Meet Doug

The image above portrays Thanksgiving 2005 at our home in Las Vegas.

That was the only time I've ever relished my Thanksgiving Dinner outdoors .... and POOLSIDE!!!

It was lovely.

I especially loved having my mom and 3 of my brothers join us for the holiday break that year. 

But I digress.  This post is not about fond holiday memories.

It's about my amazing brother, Doug.

 

Doug is the handsome devil in the front left of the above photo (in the black shirt and sunglasses) and today is his BIRTHDAY!!!! (betcha thought I'd forget)

Doug is the 4th of eight children in my family.   He is also my mother's firstborn - since the 1st 3 children were adopted (myself included) - so he's actually a middle child and a 1st child (isn't that special).

Doug is a dedicated husband and loving father of 2.5.  He has one little girl, one little boy, and a little ??? on the way.

Doug is also VERY persistent.  Whenever we wanted something from Mom and Dad when we were growing up, we would send in Doug. He could always wear them down (we still owe ya a couple, Doug!)

It's a good thing he's determined because life hasn't always been easy for this family.  But no matter how many times life has knocked him on his back-side,   Doug just picks himself back up and starts anew.

Can you tell I admire and adore him?

Right now his work takes him away from his young family to the arctic plains of Alaska for 6 weeks at a time.  He works 91 hours PER WEEK in temperatures that reach 81 below zero.

Then he comes home for 2 weeks (home is Idaho) to thaw out and to spend time with his sweet wife before starting all over again.  What a STUD - sorry single ladies ... he's taken.

I believe I've set a precedent with Jon and Dave's birthdays this past year by sharing a hair-raising experience from their youth on their B-day.  I feel it's my duty, as one of the eldest siblings, to document some of our early childhood experiences ... according to my fabulous memory (wink).

So not to disappoint .... (by the way, I'm not the hero in this story ... just an INNOCENT  bystander, ha)

Doug's story starts about a year after Dave's left off.  Remember Dave managed to shoot his eye out by squeezing 22 bullets in a bench vice (click here if you missed that story).

Well, the next summer my parents got brave enough to leave me and Chad in charge again while they ran some errands.  Chad had another not-so-bright idea (remember it was HIS idea to squeeze the bullets in the bench vice).  I love Chad but boy is he MISCHIEVOUS!!!  So he decided we should play Cowboys and Indians (what else would we play - we lived on a farm in Montana).  Several of us were convinced to play along and we rummaged through the toy box for our rubber-band guns and prepared for the inescapable battle with our eldest brother.

But when we got out to the garage, with rubber-bands and Cowboy hats in hand, there stood Chad ... with the BB Gun!!!

We didn't have much time to make an argument against the inequality of our weapons before he started firing.

I ran fast and hard towards the garden but not fast enough to escape the spray of BBs across the backs of me legs.

Doug decided to hide in the attic above the garage.  Upon discovering Doug's hideout, Chad started firing up into the rafters of the garage.

Well wouldn't you just know that one of those bullets would bounce off the wooden rafters..

and DIRECTLY INTO DOUG'S EYE?

I'm NOT kidding.

I have not 1 but 2 brothers that were shot in the eye.

(And just in case you are wondering, I love the movie A Christmas Story ... "Ralphie, you'll shoot your eye out" ... ummmm we can totally relate)

So Doug starts screaming and holding his eye and my little 12-year-old mind is thinking:

"Is this really happening?"

and

"Boy, are we going to be in TROUBLE when Mom and Dad get home".

Amazingly enough, there was no blood.  We, the all-knowing siblings, carefully examined Doug and noted a small hole where a bullet possibly could have entered his eye through the lower eyelid but other than that he looked fine.  We unanimously decided the bullet must have bounced off his lower eyelid (whew, that was close ... NOT).

We further discussed the situation and decided NOT to call Mom and Dad.  Why bother them ... he's obviously fine.  I mean, no blood, how bad could it be ... right?

So my parents came home an hour or two later and the following conversation ensued (or something similar ... my memory is hazy):

Parents:  We're home!

Kids:  MOM!!!! DAD!!!! You're here!!!!  We REALLY missed you!!! (totally sucking up)

Parents: Wow, what's wrong with Doug.

Kids: Doug, nothings wrong with Doug.  Why do you ask?

Parents:  Look at him.  He looks like he has a black eye.  Did he get hit in the eye?

Kids:  A black eye?  Really? We didn't notice.  Ummm, NO.  No, he technically did NOT get HIT in the eye.

AND THIS IS WHAT MY PARENTS WERE SEEING DURING ALL THIS:

Eventually the whole right sight of his face turned purple, and then green, and then a lovely shade of yellow.  As if to taunt us for even attempting to conceal such a thing.  

My parents took him to the hospital (after my mom stuck the BB gun in the bench vice and twisted it into a mangled mess ... yeah, she was mad) and the ER doctors found a lone BB floating around in the swollen pocket under his eye.  So the bullet did break the skin but didn't actually make it into his eyeball.  Luckily, he did not loose his vision in that eye.  And yes, we were grounded for an eternity for our deception.  

And to think my parents moved to the farm because we were getting into too much trouble in the city... it's a wonder we all survived to adulthood.

Happy Birthday DOUG.  I hear everyone is there to celebrate with you tonight except for me and Dave.  I SOOOOO wish I was there too.  Enjoy your short break at home surrounded by your loved ones and for heaven's sake be careful up there in the frozen tundra!!!  

I love you!

And to everyone else ... Families are Forever.  I certainly believe!