Hang in there Dooh-Dooh Pants!

(Continued from last time) "Hang in there Dooh-Dooh Pants!"

11-year-old Dooh-Dooh Pants was on a paddle-board (much to large for him), helplessly being carried down river to his impending doom at the waterfall of sure and torturous death that we called the, "Cow Blender."

Dad was running across the bridge with 50 feet of rope that he had tied into a slip-knot.

Chewbacca was screaming for dad to save the old LA county, Life-Guard paddle-board we "borrowed" from the beach. 

Mom was praying to Saint Anthony.

14 year old Gustav was running after dad followed by Ulrich, followed by Puke Breath who was hobbling on his crutches...
   ...followed by me, after I ran into the guard rail and had finally taken the shopping bag off my head...
   ...followed by all the rubber-neckers who rushed to get front row seats to see an 11-year-old
                    get pulverized to a bloody puree in the "Cow Blender Falls."

Mayhem...broke out with everybody running and screaming...as Dooh-Dooh Pants was swept underneath the low bridge as though his fate was sealed. The crowds had resigned themselves to Dooh-Dooh Pants' imminent assignation with such a gruesome fatality. 

With some guess work, dad lowered his large loop over the side of the bridge just as Dooh-Dooh Pants emerged from underneath the gloomy darkness that foreshadowed the doom downriver. 

Guess work...or Saint Anthony...or luck, I'm not sure; maybe all three - but that rope went right over Dooh-Dooh Pants' head... and slipped right down around his flailing arms. Nothing, could have been better!

He was saved! Everyone began to cheer except for two teenagers from Rio Linda who wanted to see his body torn from limb to limb.  They were standing on the rail and I felt like pushing them in. Only, I didn't have the bag over my head and I certainly didn't want to see what would happen, when they got sucked over the spillway that hungered for fresh flesh.

                                  "One cow, two teenage milkshake...coming right up." 

I knew I had to go to confession for that one.

As the slip-knot tightened, it tugged Dooh-Dooh Pants backwards which caused him to panic.  Forcing his body against the rope, he bent  forward and clutched the paddle-board. As the rope tightened it inched its way up his arms and popped off over his shoulders.

Dad, afraid of losing Dooh-Dooh Pants, gave one desperate tug on the rope which ended up constricting around Dooh-Dooh's neck like a noose. The crowds gasped...as they realized the gravity of the situation. The cure was now worst than the sickness. Either way Dooh-Dooh Pants was dead; killed by friendly fire... hung by the neck that was meant to keep him from ending up like that shredded dead cow.

However, dad wasn't about to let go. Gustav and Chewbacca and Ulrich and Kleghorn and me... we all began pulling the rope along with dad... but the board spun parallel to the bridge and began to roll sideways in the current as though Dooh-Dooh was like a chicken on a rotisserie.  Spinning and spinning and spinning.

As he spun around and around...above water, under water, above water, under water - over and over again the rope wrapped around his body, lashing him to the paddle-board like one of Snidely Whiplash's victim that had been tied to train tracks.

Rope around his neck...lashed to the paddle-board... and being systematically drowned... it did not look good for Dooh-Dooh Pants. Desperately gulping air in the momentary spurts as he spun above water it seems like he didn't have much longer to go until our failed rescue attempt - killed him for sure.

All of us were going to go to prision!

Mothers were shielding the eyes of young ones... Children were shrieking... Mom was praying with one eye open and one eye closed... the Rio-Linda teens were gushing with morbid delight... and the Dahlin tribe was pulling - as accessories to murder.

The board flipped one last time, trapping Dooh-Dooh underneath.
      

       Death!

Face down, Dooh-Dooh Pants' body acted as a rudder and at the last second just before he was about to go over the horrid falls the board shot sideways toward shore and lodged in a bush.

Dad ran, we followed. Dad flipped the board and Dooh-Dooh Pants was dead.  Dad loosened the rope around his neck and pumped water out of his lungs!  I cryed and stuck the bag over my head!

A minute later Dooh-Dooh Pants' eyes opened and the crowds cheered. It was a miracle and another Dahlin great adventure.  I borrowed Puke-Breaths crutches and have "no idea" how I ended up tripping the two sadistic teens into a puddle of mud...obviously it had to be an accident, since I had that silly bag over my head...hehehehe!

28 Half-Naked Aborigines...and the failed rescue attempt!

(continued from last post Part 2) We packed all 28 of us half-naked, blonde-haired, Venice Aborigines into that old 1959 Volkswagen van, strapped down the over-sized paddle-board on top and headed for a glorious week at the Kings River. 

We weren't really aborigines and there really wasn't 28 of us. It just felt like there was 28 of us in that over-sized VW sardine can...and with our platinum blonde hair, tan bodies and in our half-clad state of dress, we were called that by a lady at gas station in Porterville when she found out that we were from Venice.

"Those children will grow up to be hippies" she said, glaring at us with flared nostrils and one lifted eyebrow of utter disdain. 

"Roy, I hope that's not prophetic" mom said to dad as he pushed down hard on the gas-pedal, leaving that stuffy lady chocking in a cloud of smoke from our poorly adjusted carburetor.   

We had spent the first couple days splashing around in a calm tributary that lulled us into a false state of security. 

There is my dad with nine of us. Just look at that!  Tell me that doesn't seem like 28 kids?

I'm the little pudgy one - right in front of my dad's knee.

 

 Swinging on ropes

 

 Water fights... 

Good old fashioned, safe - fun in the sun. 

Next, we loaded up for a day's excursion for a fishing trip below the Pine Flats Dam. 

When we crossed over the bridge, it was a gruesome sight to see a dead cow spinning and bobbing and trapped in the turbulent clutches of the water that flowed over the spillway just below the bridge. Taking it in, my dad slowed on the bride. Obviously that 'O cow was no match for the force of the water that pulled everything under the surface which had managed to float down river and get caught spilling over the cement embankment of the small waterfall. Mom put a bag over my head because she thought I was going to vomit.

"Choke 'em, mom! Choke 'em" Ulrich yelled to mom, urging her to squeeze the bag around my neck.

As we sat there and watch (not me of course, I had a bag over my head - but I could tell) the older boys were even grossed-out with the graphic image of the blood and how the skin was being pealed off that cow as it got sucked back down, then returned to the surface, then back down, and back up, twisting and spinning as if on a bent barbeque spit. 

"Holy cow!" Dooh-Dooh Pants said with a chuckle.  Thump, went Gustav's hand to the back of his head, thinking this was nothing to make fun of.

"Ouch!" screamed Dooh-Dooh Pants a little too loud...as if pleading for dad's intercession. 

"Silence is golden" dad said sternly, as we all paused for a moment of silence when we saw flowers and a small cross someone had erected as a memorial.

Little did we know at the time, that the horrific scene we were grimacing at - was indeed a omen.

Pulling the Micro-bus into the dirt lot, we oozed out of that hot van like a teenager's pimple under pressure. Dooh-Dooh Pants had just cut the cheese and it was more like we had shot out of that thing. 

To the left is a picture of our grandiose paddle-board.  It was as big as a Sherman tank itself, made of plywood and coated in 42 coats of resin...(This time when I say 42...I mean 42), it was as heavy as that Volkswagen van.  Look, that's me and another kid standing on it - in the safe waters of our little tributary.That board could hold 8 of us, if we wanted to pile our bodies that high (we did sometimes, but mostly fights broke out).

The older boys took turns on the paddle board in the big river, below the dam.

Puke-Breath had a cast on his leg, so after the two oldest boys gave the paddle-board a whirl around the main branch of the Kings River it was Dooh-Dooh Pants' turn (he was the fourth born and wanted to do everything the older boys did).  The only problem was that he wasn't as old, or as big, or as strong (and certainly not as smart) as the two older boys. Dooh-Dooh Pants shot out from the shallow shoreline where the water was moving slow and got caught in the faster current in the middle. 

No one thought too much about it at first...UNTIL. Until, Dad began yelling at Dooh-Dooh Pants to paddle the great, big, honking battleship back to shore.

Seeing how Dooh-Dooh Pants was powerless against the swift current, that's when the bolt of light hit us all at the same time. It was just like something out of the Twilight Zone as if  we were all watching the same thing being projected on the screen - something that my dad had already seen. It wasn't a cow that we all suddenly visualized in the spillway blender that was being sucked under and torn to shreds - No! It was Dooh-Dooh Pants whose bloodied carcass we visualized that was bobbing up and down in the deadly vortex below the bridge.

I ran to the van searching for the bag to put over my head...

My dad grabbed the rope that had been used to tie down the board and sprinted for bridge hoping to make it there before Dooh-Dooh Pants drifted underneath. Mom and all of us kids scurried along begin as fast as our little legs would carry us with Puke-Breath hobbling behind and me with that brown shopping bag over my head. I could see down to my feet but that was all and ran into two trees and Puke-Breath once, who hit me with his crutch. 

While he was running dad had managed to tie a slip-knot (he was really good at tying slip-knots). Unfortunately, he had arrived just a half-second too late to lower the rope before Dooh-Dooh Pants shot underneath the bridge flailing and screaming (and if I could wager a guess, he was probably cutting the cheese). 

"Dad, get 'em" Chewbacca yelled, upset about all the coats of resin he painstakingly painted on that giantic board, knowing it was about to be splintered into a million pieces. 

Dad ran across the hot asphalt to the other side of the brige hopeing he could catch Dooh-Dooh Pants on the way out. He lowered the large loop over the railing - guessing - hoping - and calculating to the best of his ability where he thought Dooh-Dooh Pants might come emerging from underneath.

After running into the railing, I took the bag off my head. It wasn't looking too good and mom prayed to Saint Anthony - the Catholic Patron Saint of "lost causes."

I'll tell you the gruesome details next time... Let's just say... it wasn't pretty!

I should have kept the bag on my head! 

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!"

The Boogie-Woogie, Boogy Man!

What I didn't say last time (when I told the truth about the Lennons), is that they were also very creative along with being talented.

Some of that creative juice began to spill over into their elaborate front and backyard productions.

As some of them began to wonder off the premises and down to our house, I think it lead several of them to be corrupted by the Dahlins as they also began to grow long hair. Some of the older Lennon boys began to come over and help my brothers in the cultivation of the "Mexican tomato plants." 

 Again it was quite bizarre to me...for a couple reasons!  The first, is those plants never grew tomatoes and second is the fact that this gang of hippies were so fastidious and diligent about those ugly - stinky o' plants... when they weren't really known to be fastidious about anything else!  It's 1968, I'm in seventh grade, and I just didn't get it.

I don't know what their infatuation was in those stupid plants. I'm no expert, but it did seem to have something to do with the long hair.  Hummmm?

Now the Lennons began hardcore decorating for Halloween and putting on a show for all of Venice and Santa Monica and Culver City... Everybody would come and crowd our block and watch the latest installment of the Lennon haunted mansion. ONLY...!

The only thing is, although the the Lennons put on a great show, our house really was haunted.

                      I'm not lying!

When I was really small, my mom and the Wolf Pack would hold scary séances. With all the lights in our big creaky old house turned off  - mom and the boys would gather in the candle lit room, touching thumbs and baby fingers connecting all the way around the large oak table. I don't know why we were allowed to do this as Catholics...but we did! I don't know if there was a formula or chant involved, I was too young to remember that, but whatever it was they did... it worked! That old heavy table lifted off the ground and hovered as if floating.

Watching the table float like that gave me the heebeegeebies as the hair on my neck stood up and I got fraidy-cat goosebumps all over my body. Freaked out by all this darkness and candles and everything else, I crawled underneath to see if it was some kind of hoax. But it wasn't!  That 'O table was moving all by itself... and I didn't like it one bit!  And I tell you right now -even some of the older boys were scared. When I was under the table.. I smelled urine! Somebody peed their pants... and that somebody was a teenager!  

I think what this voodoo-ritual-thingy did, was invite bad stuff into our house that stayed there for a long, long time. If you stick around long enough with me...I  am eventually going to share some of that evil-craziness that really did happen.

So RIGHT NOW...I going to admit to the WORLD that I was afraid of the dark. I figure that if you knew the context then you wouldn't judge me so harshly. We had angry ghost as well as the boogie man living with us...NO WONDER WE WERE SO MESSED UP!

I just knew...they lived in the attic, in the dark dingy basement, in the recesses of my bedroom closet and in most of the dark places where light refused to shine. When the boys were doing their herbal experimentations with those tomato plants and smelling like a bunch of skunks, I think those ghost...the boogy man...whatever you want to call them...whispered in their ears and gave them some of their brilliantly sinister ideas...

“Hey…order of the Wolf Pack, why don’t you electrify the sides of the pool and shock your little brother.” 

They would happily emerge from the cavity in the ivy saying things like, "Dude bro... that's a groovy idea bro..."
 "Righteous dude! Cool man, let's do it."
 "Dude!"
 "Groovy"
 "Psychedelic Man"
 "Now, this is a funky situation"

 
It sure seemed to me that whenever those older boys got around those plants and they ended up in that dark, hippy, ghost-infested-grotto (that was covered in thick ivy hidden behind our mosquito pond...AKA the pool) they would come out looking for me... with some diabolical plan in mind.  

ANYWAY... I never-ever-ever-ever wanted to be home alone!  When the three of us little ones were left all alone we heard footsteps and things that went bump in the dark.

 I'd have to admit, however, that it was a good thing not to have the Wolf Pack in the house. At least I didn't have to worry about getting shoved in a hamper, squeezed in the temples of my forehead and knocked out, tied to a tree or anything like that - THINGS THAT WENT BUMP IN THE DAY!  YAY!   But Madeline (one year older), Kjersten (couple years younger) and me...we would find the clearest room of house (the room with the least amount of junk and clutter) - turn every light on that was possible, huddle together and arm ourselves with butter knives!

 THIS IS TRUE!  I'm not making this up. Pshawwww!    I have no idea how a butter knives would help us against the likes of the ghouls who lived under the bed or in the closet - monsters that I knew were just waiting to grab me by the ankles and drag me away, but it was worth a try!

 Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore-
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more." 

                                                                                    'The Raven', by Edgar Allen Poe

If you grab your butter knife, next time I'll  tell you the EPIC story of how "John the Baptist" imploded into the scariest Halloween of all...      "The Spawn of Charles Manson."