Finding Chaz

With my Dad standing above six feet tall and my mom being above average height for a woman-- I was told by everyone that I'd be tall when I got older. And, having a love for basketball, this made me excited. I was always average height through elementary school and during my fifth grade year I got really excited when I learned that it was  time for my body to start growing and changing. I think I was the only student in the whole school who walked out of the maturation program with an excitement for the future!

Puberty is the thing that dreams are made of!

My sixth grade year came and this was it, this was the beginning of becoming a man. On my first day of school and I saw tons of changes -- facial hair, 6 inch growth spurts, body odor and cracking voices were abundant among my classmates. Only, none of these changes applied to me. I stood the same height as the previous year -- a firm 5 feet tall, scrawny and squeaky, I basked in all my unchanged glory.

In fact, I grew a whopping three inches from sixth grade year, until my junior year in high school. It was absolutely awful – but it was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I learned a lot by being the butt of every joke, the punching bag of my peers and called names by my friends and strangers at school... and being endlessly harassed by an old man at church who wanted me to sit on a pillow while I drove my car. Claiming, he couldn't see me over the steering wheel. Anyway, I learned a lot from this LONG period of my life.

This is my, "you think I'm kidding... but I'm not" face.

When it was time to start seventh grade, I showed no signs of getting taller.  Most people had grown taller than me, at least by a couple inches, and apparently my body was in no rush to keep up. I was smaller than pretty much everybody. This is when the teasing and names began. “Shorty” and “smalls” were two of the more creative names that people used to make fun of me. It was the first time I experienced bullying, and I wasn’t big enough to do anything about it. Like the time in kindergarten when I shoved a kid to the ground because he insisted on walking around and bopping the girls on the head. But that was before the dark times… before the hormones.

One day in seventh grade, I was walking to art class, and a big tall Mexican came walking through the door. As we passed, I felt a great big fist ram into my stomach. I let out a gasp of air as I folded in half and dropped my binder. The Mexican then kicked my binder down the hall, luckily I had it zipped shut, and laughed at me as she strutted down the hall. Yes, you read that right, SHE. This  encounter with a bully was a huge Mexican girl. And she had just socked me -- right in the gut.

I realize this is a horrible drawing... I'm not trying to be racist. I just don't feel I owe this girl enough to do a good job depicting her.

I picked up my binder and went and sat in my seat by the teachers desk and put my head down. Tears began to well in my eyes as I wondered, “Why did she do that? I don’t even know her. Why would she do that to me?” I sat there, embarrassed, confused, upset and most of all, angry. I heard two of the teachers whispering. One of the teachers whispered the name of my attacker, which caused me to eavesdrop. My feeling of anger diminished as I overheard them talk about the rough life she had. By the time the bell rang to begin class, my emotions had changed from contempt and anger, to compassion and heartache for the girl. Even though I was only in seventh grade, I gained a small understanding of the girl and why she had felt a compulsion to sock somebody. She was just treating me the way she was treated.

The next day I walked to art class nervously -- fighting the urge to slip my binder up my shirt...you know...for padding. I was nervous because I had made up my mind to simply smile and say hello to her. When we passed I let out a nervous, "hello," and waited to be pummeled. She just looked at me and then walked by without any further acknowledgment. I did this everyday. After a few days she began to say hello back. After a while she began to smile at me as we passed.

 That experience opened my eyes, and showed me many people have a much more difficult claim to life than I do. As often as I can, I try to put myself in other people’s shoes, so I can try and understand them.

Forgiveness is perhaps one the most difficult tasks we are asked to do as human beings. When somebody wrongs you, you want vengeance -- or at least karma to catch up and punch them in the throat. But, that doesn't always happen...in fact, it rarely does.

When I was in 8th grade, on a cold and wintry day, I stayed after school to do homework with one of my teachers. When I was done, I went to my locker, put on my coat and began to walk outside to wait for my mom. Okay, so my coat... it was new... and puffy... I mean, really, really puffy! When I put it on I turned into at hybrid of the Michelin Man and Baymax from Big Hero 6. The coat made me a little self conscious. Each day I would wear my coat onto the bus, then as soon as I was at school, I'd stuff it in my locker and wear my hoodie the rest of the day. As I walked by a group of older students to meet my mom, one of them pointed at me and said, "look, a fat little hobbit!" They all laughed and continued making hobbit jokes as I walked out of the school red faced and embarrassed.

What made me more upset than anything was that they used the term, "hobbit" to make fun of me. I had recently read The Lord of the Rings books and loved them. Kinda added insult to injury.

Actually, all throughout high school, I loved to read. It gave me an escape, a way to let my mind wander. I LOVED to read. I read at least a book a week through high school. In my reading class one year I read the most pages out of anybody in the entire trimester. Yup, I’m awesome. I read every Michael Crichton book available, read, re-read, and then re-re-read the Harry Potter series and loved any book about Native Americans, mountain men and the civil war.

NO FRIENDS= tons of spare time

Reading was a great outlet for me. It gave me a chance to get away from the negative for a bit, and just  unwind. However, nothing, and I mean NOTHING, gave me quite as much joy as reading Calvin and Hobbes did. That was my go to literature. If I just couldn’t take it anymore, I read Calvin and Hobbes. I would read strip after strip. I loved Calvin, and I really identified with the situations he was placed in. He was awesome unto himself, but misunderstood by his peers. Especially by the bully Moe -- stinking Moe!

After my first week of my sophomore year...this is exactly how I felt. This ^^ was actually a really common occurrence.

My sophomore year I tried out for the basketball team and I was cut. I was one of the last to try out that was cut, and the coach told me it was because I was just too small. About a week after I had been cut from the basketball team, my sophomore year, I was sick of not being able to accomplish as much as I thought I could if I were taller. I thought if I were taller I’d be on the basketball team and I could finally find friends that didn’t constantly tease and punch me... and the group of high school seniors, that I didn't even know, that thought it was hilarious to throw me up against the lockers, punch me in the arm or gut every time they saw me in the hallway, would just leave me alone.

I guess this coulda worked

This one speaks more to the truth

I believe in God. I believe that we are his children and that he loves us and wants the best for us. That being said, one night I was angry and upset because it was the end of my sophomore year and I still hadn’t changed a bit... not only that, but I missed my best friend Tyler, who had moved to Arizona the year before. I thought about how things would be different if I was only taller. I shared a room with my brother, and I just felt like I needed to communicate verbally my frustrations with my Heavenly Father. So I went downstairs and knelt down on the couch and began to pray. I pleaded with God, I asked him to let me grow and to help me find people that were not just nice to me, but truly my friends. I prayed (cried) for over an hour. When I finished my prayer, I sat there and waited...

I waited, kneeling on the couch, head down, eyes closed in the moonlit room, waiting for an answer from God. When, suddenly, I heard the words, "everything will be okay." Instantly, I felt an awesome sense of peace overcome me. All my concerns and sadness seamed to evaporate, and the words, "everything will be okay," assured me things would eventually get better.

From that point on I learned to be okay with who I was. I was short, super friend-able with the ladies and a dang good three point shooter. A lot of the bullying and teasing eventually stopped, simply because, I stopped caring. I didn’t let it phase me anymore. When I decided that I was okay with who I was, suddenly, most people were okay with who I was too. And if they weren't...oh well.

 My junior year started just like every other year. Same height...same everything. I found "school friends" but I really didn't have any close friends. I was a group hopper and a gym rat. I'd sit next to my "school friends" while I ate lunch and then would go and play basketball in the gym with my "lunch time basketball friends." I had made peace with the fact that I never went anywhere or really did anything with people in my grade outside of school.

Then, some of my classmates invited me to go paint-balling with them, and I went. And man, I'm so glad I did. Because, during the summer between my Junior and Senior year, that's when everything changed for me. It didn't matter that I had finally started to grow, but, I had found a group of friends that reached out to me and accepted me as I was.

And now, 9 years later, everything is okay.

No matter what trials or difficulties that trip me up as I stagger through this life, I have faith that there is a plan. I believe there is a reason that we go through certain trials at different times in our lives. I've seen this so strongly through the friends that have come into my life. I love them all so much. Things don't always work out the way we think we want it to. Or the way that we think is the best in that moment, but, I firmly believe that, if we trust in God, our Heavenly Father, "everything will be okay." Through trials and happy days -- this group of people has been one of the ultimate blessings in my life. And through marriages, babies and other means...the love just keeps a growing.

                                                                  ***Disclaimer***
I know that some of you that read this will wonder if I've forgotten about you and our friendship. That's a no. But I couldn't very well write about my entire youth. I just hand selected some of the most difficult times of my youth and events that shaped and changed my life. I had so many wonderful friends, church leaders and parents growing up... freak, I even got to be in a band, The Wannabees for a while. You are not forgotten.

Lord of the Rings vs. Twilight

Being a Dad vs. Being Single

Dear Uncle Fred

So, forever ago, when I asked you for your address I had every intention of sending you a package of pictures and letters from me and from my family. I kept thinking about doing it, but, going to Walmart to get pictures developed and writing a thoughtful handwritten letter takes a lot of time. It's crazy how having a baby keeps us at home... yet, there really isn't an opportunity to get things done. Right now she's asleep, so I'm watching The Office, which I have memorized, and that allows me to write while I listen.

I don't know how much you know about what's been going on in our lives, but, Beth and Schon had their baby in January 22nd, the same day as my dad's birthday. Her name is Addison. She's the second cutest baby I know. We had our daughter on June 1st. So she shares a birthday with Beth. We were actually due on May 31st, however, Aleece went over. We had an appointment on June 1st to make sure the baby was alright. The doctor stripped her membranes to see if that would help get things going. We went home and Aleece began having super constant contractions. They went from 10 minutes apart to 3 minutes apart within a half an hour. Since we had never had a baby before we were both not sure if this was the real deal or if they were the "braxton hicks" contractions. We called the doctors office and asked what was going on. They told us to go on a little walk, and if she was still having them during the walk, then they were legit. When we were about two blocks away from our house Aleece's water broke. Her contractions became more intense and she could no longer walk through them. I had no idea what to do, I felt bad that she had to keep walking, but I didn't dare leave her to go get our car. I just imagined driving down the block and seeing my wife on the sidewalk by herself giving birth. haha Sheesh.

 We arrived at the hospital at 3 o'clock...ish. And then...we waited. The wait wasn't bad for me at all! They give the husbands free sandwiches, snacks and soda. At 10:50 p.m. Aleece started pushing, by 11:21 our baby was born...but not breathing. When she came out she had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck. She had also pooped right before coming out and it went in her mouth, blocking her airway. She was limp, grey and silent. As soon as the doctor had her he said something to the nurse and she got on her communicator and said a bunch of numbers, then seven nurses came running in. One was working on cleaning out her mouth, others were attaching IV's and two were scrubbing her down. I kept hearing stuff like, "her breath is faint" and "I can't find her heartbeat." We didn't hear her cry for like five minutes.I can honestly say that I've never prayed so hard in my entire life. Then, we heard a tiny little whimper, and a nurse said, "there she goes, she's turning pink." The intensity of the room suddenly went down, the nurses started smiling and the doctor told me to go take pictures.

We got to spend a little time with her, but they also found out she had a really bad infection. I don't remember what it was exactly, but I remember they said her levels were supposed to be at .6, but they were at 4.8, eight times higher than they were supposed to be at. So, we made the NICU our home for five days. They said to expect to be there for a couple weeks, but after the first day her levels had dropped by half. We were so happy that she was okay.

Bringing her home was one of the scariest days ever. Oh my gosh, just knowing that this little girl was 100% dependent on us was an intimidating thought. But, we survived. I'm not going to lie, though. Having her is amazing and challenging at the same time. See, it doesn't really bother me when she cries a lot or poops her pants. I don't mind being a dad. It's just, I've kind of always lived my life on a whim, without a plan. I've always been sporadic, but that has changed... and some days I have cabin fever so bad! And I'm not even with her all day!! I work all day long, come home and it's just knowing that we won't be able to go fishing, see a movie or just even sit quietly on the couch and watch Netflix -- it makes me crazy. I've had to really just try and appreciate all the little wonderful things about it, rather than dwell on the negative. I was talking to Beth the other day, we were talking about how tough it is to have a baby, she said, "but, it's all worth it, I can't even imagine what I'd be doing if I didn't have her {Addison}. Is that how you feel?" I said, "nope, not at all. I know exactly what I'd be doing. We would have gone to the Decemberists concert on May 31st, I would have gone fishing yesterday and I'd be sleeping  more than four hours every night." haha It's just such a big change. But, I do love her! I just wasn't prepared for this drastic of a change. It's so fun to have Addison and Avery so close in age. They're both so darn cute.
 

"Grandma said what!?"

 Granted, these pictures are about a month old. They have both changed so much.

Aleece and I were finally able to do something this summer. We went to Boise and stayed with her sister and her family. We went to the Decemberists concert, which was awesome, and the next day we floated the river with her sisters family.

It was great! Well, until the end. We weren't that far from where we were going to get out of the river, when we all decided jump out of our little inflatable boat. Aleece and I jumped out first, followed by Dylan (12) and then Hailey (11). Savana, (7) stayed in the boat. About a minute away from where we were going to get out we attempted to climb back in the boat.The water was up to my waist and so I held onto the boat while Aleece tried to lift Hailey in. But, when she lifted her, she slipped and fell under the water. I had to let go of the boat and I grabbed Hailey before she could be swept away. Aleece came up and swam over to the boat so Savana wouldn't be alone. She couldn't stop the boat, so there I stood, in the middle of a fast flowing river with an eleven-year-old girl in my arms.

All I could think was, what the H-E- DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS am I going to do? A few boats passed, but they couldn't slow down enough for me to place Hailey in one of them. I was in quite the kerfuffle, I was close to the shore on one side, but the water got really swift and probably went over my head. I was far away from the other side and I didn't dare walk across the entire river with this girl in my arms. I did not want to slip and let her fall. She had a life jacket on, but the water was going pretty fast. But, after five minutes of standing there, I realized I had no other options. So, like my pioneer ancestors before me, I began my trek across the freezing river with this girl in my arms. It was crazy, I didn't even stumble while walking across. And I'm the guy who fell into the river four times last year when I went up to the Wind Rivers with my buddies. haha 

Thankfully, Hailey was laughing the entire time, and thought it was hilarious. That kind of helped me keep my cool. The old lady on the shore that was screaming and whistling at other boats to come save us, on the other hand, was kinda freakin' me out a little bit. I kept thinking, our situation must be more dire than I realize. Thank goodness it all ended well.

We also went to the Boise Penitentiary... which was... depressing. It was funny to walk around and try to answer questions that 7 and 11 year old girls had about life in a late 1800's early 1900's prison. Especially, when we went into the gallows room and they asked us what the rope and trap door were for. haha 

Not gonna lie, driving five hours with an infant

 is stressful.

And that's pretty much been our summer. The rest has been spent taking care of our cute little girl.

 I know my mom really appreciated your input with the Grandpa situation. The poor guy needs to stop being so darn stubborn. He comes to dinner on Sundays and he is in such bad shape. It takes him three minutes to walk from the driveway to the door at my parents house. I hope they can get everything worked out for him. I hope HE can get everything worked out for himself, actually. He's been a great Grandpa, and it sucks to see him deteriorating due to his stubbornness and lack of care he seems to have for himself.

Well, I need to start getting ready for scout camp, I'm the Scout Master and I'll be gone all next week... I'm excited, but I'm dreading it at the same time. I love the young men in my troop, however, I hate organized scout activities. The skits, cheers and silly games they make us do is a waste of time. Just let us get the merit badges done, and then we can get the heck outta there!

I hope this has been of interest to you. I figured this would be a good way of keeping you up to speed with what is going on. I would have done email, but uploading pictures is a pain. If you care to respond, you can email me at chaz.a.ricks@hotmail.com. I'd love to hear what you've been up to and how everything is going.

P.S. I didn't have time to go through and proof read this... so it is what it is. ha Don't judge me. 

Our awesome little family...

We have to make sure she doesn't get too jealous

She's starting to smile a lot!

My beautiful hometown of Benson Utah

Can't stop laughing!

The Grudge I will never forget

In the 25 years that I have been alive on this earth, I have only had my own room for six of those years. I have shared a room with my little brother Nelson since he was born. Which, for some reasons that I can't think of right now, were great. But there were also a lot of reasons that I could not stand sharing a room.

I think a lot of it had to do with the five year difference between us. When I was 15 he was 10. With that big of a difference in age we clashed every now and again. For example, when I got into my teens, I wanted my room to look like this...

I also wanted to paint the walls black at one point.

But, instead my room actually looked like...

When he was little Nelson liked to have pictures of pigs...they were his favorite animal. Don't ask me.

It drove me nuts. I liked to stay up late to play video games at night, but in order to do so I had to turn the volume all the way down so my brother could sleep. Now, I'm not really complaining. I had a great life growing up. But, it eventually got to the point when my parents realized that I needed my own room.

So they found me one... the family camping trailer.

This was my summer home from the age of 15 til 19.

It had a microwave and built in overhead speakers that I could plug my awesome mp3 player into and listen to  music. I also took out a small television and my Play Station 2 -- it was heaven.

The only problem was having to run through the field to my parents house if I had to go see a man about a horse in the middle of the night. Benson is creepy in the dark. It’s quiet and since there are no lights or street lamps the darkness is consuming.

There was one instance when I was 15 years old, I road my four-wheeler a couple miles to my friend’s house where we watched a horror movie called The Grudge. Now, I don’t care how scary you thought this movie was. It scared the crap out of me. I hated every second that I watched that dumb movie. 

I've actually never reacted well to scary movies. When I was 11 I watched The Sixth Sense with my mom and I became physically ill while watching it. It made me break out in a fever and feel so incredibly nauseous that my mom had to put a cool rag on my forehead and I watched Winny the Pooh until I fell asleep. There was also the time that I watched The Ring, and seven days later I woke up at the same time I had finished watching the movie the week before. It was back when VHS tapes were still in use. My VCR automatically ejected the tape when there was no more to play. Then the t.v. would do this...

And that static sound would come on

 If anyone has seen The Ring...that's exactly how it all starts before that freaky little girl comes crawlin' out your television set to kill you. I was home all alone, and I was so scared that I called my grandma at midnight and asked if I could come stay at her house for the night.

So yeah, not the best track record with scary movies. 

Anyway... 

The worst part after watching The Grudge at my friends house was the ride home.

It was late, and dark and dark and dark. I said goodbye to my friends, and in the darkness strapped on my helmet. I turned on the lights and my journey of terror began. The singular light coming from my four-wheeler bounced off the bulrushes, trees and fences lining the road, and cast eerie shadows that seemed to move all around me. Beyond the light of my four-wheeler was total darkness. Also, did I mention it was dark?

 Almost immediately my imagination began messing with my mind. I imagined the bad girl from the movie crawling out onto the road in front of me, or the housekeeper who’s bottom jaw was torn off appearing in he middle of the road to kill me.

It wasn’t long before I was in tears, pushing the throttle as far down as it would go. 

"Don't you dare appear in front of me! (Gulp) I will just run you over!" endless sobbing.

On a typical day it was a rule to park the four-wheeler in the shed and make sure everything was locked up before going inside the house. Not this night. I pulled into the front lawn of my home and jumped off of the four-wheeler while simultaneously switching it off. I didn't care where it rolled to, I was not going to stop moving closer to the door of my home.

I un-clipped my helmet as I ran for the side door (which my parents left unlocked for us when we stayed out) and dropped it on the lawn. Then I heard them... foot-steps running behind me and they were gaining. I ran faster, but not fast enough. I heard panting. I felt something soft, cold and wet make contact with my hand. I let out a gasp of air that would have been a scream if I was capable of making a noise. 

Something small and strong crashed into my legs and jumped onto my body.

It was then I knew I was a goner. I saw my life flash before my eyes, and then a bright light. Ope, wait that was just the porch light. And the horrible jaw-less and crawly Asian women that were about to kill me... well, they were just the family dog excited to see me. 

I was so doggone scared! 

Frustrated, scared and embarrassed I shoved the dog off me and yelled at her, telling her to go to bed. That night I did not go back outside to my trailer. I stayed inside relieved for the first time ever to share a room with my brother.  

Unfortunately, this stupid movie did not only get best of me once, but twice times. It was the next night and I had completely forgotten about the movie throughout the nice, bright and sunny-summer day. So that night I stayed in my trailer--and the Grudge came back.

Side note, in order to keep my trailer somewhat cool in the summer, I sometimes left the door open so it would cool down before I slept in there.

Like I said, I had completely forgotten about The Grudge…that was, until my head hit the pillow. Then those freaky images began to flood my head. I sat there terrified for a good half hour--and then the meowing began -- and it was coming from inside my trailer.

Does anyone remember the grudge…uh, yeah. There’s this part.

I was so frightened I couldn't move. As the meowing persisted, I decided I could either die lying there like a scaredy cat, or I could fight. Slowly, I inched my fingers towards the baseball bat I kept at the end of my bed. I still couldn't see the source of the meowing.

Then, as I enclosed my fingers around the bat I saw a pair of eyes staring at me. They were just a few inches above the ground, just a few feet away from me. The meowing began again and the eyes inched forward. It was now or never. I jumped out of my blankets with a cry of defiance and switched on the light and turned around to face my attacker. 

Seeing as I’m still alive and The Grudge is just a movie, I'm sure it is pretty obvious what was in my trailer meowing at me. It was a turkey. Not. 

Once again, scared, embarrassed and angered I picked up the cat,opened the screen door of my trailer and punted the poor thing out into the night.  

Although, potentially catastrophic, my actions caused no permanent harm to the kitty

   

 I'm never cruel to animals. In fact, I felt terrible about my actions the next day and payed the cat special attention. Needless to say, I never found her in my trailer again.

To this day I hate that movie. I tried watching it recently to overcome my fear. I made it to the part when the causes of the curse are written on the screen in order to preface the movie. I read that, and then I turned it off.

Especially me...