So we get off the phone and I lay down while simultaneously being kicked on the internal organs. *commence crying and weeping on my part*

No baby yet for me. We’ve scheduled induction for Sunday night @8pm.

Keep your fingers crossed! I’ll update when he’s here!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX Alli

UPDATE!!!

Dylan was born via C-Section tonight at approx. 7:30. 8 lbs. 1 oz, 19″ long. YAY! Now…for me. The countdown is on! Less than 72 hours! I’ll let you all know when he’s here!

K, now its Saturday night!!!  My induction is 25 hours away!  What should I eat for my last meal?  Grrrr, I’m getting antsy.  Maybe its because I drove my parents and my aunt and uncle to the airport this morning at 4 am so they could go to Cabo without me!!!  Jerks…

* My 7 year old wrote all over a white turtle neck with big green and purple letters that say “FLASH” and “i’ll be back” and “run, sucka”. He also wears it with jeans and a pair of tighty whitey undapants over the top. Oh yeah, and he made a bandito style eye covering with eyeholes cut out. I need to take a picture for you.
* my husband is totally unconscious next to me, I think he took like 3 ambien last night and now he sleeps the slumber of the dead. Not so much fun.(I’m kidding about the ambien, he was up late last night trying to fix this darn computer)
* I am on complete bedrest. Complete. Lay down all the time. I totally cheat and go downstairs and shopping for groceries sometimes, then I pay with pain in the baby region.
* This baby is still breech.
* This means he’s stubborn.
* He tries to kick his feet out of my body.
* I don’t particularly like the feeling of feet tearing through my body from the inside, let alone the outside.
* We decided on a middle name…well…on another part of this name we’re giving this child. I think he may have 2 or 3 middle names, but so does my dad.
* Harper Elias Michael Easley is what we have on the bill now. Maybe Elias Harper Michael Easley. I’d call him Eli, everyone else will call him Harper or something. I like Eli best.
* I’m the mom.
* That means I matter most.
* Its the 4th of July, hurrah! We’re going swimming out back and bbq-ing and probably to some firework show at one of the 2352365224623 shows going on around Vegas.

On a lighter note, I watched A&E’s “Intervention” the other night, there was a 19 year old moon faced girl, looked like she could be my sister…she was on drugs really hard and I was suddenly taken back to my 19th year and had a little mental breakdown in silence at Walgreens at midnight. My husband just stayed quiet, which was perfect, held my hand and reassured me that I am good enough now that I’m 32 and so far from that time to be the mother of these children in my house. I realized that moment…I’m so dang far from healed. What the heck do I need next? Seriously. Seasons change, this one’s not so pretty.

Hopefully this baby coming within the next 2 weeks will make me remember why I love everything…right now I just see gray film on everything…tarnish…smoky windows instead of clear ones.

…catch me later, I’ll be on an upswing and I’ll be much happier. Thanks for listening, and goodnight.

by the way…I haven’t been able to sign into my forum for about 3 months….what’s up in there? People still talk? I miss you all. Somebody help!

My eyes grew accustomed to the light and I saw the other staff members moving around quietly.  I started to sit up and when I did, I noticed that some of the kids were gone. How I’d slept through that, I’d never find out, but I was certain of two things.  It was night, and we were leaving.

“K, everyone up” one of the counselors spoke. “Get your boots on and roll up your stuff.”

Stirring around the camp from the students that remained began immediately. I stood and dusted myself off, pulling my arms above my head in a big stretch.  A small fire had been lit in the center of where the counselors were milling about but I was not cold this evening, just curious.  I rolled up my pack and went to grab my water bottle.  Nobody was speaking, only a few coughs and yawns echoed through our little area. It was strangely calm.

A few minutes later, we all got together and waited for our orders.  One of the counselors, a girl, stood up and cleared her throat.
 

“K, guys, today’s the first day of your final solo.  We’re leaving in the dark because we don’t want you all finding eachother.  You’ll be out there for 7 days, alone.  You will know where your water spots are so you can get water.  We’ll be giving you some rations for food, but if you run out, thats it, you’re out of food.  You will be required to journal and set goals for your future in your notepads every day, and you’ll be checked out every night.  We will know exactly where you are at all times although you won’t see us.  Don’t attempt to talk to eachother, don’t try to escape.  Just do what we tell you, and you might be going home soon.”

She stepped forward and Murdock shouted “Lets go!” and we all followed in line.  One of the girls asked me what time I thought it was, but I had no idea.  We just knew it was dark and we were on the move.

We hiked for what seemed an hour when suddenly we stopped.  A counselor called out one of our names from a list and when that person stepped forward, he/she was walked off, presumably to their solo spot.  We waited there for about 20 minutes til she came back to the group, and this was repeated throughout the night til we were all in our spots. 

I was taken out there by a male counselor I’d not really gotten to know very well.  He took me to this little area, just below a big red rock on the top of a mesa.  It was kind of a little overlook and as I sat down, the cool sand felt good on my bare hands and ankles.  I could see a tiny light off in the distance.  I didn’t know what it was but it felt nice to see some kind of life from other than our little group.  As far as we knew, the world was dead outside of Challenger.

As the counselor walked off, he turned to me and said “Oh, your food.  Somebody else wanted to bring it to you.”  His smirk told me exactly who he was talking about…”He said to tell you he’d be by later this morning.”

With that, he was gone. We both knew who he was talking about.

So “he” would be back later. ”He” had been in town, supposedly on leave for a few days. I looked out over the area I’d been put in and wondered how heavy of a rock it would take to kill him.

 I’m due July 31 with my baby, Harper.  He’s an active little one, very intune with music and let me tell you, if he doesn’t come out doing head spins and poppin’ and lockin’ I’ll be surprised.  This kid has some MOVES, I tell ya.  Anywho, a month after I announced my pregnancy, my brother Taylor and his wife Mandy announced that they were pregnant with a boy as well…due the day after me.  They have a 10 month old son already and this pregnancy, although very soon and unexpected after the birth of their first son (their babies will be 14 mos apart…yipes!) is a very happy and exciting thing.  Our boys will grow up cousins, probably days apart if not sharing a birthday.

So back to the stomach jumpin easter pic.  My sister, lets call her E, she’s 15 mos younger than I am but she couldn’t look much different, heck, BE much different than I am.  She’s tall and thin and she has gorgeous porcelain skin and black shiny hair.  As a matter of fact, I’m the only short blonde in my family.  Anyway…she’s calm, and mellow, and very zen, while I’m a bit of a fire cracker (thats putting it nicely…) and I have a tendency to get extremely excited over tiny things like Slurpees and watermelon Hubba Bubba and lettuce wraps from PF Changs.  Some may find it endearing, but I find my over excitement about life…exhausting.  I can’t help it, I live in a manic mania.  Sweet.  Ok so I’m rambling, what’s new (spoonful of manic anyone?) but ok here goes…
E’s pregnant too!  She’s due a month or so after me and Taylor/Mandy!  Can you believe this?  She has 3 boys already so chances are she’ll have another one.  That’s 3 boy cousins due within days/weeks of eachother!  Christmas will be lets say…very whispery.  Lord knows who will be napping at any given time…you know how babies roll.

Is it just me or is this verrry odd?

For one…………….baby is NORMAL! Yay! I would have loved him (verified - XY…most definately a boy!) anyway he came to me but as far as they can see, he’s perfect. Now if I could just convince him my bladder is not a papasan chair and that my ribcage is not a wall for him to practice pelvic thrusts and soccer moves on…then we’d be in business buddy.

Two, I’m feeling much less stressed out at work. Things are in a groove and I’m still loving my job, which is such a blessing. How many people can say that?

As far as the story goes…you know the one…63days… I keep dreaming that it comes out and everyone who reads the ending thinks its written by Stephen King, although, there are no killer clowns in it, no big ax wielding hoteliers and no cell phone zombies to speak of. Maybe I’m just scared its going to be anticlimactic.  Maybe I should throw in a winning lottery ticket and a weird series of numbers…oh oh oh! and an underground hatch that has food stored and then there can be “Others” around and then one day these people from the other side of Lake Powell could show up and they think that WE are “others” so they try to kill us and then there can be an attempt to make a raft and escape but somebody steals a small black boy and then…oh wait…that’s “Lost”…never mind.  I’ll just stick to the truth. I mean…I’m still alive now, obviously, so it won’t end dramatically with me telling my story on my death bed… Dangit, I’ll just post it.
K, if you’re still around, I’m still around. Don’t be surprised if I just vomit out the rest of this dang story all over your arses pretty quick.

Oh! Wait! Tell me what you think of HBO’s “Big Love”… I’m curious at your insight and opinions…

We moved. Finally. Got into the new house, put everything away or in the garage when an enormously disgusting strain of the FLU hit our family. All of us. Me, the 4 kids and the hubby. Good times. THEN!!!!!!!!!! I got an abnormal AFP test back from my doctor.

For you men out there, or people who aren’t familiar with standard tests they run on pregnant women, at approx. 18 weeks, your doctor usually runs a gamut of tests that check a certain protein called Alpha-Fetoprotein and a few other hormone levels. It basically tests for things like Spina Bifida, neural tube defects and Downs Syndrome. Well… I go into my doctors office about 2 weeks after the test was administered and having not heard anything one way or the other (since they told me they’d call me in a few days with results if it came back positive/abnormal) I assumed that everything was ok. When I was checking out, my doctor’s nurse runs up to me and quite loudly, in front of everyone waiting, says “Oh ALLI! I’ve been trying to call you! (lies) Your AFP test came back abnormal.” She then leaned in closely to speak suddenly very privately (too late) :

“I don’t know the exact numbers, but we need you and your husband to go in for genetic counseling and for a level 2 ultrasound and possibly an amnio…soon, like tomorrow.”

She grabs my arm and takes me to the front of the line and says “Cheryl! Mrs. E needs to get in SOON to Desert Perinatologists for testing. She had an abnormal AFP!” and runs away. I could feel the eyes of the 352,365 pregnant women in the waiting room burning into my back with intense empathy while at the same time they were feeling pity/relief it wasn’t them.

Here’s where it gets really good. Cheryl cannot reach the perinatologist’s scheduling lady immediately, so she tells me she’ll call me with the appointment time. We go home, we’re stressed out, wondering if this sweet boy I’m carrying has something horribly wrong with him, and we realize 2 days later during the weekend that she’s never called us back with a time to go in.

I go into work on Monday and what do you know, we had an appointment the previous friday that she called me on MONDAY to remind me of, very apologetically. Honestly people, am I wrong to want to disect this woman’s ovaries while she lays on a bed of nails?

I call and make my OWN appointment for the following friday (last friday) and we wait nervously all week for the day to come. As we arrive, there are other women, equally nervous and visibly shaken, waiting in the gorgeous waiting room. A half an hour later, they call us back where a genetic counselor drills us about our heritage and our family tree. Mine is pretty basic. A few bouts of high blood pressure, but we’re a big fat scandinavian family on both of my parents side, my dad being 100% Swedish, my mom being 50% Swedish/50% Norwegian…can ya get any whiter than me? Anyhoo, we get to my husband…he’s half black, 1/4 Korean 1/4 Japanese. He’s got lots of diseases on his side, but either way, neither of us have had any of the things they’re looking for in this baby.

We go out into the ultrasound room where I’m schmeared with warmish lubricating jelly all over my belly and a woman who was really nice and totally hot (I might add) did an extensive and amazing ultrasound of our baby. Let me tell you…technology cannot be more amazing when you’re looking at your baby through one of these $500,000 machines. I could see his profile, I saw him suck his thumb and fingers, he made faces, he has a dimple on one cheek. AMAZING. What we were looking for was any kind of abnormality that would point to any disorder they were looking for. We ruled out spina bifida and cystic fibrosis, we ruled out a few other things, but they decided it would be smart for me to have an Amnio. If you don’t know what that is, let me brief you on it.

5 inch needle. Jam it directly down into the water surrounding the baby. Move/dig around while you’re finding your way around in there, make certain to take no concern with mother’s comfort. Suck out 3 huge syringes of water. Pull out violently. The end.

Good times.

Anyway, I have to wait 10 calendar days, but this test will tell us exactly who our baby will be. They will be testing the skin cells from the baby that are sloughed off into the water they extracted for dna, and a study will be done on at least 15 cells to look for the genetic marker that will tell us if he has Downs Syndrome.

I’m only 32. Am I too old to be doing this?

Thanks for listening.

Just thought I’d pop in and let you know whats up. After some intense looking around, searching and studying, we found a new place to live here in Vegas. So we’re moving, my 4 kids/husband/and I. Its a beautiful home and I’m really excited to get in there! I got a promotion at work and have been in Seattle for training and in my new office learning everything there is to learn about lending and banking and oh my gosh the numbers…they’re coming out of my ears!!!!

I also got shingles. I know, gross. We thought they were chicken pox but they’re not, they’re shingles. I am on the road to feeling much better, but for a while there, I looked like hell.

One more thing. All of your comments…so amazing. You supporters/family who has been there through it all/friends…you are the reason I’m posting the rest of my story finally.

The few people who are jerks…here: I’ll post your comments and your email address for everyone. Hey, you posted it to a public forum, I’m reposting it for everyone to see. Here’s my favorite one from this week:

_________________________________

anonymous said:

Its been almost 3 months since you last posted part of your story. This is
clearly not a matter of being too busy. I SMELL BULLSHIT!

Either post your story or say the the real reason why you won’t. Either
way…… do something.

______________________________________
Isn’t “anonymous” sweet? Awww, I love people like that. Anyway, “anonymous” sounds like a real hoot!

K guys, I may make the rest of the story password protected, I haven’t decided yet, either way, if you want to be on the list if I do end up doing it, comment to me, I’ll see your email addy and I’ll add you! Who knows, I may just put it up.

Love you all!

Alli

UPDATED:

I took the email out of the post. Apparently it “crossed the line” to some. meh.

To those of you who send me horrible emails talking about how you are angry and upset that I make promises to post then I end up not posting…send me your home address, I’ll forward you my utility bills and you can pay those for me so I can miss work to write a new entry! There, we both get something out of my story.

James Frey was an incredibly sad addict when he was 20 or so (he’s my age…32) and when he hit rock bottom, he went to a treatment facility and after 6 dramatic weeks, he was released and changed his life…forever. His story was written and at one point, Oprah made the book part of her book club. A few of the details in his story have been found to be a bit embellished but 99% of it has checked out and rings true. The story is captivating and it was all I could do to not read it in one day last month. (before all of the horrible press)

Anyway, James Frey is an amazing survivor, he tells an important story and I think the press he’s been getting is absolutely offensive to see and completely ignorant. The most important part of his story was his experience in the treatment center. Thats the part that helps people.

Anyway, this is the kind of thing that scares me. I get email daily that supports me, but I also get email and comments daily that call me a bold face liar. One man who has a website about having a brain disorder read my story and commented that “Although those camps were bad, this is obviously a work of fiction.”

Ok, so I’ve written the rest of my story and plan on posting it this week. Now I’m freaked out about the press/sharks/haters.

What are your thoughts? Anyone?

Thanks guys. Miss you all! I’m back!

~ Alli

UPDATE!!!:::

(the chick with a baby

BOY

in her pregnant belly)

…darn ultrasounds…now they say its a boy…who’da thunk??????

By the way, I saw now that Oprah has rescinded her support of Frey. Listen, I don’t “need” the approval (as some of the commenters remarked) so much as I wanted your honest opinions as I care about that. I have a family, a job, a new baby on the way and a very very very delicate relationship with my parents right now (its the best we’ve ever been) and I was simply wondering what you guys thought. I don’t want to throw my story out there so that my kids have to watch their mother go through scrutiny like that. This book isn’t my goal in life…the story getting told is all I ever wanted…whether it be in a published work or around a camp fire with my closest friends.

Thank you all for your comments…I read them all before approval. You guys are what keeps me strong.

Love ya,

Alli

~ Alli

Alli

_______________________________________________________

There were about 20 students standing at the top of the crack that was in the huge red wall infront of us. The wall itself seemed to tower about 10 stories above us and the crack was about as wide as a 1 car garage. We all stood there, staring down at the grey water. Huge boulders and 5 foot drops tripped their way quickly down from the top all the way to the bottom and from what I could see from where I was standing, there was only a miniscule beach down there.

“Ok guys…first comes first. Unload the handcarts. Get everything out. Set it on the ground and when you’re done, get your asses back over here….NOW!” Murdock was coming back. His anger and spite was quelled for a while when *Amy showed up, but every now and then, he’d lose it a bit and it made you hate him all over again.

We all walked over to the carts and started to unload all of the bedrolls and cast iron stuff. The counselors stood in a circle talking and smiling as we worked and we were all quiet, our eyes meeting for seconds in uncertainty. None of us knew what to expect from here on out.

When we were done unloading, we stood at the side of one of the handcarts and looked back at them. They looked at us and we noticed them being secretive in a way. It made us all a bit uncomfortable, but at this point, what could we do? Supposedly we were all 3 weeks from going home.

*Amy whispered to me “I bet we’re going to get a surprise!”

I was still amazed at her innocence. She seemed to feel the strain of the experience but I don’t think she ever “got” what was going on. Lucky her.

“Oh I’m sure we’ll get a surprise,” I answered. “They’re always good at surprising us. I just hope it doesn’t involve swimming long distances.”

She giggled and I looked at her like she was crazy. I wasn’t kidding.

“Ok,” Murdock started, “you kids are going to take a little trip down that crack. I don’t care how fast you go, but you have to be back up to the top by sun down. We’ll camp here tonight but I want you all to go down that crack and come back up it. Don’t even think about swimming across it, you won’t make it. There are coast guard out there so if I were you, I’d go on down…then come on back. Pronto.” He looked around at all of us then said loudly “GO! You stupid or somethin’? GO!”

We went. Pronto. Going down the crack was kind of fun. We had no packs, no handcarts to push/pull and there was a strange peace that came when we weren’t being watched by them. Huge rocks sat in the sand that trickled down the crack in this enormous mountainside. Wild flowers grew in a few places where the sun reached I’m sure in the early morning. Every few feet there would be a drop of between 3-6 feet that we’d climb/jump down. Soon we were all going faster and faster, the group spreading out a bit. Amy and I were helping eachother down the rocks as fast as we can and as we ambled, we’d notice long scratches in the walls.

Deep cuts in the rock made their way down at an angle that was close to the descent itself. I wondered what this was. Sometimes it would stop and other times it would be on both sides, mirroring eachother.

We made it to the bottom. Some of the other kids were behind us but some of them were already in the water. Nobody dared to swim but all of them had their shoes off and their pants rolled up. It was silent down there. You’d have thought a bunch of kids would have been rowdy and excited to see clean(ish) water, but the mood was almost reverent. I sat down on the cool shady sand and pulled off my boots. I stuck my filthy socks into them and rolled my camo’s up to right above my knees.

Tip-toe’ing down to the water I felt a strange sense of freedom. I was going to put my feet in the water and nobody was close enough to stop me if they’d wanted to. As I got to the edge, I felt butterflies in my stomach tickling at the anticipation.

My right toe went in first, the cold water stinging just a bit. I slid my foot up to my ankle and then went in with the left. The water was freezing, the run-off from the winter’s snow I’m sure was the cause. Standing there, “feeling”, it was amazing. Just the fact that I could “feel” again was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

*Amy took her shoes off and joined me. She looked around calmly and said in the most matter of fact way “I spend summers here. My family has a houseboat! I like it, sometimes its boring but on the other side of here is this place called Bullfrog Basin. Its awesome! There’s red sand beaches and restaurants and a marina and there are so many guys that come down like at spring break you can’t even believe it.” She smiled a little mischievious smile.

We walked around a bit, circling in the shallow water, other kids joining us every minute. Pretty soon we were all in the water. It was weird. We all were so quiet.

The shadows were growing long and we started to notice the sun was going down. A few of us got our shoes back on and started the hike up. It had only taken about 30 minutes to go down the crack but what we hadn’t even anticipated was how long the trip back up would take. Every ledge that had been so easily jumped off of now took two people giving boosts to get back up. The little areas that we’d squeezed down in a rush were now slick, steep corridors that had no hand holds.

My calves and thighs were burning and I was out of breath. I looked up the crack and it seemed like I hadn’t made any progress. I was mad at myself for not starting back up sooner when I noticed the sun now dancing near the horizon. I would have to hurry if I wanted to make it.

Finally, we got to the top. The sky was a light blue with orange and pink clouds that hovered around the mountain tops. The sun was down but there was still enough light to go over to where the counselors had made a fire.

As we passed them, they would stop talking and cover the writing pads they were writing in. They’d made Ramen for themselves to eat and the scent of it made me actually drool on my shirt. I went over to our pile of packs, found mine and settled down in a sandy spot over where they’d told us we could sleep. Some kids were already there, just getting into their beds. There wasn’t enough time nor light to make a fire to cook rice on so we all just got into our beds.

My stomach growled for a few minutes but before I knew it, I was dreaming. I dreamed of pioneers. Groups of wagons that were being lowered down the crack. Some of them had children who were crying and frightened inside. Men were pulling and pushing them with ropes they’d tied to the undercarriages of them. Horrible scratching noises echoed through my ears as the hubs from the wagon wheels would dig into the red walls of the crack. I dreamed of this all night long.

At some point a woman turned to me in the dream and said to me, her eyes looking straight at mine, “Allison, although the trip is hard, you must hang on. Just like we endured so will you. Its in your blood.”

When I woke in the morning, I was startled a bit by the vividness of her words. I could still see her and I grabbed my journal and wrote everything she’d said in it. I described her face, her clothes…her voice. I wrote about the cracks in the rock and how I’d seen how they’d been made.

As we started the next day (which would be one of the worst yet on this trip) all I could think of was the woman. I could have kicked myself for not asking her name.

Cody and I woke to the drizzle and pulled a pancho over our faces as we layed there waiting to hear our orders but none came just yet. All we could hear was the tiny little “tap tap tap” of the sprinkling of rain on the outside of our cover. It was a little bit cold but not enough to make you shiver.

I peeked out to see what everyone else was doing and saw no movement at all. I heard a few rustles but nothing big or loud just yet. Two of the counselors were shaking out their blankets and rolling them up as I glanced over to their area and I was surprised to see that they hadn’t woken us up earlier for some kind of strenuous firewood gathering or something like that.

Cody sat up and looked around, her long blonde hair in two braids. She looked left and right and plunked down again next to me.

“Hmm..” she said. “I wonder why everyone is getting to sleep in today…”

I lifted my shoulders and said “I dunno,” and reached for my boots with my hands hanging out into the wet air. We were camped on an old sheep farmers property. Fences stretched as far left and right as you could see with Hole-In-The-Rock road taking its path through a ramshackle gate somebody had welded together. You could see the spot where the tires from cars/handcarts had gone before and it was obvious what our trek would be that day. I was just glad it was sprinkling.

We got up and made ourselves some oats and a sprinkle of powdered milk they’d allowed us a few nights before and soon everyone was getting their things together. The general mood around the place was calm but still there was a heaviness that never left. I’m sure it was similar for men in prison, the feeling of kinship…friendship…that grew on you and stuck around even in the most traumatic and oppressive environments. It wasn’t that we’d forgotten about being out here, it was more like…we’d accepted it, if that makes any sense.

The counselors told us we’d be going the rest of the way down Hole-In-The-Rock road today to a place they called (appropriately) Hole-In-The-Rock. I could only imagine what it would look like and we set out down the road.

Up until now, the road was up-and-downsie, rocky, and somewhat washboardy, but these last 20 miles…let me tell you. They were like driving your wooden wheeled bicycle over trenches…over and over and over. Then imagine the trenches are layed out so you went over and into them and immediately out of them and then onto the next 12 inch deep trench but you’re going up or down steep hills the entire time. Not fun and quite disturbing on the hands and feet, not to mention the lower back pain that you never grew accustomed to. Just when you’d get to the crest of one hill, the next one would pour down in front of you, daring you to just let the handcarts take themselves down. We would have but if you even let go of those things, they being so heavy with cast iron and rocks and packs, they would have barrelled down at such speed and recklessness! We’d NEVER have been able to stop it. Some of us would hold onto the back edge of the cart and squat down as it went down the steep hills, our bottoms resting on our heels as we were dragged downwards, our bodies and the friction from our feet slowing the cart just enough to stop tragedy from striking our little company.

Rain clouds hung heavy over us, cooling the skin on our necks and arms from the springtime sun that had been with us recently, except for the few little showers here and there. It smelled good, it felt good and I almost enjoyed myself.

Finally, we got to the place. It was a crack in a huge red mountain and when you looked down this 15 foot wide crack, you could see down about 1/4 mile to the bottom. There, all you could see was dark grey water. Lake Powell. We’d made it to the 3rd and final segment of our trek.

Cody and I had decided to teach the other kids on the trek some songs we’d sung as little girls at church. Somehow, the counselors let her get away with darn near anything. I swear she was an angel. Anyway, the first song we taught the others was called “Popcorn Popping.” It went with hand actions when you were 3 and your parents had dropped you off to sing with 35 other wild 3 year olds for 2 hours, but at our age, and since we had to push and pull handcarts…we just sang the words. It went something like this:

Cody: K, everyone listen, we’ll sing it together first, me and Allison.

Me: You start.

Cody: 1, 2, 3 go!

Together: Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii looked out the window and what did I seeeeeeeeeee???????? Pop…corn…popping on the aaaaaaa pricottttt treeeeeeeee, spring has brought me such a nice suh-priiiiiiize, pop…corn… popping right… before…my…eyes… I could take a hand…full and make a treat….a pop….corn…ball that would smell…so…sweet….it wasn’t very soooooooooo…(nodding heads no) but it seemed to be!!!! (point to own chest) pop…corn…popping on the apricot……treeeeee!!!!!!!

Everyone was silent. I didn’t think it had gone over well. One boy, the one who cried for his momma a few nights before, he spoke up first.

“Um, whats the deal with the apricot trees?” he asked.

“Well, I think the blossoms on the apricot trees look like popcorn, you know?” I replied.

“No. I don’t think I’ve ever seen no apricot trees. They grow popcorn?” he inquired.

“Ahhhhhh, no, but it LOOKS like popcorn,” I said. “The spring blossoms are white and puffy.”

“But how does the corn get on it?” he said, quickly.

“Look, there’s no popcorn. It just LOOKS like popcorn. Its a blossom! Its a surprise, get it? Popcorn is what it looks like? The blossoms?” He was looking at me blankly. “Never mind…” I said.

Cody giggled and said to me quietly, “Allison, I never thought about it that way…you know…the blossoms and stuff. I just thought it was a weird kids song my whole life too!” She laughed and one of the counselors turned to snap at us, but saw that it was her and made an uncomfortable half grin and turned around.

“Man, whats up her ass?” Cody said.

If she’d only known how easy they were being on us lately. If only.

We got to Dancehall Rock about 3 in the afternoon. It was HUGE and HONEST TO GOD it looked absolutely alien sitting there in the middle of the desert.

It was open wide desert for MILES and suddenly, you came upon a huge red rock sitting in a field. When I say huge…I mean gargantuan…the size of a basketball arena that is at your standard state university. Its carved out on the west side into the shape of an amphitheater and if you stood on the floor of it and whispered, someone on the other side…perhaps 200 feet away…they could hear you because of the absolutely astounding natural acoustics of the place. There were little tiny puddles on the ground of the “dance floor” that made up the western side. The puddles were shallow and only the size of a large pizza or so, but they were filled with clear beautiful water. I bent to drink from one and saw a tiny tadpole in it. Amazing that any creature could live on this rock.

Other kids were trying to climb the steep walls that were to the east of it and they weren’t making it to the top when the counselors clapped their hands and told us that we’d be sleeping there tonight. I was thrilled.

Cody and I set our packs down and found a weird spot where the sand had blown in and a few little desert flowers were sprouting miraculously out of the ground. I went to get some firewood and as I rounded the corner, I noticed the intense blue of the sky. It made me feel almost free in this prison of invisible bars I was in. Nick was right behind me.

“Hello there. You thought I forgot about you? I didn’t.” He moved in to the right of me. “No, don’t make any noise…I won’t touch your little friend. I know her dad. Oh, and if you tell her about us? Your little friend will answer to me, and she’s definately cute.” He drifted off momentarily as I’m sure he undressed my little saviour in his mind. He snapped out of it and pulled my by my right elbow to behind a little bend in the rock.

“Let go, Nick” I said.

“Oh, we say no now huh? Interesting. What? What now? You gonna do something?” He asked, a smug smirk on his face.

“Yeah, actually, I’ll bite it off… Explain how it got out of your pants once its laying on the dirt…” I replied.

He let go of my arm and pulled away a little bit. He gave me the most disgusted look I’d ever seen as he backed away mumbling under his breath about whores and filthy little prostitutes.

That worked…for quite a while.

That night, the stars were out, the air was cool and the wind made little whispering noises all around us. Angels were all around us, in the air…in the water…in the sky…and right next to me slept the best one of all.

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ps, see the links? check it out…google image search “Dance Hall Rock” to see more photos. Amazing place…Mike and I took a huge trip this summer and early fall to southern Utah and northern Arizona around Kanab and St. George, Lake Powell and Escalante…we went down the road again for me. It was emotional and I can hardly breathe as I type this and look at the photos we shot. Almost too much to remember, but it was good to re-capture my soul from out there. I’ll post pics soon. Thanks guys — Allison

I stared at a juniper tree, begging it to open up and spill presents, daring the rocks to turn into shiny cars…something. I thought immediately of my parents. They had to feel something. They had to miss me, right?

I hadn’t been getting letters from them like the other kids. Everytime somebody would come from town, they’d bring yellow envelopes stuffed with letters and pictures that somebody’s family had sent to them, but lately, I hadn’t recieved anything. I had just assumed that my family had totally forgotten about me.

I looked over to Cody, my partner and best friend by now and leaned in close. She smiled and leaned in and said quietly “what…you got a secret?”

“Yeah…I got a secret,” I said. “Its my birthday. I’m 16. Whooptie freakin do, eh?”

Her eyes got huge, her mouth dropped into an “O” shape and she started to stand.

“Happy Birthday darlin’!” she squealed. She stood and ran over to a new counselor girl and started to tell her something. She shooed Cody off so she went over to the next one, a white haired 20 year old guy named Blaine. I saw him smile and put his hands up in a “whaddya expect me to do” position. She plopped her hands down on her dusty camoflauge pants and came back to me.

“Well I tried! All they said was maybe they’d give you something special tonight, ” she said, looking defeated.

I smiled and said “You have no idea how much you’ve done for me already…I don’t need anymore.”

Her mouth curved into a slight grin and she said “I guess so…whatever” and shrugged her shoulders. She reached into her pack and pulled out her journal. “Ok,” she asked, “what do you want for your birthday breakfast?”

“Huh?” I asked.

“Oh just do this…k? K what do you want?” She repeated.

I listed a few things, french toast, eggs, orange juice and sour dough toast. We went on til she had our entire day of birthday meals all written out and when we were through, she tore the page out and handed it to me.

“Keep it, Allison. When we get out of here, me and you, we’re going up to my family’s cabin and I’m making you all of this…got it?” she asked.

“Got it,” I replied.

That night, it sprinkled…something I’d prayed for. It had rained every single one of my birthdays, me being born in April and all. They also made me a dutch oven pizza. We never again had a birthday meal for another student. Cody was magic, I was sure of that. I would never figure her out, I just knew she loved me back.

“Wow yeah, I heard all about you. My dad was called into his office when you were missing. You’ve got balls” she said.

“Well,” I answered “I didn’t do it to get attention. I didn’t do it to prove anything. I just wanted to get out.” I looked down at her new Nike hiking boots. This girl was spoiled…that was obvious.

“Yeah, me too. Sometimes I want to leave. I hate when they make us carry rocks and stuff. It sucks out here,” she said with an amazingly white and incredibly toothy grin. She obviously had these counselors wrapped around her finger, and she didn’t even know it. They were afraid of her, that was for sure.

I smiled back and we set out for tinder to make our morning fires. I watched carefully out of the corner of my eye as the staff carefully avoided her like a beautiful blonde plague. She had no idea it was going on, and I wasn’t about to inform her…I was thrilled to be part of this. Hell, I had front row…priceless. They were positively squirming as they watched our friendship begin to bud. The crazy thing was…I really liked her. It was just a happy little accident that she was the daughter of the attorney for these creeps. Thank God she was awesome.

We hiked together, we walked together, we slept next to eachother for the next few days. She and I had lots in common; we both came from fairly affluent families, we were both of the same faith, we were both blonde, we were both born in Utah. It didn’t take much to push us into inseperability. We were best friends in 4 days. I loved Cody. Loved her.

On the 4th day, we pulled our handcarts to an open stretch of H.I.T.R. road and by the time it was dusk, we had our bedrolls set out under a tree beside one another. She and I talked about what we’d do when we got out of there. She said she was going to break up with this older boy she was dating and she’d stop smoking pot. We promised to live together and set up a TeePee making company. We talked about the kind of sewing machine the thick fabric of teepee’s required, we discussed different sizes we’d make for kids and families. We were going to become millionaires.

She was my angel. She kept the wolves at bay. She protected me, and she didn’t even know she was doing it. She saved my life. If only she could have saved the others from what I knew was still going on.

I heard the noises…muffled sobs, quiet rustling, slow walks back to camp as the foul counselors followed closely behind. They knew I knew…I could see it in their eyes the next day. I also knew they didn’t blame me. Out here, it wasn’t about favorites…it was about who could take it and who couldn’t.

Inside, there were the counselor’s packs, cast iron dutch ovens, shovels, our packs and heaviest of all…the 50 gallon water jugs. The wheels were wrapped in metal along the one inch wooden edge of them, and as we trudged along, the sound of the metal grinding and turning on the hardened dirt and rocks started to scratch at your eardrums like fingernails on a chalk board.

The counselors walked along behind us or in front of us and for a few days they were eerily easy on us. They weren’t exactly kind to us, but they also didn’t hurt anybody. Nick would catch my eye every once in a while, but he didn’t touch me after the last time he’d taken me into the night. It sounds unbelievable to say, but I think we were all more frightened of their silence than we were when they were raging lunatics.

The path we were on was called Hole-In-The-Rock Road. It started out with a few areas of wash boardy type surfaces but as we got down it a bit further, it began to have huge pot holes and rocks dotting the narrow body of it. The wheels of the handcart would get caught in a rut or hole and the whole group of us would jerk to a stop, sometimes nearly knocking you over. We quickly learned to keep our hands and feet away from the spokes as we went along when a little boy in our group got caught in them one time and nearly ripped his arm off at the shoulder.

Each day lasted about 10-15 miles we gauged, and although we weren’t carrying our packs, we still ended up exhausted at the end of the day. We were using a whole different set of muscles during this leg of our experience. Our shoulders and hands were taking a beating and I started to wonder if I’d come out of this looking like a race horse. My arms were toned and my legs were solid and tan from the sun pounding down on them from morning ‘til night.

A girl who I’d never talked to in the group named Cody started talking to me one day. Her dad was an attorney for Steve Cartisano and she was out here because she was doing the same thing most of the kids out there had been doing…smoking pot, ditching school. She had long blonde hair, big blue eyes and the whitest teeth I’d seen out here. She was bubbly and fun and before I knew it, we were becoming friends.

She had just joined us and when I found out who her dad was, it was suddenly clear why the counselors had retreated into their holes and were acting semi-humane. Cody was a watch dog, and she was going to be my constant side kick from then on…I would make sure of that.

Go HERE to help. We need GOOD, QUALIFIED and LOVING care for our children, troubled or not. We have GOT to do something.

Thank you all,

Allison

We’d all talked about how when we saw our first dirt road/path/whatever, how we all would kiss the flattish dirt. The trails we’d hiked on included powdery sand up to our knees, rocks that tipped with the slightest bit of weight, making it difficult to even stand let alone walk AND cowpie filled swampland. Roads = a break.

We piled our gear into the back of the carts with the counselor’s things that were already in there and I noticed there was some cast iron cookwear inside of it. I also noticed huge water bottles, probably 50 gallons or more and a few shovels.

Murdock gathered us all around him and told us that today was the beginning of Handcarts. Handcarts would last 3 weeks, and would take us to the Hole-In-The-Rock which dropped down into Lake Powell.

“Things ain’t gonna be easy, but you’ll git there. We got G.O.R.P. for ya when ya git there, so keep up and you’ll git there just fine. No whinin’, no wailin’ and no cryin’. Now git some sleep, we’re risin’ early!”

We all stood for a moment, not sure if he was gonna say something else, and then we all went to our little areas to set up our blankets. I was certain tomorrow would be good, so I actually hummed as I set up my bed. As soon as the sun had gone down in our little spot, I went off to use the bathroom behind some bushes.

“You didn’t forget about me did ya?” a voice spoke at me from beside a metal cattle fence. I knew the voice and it sent my heart racing. I stepped backward slowly a bit until I was against a tree. Sharp needles from the pine boughs poked through my shirt a bit but I didn’t really even feel it.

“No. I didn’t forget,” I said.

Nick walked over to me and I knew his walk even in the dark. I could smell his soap before he got to me. He came in close and pulled me to him.

“Did ya miss me?”

I closed my eyes and tried to leave the moment as he put his lips on my neck. He breathed in deeply.

“You guys stink…” he said. He still sounded like he enjoyed my dusty scent, and his words didn’t match his actions. “Just you wait til you get to the lake and you can wash up. We’ll do lots of good stuff then.”

He pulled me a bit closer til I could feel him rubbing against my thighs. His hands wandered around under my shirt and I could feel his fingernails digging into my back as he fumbled with my bra strap. My mind started to go blank and before I knew it, it was over and I was on a rock, head resting on an old log fence. I rolled my head to the left and saw a pond, the top of it covered with moss and gook and a bright reflection of the moon was almost too bright for my eyes.

“Get up. Don’t say anything. You know the drill…” and he left. The previous affection was once again gone, and I wasn’t disappointed. I pulled on my pants and shoes and made my way back to camp. Nobody even looked at me when I came in, and nobody even said a thing as I lay in my roll crying a bit. I’d become so accustomed to his attacks before, but the few weeks that he’d left me alone had allowed my scars to heal. This time hurt again. I was back in my cell that had no bars.

As I drifted off, I remembered something he’d said in the middle of it all tonight–

“I’ll be with you every day til you go home…isn’t that nice?”

I rolled over on my pancho and as it made its little crinkle sound, I noticed something off to my right, under an old wood storage box. A white glimmer was peeking out from behind the box, against the wall, and I gently reached my arm over to pull it out. Everyone else made tiny sleeping noises as I lifted out a magazine, water damamged and hard from age, some of the pages were falling to pieces as I slowly dragged it towards me, but when I put it down on the floor next to my face, carefully using my body on its side to shield anyone else’s view, I flipped open to the center.

The magazine was from 1958 and there was an ad for an Okeefe & Merritt gas stove that seemed to be drawn with colored pencils, an artists rendering of sorts. In it, a woman in a white dress was standing at the table, placing a plate in front of the husband. A red belt was at her tiny waist and her golden hair was in a perfect coiffe. Her red lips were pulled into a wide smile and her subservient manner was apparent in the way her head was gently bowed, eyes closed.

The husband was in a business suit, reading the presumably morning paper. He was well tidied, his reading glasses perched on his straight and level nose, hair slicked back and parted on one side. He wore a smile, but he didn’t seem to acknowledge the boy that was playing at his feet.

Red and blue stripes were layed across the boy’s shirt, a neat pair of blue short pants on his 4 or 5 year old legs as he knelt on the floor next to the table posing his toy military planes around what appeared to be tiny soldiers. His sandy hair matched his mothers, and I could see that this child was apparently well cared for and loved by the smile that crossed his face.

A pie rested on the stove…apple I presumed from the apples resting in a bowl next to the sink. I looked over to the window to peek out when I found myself drawn back to the drawing of the pie. I could smell the cinnamon, taste the hot sweet apples as they slightly burned the roof of my mouth. I was there in that kitchen.

I was lost in the photo when I heard a low grumble of engine coming up the old farmers road toward the little cabin we were in. It got closer and closer before I realized I’d have to hide the magazine before anyone else saw it and by the time I heard the engine cough to a halt, I had only enough time to tear the picture out of the book and shove it down the back of my pants.

The door opened and a blinding race of dust and yellow light poured into the air we were laying in and a man who was only a silhouette with the bright morning sun stepped in. Murdock.

“Get. your. lazy. butts. up,” he said, almost too quietly. A few students stirred. “I. SAID. GET. YOUR. LAZY. BUTTS. UP!” he shouted this time. “NOW!!!”

We all stood, scrambling a bit in the confusion. I got my self put together making sure my back was toward him as he did the little “walk thru” I liked to call it. He would come up to random students and look them in the eye and stare. Then he’d walk on, or he’d chuckle, either way, it was better than guns and dogs, so we dealt with it fine.

“We’re takin’ it down Hole-In-The-Rock road today. We’re gonna meet up with some friends a’mine this afternoon, and you’re gonna get a lil treat. Lets just say, you won’t be carryin your packs for a few weeks, how’s that sound?”

A few of the students said little things like “yeah!” and “awesome” but the look on Murdocks face told the majority of us that he didn’t plan on making this little “surprise” a treat we’d enjoy.

We all packed up and headed down the road, some of us throwing a handful of dry lentils or oats in our mouths as we hiked. Ahhhh, breakfast of champions.

That day, as we hiked, I imagined the family in the picture. I named her Joan, the husband was Grant and the little boy was Eric. I felt myself slipping sometimes into their house, sitting at the table…its cold white top chilling my forearms. Joan’s pie was amazing and I’d sometimes imagine her sneaking a bit of ice cream on top as we ate. I imagined sunny afternoons with the neighborhood kids playing in the grass together. The parents sat on porch swings and sipped lemonade. Everything was neat, everything was quiet, everything was wonderful. I stayed in this imaginary place all day, and for the rest of the trip, I used my little adopted pretend family to comfort me during the hikes and when things got too tough to deal with.

As we came into a valley that evening, we saw our next three weeks set out in a line in the sand. Handcarts with big iron and wood wheels were parked for us, and they were already full of gear and rocks. Some of the kids were happy, but when I looked ahead of us, I could see that the road we were about to go down was full of hills. I had come from pioneers on both my mothers side and my fathers side, and I already knew that handcarts were torturous devices. I was glad to get rid of the pack, but the thought of pushing and pulling that huge cart over and up hills made me almost sink to my knees.

That night, we all dreamed differently I’m sure, but I was back in the house with Joan and Eric, and we were sitting in the kitchen sharing a quiet moment while Grant read to us out of a book when I heard the creaking of wagon wheels pull up outside. My dream became a nightmare that would be the next three weeks.

thanks!

Alli

The girls hiked now in silence, nobody really even complaining about anything, and the boys would sometimes hum or whistle. Today was a good day, and that was rare. Murdock was in town for 2 days, and it was obvious what an impact he made on all of our moods.

We stopped for lunch on a tiny wash, our legs dangling down over the edge. We sipped our water and each of us grabbed a handful of whatever we could spare out of our rations and carefully ate what we had. I grabbed a small handful of raw oats and stuck them in my mouth, letting my saliva soften them.

The sky was blue blue, the teensiest white clouds starting to gather over Boulder Mountain, and I started to hum a song to myself. A boy a few bodies down from me turned quickly and his eyes caught mine and he began to hum along with me. A few of the other students noticed it and looked at us both and finally one of them asked us what we were humming.

“Its an old pioneer hymn. We’re both mormon and its just a song the pioneers used to sing when they walked with their handcarts across the plains til they got to Utah,” I said.

I started to sing outloud the words:

“Put your shoulder to the wheel push along…do your duty with a heart full of song…we all have work, let no one shirk….put your shoulder to the wheel…”

The others giggled and one girl with dirty blonde hair leaned over and said, her mouth full of oats and dry milk “why’d they push their bodies on the wheels?”

The group giggled.

“Well, I suppose if you leaned really hard into the cart with your body, or your shoulder or whatever, you’d go faster. Those things were heavy, I’ve seen replicas in Salt Lake in the museum. They pushed those carts over dirt just like this,” I said, pointing to the ground.

“EXACTLY like this,” Leeza, the female counselor said. “The pioneers, they settled the southern part of Utah and Nevada and California, so they actually brought their handcarts down this way. In a few weeks, we’ll be at Hole-In-The-Rock and you’ll see the marks on the walls of the canyon that the wheels left in the rock. Its pretty cool…”

I sang it again and some of the others sang along, and pretty soon, they were all singing it. One kid laughed about how his friends at home would never believe how he sat in the desert singing hymns with Mormons, and the other kids laughed too. The mood was light, and we got up to finish our hike in better spirits.

The day was long, but we sang as we went. Throughout all the hiking, it reminded me of another song that I taught them that day.

“Pioneer children sang as they walked…and walked…and walked…and walked….”

We found an old sheep herder’s shack that night and all of us squished inside to sleep that night, and all was well as we sang “Put your shoulder to the wheel, push along” as we drifted off to sleep. Little did we know, in less than 5 days, we’d be pushing our own handcarts…down the same road the Pioneers traveled down…to the exact spot where they met Lake Powell for the first time.

Portions of our mornings were spent on occasion with the counselors chatting in their area, watchful eyes always on our group, while we’d roll up our bedding and start our rice or oats simmering on the coals from the (hopefully) still hot firepit. These were the mornings I’d use to write letters to my family. I grabbed my journal and sat in the cool sand next to the shady firepit we all huddled around while the sun began its slow ascent up from behind the red eastern cliff.

I started out writing a letter to my mom. It didn’t go well. I started to make the next one to my dad…this only made me cry. I wrote one to my little sister Ashley, she was only 4…this broke my heart. My sister, E, the one who was only a year younger than I…I didn’t know where to even start the letter to her. I had only one more person to write to, my brother Tay. I wrote a few things about hiking, joked about the great food and accomodations, asked him about his bike…friends…things like that, and signed it, re-read it and tore it out and crumpled it up and threw it into the fire.

I didn’t know what to say to these people. I knew that they probably thought of me as an annoyance, as someone who just made bad decisions that affected everyone in my family. I knew that they were all probably mad that their “crazy” sister Alli was once again, in the center of the spotlight for making horrible choices that just messed up their lives. I didn’t know how to explain the things I’d done before, nor how to explain how completely awful this place was without traumatizing them, so I let it slide…I would continue to write fluff letters, protecting them, as usual, from the horrible things that happened to me…just like I’d done since I was a tiny girl of 4. There was no reason to tell them. It would just make my parents even angrier.

I drew little stick figures all over the page. I wrote out all the phone numbers of all the peopleI could think of just so I could feel like I wasn’t so alone. Once I was done, I tore that page out and tossed it into the fire as well. I didn’t want to get any of my friends in touch with these people.

I sat there, wondering what we were going to do today. I looked at the other students. Some of them were gazing out into the river, their eyes glassy and fixed. Three boys were sitting on a rock talking about cartoons. One girl was laying on the sand next to the fire waiting for her food to finish. Things were eerily still. Things were too good right now.

A strange noise approached from the hills around us. It started out tiny, then it got louder and louder. It was like a train coming, but there were low grumbles and snorts surrounding the sound. We could smell them before we could see them. Suddenly, there were 500+ cows around us. They were trotting by, some of them walking quickly, some of them more slowly. They’d glance at us with huge glossy eyes as they went past, a few of them stopping to stare until the herd pushed them along. They were coming along side the river in a huge pack as we sat there. The first few hundred passed without incident, but as we got toward the end of the group, a few of them started to look sickly or young. Mother cows were prodding the babies along with their noses, some of them making pathetic little snorts and cries as they were pushed along. Ten minutes passed and finally, we saw two men on horses come up the trail, whistling. They nodded at us, our gaping mouths full of dust by now, as they passed.

It was over. Nobody said a word. Life was so totally weird.

One of the boys started crying. I heard it first as sniffles, assuming allergies or a cold, but it progressed, whimpers being added. Soon, he was softly crying to himself and I turned to see what was wrong. He sat behind me with another boy and a young girl. They were looking at something in the sand and I could see just a glimpse of red peeking out. I bent closer to see what the fuss was about and saw something that shocked me without warning.

There was an empty skittles bag…peering out at us. It was buried mostly in sand but the wrapper was still red as could be, no fading or weathering to be seen.

The boy who was crying snatched it out of the ground and pulled it to his nose….hard. He inhaled deeply, exhaling only when he could hold it in no longer. We all watched, our mouths watering from the expectation of the scent of fruit goodness. He inhaled again, this time a bit less deeply and when he was done, he opened his eyes and tearily looked at us and exclaimed “it still smells, guys! It still smells like skittles!”

The rest of the kids were starting to come around and we all gathered in a circle when we heard a loud clap of Murdock, coming up behind us.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, rats? Huh? What is it?” He stepped into the middle of us. “Oh! Hahaha, you found you a candy wrapper, didja? Aw…isn’t that sweet. Wouldn’t you like to have yerself some of those candies right about now?”

He grabbed it out of the kids hand and all of our eyes followed it in what felt like slow motion as he put it in his pocket and walked out of the circle.

“Ya pussies. Cryin over a candy wrapper. GET BACK TO MAKIN YER BEDS! ITS LIGHTS OUT!” he shouted.

We made our beds and did as he said. The stars were twinkly that night and I’m positive that every single one of us dreamed about a “Rainbow of Fruit Flavors”…
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Alli

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