My Ramblings

Today I had an electro cardioversion in an attempt to get my heart back into a regular rhythm. I think I mentioned in an earlier post that my heart went into atrial fibrillation due, likely, to Daniel’s suicide. The procedure was performed at Kaiser in Modesto and I am thankful to report that it worked. I was concerned about having it done but found during my research that it is effective 90% of the time and there is only a 1% chance that something would go wrong. Everyone I talked to who had it done or knew a family member who had it said it was successful. Nonetheless, I am a Faddis and it seems that “bad things” happen to Faddises. I made sure that Linda knows what to do in the event of my death regarding our finances, computer passwords and my pension. I then joked a lot about dying, seeing you on the “other side” and who she might find to replace me as a husband. She said that no one could replace me but then I caught her on the computer looking at dating sites. J/K We got to

Linda and I went to the cemetery today to visit Daniel’s grave. I sat in the truck as I am unable to walk up the small hill on the thick grass without fear of falling down. Daniel is buried about 100 feet from the road. Linda went and stood there for a while. This was a good thing because I believe she needed some time alone with our son. She came back to the truck and we held each other while we cried. Although the pain of our loss has begun to subside, we have moments when it hits us again that our son is gone from this world; out of reach. Gone is his presence, his largeness of life, his dry sense of humor and his gentleness which he attempted to hide under a rough exterior. These moments of sadness hit us without expectation. When they come to me, I cry for a bit and then get myself under control. Last week, I opened a drawer and there was a picture of him on top that I had put in there and forgotten. Certain songs get me. One of these is a Don Williams song titled, “If Hollyw

Back in the late 70’s I met a young man like myself who eventually came to be my best male friend. I say “late 70’s” because I only recall it was 1977 or 1978. You’ll have to excuse me for not recalling certain details of events that occurred over 30 years ago. I specify “male friend” because as a married man, I am required by political correctness and my own safety to profess that my best friend is my wife, Linda, who has been chained to me for nearly 33 years and has done a stellar job at it, I might add. At any rate, Bill Dobos and I became friends when we met at San Jose Bible College. He came to the school from Southern California. He entered into our circle of friends which included Rick Criscione, George Gardner, Mike Huskey Dennis McGuire and Mark Thompson. (Please note that the preceding names are in alphabetical order so there can be no argument about any particular guy’s importance or lack thereof). Because I did not have wealthy parents to pay my tuition, my game plan

In college I befriended several people with whom I remain in contact. When we are together now, talk often turns to our days at San Jose Bible College where we met. One of these people is Rick Criscione and we now happen to live in the same town, Turlock, CA, go to the same church and remain friends. Rick grew up in San Jose and attended Yerba Buena High School from where he graduated in 1976, making him about one year younger than me. I was already at SJBC when he arrived. I don’t recall how we met, other than it was a small campus with about 200 students in attendance. But we eventually got acquainted and became pals. Rick came to the school with two other guys he had grown up with – Mark Thompson and Rodney Williams and there are stories about them, too, but that’ll have to wait. The following school year Rick and I decided to be roommates and began looking for an apartment. Another student, Steve Walker, said he was also looking for roommates and he had already put a deposit o

One of my favorite stories about my two brothers, Jeff and Kevin, and me is about a particular fishing trip. We fished together quite a bit, all over several counties in our area including Stanislaus, Merced, Tuolumne and San Joaquin. Usually, we took an old green metal Coleman ice chest on our expeditions in which we put our lunch and soda pop. Later in the day we put our catch in it whether it be fish or bullfrogs. One day we ended up on the Merced River, downstream from Lake McSwain and east of Snelling, CA. An elderly woman owned the property on the Merced where we liked to fish. She had given our dad permission to fish there many years before and then also let us have access. The river there had a dam which was designed to allow the water to run over its top, slowing down the flow into shallows in which we could wade and fish. The Merced contains trout, salmon, bass, crappie, perch, bluegill and catfish. At the time of this story which occurred in 1974, I was 17, Jeff was 16

Today I offer some reminisces about my little brother, Jeffrey who was 15 months my junior. It would take a book to tell just the stories I know about him, let alone the dozens of those that have been told to me by others. So this will not be the only recounting of his life in this blog, but it’s a start. Most people called him Jethro Bodeen or just Bodeen, and it fit him so well. His true initials were JB (as in Jeffrey Bert) but he was given his nickname by one of his second grade classmates who was not fond of Jeff. The TV show, The Beverly Hillbillies was popular at that time and the kid thought it was funny to dub him Jethro Bodeen because of his manner of talking, his “redneck” behavior and that he appeared to not possess a lot of “book learnin’.” The nickname stuck with him the rest of his life until his untimely demise at age 46. In school, Jeff was enrolled in an EH (educationally handicapped) class. He was hyperactive for which he was prescribed the drug of choice at that

My maternal grandfather was a tough and simple man. His name was Bert Lee Taylor who was born on January 26, 1909 in Dallas County, Missouri and passed away on March 30, 1978 at age 69. He married my grandma, Mildred in 1930 when she was 16 and he was 21. They were the parents of my aunt Joan, my mom, Delores, my uncle Phil and my aunt Sue. They were married a total of 48 years. I have some great memories of my Grandpa which I want to share with you. Grandpa was not a religious man and this fact was painful for my grandmother who had been a Christian since she was a child. He was sometimes gruff and wanted things to go his way most of the time so he could be impatient. But he could also be gentle and I remember how he grinned and cackled when something amused him. I’ve been told he made it as far as the second grade in school but I don’t know why he did not go further. I can imagine he began working early in his life and required no more education to make it through. He worked in Te

Senator Robert Francis Kennedy died at 1:44 AM on June 6, 1968 after being shot by Sirhan Sirhan the previous early morning. I mention it here because this event resulted indirectly in a traumatic event for me later that day. Be patient, as it will take me a minute to get to that. The names in this story have NOT been changed to protect the innocent. I was in Miss Lum’s fifth grade class at Whitmore Elementary School in my hometown of Ceres, CA at that time. Some of my classmates included Ron Megee, Debbie Rayford, Dave Stiffler, Eddie Morrow, Rita Woodral, Tim Crownover, Debbie Fabela, Robbie Spears, Jonni Dunnegan, Nick Chipponeri and Mark Lowe. During lunchtime, the school allowed kids to go home to eat but we weren’t supposed to go anywhere else. Being the adventurous and unbridled boys that we were, some of us would go instead to Ceres Billiards to shoot pool and play pinball. On one of these days, not the day recounted above, a few of us – Eddie, Dave and Tim went to the pool

My daughter, Heather called me today with a sad story. My 7 year old grandson, Luca was drawing a picture last night and as he did so he was crying. Heather heard him and went over to see what was going on. It depicted Luca and his Uncle Daniel standing side my side, each with a broken heart over their heads. Another panel showed a grave with Luca standing at its foot. Heather asked Luca about his picture. He replied that he really misses his Uncle Daniel and wishes he was still here. Hearing this broke my heart. This is not the first time Luca or his little brother, Logan has, out of the blue mentioned Daniel and his death. Each time they do, it again brings the pain of this event to the surface. While I am sad for myself, my heart aches for these little guys who loved him so much. Folks, if you ever consider taking your own life, please think again and again and again. Think of how detrimental your death will be to your family and friends. Think about the mess you will leave behin

We are beginning to get ready for Christmas, but this year is so different than in the past. Yes, some of this has to do with us knowing Daniel will not be here to celebrate it with us, but it’s not the only thing. I have, up until now, neglected to report here that Linda and I are now “empty nesters.” Judah and his parents moved back to the Bay Area on November 17. My attempts to keep Judah here with us when Holly and Bryan moved were unsuccessful. Funny how a mom requires the presence of her child without any regard to how this makes the sad and lonely grandparents feel. Judah has lived in our home since his second day on earth. We got accustomed to seeing him daily. We have been told by friends what a great thing an empty nest is and how we are going to love it and blah, blah, blah. Yes, it is quieter and I can walk around the house in my underwear if I want to (don’t picture that in your mind), but so far, these “benefits” are not what they’re cracked up to be. Putting up the Ch

I have felt like writing lately so I will continue to do so. After yesterday's post regarding my early life, I thought some of you might like to know a bit about what I did as a vocation. I have received a number of compliments regarding my writing ability for which I am grateful. Most people do not know that for many years as a Probation Officer, I wrote reports for the Court. In this job I got a lot of practice as an "Indentured Wordsmith." The following is a fictional account of one such report. The defendant in this case was convicted of attempted robbery. In addition to all the other information required by the Court, the reports I wrote contained information resulting from my own investigation including my interviews of the victim and defendant. Most of the report is who, what, why, where and how, but in the evaluation section, I got to throw in my opinion about what consequences the guy should get. Keep in mind, the defendant had already been convicted which inc

The following was written by me in September 2008. Keep in mind it was four years before we lost our son: For years now, I have thought about writing a book. Friends and family have encouraged me to do this. I have felt, at times, a calling to write a book. Why? Several reasons come to mind including that I have had a lot of varied life experiences, have met and am related to some interesting people whose stories should be told, and I have a keen, sometimes odd sense of humor that can be entertaining. But most of all, I have been moved to write because I have lost all five members of my immediate family, four of them to drug or alcohol related car collisions. As a result of that last sentence, I am sometimes asked how I handle such tragedies, what helped me escape such an ending, why are you different, Stan? etc. My answer to that is Jesus Christ and the following is our story – mine, my family’s and my relationship to God, my Heavenly Father. In 1966, my father was working for a

I am feeling somewhat melancholy this evening and am treating it with some good and loud Dire Straits. Some of their live versions on Sultans of Swing and Money for Nothing are so great and listening to them put me there and out of my darkening mood. Here in Turlock, it’s dark, cold and rainy and the weather was pulling me into its vortex of grayness. Then, I listened to a ten minute version of Sultans with Mark Knopfler and crew which they performed in Sydney, Australia in 1986. Knopfler’s guitar work would be plenty but in this rendition they employed a guy to play saxophone which just brought it up a couple of notches. Hearing the audience clap, whistle and scream placed me there in the center of all that energy. I love listening to music. I listen and sing along but the only thing I can play is the radio. I’ve been thinking a lot about my girls, grandkids, and beautiful wife who all love and appreciate me. Thinking about them is really helping me to work through the pain of Danie

 This is how the nurse put my hat on me. Unacceptable!  Today I had an electro cardioversion in an attempt to get my heart back into a regular rhythm. I think I mentioned in an earlier post that my heart went into atrial fibrillation due, likely, to Daniel’s suicide. The procedure was performed at Kaiser in Modesto and I am thankful to report that it worked. I was concerned about having it done but found during my research that it is effective 90% of the time and there is only a 1% chance that something would go wrong. Everyone I talked to who had it done or knew a family member who had it said it was successful. Nonetheless, I am a Faddis and it seems that “bad things” happen to Faddises.   I made sure that Linda knows what to do in the event of my death regarding our finances, computer passwords and my pension. I then joked a lot about dying, seeing you on the “other side” and who she might find to replace me as a husband. She said that no one could replace me but t

A few weeks ago I became a volunteer for Healing Nations, a non-profit organization that aids needy youth and their families. This is a great organization that has a big heart for those it serves. The following was written by founder Shirley Salter and taken from the website: The seed that birthed Healing Nations was planted in January of 1997 during the devastating floods in the Central Valley of California; particularly the west Modesto area. While assisting flood victims during this time God impressed upon my heart His desire to express His love through me and others in a new place and in a new way. The victims of the flooding in west Modesto were to be the first children, youth and families that we would learn to love and serve and be blessed to become a part of their lives. We are still in contact with the children of these families that are now young adults. Healing Nations has Girls and Boys Clubs, Science and Music programs and an outreach on Wednesday evenings during which

Thanksgiving 2012 will be here soon and it will be a bittersweet time for our family. Some of us have commented about not having Daniel here at the table. This, I think, was his favorite holiday. It was in the top two, I am sure.It is special to all of us because we have been so bless ed have many Thanksgiving holidays together. I will do my best this year not to be in a somber mood, primarily for the sake of my family. They are affected by how I feel and if I am “up" they are likely to also be that way. As the leader, I want us all to have a good time. I want us to remember that Daniel is at peace and in a much better place. There are new memories for us who remain to build. My daughters have their own spouses and children now to begin their own catalogs of thoughts, fond memories and thankfulness. So, even though we will be hurting, we can have a great Thanksgiving Day this year. I am thankful for so much and I try to tell God this sometimes when I think about it. First, He h

The majority of my ramblings on this blog have revolved around Daniel’s death and life. This is natural, I suppose, as he is why I started the blog. Most of the writings have dealt with my grief, crying, and general sadness. There has been a taste of fond thoughts, hope at seeing him in heaven and humor but it has mostly been negative things. As I have said, I don’t know how long I will grieve to this extent, but these moments are winding down in number and intensity. For this, I am grateful. Yesterday, I began to give some thought to the bright side of my life which led me to the other members of my immediate family. From the youngest, Caedence, my sweet and newest baby girl who is only a month old; Judah, my nine month old grandson who is crawling everywhere and pulling himself up to a standing position; Cambria (19 months) who does the “pretty girl” dance, runs to give me hugs and loves to play chase; Logan the five year old future UFC fighter who is hooked on all things Godzilla