pencil stay in place, but also his teacher reported that his participation that day exceeded anything that he’d done all year and that her classroom as a whole was more quiet than normal.

When all was said and done she asked me if I could at least leave a cardboard cutout of myself behind!

I gave her all my contact information and told her, please do not hesitate to let him know that I will return if necessary.

It’s been a week and I haven’t heard from her since.

I suspect my grandchildren will get a kick out of that one.

2012
05/04
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Coming up on the short end?

Without getting overly specific, a power play in the sport of hockey occurs when a member – or members – of your team are penalized for rules infractions and have to move to the penalty box anywhere from two to five minutes depending on the severity of the offense.

It doesn’t sound like a daunting task; however, if you’ve ever tried to do anything for an extended period of time short handed then you know it can be a bitch of a duty.

In a worst-case scenario a team can find itself being outnumbered 5 players to 3 on the ice.

Raise you’re hand – well, this is also getting posted to Facebook, give a thumbs up, or down if you’re so inclined – when you’ve just gotten to the point that it seems like you can’t press forward anymore. When there’s too much life and not enough of you!

In the arrogance of my youth I once stated – and sadly I wasn’t intoxicated when this came from my mouth – that cloning human beings shouldn’t be against the law due to the fact that: “One woman shouldn’t be allowed to have all of this!”

Now, in what feels like the stagnation of middle age, I believe that cloning myself should be legal because my elders who I love dearly are aging, my children are coming of age and I want to be but can’t be in a minimum of five locations at once.

In my mid 40s, I can now witness three generations of humanity forget where in God’s name they place valuable items during the course of the day.

My son left two air-soft guns on the hood of my car last night after I returned he and his sisters to their mother’s house. He called me 24 hours later asking me if I had seen them because he was adamant about the fact that he left them at the front door.

“Nope, didn’t see them at the front door,” I said.

I hid them at his grandmother’s house. Shoot, if I’m going to lose my mind then I want to have some company.

As for me, crap, if I could find a way to live my life without my wallet and car keys then I would be able to focus my sole attention on the smartphone with unlimited access to sports news.

My elders? Hell, I’m one of them – I retell the same damn stories and am just astonished to hear someone say – “Yeah, I remember you telling me that.”

“Well damnit, I don’t!”

My genetic material is now rolling their eyes at me the way my siblings and I roll our eyes when our genetic benefactors start rambling on about some story we heard in 1981.

And speaking of 1981, my daughters were groovin’ (I gotta find out what the young folks use for the equivalent of the word groovin’) to “Apache” on their WII for “Dance Dance 3” last night.

The Sugar Hill Gang (I-said-a-hip-hop-a-hipee-to-the-hipee-tee-hip-hop…) released Apache in 1981 in a last-gasp effort to save their flagging rap careers.

Now if dad knows this song does this make me in the least bit cool in their eyes?

Hardly…

I’ll just go back to looking for my keys and wallet while watching a 12-year-old boy go insane looking for air-soft guns.

2012
05/04
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The last Stallion

Written and edited by my 9-year-old daughter on the way home from spring break. On my iPad no less.

Enjoy!

By:Aliyah Blocker

Chapter one-Autumn Jenson
Autumn Jenson lives on a horse ranch with her brother, sister, mom, and dad. Autumn lives by a meadow where horses roam free. Autumn’s friend Savanna told her that her and her family went in the meadow for a walk. Savanna saw the last Stallion,but her family didn’t believe her. Autumn’s parents say she’s too young to have her own horse. Her brother Nick had one and so did her sister Callie. They had to give them away because what’s the whole point to have a horse on a horse ranch when there are tons of horses. One sunny day Autumn was feeding and grooming the horses like she was suppose to do every day. Autumn noticed that two horses were gone! Autumn ran into the house,” Has anyone seen buttercup and ginger?!?” “Nope.” mom and dad responded. “Please let me look in the meadow,please.” “Ok.” Autumn ran into the meadow and saw something beautiful. It was the last Stallion! Autumn took her phone out and snatched a few pics. Callie whispered in Autumn’s ear “He’s beautiful.” “I know.” Nick fell out of the tree because he was on a loose branch. He scared away the Stallion into the deep and dark meadow. They climbed down the tree. “Why are you out here.” “Mom said I could, I was trying to find ginger and buttercup.” They went back home Autumn rode buttercup and Callie rode ginger. They raced each other home( Autumn won ) Nick walked home getting thrones out of his arm.

Chapter two-Autumn & the Stallion
Autumn ran into the house,”MOM,MOM,MOM I just saw the last Stallion in the meadow!” “Sweetheart there is no such thing as the last Stallion.” “Yes there is see.” Autumn showed her the picture of the last Stallion. “Oh I guess it is real.” Autumn ran up to her room,she saw the poster of the last Stallion on her wall. She thought in her mind…Maybe I could show mom and dad how responsible I am to have my own horse,I could take care of one of the horses for a week and maybe I could have my own horse. That night Autumn had set her alarm clock for 3:00 in the morning. When her alarm clock went off she woke up and got out of bed. Autumn went out of the house and into the meadow. The Stallion was in the meadow eating grass. Autumn moved closer to the Stallion. The Stallion moved closer to Autumn. Autumn put her hand on the Stallion. She moved closer to the back. The Stallion was still. Autumn got on her back. She gave him a name,it was Romeo. Romeo and Autumn rode together in the meadow. At 5:00 Autumn went back to her house. That morning when Autumn went to groom and feed the horses she saw Romeo right in front of the stables. “Romeo, you can’t be here you’ll get caught.” Autumn’s mom came outside. She saw the Stallion. “OH MY GOSH!,Autumn is this the last Stallion?!?” “Yes!” “Mom I can show you how responsible I am to have my own horse,I’ll take care of a horse for a week.”

Chapter three-My new horse
Autumn took care of horse for a week and her mom knew she was responsible to have her own horse. They went to a place where people sell horses. Autumn saw none. They went everywhere,but Autumn got none. When they got home Autumn saw the last Stallion. “I want Romeo.” Autumn put rains and a saddle and put it on Romeo. They rode around and Autumn trained Romeo to jump, run, gallop, and make him stop. Callie and Nick were looking out the window. They were thinking Autumn’s so lucky to have her own horse. They went outside to pet Romeo,he let Callie pet him,but not Nick. He didn’t like Nick because he scared him by falling out of the tree. Autumn put Romeo in the stables for a while. Romeo met a girl, Pixy. Autumn thought they liked each other. When Autumn let them run around only Romeo and Pixy played with each other. Autumn made a special treat for them. It was a banana and apple smoothie thing mixed. They all loved it. Dad took Autumn to the store to get brand new rains and saddle. She tried them on Romeo. Romeo loved the new saddle and rains. Autumn’s mom made a little quilt for Romeo at night. That night Romeo and Pixy would not go to sleep. Autumn’s mom made another quilt. Autumn put the quilts on the horses then they fell fast asleep. Autumn could not go to sleep either. Autumn needed a special something from a special someone, a good night kiss from Romeo.

2012
04/09
CATEGORY
Children
Family
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And just like that I’m pulling for Tim Tebow

I was just a notch under moderately satisfied when Tim Tebow’s University of Florida football career came to an end because I suspected that based on his style of play he would have to go to Canada to earn a living as a quarterback at which point the media fawning that surrounded him would cease.

Americans don’t pay attention to Canada.

Then my hometown Denver Broncos drafted him and what ensued was something that no one could imagine. In a previous rant I rejoiced at the fact that Denver moved Tim Tebow to the starting position because I was absolutely convinced the Broncs would go in the tank and be in a position to draft Stanford’s Andrew Luck in next month’s NFL draft.

If you’re new to the planet – or football – here’s what happened next:

* Tim helped Denver salvage what appeared to be a lost season.
* Tim became arguably the most popular athlete in the world.
* This occurred while many questions remained about Tim’s style of play.
* Denver acquired football royalty in the form of Hall of Fame quarterback-to-be Peyton Manning on the Broncos’ executive shoulders of current Hall of Fame quarterback John Elway.
* Tim gets traded to the New York Jets and will be introduced to the Big Apple media in a matter of hours.

As a lifelong Denver fan, and as someone who subconsciously used Elway to cling to my enjoyable childhood as I allegedly moved into adulthood, the athletic hero of my mid to late teens until my early 30s suddenly left me viewing him like I have so many others in middle management regardless of their industry.

With the blessing of his boss he made a “business decision” to recruit a man in Manning who it remains to be seen can hold up to the grind of football after four spinal surgeries.

And in one fell swoop (I’ve always wanted to use that phrase), Tim Tebow had more in common with the general population than I would have ever imagined: an unappreciated castoff; the reality of life for most of humanity.

It’s why I’ve become a bigger fan of Tim Tebow in the last week than I did all of last season. Suddenly Tim Tebow has become Rocky Balboa, discarded and disregarded – Hell, they’re both left handed!

Manning and Elway are football royalty. Those two men respectively led the Indianapolis Colts and Broncos to a combined seven Super Bowls and orchestrated three wins in football’s biggest game – one by Manning and two by Elway.

I begrudgingly wish them well. May they (Elway, a superior athlete and son of a coach; Manning, the son of a former pro and older brother to two-time Super Bowl champ Eli Manning) make more old money together.

As far as I’m concerned, I’m going to throw my allegiance behind the lefty who everyone continues to doubt; including me.

 

2012
03/26
CATEGORY
Culture
Current Events
Football
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Can’t stand excess? I may be the one for you…

I don’t have a dating website profile because my suspicion is that members of the opposite sex – that’s where my heart rests – aren’t really compatible with my personality.

I’ve got friends both male and female who have shown me their profiles:

“Love long, slow walks in the great outdoors…”
“Searching for soulmate (love the various explanations for whatever that constitutes)…”
“Enjoys the company of eclectic personalities; do you have one?”

It’s all just lost on me.

My brief experience with one of these sites a few years back revealed something that the overwhelming majority of most people miss when they stop to assess others, but more importantly themselves.

If the dude says he’s 6-foot then he’s probably 5-9. Conversely, if she says she’s curvy then… she’s probably not.

The problem – as I see it – is that we have lost sight of the traits and characteristics that truly mean the most to each of us as individuals. I spoke with a female friend the other day who recently got stiff armed by a man she met on-line for the fact he viewed her as “always being late” and she had “too many friends” in her social circle.

Despite the fact that their website profiles suggested they were an ideal match, and the fact that they are both two very attractive people, his desire to have a more isolated existence and her very social personality made them less than compatible. Something that did not show up in either of their profiles when she showed them to me.

It got me wondering: who is my match? Who do I gravitate to besides someone who may gravitate to me – at least for the evening anyway.

I’m an organizational freak who believes that Monday morning starts Sunday afternoon. I prepare my own food because I know how I like it, I’m an avid rec league basketball player because it’s still the only form of fitness I’ve encountered that allows me to block out all that is taking place around me.

I’m less a romanticist or artist; I am a minimalist.

Really?!

That’s it, a minimalist? Sadly – yes! Women are hardly attempting to knock down the doors of minimalists. Hoarders and nesters keep stepping; I despise clutter, junk and trash.

Sadly, I’m the guy who once gave away his ex-wife’s robe to Goodwill because, well, shit if she’s not gonna use the damn thing then someone will, right? Seriously, it just sat there and sat there on the floor and, damnit, it had to go!

I once re-made our bed because she didn’t do it right! I need therapy, but at 44, the Hell with it; this is how I roll.

I’m the guy who when friends try to set me up with their single friends I tell them, “Before I meet her I want to see her car.”

While the eyes may be the window to the soul then the car tends to be the window to our homes.
If there are three-week old styrofoam food containers riding shotgun then there are dishes piled high in the sink that are just as heinous.

When a person’s car starts to resemble and smell like a men’s locker room then I know she and I are only going to go so far. I’m a freak, I know it. I was raised by mother Stella, organized and thorough.

“Make your bed because you don’t know when we’ll have guests!”

“But mom, the house is so neat and so organized that potential guests are afraid to come into the house…”

Stella was a clothes hound to. She dragged me my brother and sister up and down the aisles in our youth in search of the ideal outfits for all occasions – even events like yard work. Clothes are huge; if you can’t dress your way out of the dry cleaning bag then we’ll have no future!

It’s considerable smack I’m talking now, only an unemployed black man living in his former mother-in-law’s basement would dare talk shit about what he wants.

But I still say, at least I know what I want…

Note: This past Christmas I did purchase a replacement robe for my ex-wife!

2012
03/26
CATEGORY
Christmas
Culture
Family
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Personal
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