Naughty Little Rider

It took a lot but after much begging Dad bought a couple of horses.  I had wanted horses since I could remember and it was great being able to have Lady, a quarter horse, and Jiggers, the pony.  My brothers and I spent many hours riding, going to neighborhood shows, and being cowboys. It was fun and I thought I was a good rider.

One Sabbath on the way back from church I saw at the football field across from our house a group of people who were taking turns riding a Pinto Pony.  I had always wanted to ride a Pinto. I thought they were pretty. I asked Mom if I could go over after lunch and ride the horse.  She said no.  Of course I couldn’t accept no for an answer.

“Why! I asked a bit upset.

“The Bible tells us in the fourth commandment that we are to let our animals rest along with us on the Sabbath.  You will have to wait until another day.” She explained.

Of course, in my mind, this commandment didn’t apply to rides at the football field and I made the decision that I was going to ride that horse! After lunch, I put on my jeans and boots and slipped out the back door. I went down the side road, crossed over the main road, and headed to the football field.

I stood in line and watched with pleasure as the horse was led up and down on the field with each rider.  Finally, my turn came.  A lady boosted me up and I settled into the saddle.  It didn’t feel quite right and my feet were not securely in the stirrups.  I ignored the ill fitting saddle. I could ride in it because I was a good rider! I would just hang on to the saddle horn if I felt like falling.

It was great! The lady leading the horse saw that I could ride and let me take the reins.  She made me walk the horse though.  I asked her if we could trot.  She hesitated, asked me if I knew what I was doing, and of course, I said, “I’m a good rider because I ride my own horse every day.

“Well, okay.  But be careful!” She allowed.

I kicked the sides of the Pinto and we were off.  I hung on but began to lose my grip on the horn.  I couldn’t hold the reins and the horn at the same time and my feet came free of the stirrups.  This horse was also a different size horse and I wasn’t used to the way he trotted plus I couldn’t anticipate his moves. I began to slip from the saddle. As the ground came up to meet my face I remember thinking that I was in BIG trouble.  Then everything went black.

The next thing I saw was Dad looking at me and saying, “Susie, can you hear me? Do you hurt anywhere?”

Of course I hurt, not just on the outside but in my heart as well.  I tried to get up and when I leaned on my arm a sharp pain shot through it. Dad bent down, picked me up, and carried me all the way home.  I cried from the pain and hurt. He examined my arm for any break and realized it was just a bad sprain.

Susie Nazario
 

“I’m sorry for disobeying Mom.  Are you going to punish me?” I asked

“No. You have been punished enough for one day.  You do need to tell Mom you’re sorry though.” He said while carefully putting a sling on my sprained arm. 

After telling Mom I was sorry for disobeying (and I really was!) I fell asleep on Dad’s lap.  I’m sure I slept a lot that night as I woke up in the morning in my own bed.  That day I learned it doesn’t really pay to disobey. There is another commandment I learned to respect and that is to “Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother”. They know what is best.  If I had obeyed, I would not have had to live with a sprained arm for several weeks which took me out of the riding circuit for awhile.

 

 

Don't Let Them Take Me Away - Stories About My Dad

Whenever Mom needed an errand done she would send me down to the local market or drug store.  Of course, I was only too happy to oblige because I liked to drive and Mom was happy to get other things done at home while I ran her errands in town. 

On this particular day with list in hand I headed to the car.  Steve and Jim asked if they could go with me.  Mom wanted to have some peace and quiet so we loaded into the station wagon and drove off to the shopping center about a mile away. 

We arrived at the drug store and I began to gather the items on Mom’s list.  I went to the counter and paid with the money Mom had given me, gathered up the purchases and headed for the car. “I’m leaving guys. Let’s go,” I threw over my shoulder as I walked out.


I was already out the door and crossing the parking lot to the car when I turned to make sure the boys were coming.  I only saw Steve.  “Where’s Jim?” I asked.  Then I noticed a guy in a white coat heading back into the store with my younger brother, Jim, firmly in his grasp. 

“What’s that guy doing with our brother?” I asked Steve.  “I don’t know.” Steve shot back as he continued to the car.  Hmmm.

I turned and followed the man and my brother back into the building and to the office which was situated in the far back of the store. It began to dawn on me that maybe Jim was in serious trouble.  Fear and panic were in his eyes.

Jim and Dad at Sue's house in Colorado.
July 2012

I need to stop here and let the reader know that we siblings were familiar with the “shed” which happened to be the garage.  Dad was a believer in the belt and we didn’t like experiencing that belief! We knew that if we got in trouble it would not be pleasant but if we got in trouble with the law that was something we were afraid to even think about.  Though I was too old for “the shed” Jim was not and I understood the look in his eyes. He knew he was in trouble in unknown territory! He was heading for full panic mode.

I went up to the counter and said to the pharmacist, “That’s my kid brother, may I use your phone to call my Dad?”

“Sure, it’s over there.” He answered as he pointed behind the counter. 

Now it was my turn to panic.  What was I going to say?  I didn’t want to call Dad, but I knew I had to. I walked over, picked up the receiver, dialed the number, and waited for the voice to come on the line. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I was terrified and nervous.  There were occasions in disciplining that Dad would lose it.  Not that he was cruel, but he just wanted us to learn the severity of our mistake and not do it again. 

“Hello?”

“Dad?”  I’m at the pharmacy.  Jim just got caught stealing something and they have him in the back office.  Would you come?” I waited for the explosion.

“I’ll be right there.” Click.

The calm with which Dad took the news was just not natural.  Putting the phone back on the cradle I turned to Jim and told him that Dad was on the way.

PANIC! 

“Dad’s gonna kill me! What am I gonna do?  He’s gonna kill me!” Jim blurted.

“Jim, calm down. You don’t know what’s going to happen.  Sit down!” I demanded.

About over the edge of sanity Jim blubbered, “NO! I can’t sit down! Dad’s gonna kill me!”

I came very close to slapping him into reality.  However, I decided to sit in the chair instead.  Jim paced the small office mumbling and blubbering how he was a “dead man!”

In a few minutes Dad’s voice could be heard. “Where is he and what has he done?” he asked the pharmacist. Answering his question the pharmacist informed Dad that Jim was in the back office.  “We caught him stealing these balloons.”

Then Dad with all the coolness and calmness that I have ever seen any parent exhibit said, “Book him.” He turned and walked out.

Jim’s eyes bulged out of his head; my mouth dropped to the floor, the pharmacist, clearly surprised, raised his finger just as Jim screamed out with all his might, “DAD! PLEASE DON’T LET THEM TAKE ME AWAY!”

The entire patronage in the store turned to look at the lunatic kid screaming his lungs out and crying a river of tears.  I began to shrink, or tried to, into the corner not wanting to be associated with these maniacs.

The pharmacist ran after Dad, with finger still raised, stammered, “Uh sir, this is obviously this kids first offense. We usually don’t charge them the first time if the parent is willing to take charge.”

“Well, do whatever you do,” Dad advised the man coolly. He returned to the car and waited.

The pharmacist went into the office, closed the door, and gave Jim a long lecture on how a life of crime gets started and that maybe he should choose a different line of work.  Jim readily agreed and he was released into Dad’s custody.

Before we left the parking lot Dad came over to the station wagon and instructed Steve and I that we were not to ever mention the incident again.  It seemed that Jim had a terrifying enough experience regarding the possibility of going to prison over stealing a couple of silly balloons.  It was almost more than his little heart could take.

That night at supper the conversation was minimal.  Steve, being the funny guy that he is, looked out the window and saw a police cruiser going by.  He turned and said, “Hey Jim, look out the window, they’re comin' to get ya!”

Jim, always the LOON!
 

“Very  funny.” Jim retorted.  He was relieved he was sitting at the dinner table with us and not riding down town!  Dad gave Steve the look that said, “Knock it off!”

For several years the incident wasn’t mentioned again.  Jim related to me that going through that experience taught him a huge lesson and that he never even thought of stealing again.

There is good that comes out of suffering the consequences of our decisions. After I was married I told that story on the radio in Florida.  I won a one year supply of Lemonade and a cooler to put it in.  I called Jim and said, “Guess what? I just told the entire state of Florida about your balloon experience!” He laughed and told me it was okay and that he won the highest grade in his English Composition class in college for writing on that very subject.

God loved David, the shepherd and king.  He gave David the throne of Israel and all the glory that went with it.  He called David, “a man after His own heart.” But when David messed up God didn’t remove the consequences of those decisions.  He let David learn from them – and David was repentant.

Dad loved Jim.  Jim learned and was repentant.  Good job teaching, Dad! 

Written by Sue Kanen

February 2002

 

And He Presented Him to His Mother

Dad loved to go on Sabbath afternoon drives.  One of these times Dad and Dr. Taylor, a friend of the family, went for a ride in the back country roads of Arroyo Grande, California.

They had a grand time discussing the scenery and the new Gold Caddy Dad had just purchased.  They came up over a rise on the Los Barros road that led to Highway 101 when they saw a terrible accident.  Debris was strewn everywhere.  It was apparent to them that the accident had just occurred.  Dad straddled the debris in the road not wanting to puncture any tires or damage the undercarriage of his new car.  He pulled to a stop and both he and Dr. Taylor got out to inspect the damage and lend help until the ambulance and police arrived.

The couple in the car was Hispanic and the woman held an infant in her arms.  Dad spoke fluent Spanish. The woman was very distressed and seemed to be really agitated.  She kept crying and saying over and over, "¿Dónde está mi bebé, Senor, me bebé? Oh Mi hijo pequeño!" (Where is my baby, sir, my baby? Oh my little boy!)
 

Dad was perplexed.  She was holding her infant.  Thinking she was confused he gently told her that she was holding her baby. "Mira!" (Look), he said as he pointed to the baby.  "no, no!"  she cried.  Starting all over again with her moaning, agitation, and crying, "Mi bebé,  mi bebé! Por favor!  Mi bebé!

Her husband in the car told Dad that they were coming home from the hospital where his wife had  delivered twins.  The other baby was missing.  Dr. Taylor looked back up the road and saw the pile of debris that Dad had straddled.  "That looks like baby blankets!" Dr. Taylor said with great concern.  Dad looked down the road and his throat tightened.  Not only did he see the blankets but he saw a short distance away a truck approaching. Without hesitation Dad ran to the pile of blankets and picked it up.  Sure enough, there was a small newborn infant wrapped in the blankets.  He was breathing but not conscious.  The truck driver slammed on his breaks, slowed and stopped before reaching the accident.

Dr. Taylor carefully took the infant and inspected it.  Making sure there were no broken bones or serious lacerations he placed the infant in the mother's arms.  The baby was dazed. "Muchas gracias señor! Gracias por mi bebé!" (Thank you, sir! Thank you for my baby!) breathed the relieved mother.

Dad playing with great grandson, Davy.

Dad steadied himself against his car.  His legs became shaky and he felt a little lightheaded.  The horrible thought of running over a baby began to wash over him.  Dr. Taylor gave words of comfort.  "God helped you steer the car carefully over the baby and it wasn't injured.  It was wonderful to place him back in his mother's arms.  We came along at just the right time!"

Dad has always had a soft spot in his heart for babies and toddlers.  For years he would get a strange feeling when he talked about that situation.  He also knew that God was in control and takes care of His little ones.

When I think of this story it reminds me of how God must feel for me.  When Jesus was on this earth he had many experiences of compassion and tenderness.  In Luke 7:11-14 a story is related of how Jesus was able to place a child back into his mother's arms.  It says, "When the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her and said to her, 'Do not weep.' Then He came and touched the open coffin, and those who carried him stood still.  And He said, 'Young man, I say to you, arise.' So he who was dead sat up and began to speak.  And He presented him to his mother." How wonderful that mother must have felt to have back so precious a gift that moments before she had lost.

I am grateful for a God who cares so much for me that he "provides a way of escape". (1 Corinthians 10:13). He also restores to me the gift of life that humanity so carelessly tossed aside at the Three of Knowledge of Good and Evil. My heavenly Father, who doesn't ever give up on me, is holding out his arms and Christ who rescued me is placing me back in my Father's arms.  What a comfort! What a joy! What a hope! What a gift!

Written by Susanne Kanen

February 8, 2000

The Mighty Hunter

Watch out you pesky creatures small
Keep up your vigil one and all
For there walks one who is wise and tall
He is the Mighty Hunter.

He has a special place out back.
It's what I call the "Hunter's Shack"
All kinds of traps hang on the rack
In the shack of the Mighty Hunter.

Traps for mice and gophers and rats,
Traps for opossum, armadillos, and bats,
Traps for rabbits, squirrels, and cats,
In the shack of the Mighty Hunter.

Each day he goes out to survey the yard
To see if you are off your guard.
He places the snare to snap you hard.
This is the way of the Mighty Hunter.

And when you're caught he tosses you hence
With a mighty hurl over the fence
For the Vultures to eat without a wince.
This satisfies the Mighty Hunter.

So heed my warning or you'll be had
For if you're caught he won't be sad.
No one messes in the yard of my dad
For he is the Mighty Hunter!

Written for Dad on his 77th birthday by Sue Kanen



Dad

Paul Nazario
June 22, 1922 to March 13, 2014

My Dad died this morning about 1:00 am. He slipped away peacefully March 14, 2014.  He had been suffering from dementia and horrible arthritis in his knees. 

Dad was born in Puerto Rico and moved to the US with his family when he was 1 1/2 yrs. old. There were 8 children in his family. Pete, Dad, Andy, Johnny, Julia, and Mary plus twin baby's that died in infancy. Dad went to school for physical therapy and changed to Dentistry and practiced that for over 25 years.

It was difficult to see my Dad laying in his hospital bed at the Assisted Living Center.  My strong Dad was pretty much a self made man....well almost.  You know what they say, "Behind every good man is an even better woman!" Mom and Dad have been married for 64 years and in this age that is almost a miracle.

Walking me down the aisle on
December 14, 1975.  Pretty dapper with
the mustachio Dad!  Very handsome as
always.

My Dad was a terrible father!  He made me be respectful to Mom or out to the shed!  I was out there a lot for various infractions like acting up in church or not obeying Mom or him.  He also made me work.  I had to clean my room constantly! I couldn't leave the bathroom a mess either.  If it didn't pass inspection I heard about it.  He also beat the boys off with a stick (almost literally). He made me weed and I hated it.  My brothers will tell you I tried to figure out any excuse to get out of it.  Dad also made me save the money I earned. Dad insisted on good grades or boy howdy it was out to that stupid shed! I worked in the Dental office, the Apricot Orchards, and while away at school (the school pay went on my bill). Yeah, we went to private and boarding schools.  He believed in a good Christian education. 

Dad also was very afraid for us!  He read to us from the paper about the accidents caused by alcohol and drugs.  He didn't want us getting hurt and so he took us to see cracked up cars with brains still in the back seat.  Yeah, that did it for me...never used or drank.

Consequently I learned respect, a good work ethic, holiness in the sanctuary and respect and honor to God and authority, pride in my home, not to spend frivolously and save, saving myself for my husband, and there isn't a weed in my yard, and I got decent grades and have a degree.  So I guess he wasn't such a terrible father after all. 

Dad loved sports especially baseball.  He played in school and in the army.  I have his old catchers gear.  It's pretty cool. He didn't realize that girls could play sports until I was in high school.  I played baseball, basketball, tennis, racket ball, golf, horseshoes, and even tried my hand at surfing. I loved playing golf with Dad especially on a trip to the TI Club (Thousand Island Golf Club and Resort). We played 36 holes everyday.  It was a riot.

Dad  took us on family vacations every year.  We most often went to see family and go to reunions.  We had a ball playing with our cousins especially at Uncle Andy's Farm on the lake.  Steve learned how to swim there and we all ended up with swimmers ear.  We would sleep out on the screened in porch and listen to Johnnye Ann tell goofy stories and we would laugh till our sides split.

Early Family Photo
Sue, Dad, Steve, Mom, Jimmy, and Tom

Dad often took Mom on special vacations - just the two of them.  They went to China, Spain, Europe (I got to go on that one) that included Germany, Switzerland, and Austria.  They have albums full of travel pictures that would do National Geographic proud.

One of the things most dear to my Dad's heart was his service in the Army.  He was originally drafted into the Navy, but upon appealing to the board because he gets terribly sea sick they honorably discharged him and inducted him into the Army. He was a medic. Upon returning home from a tour he was bringing his mother some parachute silk and French perfume.  The vessel they were sailing in hit an iceberg and all his gifts went into the sea.  The ship limped home and Dad was safe but no gifts for Nana. He was also proud of his siblings service too.


Dad's 90th birthday,  Steve made a family album for him as he
was beginning to lose his memory and we thought this
would help him remember.  He loved the book.

Dad loved his kids and grandkids.  After moving out of our home we didn't get to spend a lot of time with him because we are spread all over the map.  However there were times like when Tom, Steve, and Jim along with Crista took Dad back to see the WW2 Memorial.  It was a beautiful trip and Dad recalled it with much fondness. Dad didn't talk about the service much until the last few years.  Then it was all he could talk about. He was proud of his service and his country.



Mom, Tom, and Sue with Dad
February 4, 1014

After Dad retired from Dentistry he developed a love for gardening.  He had a small orchard and shared his bounty with anyone who wanted some.  There are many pictures of him with his farmers hat on out in the back forty (well it was the back 1/2 but it was his field).  It was his peaceful place. He also liked trapping the gophers and other critters that chewed up his yard.  I wrote a poem called The Mighty Hunter for his 77th birthday.

I was just out to see Dad and Mom.  I came home last Tuesday.  On Monday I went to say good-bye to Dad.  He was in a good mood.  I asked if he would like to pray before I left and he said yes.  He then prayed a beautiful prayer.  I didn't think he would be able to do it because of his dementia, but he was lucid and I will treasure that moment with him always.  Somehow I had the feeling I wouldn't be seeing him again.

As we contacted family today I heard loving stories and memories of what Dad has done for each one.  I will be posting some stories about my Dad for you to enjoy.  It was heart warming to know that he will be remembered with fondness.

Everyone of us will suffer loss - it's the life cycle.  I hate this part!  But I know that Jesus will come soon and raise my Dad and other family and friends that are laid to rest.  They will be made whole and we will be reunited.  I have that hope.  Still, I miss my Dad.  Having him there always helped me somehow feel safe. He was constant. He was there for my 60 years on this earth and I don't know what life is like without him. It's going to feel really strange.

Rest in peace Dad.  Looking forward to seeing you again soon.

And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, "Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them, 4and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away." 5And He who sits on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new." And He said, "Write, for these words are faithful and true."…Revelation 21:3-5