mrzip66

Seems like that morning I got the call, my life has changed. It’s a strange feeling to realize, like so many have that I have no parents. Since then, I’ve been grateful to be busy and I have. It’s an honor to help settle my families affairs. Other than my name, its the last physical service I can do to honor them. I’m proud to say I’ve done it right and they’d be proud.

There was only one thing I really wanted from what’s left. Is my fathers chair. Remember Archie bunker? he had his chair, and so did my old man. I’ve known that chair since I was a kid. He watched his kids open Christmas presents, counciled us, scolded us and watched us play from that chair. It’s in my man cave now, and it means a lot. Mom bought well. I’ll pass it down to my kids.

The funeral is over, and yesterday was the first chance I’ve had to catch my breath and reflect a little.   I’m very proud mom made me and robyn executors of her will.   I hope we do her proud.   I’m going to make one more post about mom, but not today.   I had the honor to write her obituary and plan her funeral and it was an honor to work with my family.

Anyway, here’s her obituary.

Mary Dunn Olsen

1934 ~ 2011

Mary Dunn Olsen unexpectedly passed away Wednesday, April 20, 2011 in Heber City, Utah.

Mary was born March 29, 1934 to Linden and Ethel Belmont Tregeagle. After graduating from Provo High in 1953, Mary met Joseph Vern Dunn, and they were married in 1954 and later sealed in the Salt Lake LDS Temple. Mary spent most of her life in Provo, Utah where she raised 5 children and was very active in the LDS church and supported her husband in several businesses and church callings.

Mary had deep faith in her Savior Jesus Christ and accepted many callings ranging from Relief Society president to Sunday School Teacher. She put her heart into her faith which sustained her through many trials and magnified the joys in her life. If you knew Mary, you knew where she stood and her faith was a part of her daily life.

After Vern died in 1993, Mary threw herself into her passion for weaving. For 25 years, you would find her dedicated to weaving her “Persnikity Rugs, made from proud rags.”

In 2003, Mary reunited with her high school sweetheart Gilbert C Olsen and they were married that same year. They made their home in Heber City, Utah and enjoyed their life together.

Mary was one of a kind. You were always greeted with an enthusiastic smile, a funny story, and a warm conversation.

Mary always joked about a headstone she once saw, and said it was how she wanted to be remembered: “Here lies one tough old dame.” Mary, you were. We’ll miss you.

Mary is preceded in death by her husband Joseph Vern Dunn, her father Linden S Tregeagle, and her brother Thomas E Tregeagle.

She is survived by her husband Gilbert C Olsen, 5 children Michael Steven Dunn, Patrick Vern Dunn, David Scott “Skip” Dunn, Susan Kristine Dunn, Alan Trent Dunn, twenty-six grandchildren and sixteen great-grandchildren.

Funeral services will be held at 12:00 noon, Monday, April 25, 2011 at the Cobblestone Heber Ward, 1661 East 980 South, Heber City, Utah. Friends may call at the Berg Mortuary of Provo, 185 East Center Street, Sunday evening from 6 until 8 and at the church Monday from 10:30-11:45 a.m. prior to services. Interment, Heber City Cemetery.

Today, I got the call that my mother passed away. Sad day for me.

The writer in me has been thinking all of something poignant to write about her. As I sit here on my couch after a day of phone calls and initial arrangements, I am at a loss. She was a complex woman. She was my mother. She was a helluva good gal. Tomorrow I will meet with my family and make funeral arrangements and execute her will.

I will remember the good times. The times where she corrected and supported and listened to me as a youth, and the times we struggled together as a teen both good and bad (mostly good, Mom was the shit!) and for me to do the same for her as she got older, I got wiser and maybe I could give back by offering some encouragement to her and take care of her, as she took care of me when I was young. It hasn’t totally hit me yet. All I know is I’ll miss her.

She was alive till the day she died. Strong, proud and principled. She had her weaknesses, as we all do, but never made it your burden, even though you could see the weight in her eyes at some place that you knew she had to carry it alone. Time and experience told you she would. She was quick to laugh at your witticism, would carry your conversation if needed, and would act shocked when you told a dirty joke. I loved her. I feel I understood her.

Through that weight that maybe only family knew, she was a free spirit. She appreciated people with some character, and loved those that were interesting. Her heart was gold.

I moved to St George with her when I was 16 and had some really good times with her. She was there when I needed her.

Mar-bear, I’ll miss you. Thank god some of those genes passed on. I see em in my kids too. I love ya mom.

This is an old Statler brothers remake. Not a huge country guy, but this is a great song:

Its full on spring here. Weather is gorgeous. Looking forward to riding again hard soon. Still waiting for some things to line up that have been in motion for over a year now, and they’re really really close. I should know something next week. When they do, I’m moving the family to phoenix. For a lot of reasons. First, to be honest…. is to ride year round. 2nd, I’ve ridden everything, and I mean everything within 200 miles of here, and everything within interest of 500 miles of here. I need new roads. 3rd, to start over. I’m ready to rebuild and start some new things elsewhere. I like the challenge, and i’ve been here a long time. I think like the allman brothers song, I was born a ramblin man. It’s why my dad named me mr zip. I get bored pretty easy. 4th, I’m sick of utah. It’s great if you’re a mormon, but I’m not and its offered all its going to offer me.

I reflect on the last couple of years. Its been tough. Definitely a refiners fire. Everything has changed, and to be honest, the long continuous pressure of an entrepreneur got to me. I burned a few bridges, got a bit crazy and drank too much. I finally hit bottom and had to get my head right. I mention this, to be done with it, because I am done with it. I am poorer than I’ve been in years right now, but I have a helluva good life. I have some crazy ideas, a family that is behind me and is healthy, and my soul is strong. All i know, is I can handle a lot of shit…. shit that noone will ever fully understand but me. Thats how it should be.

I will tell you one thing i’ve been pretty proud of as of late…

This past year my 16 year old daughter has struggled with Anorexia. Its a pretty complex and scary disorder that had MrsZip and I up long nights. After all the doctors, therapists, school councilors and nutritionists, she pulled HERSELF out of it. She’s got the Dunn toughness, of which I’m very proud of. Its a mind fuck of a disorder. If you think you can force your teenager to eat, you’re a better man than me, because you cant. She was down to 70 pounds and was passing out several times a day. Scary shit to see happening to the little girl you love.

Anyway, she’s gained her weight back, turned full vegan on me, and exercising daily, doing yoga and ive never seen her so happy.

bla bla bla, back to motorcycling. Hopefully my next post is from the road.

This song was released in 1964. I was born 3 years later, but it was almost prophetic when it was released. Maybe Bob was just lucky. Life hands that out alot.

Route 66 is more than just an old road to me. I don’t think I’ve ever vocalized it, but its a lesson to me. It might always have been a lesson to me. The times change. We go on.

Robyn and I met Buster Burris in 1989, at the cafe table in Amboy California that he’d owned for years. Listened to his glory days and didnt realize then who he was at the time. Roy’s had seen the glory days of the road, and Buster had his heyday till he was bypassed in 1973. The times changed. Buster was in for a new lesson and lived on.

I first met Juan and Angel Delgadillo in 1989 as well. Seligman had been bypassed and cars on our saturday trip were not that frequent on our way to his empty restaurant. The times had changed for he and his brother. I love his lesson, that you can influence a change as well. I’ve been back several times over the years. Last time I saw Juan he was holding a stack of money as the tourists bought all they could from his shop, and Juan’s Kids carried his torch with the same smile Juan had. People are resilient.

I love the lesson. I think the times are a changin’ again, but people build. Its just in us. What we look at, we try and make better, be it a dirt road or an old town.

The Times, they are a changin.

remember the story of the grasshopper and the ants?

Wanna know the real story here? the truth is, the ants were boring. Hell, they bored each other. You can only count and re-count so many beans. We need ants, but ants need a grasshopper or two. They BEGGED the grasshopper to come in and entertain them. It can’t all be insurance seminars and excel spreadsheets.

There, go put your kids to bed and tell them that story. Grimm didn’t have a fucking clue.

When I was a kid, I thought california on the family trips was the coolest place in the world. Disneyland, beaches, stuff growing along the freeways, palm trees. I loved california.

In 1988 I moved there. To Long beach, specifically. I had a landscaping business there with a friend, worked a little, played a lot, bought my first motorcycle, and got the hell out of there. California, IMO is a shit hole. I think of california and I just think its dirty. I hate the helmet laws, the gun laws, and the other stupid laws that make business owners want the hell out of california. Its microchasm of everything I think is wrong with the US today.

Gimme an arizona saguaro cactus over a california palm tree any day. Arizona, for some reason has always felt like home. This month, I hope I can move my family to Phoenix. We’re all on board to go. I just need a little more dough, which Is in the works. I’ll get it.

Phoenix. Looking forward to starting completely over. Not because of anything wrong with Utah per se, but I like the adventure and new situations. Its like riding. Can’t wait.

I woke up early as usual, and washed and waxed our new car.    Its a good thing to do when you buy a used car, because you touch every inch of it, see whats busted and whats loose so you’re not surprised when it either flies off on the freeway or makes a noise and you can save it.   Pretty good car.  I bought good I think.   Time will tell.

I bought the old school turtle wax.   My arms hurt a little.  A statement on my conditioning I guess, but my illusion is that sumbitch looks better.   I like this car.   Liked it when I saw it.   Fun to drive a standard again.    Ill get her serviced in the morning, and temp tags by noon.   I saw that jiffy lube discounts you ten bucks if you come in before 10.   Perfect.  I’d have been in there by 9 anyway.

Fiddled with my bike some, drank beer, and puttered around in the garage.   Done with that by 2′ o clock.   Holy shit, sized up to be a good day by then.

Mrs Dunn was fighting with the kids.   Now I’m not a woman, and I don’t pretend to understand them.   Truth is, I never have.    I just know better than to get in the middle of a fight between women.  I’m not sure that Dad ever taught me that, but my spidey sense tells me to stay the fuck away so I talked to her a bit and gave her some support, then I watched Forrest gump with em and gave em fatherly advice in spots.   Who knows if it sticks, but maybe it will.   Still, you gotta say it.

The one thing I hit pause on, while watching the movie and turning to my daughter:  NEVER let another man lay a hand on you or hit you.    That hippie prick from berkley hit jenny and forrest fed him with floor punches so his head couldnt recoil.   Seems about right.   I’m proud to say I’ve never hit a woman, and I’ll be damned if any piece of shit hits my daughters.    I wanted my daughters to know that.

Good day.   Great Day.    looking forward to this week.

I’ve made some great money in my work career, or whatever you call what I do.   I’ve had times I thought I needed to steal diapers, and months I’ve made 30 grand each month.

But this economy is brutal.   I am swinging for the fences with one hand, and downsizing with the other.   My kick ass dodge pickup is gone, and today I bought a 1999 saturn for 3 grand, but its mine.   Sold everything I have of value in order to keep my family going.   I know I’ll be on top again one day, maybe soon if plans go ahead.   I’ve also realized that I’m already on top where it counts:  My wife’s smile is as strong with an old saturn as it was with in the leather seats of my dodge truck.   Her hugs with my mattress on the floor is as real as it was in her 6 thousand dollar bedroom set.    She’s the most important thing In my life.   I love you Mrs Dunn.

We all know women who are so shallow that their status matters.   I wouldnt stay 5 minutes with those kinds.   I can barely talk to them now without telling them what I think.   So glad I don’t have that.   That shit isn’t even in my radar.

Lets rock and roll into old age and whatever life brings.    If I’m with you, everything else is a huge bonus.     I love you.

I love to write. My mind races most times, not in anxiety or in circles, but noticing things. My brain searches. Its made me notice things over my 43 years that alot of people don’t I think. For a long time, it was a curse, but ive come to learn that its a blessing.

When I was in high school (of which I was on the 5 year plan because I was expelled as a junior, and came back to finish at 18) I loved creative writing classes. I didnt know how to type, but I had a lot to say.   Creativity was also never really my problem.

At 40 I found out I liked to write. Like, writing was theraputic. I also learned to type in high school, and I found my racing mind can keep a thought long enough for me to type it. I’m glad I started a blog at some point, from notes I took from my first motorcycle rides I kept in a log/journal in 1989 on my honda magna.

Since then, I’ve thought about my dream job.    It’s writing.  I live in reality, and know that most writers starve and are supported by their women, or are single.   I can’t do that, but truth be told, I’d love to tell stories.  Documentaries of the old days, with research and accuracy.  With love, struggles and triumphs.   God, I’d love to write for a living.

Kurt Sutter is one of my heros.   not because he wrote sons of Anarchy, but because he thinks like I do.   He’s harsh, rough and can weave a story of all those things.

This is from his blog:   It fires me up.   Might never leave my thoughts, and might be my dying regret on my death bed.   I also might write every single day because It inspires me.