My #2 Son

Robert Lawrence Temple II (my #2 son) & his wife, Dawn

I remember that in the old Charlie Chan movies that occasionally were shown on TV, detective Chan never referred to his sons by name. He referred to them as “#1 Son,” “3# Son,” etc. I have always assumed that those numbers referred to birth order and not to any valuation of his sons. When I use the terms #1 and #2 son, it is to their order of birth that I refer.

As I said in my post yesterday about my #1 Son, Nick, both of my sons were born on June 12. The only dissimilarity is that my #2 Son in birth order, Rob, was born four years after my #1 Son.

Well, I suppose that the year of their birth isn’t the only divergence between them. Rob is taller than Nick; he also has (a lot) more hair on the top of head than his older brother. Appearances aside, Rob is the gourmet and wine connoisseur in the family. When they were children, Nick would be more than happy with a (plain) hamburger and French fries from McDonald’s. Rob craved sampling all sorts of foods. On his seventh (I think) birthday, we took him to a seafood resturaunt where he ordered the special: a shark steak. That is something I have never tasted and never will taste if I have my way about it!

When I say that Rob is a “gourmet,” I mean that he is more than one who appreciates fine food. He also prepares it. Rob loves being in a kitchen and experimenting. After a year in college, Rob took a “volunteer” position with an organization called A Christian Ministries in the National Parks. He was assigned to minister at Big Bend National Park in Texas, where he led worship, prayed with the visitors and staff, and generally acted as a chaplain at the park. I wrote “volunteer” because, not only do these young Christians not receive pay for their ministries, but they must work in the parks to earn their food and lodging. At Big Bend Rob so impressed the staff with his abilities that he was assigned the duties of reservations and desk clerk, which was rather plush work when compared to those folks who were pushing brooms and cleaning up cabins. Plush as it was, Rob yearned to get out from behind the front desk and into the kitchen. He finally did and created some dishes that were added to the lodge’s menu.

After his year at Big Bend, Rob worked at two other national parks—Isle Royal, a forested island in Lake Superior and Bryce Canyon in Utah. He didn’t work in the kitchen at either of these parks; however, he did sharpen the wilderness skills he first learned as a Boy Scout.

Rob and his wife, Dawn, who is an archeologist, love the outdoors. They hike and backpack, climb mountains and spelunk. Spelunking is something you’ll not find me enjoying: I found myself feeling claustrophobic just watching a video Dawn and Rob made of one of their spelunking expeditions. Give me the fresh air of a mountain top; Rob and Dawn can have the caves!

I supposed it’s the outdoor activities that give Rob and Dawn so much pleasure that keep them living in the west. Unless, of course, it’s Dawn’s—who was born and raised in Texas—observation that there not much of anything good east of the Mississippi River. Of course, that Dawn has specialized in the archeology of the American Southwest may be another reason to live there.

Rob and Dawn have lived in the West since their marriage, which was immediately after Rob worked at Isle Royal National Park. For a while they lived in Alpine, which is in west Texas, where Rob was executive chef of a 5-star restaurant. (I’ll bet you didn’t know there was a 5-star restaurant in west Texas!) Now they live on a mountain several hundred feet above Albuquerque, New Mexico. As the picture at the beginning of this article indicates, living that high in the mountains isn’t easy. It’s a far cry from the dry heat of the west Texas desert!

That’s my #2 son. I look forward to Rob's and his brother's birthday next Sunday, even though he is far from me. And I also look forward to Father’s Day, when I shall celebrate the blessings I have received from both of my sons.

Birthday Party

My sons, Nick and Rob, were both born on June 12, as was their paternal great-grandfather, TNT (Terrible Nick Temple). Rob and Nick aren’t twins: Nick was born in Wurzburg, Germany in 1971; Rob was born in Louisville, Kentucky, in 1975.

In the past 12 or so years, my sons have lived in places far from one another: Nick has lived in California and Oklahoma; Rob has lived in Texas, Utah, and New Mexico. Today was the first time in more than a decade that they have celebrated their birthday together.

Below, without comments, are photographs of today’s birthday party that was held at Nick’s house in Louisville, where both Nick and Rob now live since Rob’s arrival last Thursday. The last image is a slightly altered version of the birthday cards I created for my sons.

Note: There are more images that Blogger would not allow me to uplod with this post. I shall upload those next week.

My Two Sons

Nick III (left) and Rob in April, 2005

With June being the month of Father’s Day, I suppose I am becoming a bit reflective. Tonight I remembered in detail the births of my sons, Nick and Rob. No, I’m not going into detail about those moments: they were too private and precious. They were also two of the dearest moments of my life.

They also both occurred on June 12—four years and thousands of miles apart. Nick III (named for my paternal grandfather and me) was born in Wurzburg, Germany; Rob II (named for my father) here in Louisville.

Nick now lives in Louisville. He has four adopted children, so I am a grandfather. For several years he lived in the west—California and then Oklahoma.

Rob and his wife, Dawn, have lived in the west—Texas and now New Mexico—for almost ten years. The photo above was taken in April of this year, the first time the three of us have been together since I officiated the renewal of the wedding vows of Rob and Dawn in 2001.

I shall write more about my sons as Father’s Day approaches.

My #1 Son

In my post of June 1 I spoke about how proud I am of my two sons, Nick and Rob. I also wrote that, as Father’s Day approaches, I would write more about them. That’s what I am doing now.

Nicholas Lawrence Temple III

Besides the approach of Father’s Day, I have another reason for writing about Nick and Rob: their birthday is less than a week away. That's right, their birthday: they were both born on June 12 but four years apart! Having sons who share the same birthday has created some interesting situations, but sharing those stories is for a later post: this one is about my oldest, my #1—son, Nicholas Lawrence Temple III.

I’m proud of Nick. He has accomplished things that I never have, even though I admit I have attempted to duplicate some of his eCommerce activities, but without his skills and successes. There was a time when I could do a Google search for articles on eCommerce and inevitably would come up with numerous articles written by my son. That wasn’t surprising: Nick was first published in a national computer magazine when he was only seventeen years old. He continues to write articles and his publication list grows each year.

He has worked for some major eCommerce companies, but my #1 son is primarily an entrepreneur—something I shall never be, no matter how much effort I am making. He always seems to have several projects going at once and I lack the discipline to juggle more than a couple at a time.

The Private Mail Reader Website

One of his projects I have listed under the links to the right. It is the Private Mail Reader. When Nick began this project, he had me download the program. I like it because it allows me to control the email I receive. More than that, of the three email programs I have on my computer, it is the only one that truly allows me to avoid spam! That’s important to me: on my recent trip to Pennsylvania (see my post for May 6 in the May Achieve), I had more than 800 emails awaiting r me in two of my email programs, 80% of which were spam. In the Private Mail Reader Program I had no spam! I think it’s a very good program and I thank Nick to bringing it to my attention.

Being the entrepreneur that he is, Nick goes a step beyond providing the program to semi-literate computer guys like me. He also provide the source code—whatever that is—of the Private Mail Reader and a couple of other programs to developers and eCommerce folk who have my knowledge and skills in the area than an old folkie (see post for June 5) could ever appreciate. That code is found at Nick’s site that I have linked as The Most Jealously Guarded Source Code in the Internet Marketing. If you are into Internet marketing and eCommerce, I recommend that you take a look at that site.

Even if you aren’t into Internet marketing, I recommend you click the link. That’s because of something else that’s special about my #1 son: he’s an extraordinary family man and at that site you’ll find pictures of him and his family, including the four children he had adopted.

There is much more and many stories I could write about my #1 son, Nicholas Lawrence Temple III. I’ll save those for later. Tomorrow I shall tell you about my #2 son, Robert Lawrence Temple II.

Happy Birthday to My Sons, Nick & Rob

To me, June 12th is the most precious day of the year. On June 12, 1971 my son, Nicholas Lawrence Temple III was born. On JUne 12, 1975 my son, Robert Lawrence Temple II was born. Nic and Rob are precious gifts to me; they are my precious gifts to the world.

Nick and Rob, 1978

On June 18th, family and friends with join with Rob and Nick in a birthday celebration with a favorite theme  of my two sons and me:

June 12th was also the birthday of my grandfather, Nicholas Lawrence Temple, a renowned Louisville police officer of the 1920s, ‘30s, and ‘40s.He died at age 74, when I was about 6 years old. I have written several blogs about him as TNT - Terrible Nick Temple.

Over the river and thru the wood

Over the river and thru the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;

Well, it really wasn’t “over the river” because we gathered from and on the Kentucky side of the Ohio River. And it was at “grandmother’s house”—my mother’s house—rather than “grandfather’s house” for an early Christmas celebration:

The Grandmother’s House

Welcoming Committee: #2 Son Rob’s Canine Friend, Rex

The Grandmother Herself

Sometimes Saintly Nick Himself

Left to Right: #1 Son, Nick III; Nick’s son, Lee; Nick’s significant other, Sibyl; Sometimes Saintly Nick’s sister, Deb

#2 Son, Rob, restraining Rex as Sometimes Saintly Nick opens gift

BLURRED! (Did you ever try to take a photo of 3 little girls and a dog?) Left to Right, granddaughters Savannah; Kayla; Brandy

An Almost Non-Blurred photo of Brandy

The Return of "The Muffin Saga": Part I

In 2008 I began a series of blog posts entitled The Muffin Saga about my dear of doggie friend, Muffin. There are 15 parts to the story of Muffin and my family and me. After numerous requests, I am again publishing the series, one part each Sunday for 15 weeks. I promise this time to complete the saga by adding parts XVI and XVII.

She came up to us from behind the bars, her tail wagging and a friendly gleam in her eyes. Well, the gleam was in what we could see of her eyes. Her bangs hung over her eyes just as her long, gray-white hair covered her body. If it were not for the wagging tail at one end and the tongue protruding from her mouth at the other, we wouldn’t have been able to tell she was a dog. Later, when we got her home and she curled up on the living room rug, we realized that she looked more like a mop head than a canine.

We had been without canine companionship for the three years that I had attended seminary in St. Louis. My sons, Nick aged thirteen and Rob aged nine, and I missed having a doggy friend. Before we moved to St. Louis, we had experienced the love of two devoted dogs.

Bruno, a black Labrador Retriever, had come into out lives as a puppy. We had raised him as a house dog, although the larger he grew the less house-worthy he became. He probably would have remained a house dog, even with his chewing on the furniture, had he not developed a liking for my wife’s shoes—or, perhaps it was a dislike for her. After he ate the third pair, she banished Bruno to the back yard. There were adventures surrounding his yard life, but they must await another, exclusively Bruno, post. Briefly, I found Bruno to be so unhappy being separated from people, that I gave him to a social service aid I had supervised at the group home I’d managed.

The second dog briefly over-lapped Bruno. She was a highly pedigreed little Pomeranian named Jennifer Foxy Bair. She was given to us by a wayfaring friend of my wife’s sister. He did not want to deal with her on his journeys. I quickly understood his need to travel without her: Jenny was spoiled rotten as only a cute little Pomeranian could be. For example, for breakfast she expected to be served an egg scrambled in butter. Still, she became a part of our family and we cried when she died—poisoned, we believe, by the dog hater who lived across the street from us.

During my three years of seminary study those of us who lived in the dorms were not allowed to have four-pawed pets. I promised Nick and Rob that as soon as I graduated, was ordained, and called to a church, we would obtain another doggy friend. So, a couple of weeks after moving into the parsonage in Cannelton, Indiana, and few days after their birthday (both of my sons were born on June 12^th, although four years apart) we drove the thirty miles to the nearest animal shelter and began walking between the cages looking for a new member for our family.

And that’s how we met Muffin, the name she somehow received on our drive back to the parsonage. Her age was estimated at between eighteen months and two years. She had come to the shelter along with about thirty other dogs that had been living on a farm and badly neglected by the farmer. She was within a few days of execution when we adopted her.

On the drive home from the shelter, Muffin shared the back seat of our station wagon with Nick and Rob. She also vomited—the only time she ever vomited in a car. When we arrived at the parsonage we surprising learned that she was house broken. It was a surprise because we had been told that she had spent her life out of doors.

Muffin snuggled, cuddled, and played with my sons. She was, however, terrified of me—terrified of all adult males and especially any wearing a baseball cap. I suspect that that farmer had not only neglected those thirty or so dogs, but had abused them as well. I also suspected that he routinely wore a baseball cap.

Another of Muffin’s quirks is that she didn’t speak—no barking, whining, no sound at all came from her mouth. Even when she saw me, she didn’t make a sound. She just cowered and looked for a place to hide.

As you may suspect, it wasn’t long before she lost her fear of me and we became best friends. She also began to speak on a regular basis to the point that I sometimes longed for her mute days.

Muffin was a part of my life—a very important part—for fourteen years. We had many adventures together and we cared for one another when we were ill. When she disappeared I looked for her for weeks. And I cried and mourned her.

But that’s another story which I will share after I share the stories of the adventures Muffin and I had during our fourteen years together. 

To be continued

Please 

The Muffin Saga, Part I

She came up to us from behind the bars, her tail wagging and a friendly gleam in her eyes. Well, the gleam was in what we could see of her eyes. Her bangs hung over her eyes just as her long, gray-white hair covered her body. If it were not for the wagging tail at one end and the tongue protruding from her mouth at the other, we wouldn’t have been able to tell she was a dog. Later, when we got her home and she curled up on the living room rug, we realized that she looked more like a mop head than a canine.

We had been without canine companionship for the three years that I had attended seminary in St. Louis. My sons, Nick aged thirteen and Rob aged nine, and I missed having a doggy friend. Before we moved to St. Louis, we had experienced the love of two devoted dogs.

Bruno, a black Labrador Retriever, had come into out lives as a puppy. We had raised him as a house dog, although the larger he grew the less house-worthy he became. He probably would have remained a house dog, even with his chewing on the furniture, had he not developed a liking for my wife’s shoes—or, perhaps it was a dislike for her. After he ate the third pair, she banished Bruno to the back yard. There were adventures surrounding his yard life, but they must await another, exclusively Bruno, post. Briefly, I found Bruno to be so unhappy being separated from people, that I gave him to a social service aid I had supervised at the group home I’d managed.

The second dog briefly over-lapped Bruno. She was a highly pedigreed little Pomeranian named Jennifer Foxy Bair. She was given to us by a wayfaring friend of my wife’s sister. He did not want to deal with her on his journeys. I quickly understood his need to travel without her: Jenny was spoiled rotten as only a cute little Pomeranian could be. For example, for breakfast she expected to be served an egg scrambled in butter. Still, she became a part of our family and we cried when she died—poisoned, we believe, by the dog hater who lived across the street from us.

During my three years of seminary study those of us who lived in the dorms were not allowed to have four-pawed pets. I promised Nick and Rob that as soon as I graduated, was ordained, and called to a church, we would obtain another doggy friend. So, a couple of weeks after moving into the parsonage in Cannelton, Indiana, and few days after their birthday (both of my sons were born on June 12^th, although four years apart) we drove the thirty miles to the nearest animal shelter and began walking between the cages looking for a new member for our family.

And that’s how we met Muffin, the name she somehow received on our drive back to the parsonage. Her age was estimated at between eighteen months and two years. She had come to the shelter along with about thirty other dogs that had been living on a farm and badly neglected by the farmer. She was within a few days of execution when we adopted her.

On the drive home from the shelter, Muffin shared the back seat of our station wagon with Nick and Rob. She also vomited—the only time she ever vomited in a car. When we arrived at the parsonage we surprising learned that she was house broken. It was a surprise because we had been told that she had spent her life out of doors.

Muffin snuggled, cuddled, and played with my sons. She was, however, terrified of me—terrified of all adult males and especially any wearing a baseball cap. I suspect that that farmer had not only neglected those thirty or so dogs, but had abused them as well. I also suspected that he routinely wore a baseball cap.

Another of Muffin’s quirks is that she didn’t speak—no barking, whining, no sound at all came from her mouth. Even when she saw me, she didn’t make a sound. She just cowered and looked for a place to hide.

As you may suspect, it wasn’t long before she lost her fear of me and we became best friends. She also began to speak on a regular basis to the point that I sometimes longed for her mute days.

Muffin was a part of my life—a very important part—for fourteen years. We had many adventures together and we cared for one another when we were ill. When she disappeared I looked for her for weeks. And I cried and mourned her.

But that’s another story which I will share after I share the stories of the adventures Muffin and I had during our fourteen years together. There are several future posts that will continue the Muffin Saga.

June 12 Is a Special Day

On June 12, 1971, my son, Nicholas Lawrence Temple III, was born in Wurzburg, Germany. He was named for me; I was named for my grandfather, who long-time readers of this blog know as “TNT,” which stands for “Terrible Nick Temple.” By chance, TNT was also born of a June 12^th in the Nineteenth Century.

Nick III (a few years ago) with our beloved dog, Muffin.

My grandfather, Nicholas Lawrence Temple (TNT)

On June 12, 1975, my son, Robert Lawrence Temple II, was born in Louisville, Kentucky. He was named for my father, who died in 1983.

Rob, last Sunday, at his new home.

Rob’s 2007 birthday cake, which was devoured at a party last Sunday that doubled as a house-warming for Rob and his girlfriend, Leigh.

As you may guess, June 12 is a very special day for my family and me.

Happy Birthday, Nick & Rob!

June 12th is a special day in my family. Both of my sons were born on June 12th, four years and four thousand miles apart. They have grown in to fine men and I cherish each of them more than my words can express.

The picture below was taken (probably) in 1978. Nick is on the left; Rob is on the right.

June 12th was also the birthday of my grandfather, Nicholas Lawrence Temple, a renowned Louisville police officer of the 1920s, ‘30s, and ‘40s.He died at age 74, when I was about 6 years old. I have written several blogs about him as old TNT (Terrible Nick Temple).

My Life in 2011 thru Photos, PART I

January: Alex and I were still adjusting to our new apartment:

January: I decided to allow my hair to grow longer.

January: Alex misses not being allowed to play out-of-doors.

January: Steve was mu caregiver (I had 7 different caregivers in 2011, the longest staying with me about 10 weeks)

January: Steve helped me hang my prints on the walls of the new apartment.

January28th: I began playing guitar again after a very long hiatus.

February3rd: I returned to the discipline of reading Arabic, Hebrew, and Greek texts.

February 7th: A box of neat gifts arrived from a friend in Australia.

February 14th: Celebrated my birthday alone with Alex.

February: Alex is becoming comfortable in the new apartment.

March 10: Finally my my goo health began to return to me and I went out to explore the new neighborhood. (My apartment below).

March 12th: I searched for the railroad crossing near my apartment where my paternal grandfather, Adam Hertle, was killed in 1924.

March 13th: Alex moved hisnapping spot from on top of my chair to the seat of my chair, evicting me.

March 16th: Alex escaped the apartment for the first time. He came back inside after about 10 minutes of exploring and rolling on the sidewalk.

March 18th: Anne Owen and her wonderful music came into my life.

April 4th: I love this kitty!

April 19th: Anne became my sometimes apartment mate.

April 20th: Anne's "bed."

April 28th: Alex has decided that, when I am napping in my chair, he will nap on my legs.

April 30th: Going outside to exercise (walk) and explore.

April 30th: Alex still wants to play outside.

May 13th: My caregiver, Mike.

June 18th: Sons (Nick & Rob) birthday party They were born on June 12th, four years apart.

June 18th: Rob.

June 18th: Nick.

June 18th: Daught-in-Law, Kim, and my delightful granddaughter, Story Wyn Temple.

June 19th: Anne Owen's sister, Tina's, birthday party.

June 19th: Tina

June 26th: Alex being Alex.

Thank you for visiting Nick's Bytes.

Those are the photos of the first half of 2011. I shall share the JUly - December photographs after New Year's Day 2012