markie d: A Global Phenomenon! Our Dam Picture

Okay, I think what I'm going to have to do here, is go back on my plan to tell you about the scariest Halloween ever recorded in the History of the World. If I play my cards right...I think, I just might be able to post some VIDEO along with it, as a Super Duper Bonus... I'M WORKING ON IT NOW!

And, if I can delay that for just a bit and kick it down the road a couple weeks, then I can roll that story out for you closer to Halloween. 

So what story to tell... Hum?

Ah, I think I got one.  But, before I get into the crazy details of this next unbelievable true story - I must pause for a moment of reflection. I was approached last week by an Author who said... that all families have stories: one or two really great ones.. you know the type that are off the hook, unbelievable incidents that would either shock people - scare people or have others rolling on the floor laughing" He said, "but your family has story, after story, after story... that are truly amazing and totally unbelievable. There is nothing like this!"   

He said, "People need to hear these stories, because they are just too preposterous, far-fetched and incredible for any one family. One or two maybe...but nothing like this!"

And these stories are all true:  
                                  We did let the monkeys out of the Zoo.

                                  We did electrocute ourselves and unsuspecting neighbors.

                                   My brothers did electrify the sides of our dough-boy pool.

                                            They really did shock me and little sister in the pool.

                                            They REALLY did shock a Catholic Nun!

                                   They really did knock over the entire fence at Saint Mark's Grammar School

                                   We really did have all those rattlesnakes and reptiles and those...

                                              ...rattlesnakes really did escape...terrorizing the neighborhood.

                                   They really did trap me in a hamper and throw me under the neighbor's car.

                                   I was really left behind at Salton Sea that turned into a high-speed Highway

                                              Patrol chase... that really did end up in the local newspaper.

                                   My dad really did make me use Sugar-Water instead of gel on my hair.

                                   Our iguana really did escape and ran across the street into the Tripps house.

                                   We really did have an attack rooster for a watch dog. 

                                   We really did have an alligator.

                                   We really did live across the street from the Famous Lennon Sisters

The hair... the tomato plants...the mosquitoes... the leprosy...Sister Godzilla... the forts... the fire pole...the templates...the arrows...the albinos...street cleaning...the Helms Heist...Milk Wars...our UFO's...our broken bones and the hospital bed...IRENE and the impossible - implausible - fantastic fact that we were "pranked" by the PRESIDENT of the UNITED STATES - pshaw "Snapping Turtles!" 

 ALL of it is TRUE...and I'm just getting started!

And so, I thank you, for letting me share my story. 

For the 10,000 (plus and counting), from 43 different countries around the World - who have clicked on and joined me in my childhood adventures.

Thank you for making Markie D a global phenomenon.  

Sit down, buckle up, and hold on as we "Put the pedal to the metal" and head way back (this time to about 1962) to a family vacation that we took to the Kings River which turned into another Dahlin nightmare. 

This was not too long after the "Infamous Fence Incident" at Saint Marks School. That was the time, that my Viking tribe of brothers (affectionately known as the Wolf Pack) were either climbing in or climbing out of the school-yard. 

 

You see, my older brothers liked to climb...  it was a genetic thing... that began at birth.

 

 

Gustav said that one of the boys took it upon himself to climb right out of my mother's body three weeks before his due date! KaBoom, he popped right out on mom's birthday. "Surprise!" 

I was also told that the "Fence Incident" was allegedly after breaking into the church vestry and drinking the communion wine. On their escape, while climbing over that chain-link fence, it groaned under the weight of the entire Dahlin Wolf Pack, eventually collapsing on the brood, which took the entire Venice Fire Department and rescue team to unravel the boys from it tangled clutches. 

Puke-Breath (nick-named by my older brothers for wearing a retainer and always have bad breath), ended up having his leg broken in 8 different places!

                                     That is not a joke - neither was his breath. YUCK! 

Puke-Breath had to wear an full-leg cast and spend almost an entire year in bed. When he was finally given permission by the doctor to use crutches and hobble away from that rusty old hospital bed in our dining room, my dad planned the big celebratory trip to the Kings!

We packed up everything into our 1959 Volkswagen Van, tied down the over-sized paddle board on top, crammed every inch of that van with half-clad, platinum towheads and away we headed to the Pine Flats Dam, without even thinking that one of us might not make it back.  

 Here is our "Dam Picture!"

Cirque Du Soleil, Boogers and The Fire Breathing Dragon

"Get Your Tickets!" Tommy yelled from the safety of his living room for the incredible show the Dahlin's put on twice a week.  He was charging a quarter to whatever brother or sister would line up behind the large picture window to view the sluggish caravan of performers who had been whipped into a frenzy by the mad drill sergeant of a circus ring leader.

Before Circus Soleil was "The Dahlin, Wednesday and Thursday morning Street-Cleaning, High Flying Act" that inspired it all. Just this last summer before the ill-fated Salton Sea trip (see blog post  May 27th The Tragic Tale). The cantankerous Dahlin boys managed to crash two of the Dahlin cars right in the middle of Harding Avenue as thrones of terrified and delighted neighbors watched between concealed slits in the louvered windows and Venetian blinds.

That morning, Kris had pealed out of the driveway in his 63 Ford Econoline van and T-boned Karl in the Dodge station-wagon, crushing the driver door. A fist fight broke out but no one had to be taken to the hospital. Dad wanted them to take responsibility for the repairs and the some genius in the Wolf Pack took red spray paint and graffitied, great big letters that spelled "OUCH across the driver's side of the car. Hence graffiti was born as a mobile art-form and it made it easier for the Highway Patrol to track down the fugitive Dahlins who were fleeing Salton Sea without their baby brother - that's me! 

Up until this time the police used to mark tires of the Dahlin's cars with white chalk in order to write parking violations if the vehicle hadn't been moved in three days. But, all the cunning tribe had to do was push the stubborn vehicle ahead three feet to hide the chalk markings on the underside of the tires. The police force retaliated and began marking the sidewall of the tires to thwart the cunning brood.  Then the ingenious kinfolk of the Viking Brotherhood sent Markie D with with a washcloth to wash off the troublesome chalk markings every two days.

Venice had no other recourse, but to convene a special council together and institute the most significant change in  the city's charter since filling in some of the canals (in the late 30's). 

Now, the poor Dahlins had to push the disabled fleet from one side of the street to the other, every Wednesday and every Thursday morning to prevent the police from stealing their precious cars and locking them up in the impound yard. 

Tommy was a budding entrepreneur and made about 2 bucks a week off his brothers and sisters who felt that the show was worth every penny he extracted from them.

While the "regular families" like the Tripps, the Blasers, the Steadmans and of course the Lennons sat around dining-room tables and ate Special K, Cheerios and the new Captain Crunch cereal (with real milk mind you, but that's another story) in preparation for school, the Dahlins however, came out to move the caravan of deceased cars with flat tires, dead batteries, missing parts along with trucks stuffed full of junk - from one side of the street to the other.
 
Joan...(that's what my brother's called mom) was already at Mass before school began. She had unlocked the twelve locks on her bedroom door and escaped the looney-bin under the cover of darkness. Dad, unaided by the "Under-The-Penalty-Of-Mortal-Sin" clause, began the ritual with a broom in hand yelling in the cadence that reminisced back to his Master-Sergeant skills during World War II.

Standing on the landing of the second floor, he beat the ceiling and stairwell with the broom-handle yelling things like, "Up and at 'em" and "Let's go, go, go, go, go, go, go" he uttered brusquely with the speed of a rapid fire machine-gun. "Time of the the harvest moon" he added, stomping on the bottom stair that lead to the third floor where Hippies were confined to.

Moving with the speed of molasses on a cool Swedish winter, lots and lots of bushy, uncombed blonde hair reluctantly shuffled out the front door. "Let's go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go" the Master Sergeant urged the sea-slugs making sure to kick anyone in the rear who had their hands shoved in pockets. He would give the offending party a "swift kick to the rear" and shout, "Shoulders straight! Chin up! Stomach in!" Out we marched: 5 of us, then 10 of us then, then 50 of us... who knew the number... But daddio knew if someone was missing amongst the chaos and would begin his second volley of intimidation that he saved just for the non-compliant long hairs on the third floor.

 "Oh, it's party all night, sleep all day... Big man on campus...Impressing the girls again...Let's go, go, go, go, go, go... come on girly-girls with your long hair... let's move it... it's time of the harvest moon... Big man on campus...Party all night sleep all day"

This tact didn't make the peach-loving hippies any happier when they came downstairs. Every one of them resented Wednesday and Thursday mornings - huffing and puffing and pushing trash barges with flat tires that might have had 16 tons of cannibalized motors, old car parts and trash towering over the truck bed in back.

Lug wrenches were pulled out...tires were rolled down the street to the gas station, leaky hydraulic jacks were shoved under rear differentials in order to slide cars to their new destination and small cars were often picked up and carried by the minions along with the customary sibling skirmishes, name calling, booger wiping...and flatulent wars that they were predisposed to.

AND TONY WOULD COME CAREENING IN... burning rubber all the way down Woodlawn past Leland's house in his ferocious, fire-breathing dragon known as the legendary RAT KILLER.

To Tommy and the rest of the Blasers who stood with mouths agape watching the show, this was almost better than watching the Dahlins let the monkeys out of the Zoo (See Blog Post of April 29th: The Zoo ).

Next time, just before I share about Thursday night and the Spaghetti-Vomit surprise, I just may have to share the spurious and dubious account of  how Dr. Frankenstein put together the Monstrous Beast that stuck fear in the hearts of hot rod owners everywhere...du...du...du... known as the "Rat Killer."

Flaxing Waxing Shining Gleaming HAIR!

Stick around - because below is a treat....

The hardest part for me at this point is not coming up with a story to tell about my incredibly bizarre  childhood and crazy family. Trust me it is not for lack of stories. No! The problem is deciding on what story to tell next.

So far you know that we were a little bit different...okay - so that was a lie! We were very different!

We were the only family on the planet to let all the monkeys out of the Zoo. While normal people went to the Holiday Inn where kids stayed for free - we, however, spewed out on the dirt on the shores of the sulfur smelling Salton Sea and covered ourselves in a salty-volcanic mud concoction where everyone stays for free...all 17 of us. And because of our practice of illegally smuggling bodies in a trailer, I was almost a causality of the "childhood abandonment campaign" if not for the high-speed, Highway Patrol chase that forced my family come back for me.

Trust me, between "The Hamper" "The Poop in the Fort" "The Electrocution in the Pool" "The Veloci-Rooster" "Miss Simpson and the Alligators" "Kurt and the Rapids of Death" Chewbacca and the Templates" "President Johnson and Snapping Turtles" all the broken bones and near death accidents, I have plenty of stories to keep you in stitches and to give you some things to think about.

The British Invasion was in full swing... as the Beatles arrived on our shores from across the pond... so for now I want to offer a fun tribute to hair as we went from creepy little kids with blonde hair to creepy hippies with lots and lots of blonde hair.

Stick around for the next installment, I think I'll have to share the unbelievable story of "The Hamper of DEATH" with you! It's bound to be one wild and unbelievable ride .

Until next time, jag alskar du

THE ZOO: The conclusion! Plus 1000 thanks

I began posting my childhood stories just over a week ago and I would like to thank all of you for visiting and traveling back with me to the 60's. Today I hope to finish the Zoo Odyssey, but wanted to give a shout out to all of those who have made up the 1,048 visits to this blog site.  Thank you to those in Germany, South Korea, Thailand, Russia, France, the UK and those of you right here in the U S of A.

1048 THANKS

I'm sorry for leaving you hanging ... as you can see at least one of us had lots of training that would come in handy for the next part of this story. Who knew that  the ability to hold-on would be essential to their survival. 

We left off last time with Flea-Bait being suspiciously pushed off the ledge of the monkey habitat. In the words of Paul Harvey, "And now, the rest of the story."

 Desperate, Mom had just mixed all our names up (as she usually did) while invoking “The Clause.” (I'll stick with the alias' here).

“GustavBjornKnutLeifUlrikeorwhoever you are, (I was usually the "WhoEverYouAre" I thought that was my name until second grade when I got into trouble for putting it on top of my school papers.) 

With the Papal authority that went all the way back to Saint Peter, mom shouted, "Get down this instant - UNDER-PAIN-OF-MORTAL-SIN”

WELLLLLLLLLL.... Knut pushed and Flea-Bait fell into the anticipating clutches of the agitated monkeys below. (REMEMBER, THIS IS A TRUE STORY)

Flea-bait was a prize... something to be sniffed and prodded and examined and licked and tasted and adopted and fought over and owned. 

With a hundred monkeys climbing all over Flea-Bait and picking his head for lice...Knut knew that they had no intention of giving Flea-Bait back. My mother took the two girls and hid in the bushes about 50 feet away. 

Knut knew that if Flea-Bait died, then he was the one guilty of Murder and was now subject to Mortal Sin and would have to spend an additional billion years in Purgatory. ONLY. Only Knut couldn't reach far enough down into the Pit of Despair to rescue poor Flea-Bait and had to be lowered by his ankles by Mad Dog and Gustav. 

Every time Flea-Bait opened his mouth to scream for help monkey fingers went in. ONLY. Only when Flea-Bait discovered that one of fingers  wasn't really a finger, but a toe - he began to freak out.  He figured what ever foot this toe was attached to - had probably just been walking around in monkey dung and urine.

In shear terror that he would have to live with monkey pee-soaked-toes in his mouth for the rest of his life, Flea-Bait looked up with hope to the outstretched arms that were extended to him (holding back his own vomit).

With the aid of several other Dahlin Boys (and friends who had voluntarily squished themselves into the old Dodge station wagon for the Field Trip to the Zoo) Knut had been lowered far enough by his ankles to grab the outstretched arms of Flea-Bait. 

ONLY. Only there were a million monkeys crawling all over Flea-Bait! From up above, he looked like a piece of forgotten candy that had been covered in ants (Only monkeys. Only monkeys that didn't want to give him back). 

We had a problem!   There were too many of the little buggers.

So along with Gustav and Mad Dog, Liver lips, Chewy, Pinky, Dooh-Dooh Pants, and me... we all grabbed on and joined the tug-of war.

It was the monkeys on one end and the Viking Wolf Pack on the other end, with Knut and Flea-Bait stretched out like a piece of rope in the middle. (Told you that those hanging-on-skills would come in handy right?) We could hang with the best of monkeys.

 

We had all gone through monkey training  school and had bow staff mad skills 

We could not... would not lose! 

“Heave ho!” We all shouted in unison, giving one humungous jerk. “Si Se Puedes!” Chewy screamed. Four Eyes was with us but was completely useless - as usual. He sat down with his slide rule and tried to make some kind of formula as to how many Dahlins it would take to pull up Flea-Bait factoring in weight, total muscle mass and gravitational pull. 

 

By this time, sirens were blaring and blue lights flashing as Zoo security in faded green, electric carts rounded the sharp corner by the Gorilla statue.  Holding tranquilizer dart-guns as if they were going to war, this was their big chance to use guns that a zoo security guard rarely, if ever, got to use.

Later when my dad heard the story, he laughed, rolled his eyes, and then said something like, “Too bad they weren’t using real bullets.” 

Anyway, complete mayhem broke out in the zoo, and my mom stayed hidden in the bushes offering up prayers to Saint Francis.  

The 6,000 monkeys were just too heavy for us to lift poor Flea-Bait out of the monkey pit. 

This is when "IT" happened. 

(I thought for the sake of time I'd leave you hanging here - but it didn't think I could do it to you again). 

The very last monkey, anchoring the tug-of war, let go and climbed over the monkey in front of him and the monkey in front of that monkey, and the monkey in front of that one - and on and on until he reached Flea-Bait. He stood up on his feet and screamed something in monkey as he beat his chest (I'm not really fluent at translating monkey, but if I had to guess this brilliant little fella shouted "FREEDOM") then he took off over Knut, over Gustav, over Mad Dog, over Liver Lips, over Chewy, Pinky, Dooh-Dooh Pants and over me into the Zoo. 

The next to last monkey did the same thing: Over one monkey, then the next and the next until he reached Knut where he paused and took a whiff of  Knut's breath and acted as if he had almost fallen in love...(Knut wore a retainer and had really bad breath... the Monkey loved it) he stood up, beat his chest and shouted "FREEDOM" as he climbed over all the Dahlin boys and into the zoo. 

Monkey by monkey they all did the same thing... We. Us. The Dahlins!  WE HAD MANAGED TO LET EVERY SINGLE ONE of the MONKEYS OUT OF THE CAGE! 

Monkeys running riot, babies crying, angry men with tranquilizer guns, sirens blaring, food dropping, people screaming, Mrs D praying, girls hiding and Dahlins fleeing. 

Did anything like this every happen to your family? I want to know. Tell me about it!