I've Had My Moments

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1975'ish - I have a really hard time believing that this kid is me. But, I do remember that fire truck under my arm.

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My childhood home - 7047 Reed Rd., North Kingsville, Ohio

I have tried to actually live the moments of my life; as opposed to just living my life. Because at the end of the day, it's the moments and the experiences, both the good and the bad alike, that we truly remember, cherish, and learn from. I remember falling in love, and how it felt to hate; I remember running my first marathon, and "the walk" I took with Cpl. Mike Gillum; I remember when my parents didn't know anything, and have since discovered how much they really did; I remember preparing for combat, and how it felt to come home; I remember skipping school with Bernie Perkins, and when he nearly saved my life; I remember teaching my kids to ride a bike, and will never forget riding mine across America; I remember having true friends, and getting into fist fights; I remember laughing until it hurt, and fearing for my life; I remember when my grandma died, and each of my children being born; I remember climbing Mount Whitney, and how it felt to fail; I remember dreaming of being a fighter pilot, but still wonder what I'll be when I grow up.

October 7, 1978 - I remember this moment like it was yesterday

One of my favorite country songs, sung by Emerson Drive, is called Moments. It's about a young man whose has given up on his own life and decides to commit suicide. While in the process, he meets a complete stranger, a homeless man, who explains, "You know, I haven't always been this way." Having thought of that homeless man's better days, the young man realized that he too hasn't always felt that way. He said~

"I've had my moments, days in the sun
Moments, I was second to none
Moments, when I knew I did what I thought I couldn't do."

Looking back, I realize that I too have had my moments; times of my life that, given the right circumstances, I can remember every last detail; some of the most simple but profoundly memorable moments. I hope you enjoy and take the time to ponder your own moments.

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Of your five senses (sight, smell, sound, touch, and taste) the sense of smell is the most closely connected to your memory. We may see someone who looks familiar, or hear a familiar noise. But a familiar smell can quite literally take you back in time. I connect with my moments through each of my senses, but without a doubt...

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The smell of military wool socks takes me back to Marine Corps boot camp in San Diego, California. Every time I go into the Army-Navy store, pick-up a pair of OD wool socks and take a big whiff, I instantly hear the raw-boned cadence of a Marine Corps Drill Instructor. I can recall the moment I got off the bus and stood on those famous yellow footprints. I can recall the moment I got my 13 second haircut; learned to disassemble an M-16 (blindfolded); and the burning, stinging, and feeling that made me throw-up in the gas chamber. I remember Darnell Sims, a black kid from the south side of Chicago who became my best friend; getting a coveted letter in the mail; and walking the gauntlet of nurses and getting shots in both arms, both legs, and in the rear-end. I remember shouting my "war cry"; the moment I got fitted for my Dress Blues; and Friday, October 25, 1991 - the moment I became a U.S. Marine. Just the simple smell of those wool socks.

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Mowing the lawn isn't necessarily my favorite past time. Usually I have a mile-long "to do" list and end up mowing the lawn out of embarrassment rather than pride. But, the most enjoyable moment is usually emptying the grass catcher into the trash can and smelling that fresh-cut grass. How vividly I can recall riding in that red wagon, pulled behind my dad's red tractor-mower. The four Schultz kids would all pile in and enjoy the free ride. Afterwards, we would take a moment (more like hours) to rake up piles and piles of freshly-cut grass. Unfortunately, I don't usually remember those childhood moments until that first Saturday every summer, when I coax my four Schultz kids into the back yard to take a moment and help me mow the lawn.

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Perhaps some of our favorite summer moments are Sunday night BBQ's. It has become somewhat of a tradition for us to have a spaghetti dinner every Sunday night between Labor Day and Memorial Day; but in the summer it's all about the BBQ's! Most often it's just simple cheeseburgers, hot dogs, baked beans, and mac'n cheese. But occasionally we mix it up with BBQ potatoes or a green pepper salad. And I'm usually the designated green-pepper-cutter-upper because green peppers are are my all-time favorite! Their taste and smell always take me back to one of my most cherished childhood moments. I can remember nearly every last detail of, as a very young boy, taking a walk with my Grandpa Roberts. We'd walk off his back porch, past the water-pump and the apple pit; through the back yard and picnic area; past the row of 40 foot pine trees (that once used to be his Christmas trees) and into his garden. Grandpa always gave me the grand tour, explaining every detail about the garden from the corn and tomatoes, to the pumpkins and peppers. And the moment that I clearly recall, every time I'm cutting green peppers, is when my Grandpa reached down to one of his pepper plants, picked the most perfect green pepper and pulled out his pocket knife, cut it into slices and shared it with me - right there in the middle of his garden. What a great moment that was.

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Winter is one the most highly anticipated seasons in the Schultz family. We wrap up the summer with the State Fair and Back-to-School. Shortly thereafter we celebrate mine and Tracy's birthdays, and in no time at all we're picking out a turkey, making Christmas lists, and praying for snow. There is nothing quite like that moment of the first snowfall of the season. Big giant flakes magically seem to drop from heaven right into our front yard. One of the kids usually tries to catch one on the tip of their tongue, while the others scramble into the garage for their boots and sleds. You can't really experience winter without snow; and you can't really experience snow without a snowball fight. Sure enough someone is usually one step ahead of everyone else, makes a tightly packed snowball, and lets it fly. Each year, at about this moment, I am again taken back in time. Right as I scoop the freshly fallen snow with my cold, bare hands I remember one particular moment during a winter in the late 1970's. I was all of 6 or 7 years old, playing with my older brother and his "grown-up" friends. The moment that I most clearly recall was feeling a heavily thrown snowball hit dead center on my ear. The deafening loud noise of the impact and the numbness of the hardened snow packed into my ear canal was definitely a moment that I will never forget; a moment that usually comes back to me during the first snowfall fight of the winter.

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Our great snowball fight on Christmas Eve 2008

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Growing up in southern California, you tend to take certain moments for granted, like going to Disneyland, Angel Stadium, Hollywood, and the beach. And of the two times we've been back to visit (since moving to Idaho in December 2004), we have visited all of the above. But the one moment that comes back to me with a plethora of thoughts, feelings, and emotions, is when I stand in the sand and listen to the waves; when I look out at the horizon and smell that very distinct salt-water-air; and remember one of the most trying moments of my life. While in the Marines, I had the opportunity to travel to nearly a dozen foreign countries across Europe, Asia, and Africa. But nothing could ever compare to the 4 months and 4 days I spent aboard the USS Belleau Wood. Every time they would secure flight operations on the flight deck we would be permitted to go topside for PT (physical training). Which for me, consisted of running, running, and a bit more running. Any other time you would want to clear your mind for a moment and escape from the ultra-condensed lifestyle of life at sea, you would have to get creative and find a walkway or a portal that would give you exposure to open air. They were tricky to find and you would usually come across another Marine or Sailor there, in search of the same peace and serenity. But sitting and pondering about the freedoms of home while looking out across the vast ocean was almost therapeutic. Taking time to think about the memories of friends and family, a pregnant wife I hadn't spoken to in 56 days, or a newborn daughter that I had never met was the most blissful, painful, anticipated, and cherished moment of my Marine Corps career. I can feel the cold steel against my hands; I can hear the roar of that massive ship cutting through the ocean's surface; I can smell that salty air; I can see those sunsets and smooth, glass-like waters...like I've never seen before; and I can remember the desire to see my wife's face and hold her in my arms one more time, even just for a moment. That's all it takes, the sound of an ocean wave and the smell of salt water, and it all comes back to me.

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The USS Belleau Wood sailing across the Indian Ocean

The occasional breeze that carries Eternity perfume, doesn't simply take me to one particular moment, it walks me in and out of an entire journey of moments. When I was a Marine, stationed in Japan, I would go to the PX on Saturdays just to get away, find a Burger King, and do some shopping. I always caught hell from my buddies the moment I'd go to the perfume counter and smother my watch-band with Eternity perfume. Then, as often as I'd like, I could remember those moments. Being a young 10th grader, flirting with the girl that sat in front of me in Mr. Klinkhammer's English class. She always used to wear Eternity and I can clearly recall rubbing the back of her neck with my pencil during class. Yes, I was flirting with her, just like I had for the last 5 years. About a year later, during our Junior year, I can recall the moment I asked her to the Homecoming dance. When I picked her up she was wearing a blue strapless dress and, of course, Eternity. I can literally relive the smell of her perfume on the dance floor and the moment we first kissed. After a couple of months of dating, she soon became my girlfriend. We continued to date each other through high school, where we spent many, many moments together: at school dances, Mr. T's, on the phone, Camelot, double dating, Disneyland, football games, camping, and (in a whisper) sneaking out together late at night...sshhh! Both of our parents got divorced during our Senior year of high school and we became the best of friends. We spent every waking moment laughing, playing, talking, crying, or just hanging out...together. A month after graduation I enlisted in the Marines. I will never forget the moment we said "goodbye". And, two long years later we said our "I do's" that moment we stood together at the altar. Today, with 4 children, our moments have only quantified. We truly are soul-mates; I knew it the moment I met Tracy Meunier in the 5th grade. And now we will be together for eternity! If only those Marines knew that story.

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Then - our 1st date, 1989.**** Now - married 16 years, 2009.

It's impossible to recount the moments of my life, the moments that have molded my life, without acknowledging the fact that since 1995 I stopped living my own life and began living for four precious moments to come. Although I wasn't at the hospital the moment our first born child arrived, we shared an exceptionally, profoundly, memorable moment when I met her six long weeks later. Taylor Jayde (named after the initials of her mother Tracy Janet) was born March 17, 1995 while I was deployed to Mogadishu, Somalia. I remember every frightening moment of those three hellish days under fire; the heat, the sand, the flies, the fear of being killed, and the fear of the unknown as my pregnant wife, unaware of my whereabouts, was preparing for the moment she would go to the hospital without me. Two weeks after our hasty departure from Somalia, we arrived off the coast of Thailand. Once on land, I went to a Red Cross station to make an emergency phone call home. That's the moment I learned that Tracy had safely delivered our sweet daughter just moments before my call. A few days later I called again from an AT&T rental phone and the moment was as surreal as can be imagined. I was standing on the flight deck of the USS Belleau Wood, anchored off the coast of Thailand, talking to my courageous wife who, in the company of 17 friends and family members gathered at her hospital bedside to welcome our baby girl into the world, told me she loved me. Not yet knowing the luxury of email, nor cell phones, I had to wait patiently for two weeks until my package of photos arrived back at Camp Schwab in Okinawa, Japan. I remember walking down that street on base, finding a quiet shade tree to sit under, opening my special package, and the very moment that I saw those first pictures of Taylor. Another month had passed before my homecoming in 29 Palms, California. Finally, I got to hold her...I was now a father. And that moment will stay with me until the day I die.
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The first time I met my daughter, 1995

As will three other similar moments. I witnessed a miracle the moment our 2nd daughter came into this world. Named after the classic tune by Bread and after her great-grandmother, Aubrey May was born on March 21, 1997. Two years later, another moment brought another miracle into our lives. Born nameless, our sweet little red-head became our third daughter. Eventually named after her aunt, Hannah Beth was born on October 25, 1999. And as the saying goes, "The fourth time is the charm." This became very evident the moment Dr. Huggins delivered Schultz baby #4 and spread his legs up to my face while shouting, "IT'S A BOY!!!" Named after one of the flag raisers on Iwo Jima and after his great-grandfather, Jackson Lane was born December 12, 2001. Yes, I truly have had my moments.

My four children at the 1st anniversary of September 11th

I will never forget my childhood buddy Robbie Harlacher; or Renee Myllymaki, the girl of my third grade dreams; or those priceless moments I spent growing up with the Lewis family; and I will always cherish those moments swinging on my Grandpa's tire swing and picking fresh raspberries with my Grandma; I remember those fun moments sleeping in the fort my dad built in our backyard; I remember that scary moment I burnt my leg on the muffler of my motorcycle when I was only seven; I remember the moment my family moved from Ohio to California on an Amtrak train; I remember knowing the moment it was nine o'clock as we would listen to the Disneyland fireworks show; I remember the moment I cried when Spring Tharpe moved away; I remember Gina Bowman, my first girlfriend; I remember the moments I spent body surfing with Dax Dowling during the summer of '89; I remember when Coach Jesse talked me out of quitting wrestling and the moment I won the League Championship; I remember hanging out with Steve Young, Matt Baker, and Tad Lindquist; I remember the wild moments I spent in Hawaii with Ryan Banderas, Dave Jensen, and Bernie Perkins; I remember the moment I graduated from high school and the moment I raised my hand and agreed to defend my country against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

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These were just a few of the most treasured moments of my life. I am who I am today because I've had my moments.

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The Schultz family along the Boise River, 2008
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"I've had my moments, days in the sun

Moments I was second to none

Moments when I knew I did what I thought I couldn't do

Like that plane ride coming home from the war

That summer my son was born

And memories like a coat so warm

A cold wind can't get through

Lookin' at me now you might not know it

But I've had my moments."

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**************************~ Emerson Drive

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Easter Sunday, 1974

"Come on Robbie, don't just sit there at a moment like this, Carrie stole my egg!"
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Semper Fi,

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Chip Schultz

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Who Would Have Thunk?

The following list, 25 Things You Probably Didn't Know About Me, is meant to be read, but not necessarily remembered. Enjoy!

1a. I intentionally ran over my sister with my snowmobile when I was 6 years old. She was 8.

1b. Then, 6 years later, she intentionally stomped on the back of my head, smashing my face into the sidewalk, crystallizing my two front teeth.

2a. I enjoy shopping. When I go to the mall, I always use the same entrance, regardless of my destination.

2b. One of my favorite things to do at Christmas time is to take the whole family to the mall on Black Friday - the busiest shopping day of the year.

3a. As a very young boy, I was fascinated with suits. I can remember going to JC Penny's and just standing, staring at the boy mannequins...wishing I could have a suit.

3b. My first suit was Marine Corps Dress Blues.

4a. I can't sing. I can't even hold a tune. And I can't read music.

4b. But if I did, I secretly wish I could perform the National Anthem.

5a. I can't pee in front of other people. And I can't stand the guy that comes and stands next to me in a public bathroom...because I get stage fright, and won't pee until he leaves.

5b. ...except with my son. When we pee together, we pretend our streams are light sabers.

6a. In high School, I held my breath in History class to see how red I could turn my face...and passed out.

6b. I passed out again in the Marine Corps while standing in an honor guard detail during a huge Memorial Day ceremony in Seattle, Washington.

6c. Oh, and almost a third time while watching Tracy get an epidural.

7a. I taught myself to drive a stick shift. When no one was home, I took my brother's car to the school parking lot and practiced for about 10 minutes. Then, took off to visit some friends. I didn't have a driver's license or a permit.

7b. A couple of hours later, I got pulled over by the police for not having my headlights on (and for stalling in the middle of a major intersection), ticketed for driving without a license and giving false information orally, then was given a ride back home...to my driveway...by a cop!

8a. Walking into a Jr. High School dance was the climax of my adolescent anxiety.

8b. I cried when Erika Webb turned me down on the dance floor.

9a. The absolute most refreshing part of each day is laying my head on the pillow for 10 seconds before falling asleep (literally...10 seconds and I'm out - 30 seconds max!)

9b. I've slept through countless alarm clocks, wailing infants at the foot of my bed, security alarms, punches to the ribs, permanent marker, being pulled off the top bunk (and dropped), and a Marine Corps Drill Instuctor. Once, while on a patrol, my Corpsman placed smelling salts on my upper lip...no dice!

10a. I've soloed an airplane, climbed the tallest mountain in the U.S., rode the rollercoaster on top of the Stratosphere in Las Vegas, and soared in a hot air balloon.

10b. But I still tremble near the top of a ladder, and cannot bring myself to ride a ferris wheel.

11a. As a teenager, I would often sneak out of the house late at night (on my bike).

11b. One night, I was pretending to be superman with a blanket as my cape. But while going around a corner, the blanket entangled itself in my spokes, thus catapulting me over my handlebars.

12a. I am a big fan of the theater arts. Tracy and I have seen Miss Saigon...5 times (and we'd see it again)!

12b. I can recite the lyrics better than the lines from Top Gun (I'm slightly ashamed).

13a. I was suspended from High School for throwing an egg at Mr. Wilson's classroom window.

13b. I stole the egg from Home Economics, but it wasn't me that threw it.

14a. Jason Bach became my best friend in the Marines. We were stationed together our entire 4-year enlistment and keep in touch to this day.

14b. The biggest fist-fight I ever got in, was splitting Jason's lip, busting his nose, and kicking him in the ribs while he was down.

15a. I love Super Bowl parties!

15b. But I rarely know who's playing. I would much prefer to cheer for the commercials than the game.

16a. I failed U.S. History - twice.

16b. Today, a History teacher is one of my top 5 dream jobs.

16c. The other 4 are: Police Officer, Fighter Pilot, Marine Drill Instructor, Motivational Speaker

17a. I don't like exotic or spicy foods, especially Thai. Del Taco mild sauce makes me sweat.

17b. My 14 year old daughter, Taylor, eats jalapenos, Del Scorcho hot sauce, and loves anything hot - she thinks I'm a whimp!

18a. I consider myself a macho guy.

18b. But my favorite Olympic sports to watch are gymnastics and ice skating, I don't own a tool box, I out talk Tracy on the phone hands down, and our biggest arguements have been over interior design.

19a. When I was deployed overseas, Tracy was 4 months pregnant. We didn't communicate for 56 days prior to the birth of our first child (no e-mail, no cell phones).

19b. Ironically, I called Tracy the next day (from a rented phone, on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier, off the coast of Thailand). There were 17 friends and family members in her hospital room.

20a. I will never forget wresting with Brian Castro, during my sophomore year of high school.

20b. He broke my leg.

21a. Years ago, as an outspoken fan of Guns 'N Roses, Motley Crue, and Metallica, I despised country music...hated it, hated it, and made fun of it.

21b. Now, my Appetite For Destruction CD is covered in dust and buried under Toby Keith, Brad Paisley, and Tim McGraw.

22a. One of my favorite childhood games was the ever-popular "Hide-and-go-seek".

22b. Just recently I realized it's not called "Hiding-ghost-see".

23a. My all-time favorite job was working at Lamppost Pizza.

23b. Not one of the good stories can be repeated again...ever!

24a. I refuse to regret the things that I've done, or failed to do, in my past.

24b. But my behavior was sometimes shameful, and I truly regret the way I treated certain people.

25a. I am the luckiest man to have been able to marry my childhood friend and high school sweetheart.

25b. We hope to live happily ever after.
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Semper Fi,
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Chip Schultz
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Kids Say The Darnedest Things

While laying in bed yesterday morning (Sunday), Hannah (9) decided to crawl into bed with Tracy and me. It was shortly after 9:00 a.m.

Jack (7) walked in carrying a large bucket of Legos. He began to negotiate time to play before going to church.

JACK: "Dad, can I take my Legos downstairs?"

ME: "I don't know buddy, we've got to get ready for church. Why don't you get dressed first?"
JACK: "But Dad...how do I know how much time I have...before we have to leave?"

ME: "Jack, it's 9:07...2 hours from now, we'll be at church. An hour and a half from now...we'll be getting ready to get in the van..."

HANNAH: (interrupting, with out skipping a beat) "Yeah...and an hour from now, we'll all be yelling at each other!"


We all laughed really hard.

Yes, I run a tight ship. But at what cost?

I guess kids really do say the darnedest things.
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Semper Fi,
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Chip Schultz
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Recruit No. 50

Let me just preface this post with a fact: I have always, ALWAYS, slept like a rock.

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I had been married for five years, had two adorable little girls, and one more (another girl) in the oven. It was the beginning of an incredible journey. And to add to it, I was taking night classes at Fullerton Community College. Now, ten years later and still hoping to someday graduate, I recently came across an essay that I wrote in my English 100 class on September 9, 1998:

Recruit No. 50

The morning of July 30, 1991 came all too soon for the newly gathered platoon of Fox Company. At 0430 our silent safehaven was shattered with the echoing chaos of a metal trashcan lid, an ear piercing whistle and the ominous, raw-boned voice, "Revile! Revile! Revile! Wake the (expletive) up and get your (expletive) out of your bunks!" Those were the unwelcomed words of our enormous, black, United States Marine Corps Drill Instructor. Eighty-six new recruits were just jolted out of their second hour of sleep. This was their first morning at Marine Corps Recruit Depot (MCRD), San Diego, California. "Good morning ladies and welcome to Marine Corps Boot Camp. Now take your lazy (expletive) to the foot of your racks, stand at the position of attention, and count off in numerical order. God help your rotten souls if you screw this up. Because for the next three months, I own each and every one of you (expletive). Is that understood?" "YES SIR!", bellowed the disoriented voices of the terrified recruits as they debated what they had gotten themselves into. Each recruit was scared half to death and oblivious to what lay ahead. "1 Sir, 2 Sir, 3 Sir,..." One by one, they began to count off. "48 Sir, 49 Sir,..." The barracks room was filled with a deafening, petrified silence as the Drill Instructor received no response from Recruit No. 50. "Where the (expetive) is number 50?"

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Standing shoulder to shoulder was a barracks room full of 18 year old boys from every walk of life and every corner of America. Not one one of us was physically, or emotionally, capable of answering this fire breathing, temper spitting, enormous stature of rippling muscle, draped in the most perfectly tailored uniform, decorated with various insignia that reaped only of honor. With the intensity of an NFL lineman the Drill Instructor charged toward the top bunk where I, Recruit No. 50, layed in the deepest of sleep. "Recruit! What the (expletive) are you doing?" he screamed. Though my eyes had opened, my mind was still asleep. Without saying a word, I lifted my head and upper torso in a push-up like position, looked directly into those fierce brown eyes, turned my head and layed back down on my new government issued pillow, as if to go back to sleep. Demonstrating not the slightest bit of patience or understanding, the Drill Instructor sporadically inverted my entire bunk with one swift, thrashing movement. As I lifted myself from the cold hard floor and proceeded to stand at the foot of my inverted bunk, I came to realize that my life had forever changed...I had joined the Marine Corps.

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Semper Fi,

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Chip Schultz

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The Clean-Up Crew

As a Freshman in High School, I tended to walk to the beat of a different drum. Not like a freak, a weirdo, or an odd duck. Just a young kid, who never claimed to know more than any adult, but rather just didn't really care...about anything.

In Elementary School I always excelled, at everything. Straight A's was never much of a goal, but more of the norm. I rarely got in trouble (other than getting spanked by the Principal and having my mouth washed out with soap by my 1st grade teacher). Yes, in Elementary School I'd have to say I was a pretty good kid.

Then, in the 8th grade I got my first "D"...in U.S. History, ironically. Due to a downward spiral, I eventually mastered the art of "getting by" and in-turn manged to do only what was necessary to do so.

Contrary to the belief of my parents, the friends I chose may have been the most influential part of me earning a High School diploma, and ultimately of my eventual success as an adult. My friends, my best friends, weren't quite like me academically. They had the ability to get the grades AND raise heck at the same time. They were a smart, brilliant, gifted group of guys. Bernie, who graduated with honors, earned a degree in Chemical Engineering. Dave also graduated with honors and went on to earn a degree in Business. And then there was Tad. Like the others, Tad was a smart Electrical Engineer. But Tad was also completely crazy.

When I was a Freshman, my dad worked as a Project Manager for Tait & Associates, a local Civil Engineering firm. His company was expanding, sold their office, and would be relocating to a much bigger, much nicer office down the road. My dad's boss asked if I, along with a friend, would be willing to work for a weekend, cleaning-up their old office, after all the big stuff was out. So I called Tad, and the adventures were endless.

We worked for hours. Mopped the floors. Cleaned the bathrooms. Washed the windows. And took out the trash. Together, Tad and I made certain that Tait's empty office sparkled. Maybe we fed off of each other. Maybe we competed with each other. But our ability NOT to act like a couple of unsupervised 15 year olds could only last so long.

It began with pushing one another in broken, left behind office chairs. We would race up and down the hallways and bang into walls, all while leaving scuffs and gouges in the once clean tiled floors. Eventually we began playing hockey with broomsticks and the caster wheels that broke off of our racing chairs. Our game soon led to seeing who could lodge a wheel furthest into the cubical walls, which after a few tries, led to one-swing hits that literally pierced the walls. I don't recall if it was me or Tad, but one of us taunted the other with the idea of extinguishing a fully loaded fire extinguisher, while the other simply obliged, pulled the pin, and squeezed the trigger, filling the room with a blinding yellow powder. Yes, we had both gone completely crazy. But why not? It was a Saturday, and we were all alone, right?

Neither of us could see across the room, nor could we hear anyone knocking on the back door. We had both worked ourselves into a hysterical sweat during our intense performances of broomstick air guitar, while standing on the counter tops and shouting the lyrics to our cassette tape of Metallica.

Needless to say Tad and I will never forget the look on each others face when that Engineer, with his briefcase in hand, walked in and so rudely interupted our hysteria of yellow smoke, Metallica, and air guitar.

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I don't recall the outcome. But as for that moment, I'll NEVER forget it!

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Semper Fi,

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Chip Schultz

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Where There's a Will...

Too often, we as parents, fall under the illusion that we are put on this planet to educate our children. Soon after the following conversation, I was mistaken, humbled, and proud.

"Hey dad, if you could have any kind of dog, what would you choose?"

"Probably a yellow lab," I said.

"So, when we get a dog it will, FOR SURE, be a yellow lab?"

"No. That's not what I said." And they haven't backed down yet.

Earlier this summer I had explained to my four children that, yes we could get a dog; but not until a). Tracy and I both felt that we, as a family, were prepared for it, and b). they could afford it. I said "they could afford it" because I mean just that - they, the kids, would have to use their own money if they really wanted a dog, and in this case...a puppy!

One evening, while being brought home by a friend, my daughter Aubrey noticed an eye-catching sight. On the corner, a few blocks away, were a very nice man and woman, two beautiful male and female adult yellow labs, and TEN PUPPIES for sale!

"Mom and Dad, you guys have GOT to come see these puppies for sale. They are just around the corner and they are YELLOW LABS!" Aubrey screamed, begged, and pleaded, almost hysterically. So we went (just to look). Tracy and I, and the four kids, loaded into the van to go see these puppies.

Wow! That was just what we needed to convince Tracy to at least CONSIDER the concept of a family dog. There we were, all six of us, each holding an amazingly adorable, six-week old, yellow lab puppy. I could just leave it at that and say that the rest is history. But, this story is about the journey of four really great kids.

After we pried each of these $500 puppies from their hands and drove home, the kids immediately emptied piggy banks, counted pennies, collected birthday money, and exchanged their gift cards for cash from mom. The results were an astounding $54 (they have a LONG way to go).

"Dad, if we come up with the rest of the money on our own, can we REALLY buy a puppy?"

(Hesitantly) "Yes."

They instantly came up with Phase II of what was intended to be a long, long process. Our house sits on the corner of a short cul-de-dac and the main access road through our sub-division. We walk to school (less than 1/4 of a mile), the rec. center and swimming pools (about 100 yards), and to the t-ball fields at Simplot Park (another 1/4 of a mile in the opposite direction). There could not be a better location for a lemonade stand - and so it was, "The Schultz Kid's Lemonade Stand".

They weren't happy when we refused to contribute to their project by purchasing the necessary supplies. But, after I gave them a quick course in business and explained profit and loss, and investing money to make money, they asked if Tracy would at least drive them to the store. As the oldest, Taylor (13) and Aubrey (11) had assembled a thorough shopping list of the necessary supplies, i.e. lemonade powder, cups, napkins, lemon cake mix, otter-pops, and poster board. Total investment: $16. Net balance: $38 - they were not happy!

They really wanted perfection and had high expectations. So we set-up Uncle Fo'ou's pop-up tent over a folding table, used Hannah's pencil box as a money drawer, labeled one of Jack's jugs for "donations", pulled out our 2 gallon camping thermos, staged 2 chairs up and down the street, hung 4 signs throughout the neighborhood, and then...opened for business. Lemonade (with ice), lemon cookies, and otter-pops - $0.50 each.

For 2 days they stood outside waving at passing cars, jumped up and down, yelled and screamed, and answered endless questions. And boy were they prepared - nearly every answer entailed a variation of, "a yellow lab puppy named Gunner."

As part of their business lesson, I explained that for two days of business they should set $50 as a benchmark - if they made $50 or more then it was a success; if they made less than $50 then they could try it again.

This is where I was mistaken, humbled, and proud.

On Day 1 their total sales was $63 (not including $100 in donations). Then a remarkable incident happened on Day 2. As two cyclists rode by (a man and a woman), they asked Taylor and Aubrey what kind of dog they wanted to buy. When the girls answered, "a yellow lab", the couple explained that they have two labs at home and will bring them by later in the day. And sure enough, later that afternoon, that couple arrived along with another couple and 3 wonderful labs (Lola, a 9 week old chocolate; Gus, a 3 month old yellow; and Murray, a 1 year old yellow). Labs are known for their temperament, so it was great to see such well behaved dogs (another convincing factor for Tracy, as her experience with dogs in general has been hyperactive, in your face, and disobedient). After the kids visited and played with these great puppies we all marveled at some of their tricks. As they were leaving, Mike explained to Taylor that he didn't have any cash but really wanted to contribute toward her goal. Instead, he wrote a check. After they left and the kids waved good-bye, they were amazed at the amount of the check...$50.

Needless to say Tracy and I were quite mistaken, remarkably humbled, and proud beyond words at the total profits of the Schultz Kid's Lemonade Stand. A whopping $375!

Stay tuned. It looks like Gunner will be here sooner than we had expected.

Semper Fi,

Chip Schultz

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Do As I Say, Not As I Do

NOTE: This will be an ongoing post with periodic updates. Please check in now-and-again for the latest in this escapade of "Hey watch this!"

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As long as I can remember, I have been regarded by some as a dare-devil, a risk taker, or an adrenaline junkie. Now don't get me wrong, I don't have a repertoire of skydiving, tight-rope-walking, or running with the bulls. In fact, to be honest, I'm afraid of heights. But I've always been the one to try something that most others would not. Now could it be because I'm a bit of an ego-maniac? Sure. But really it's all about making people laugh. Which is the one part of this story that just isn't funny.

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FRIDAY, JULY 4, 2008

"Happy Birthday America!" That's right, it was time to celebrate. And celebrate we did. On the 4th of July we transformed the front of our house into the biggest party we have ever seen (well, thrown). It had all the makings of a true celebration, 7 families, 3 BBQ grills, 2 shade structures, 5 tables of food (including my Tongan brother-in-law's famous "ribs"), Indiana Jones outside on the big screen, hundreds of dollars worth of explosives, and... a 12 foot inflatable water slide.

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As people arrived, I assumed the role of Safety Coordinator. I laid out the ground rules for the water slide - for a few different reasons: 1) I really didn't want to see anyone get hurt. 2) I naturally become a "control freak" in situations that are severely lacking control, i.e., 23 kids racing over WET tarps, bounding 12 feet UP an inflatable rubber structure, and leaping DOWN (under a protective blue covering) into a small pool of water.

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"OK, everyone listen to me," I would yell.

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"One at a time up the slide..."

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"Wait until the person on top goes down before you climb up..."

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"Don't grab on to that protective blue covering..."

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"Just play on the slide like was intended to be..."

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"Taylor and Aubrey, would you please set an example for the little ones!"

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All of those comments have played through my mind again and again...because I'm an idiot.

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But in all honesty, the day started out great. The kids had spent hours upon hours, on their own, running, climbing, jumping, and splashing on the water slide. With a small amount of direction, encouragement, and supervision they all did a remarkable job at following the rules. It wasn't until I was standing at the top of the slide, alongside my friend Emmett Ricks (breaking rule #1), that things got out of control. While our onlookers were watching, with cameras in hand, Emmett asked me, "Do you think you can clear that protective blue covering?" It was all over. That's all it took was to receive a "somewhat-kinda-sorta" challenge, and I lost touch with reality. The reality being that I haven't been on a wrestling mat in over 17 years, I've been out of the Marines for nearly 13 years, I haven't exercised regularly since getting off my bike last October, and I have been sitting on my unemployed butt for more than 3 months (and to top it off...I'm 35 years old)!

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Towards the end of the day, Tracy commented that she was surprised that there hadn't been any injuries yet, and she wondered who was going to be our first casualty. If she only knew that after the above photo was taken, my shoulder hurt so severely that I couldn't even flip the burgers with my right hand. I don't know what happened, or what I did, but it sure hurt.

Semper Fi,

Chip Schultz

SATURDAY, JULY 5, 2008
When I woke up this morning, after going to bed at 3:00 am, I could hardly muster the strength to roll over. The pain in my right shoulder clearly indicated that something was wrong; perhaps it was dislocated (keep in mind that I currently DO NOT have medical insurance).

So I drove myself to an Urgent Care center to see a doctor ($100). After a brief exam he determined that it was not dislocated; perhaps I had simply sprained my bicep muscle. He gave me a sling, two prescriptions for pain and swelling ($25 each - chose not fill), told me to ice it 3 times a day, and to take it easy.

MONDAY, JULY 14, 2008

It's been 10 days and after numerous self-examinations, increased pain and loss of use, and continually sleeping in an upright position, I need a second opinion. My friend Mike Langford (who is a post-surgery Physical Therapist [PT] at St. Lukes Hospital) referred me to Valerie Romanello, a PT who specializes in sports injuries.

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My appointment was this afternoon. Valerie offers a free 30 minute sports screening, which I gladly took advantage of. After stretching me like Gumby for nearly an hour, and commenting on my level of pain and limited use, Valerie recommended I make an appointment with Dr. Michael Curtin - an Orthopedic Surgeon. She says it's apparent that there is damage beyond a sprain, perhaps an actual tear, and that Dr. Curtin will know what to do best. Her gut diagnosis was that I damaged my supraspinatus shoulder muscle, where it connects to the shoulder joint. Note: My friend Mike claims that Dr. Curtin is the best Orthopedic Surgeon in the valley.

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I made an appointment with Dr. Curtin - can't get in until August 14th. So I asked to be put on the cancellation list, to be called in the event of a cancellation - cross your fingers!

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MONDAY, JULY 21, 2008

Wow! I got a phone call on Friday informing me of a cancellation Monday morning - I'll take it ($150)! But, what a super guy he was. I had to make his staff aware of my current situation (insurance - none; employment - none). After another session of feeling like Gumby, I received the same diagnosis - damaged supraspinatus. Except Dr. Curtin believes it could possibly be a severe, if not complete tear. He said there is an off-chance possibility of it only being a bicep injury, which could be remedied through a shot of cortizone. However, with the looming possibility of me being employed with Qwest, and needing a concrete prognosis ASAP, his recommendation is to get an MRI ($ ALOT) and see specifically what is damaged.

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On a side note, Dr. Curtin seems convinced that for this to be a torn supraspinatus (aka - rotator cuff tear) I must have had previous damage. He thinks that the water slide incident may have been the final straw, but that the initial damage occurred elsewhere. On the contrary, if I were 50, he would deem this as acceptable. But, AT SUCH A YOUNG AGE (hey, those are his words exactly!) this is ultra-abnormal. Next step, wait to be contacted by Dr. Curtin's assistant with an MRI appointment.

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WEDNESDAY, JULY 30, 2008

I had two options for an MRI. 1) I could have it done through the hospital ($1500). The benefit would be that they (the hospital) would be able to set me up on a payment plan. The negative would be that I'd still be paying $1500. 2) I could have it done at an independent location ($800), where they would require payment in full, at the time of service. The benefit would be the 47% cost savings. The negative is like a $100 Corvette, a great deal - if you have the $100.

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After doing a bit of research, I opted to bite the bullet and go with the payment plan. But luckily for me, Dr. Curtin arranged for the hospital to schedule my MRI at the reduced rate of $800 and still offered me the payment plan.

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So this morning I had to lay still like a rock, inside a tube with only 4 inches of clearance above my nose, while I tried to listen to cranked-up country music on 104.3 fm, that was muffled by the jackhammering noises of the MRI machine. It was over just prior to me falling asleep, or going insane, during the 11th song - yes, I was counting! 40 minutes, piece of cake.

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FRIDAY, AUGUST 1, 2008

This morning I returned the phone call that I received last night. It was Dr. Curtin calling with my MRI results. To my surprise, he was calling from his home phone. When I appologized to Dr. Curtin (who told me to call him Mike) for calling him at home, he explained that he intended for me to do so. He was aware that I was a cash patient and said that he could discuss my MRI results from home and save me the trouble (cost) of going to his office. I have a fair amount of experience with doctor visits and appointments - and that struck me as A GREAT DOCTOR!

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There is great news, good news, and bad news. The great news is that there is no muscle damage and I do not need surgery! The good news is that the recovery process (4 to 6 months for complete, 3 months for major improvement) is hassle free - if it hurts, don't do it; if not, keep it up. And the bad news...is that I BROKE MY SHOULDER! Can you believe it? If only I had gotten a $75 x-ray in the very beginning, I may have not need to spend $800 on an MRI. Although, Dr. Curtin did say that the location of this fracture (the top end of my humorous/upper arm bone) may have been difficult to locate on a simple x-ray. He also said that this, too, is a pretty rare injury. The last one he saw was a softball player who was sliding home, head first. It's not necessarily the force applied, but rather the angle, that matters.

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So, apparently the injury occured during my landing; as opposed to the pulling motion during my lift-off. Total cost: $350 down, $700 to go. And to think that I knew better than this...I really did.

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Perhaps this post would have been better titled, "A 15 Year Old Kid, in a 35 Year Olds Body".

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Something That We Do

There's no request too big or small

We give ourselves, we give our all

Love isn't someplace that we fall

It's something that we do

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In a recent conversation with my daughters, I found myself doing a traditional "backpedal". We were talking about living, and life, and college, and growing-up, and...MARRIAGE!!!

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I know, it's crazy. But, they like to ask questions; and we do our best to answer them (or change the topic). Tracy and I both believe in "talking" with our children so they don't grow up with their heads in the sand, and so they learn the uncomfortable stuff from us (rather than on the playground) - but that's an entirely different post.

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Yesterday, Tracy and I celebrated our 15th Wedding Anniversary. Can you believe it? Fif-Teen-Years!?! To which our girls commented, "Wow Mom! You and Dad got married 15 years ago? How old were you when you got married?"

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So, here it goes (maybe we should have changed the topic):

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It's holding tight, lettin' go

It's flying high and laying low

Let your strongest feelings show

And your weakness, too

It's a little and a lot to ask

An endless and a welcome task

Love isn't something that we have

It's something that we do

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Rule #1 - 5th Grade is too young for BOYFRIEND & GIRLFRIEND.
Tracy and I met in the 5th grade. My family had just moved to Anaheim, California from North Kingsville, Ohio. And there she was, the first girl I met; long brown hair and big thick glasses, boy she was cute! So one day after school, while Tracy was standing by the drinking fountain at the back of Mr. Sallee's classroom, I handed her a folded-up, yellow piece of paper that read, "Tracy, will you go with me? -Chip" And then, with all of the bravery I could muster, I ran out the door, through the playground, across Juarez Park, and to my house to think about what I had just done.

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Rule #2 - High School is too young for EXCLUSIVE DATING.
So Tracy and I remained friends, really good, close friends from 5th grade through 11th grade. She was one of my buddies...until our Junior year at the Homecoming Dance (1989), when I discovered that we both remembered my "folded-up, yellow piece of paper". And so it was, after a couple of months and a few dates, Tracy officially became my girlfriend, under the stars, on New Years Eve 1989. What fun we had - staying out too late holding hands; working together at Disneyland; going to the beach; accompanying each other to the formal dances; driving around in her dad's convertable Cougar; walking for hours at the El Toro Airshows; playing with Rowdy down at the riverbed; attending dance competitions and wrestling matches; double-dating with her sister Beth; riding tandem bikes through Mission Bay; arguing with the police during her field sobriety test; going to every dollar movie possible; umpiring Bobby-Sox softball games together; intentionally getting detentions just to spend more time with each other; spending the day at Catalina Island; and scheming up lies to cover for each other.

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Rule #3 - Go to college BEFORE GETTING ENGAGED.
After many long discussions with Tracy, I joined the Marine Corps a month after High School. And with the Marines comes long separations. Although our hearts did grow "fonder", we knew that the absence could last no longer. After only a year in the Marines I proposed to Tracy at the location of our first date, with a diamond ring, and three-dozen red roses, on July 18, 1992. Only a year after High School, neither of us had yet been to college. Now 15 years - four kids - and nearly a dozen jobs later, I have completed only a handful of college courses.

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Rule #4 - Don't Get Married Until you're AT LEAST 24.

Tracy and I were married July 17, 1993. I'll never forget how beautiful my bride looked that day. We were accompanied and supported by our family and close friends. Neither of us had ever been in, nor to, a wedding before, so we just simply went for practicality. We were married in the LDS chapel on Lampson Avenue in Garden Grove, California. Bernie Perkins was my Best Man, accompanied by my friends Dax Dowling, Ryan Banderas, my brother Rob, and Tracy's brother Eric. Karen Gerdes was Tracy's Maid of Honor, accompanied by her sisters Beth, Jody, Ellen, and Kelley, her step-sister Brandi, and my sisters Carrie and Amy. The day was nearly flawless (other than forgetting the cake knife and the photographer not using a flash). As we departed the church we were greeted by our dear guests pelting us in the face with bird seed (perhaps feathers would have been a better idea). Neither of us could have possibly grasped the magnitude of what had just happened, nor the adventures that were in store. Tracy was 19 and I was 20.

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I remember well the day we wed

I can see that picture in my head

I still believe the words we said

Forever will ring true

Love is certain, love is kind

Love is yours and love is mine

But it isn't something that we find

It's something that we do

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NOTE: What to do after breaking ALL OF the rules.

I relate many aspects of my life to scenes from a movie, or in this case lines from a song. You're Still The One (by Shania Twain) has the lines, "We mighta took the long way, We knew we'd get there someday...They said, I'll bet, they'll never make it, But just look at us holding on..." Yes, I'm sure many of our supporters secretly thought we would statistically fail. When we were dating, Tracy and I used to speak, as if in a fantasy, about "someday" and what it would be like. Most all of our notes and letters from High School and the Marine Corps were inscribed with "Someday".

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And boy were we wrong. Neither of us could have possibly imagined it to be like this - a lot more work, and a lot more reward. Yes, we were much too young to comprehend the sacrifices that we vowed to make as we stood before God, our family, and our friends. But we were aware then, just as we are aware today of the commitment we made to each other, "...for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer..." Quitting has never been an option.

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Something That We Do

On my recent bike ride across the country, I was emotionally shaken as I entered Missouri. Just after crossing the Mississippi River, and while heading west on State Hwy 36, I noticed how particularily incredible my surroundings were. Plush green landscapes, rolling hills in every direction, and a peace that I hadn't yet experienced. Then, on the iPod I'd been listening to since Day 1, came a song by Clint Black that I repeated over, and over, and over, again. Something That We Do is pure, plain, and simple. He talks about his wedding vows, and what love means to him - Love's not just something that we're in, it's something that we do. I'll never forget those three days crossing Missouri.

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Happy 15th Anniversary Tracy! We've been together for 19 years, and have known each other for 25 - we're on a road that has no end. You have made me who I am today; and together we have four beautiful children. Here's to teaching them to follow the rules, it's just Something that We Do.

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Love is why I love this song, and I hope you love it too.

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Semper Fi,

Chip Schultz

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Click on the purple, circular play button below to hear

"Something That We Do"

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The Bigger They Are, The Harder They Fall

Ever hear somebody say that? I have. It was kind of a macho thing to say in the Marines or back in high school, "The bigger they are, the harder they fall!" The kind of thing a little guy like me would say when referencing a much larger guy. As if I were to knock him out he'd drop like a rock.

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Today, Ward Severts gave new meaning to that saying.

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Ward was big. Bigger than life. And a friend of mine.

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A few years ago, when I was coordinating an O.M.E.H. Memorial Day program, I was told repeatedly that I needed to meet Ward Severts. "You have GOT to share this idea with 'Wardo'," they would say. Wardo? Who the heck is Wardo?

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It turns out that Ward Severts was known as 'Wardo' by his buddies and fellow pilots. You see, Wardo (Lt.Col. Severts) had recently retired from the Air Force. As long as I can remember, I have been infatuated with air planes, fighter jets, and even more...fighter pilots.

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As a kid, that's what I had initially wanted to be, an Air Force fighter pilot. When I was 15 years old I began taking flying lessons and soloed a Cessna 152 on my 16th birthday. Eventually I began dating and having too much fun with my friends, which affected my grades, and rapidly diminished my hopes of ever being a fighter pilot.

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So when I was introduced to Wardo, I was in awe. He wasn't just a fighter pilot. This guy started out as an Electronic Warfare Officer on B-52's, switched over to fly F-111's, and eventually flew the F-15E Strike Eagle. Even more, his 20 year Air Force career included flying combat missions in Operation Desert Shield, Operation Desert Storm, Operation Provide Comfort, Operation Northern Watch, Operation Southern Watch, Operation Allied Force, Operation Enduring Freedom, and Operation Iraqi Freedom. Wardo had more combat experience than any other current member of the Air Force.

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He was big.

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And we got along great. Wardo invited me to travel with him. He was known for being an incredible speaker and a great presenter. I once was his guest as he spoke to a church youth group. He had recited the Rules of Engagement for a fighter pilot and then interpreted each rule to apply in the life of today's youth. It was brilliant! On another occasion, he invited me into his home. We visited more and I listened attentively to first hand stories about dodging Surface-to-Air missiles over Iraq, bombing missions over Bosnia and Kosovo, and his humorous escapades of getting a severe "diaper rash" after accidentally relieving himself in his flight suit during an 11 hour mission. He gave me a tour of his photographs and showed me live cockpit footage of combat missions.

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Man, he was big.

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But on Saturday, July 5, 2008 Wardo died.

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As an off duty FedEx pilot, near Memphis, Tennessee, he rented a Cessna 152 for a leisure solo flight. Wardo sent out a "Mayday" and crashed at about 2:30 pm.

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My friend Ward Severts died at the age of 48.

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His wife Dana is also a dear friend of ours. She was the sweet Sunday School teacher for two of my children. Wardo and Dana had four children; Cameron (26), Grant (23), Gunnar (19), and Annika (13). My oldest daughter, Taylor, goes to school with Annika.

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But, perhaps my fondest relationship was with Gunnar. We would often banter each other with "Aim High" and "Semper Fi" comments. The greatest kid anyone could ask for, Gunnar was two-months into a two-year church mission when he heard the news of his father's fate. I sure am glad he was able to come home and witness the global outpouring of respect rendered to his father. He has a tough road ahead of him.

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Members of Wardo's old squadron and friends of the family worked tirelessly to get an F-15 fly-by in the missing man formation. Understandably so, there are extremely rigid requirements for such a symbol of honor for the deceased, i.e, one would have to be a General, a Medal of Honor recipient, or have been killed in action. None of which applied to Wardo. But, after his military record had been reviewed by the big brass in Virginia, it was agreed that an exception would be made.

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So, Ward Severts was big, bigger than life. And his funeral was hard, perhaps the hardest, most emotional I've ever witnessed. I guess the bigger they are, the harder they fall.

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Rest in peace Wardo. May God bless you and your family.

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Semper Fi,

Chip Schultz

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I took the following photographs at Wardo's funeral service today.

Note the video of the F-15 fly-by.

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