Richard S. Hunter: ROAD TRIP to the Pacific Northwest...Day 8

Sunday October 27

Our first week of vacation was now behind us. One down and two more to go...

Even though our intentions were to get up, eat something quickly and head off to church, for some reason everyone was running on a half tank...we all agreed that maybe we would pass on going to church and instead, we would watch Dr. David Jeremiah on TV. Like always, his sermons were to the point and thought provoking. Kerry and I have fond memories of our days (years) attending Shadow Mountain.

Brandon and I had a plan for today. I was going to teach him how to make Lasagna. This kid has a real feel for the kitchen and his knife skills are advanced for someone his age.

The first thing we needed to do was head over to the on-base grocery store for some supplies. We walked around picking up noodles, tomato's, celery, carrots, onions and cheese. There was ground beef at the house so these few items would complete the necessary ingredients. We also picked up a sandwich from the Deli for Daisy and Brandon to eat for lunch. All we needed to do now was pay for the items, get home and start making the sauce, which can easily take a few hours to simmer, allowing all of the flavors to magically marry as one.

As we approached the self-check out a lady approached us and asked for our military ID. I told her that I didn't have one, while looking down at Brandon as if he could resolve this. I said to him, "Show her your ID," and he told me he didn't have it on him. The lady, with a firm attitude, repeated the rules that no one can shop on base without a military ID. I simply listened to her then when my opportunity came to say a few words, I told her, "Look, I am Brandon's grandfather. His dad is posted here and is now in the middle east. My wife and I drove up from Tucson to spend some...." and at that point she cut in, "Tucson? My family is from Tucson, up in the Northwest part of town." I smiled and informed her that that was where we lived. With that said she leaned in and in a soft voice said, "Hang on a minute. Let me speak with my supervisor." She ran off and left us standing there, being watched by everyone in the area, most in uniform. She came back in a few minutes with her boss and pointed to us as if showing us off as a prized trophy. You would think we were related to her. The supervisor used her password to open the till for us and with that, they helped us check out. We were being treated like we were special.

Driving back to the house I asked Brandon why he didn't have his ID with him and he just shrugged his shoulders, as if it were no big deal...I guess it wasn't.

Back home, after Brandon and Daisy ate their deli sandwich, we stared making the sauce. Onions and garlic went in first with a little olive oil. While they were cooking Brandon chopped up the veggies and tossed them in. Then slowly the sauce was built up, one layer at a time, one flavor at a time. After allowing everything to cook for awhile the meat was added along with a little wine, the sauce was set to simmer for a couple of hours. Brandon constantly returned to the pot to stir and taste and season as needed.

After the Lasagna was assembled and placed in the oven, Brandon and I headed out front to shoot a few hoops. I Don't Shoot Hoops! We played for almost a half hour before I noticed some of Brandon's friends walking down the street. I started acting like a crazy basketball player, while trying to block Brandon's shot. I was screaming and jumping with arms and legs going in every direction.

Sometimes my methods blocked Brandon from sinking one and other times he would just step around me and slam one in. His friends laughed, from a distance. Even though I was trying to slightly embarrass Brandon, he didn't care. He was having fun with his Grampy and his Grampy was having fun with him. It was time to go and get the dinner ready. Grammy prepared a tossed salad which complimented Brandon's creation (masterpiece).