Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou?

     I just wanted the world to know that I had a brother. He was two years older than me, but when we were young, people thought we were twins. Our relationship morphed throughout the years, but it started out typically. My brother was the king of the neighborhood. Truly, he reigned and I was safe in his dominion.  His friends called him "Couch." That's what cool kids did, they referred to each other by their last name. I was called "Shane." One time this kid called me "Couch," retracted it, then said, "I guess you're a 'Couch' too." At that moment I thought I had found the missing link.
     My brother and I were very different. As cool and as athletic and as influential as he was, he was very emotional, explosively so. We were watching the annual showing of "The Wizard of Oz" on TV and during the scene where Dorothy is locked up in the witch's castle and Auntie Em appears to her in the crystal ball, I noticed my brother was crying. Puzzled, I asked, "Why are you crying?" He yelled back at me, "Because it's sad!" I could have taken that info to the streets and caused quite a stir: "Scott Couch cries watching 'The Wizard of Oz.'" They probably wouldn't have believed me.
     There were times when we would pal around, like up at Gramma's house which was on the outskirts of town. There was no one else to play with, so we made the most of each other's company. Alas, he was two years older and while visiting Gramma, he challenged me to touch a set mouse trap and see if I could pull my finger away before it snapped on me. He made it sound like it was possible. A millisecond later I had a mousetrap hanging off my finger and I was screaming like a banshee while my brother just laughed. Once he stood in front of the closet door and invited me to hit him as hard as I could in the stomach. I wound up and let it rip but he jumped out of the way and I ended up sucker punching the door. Oww. He just laughed. It was my lot in life as a kid brother.
    The older we got, the more we grew apart. Our differences created quite a chasm between us. He had  a tumultuous relationship with my parents and moved in and out of our house. He "borrowed" my things, if borrowed means took without asking and ruined or lost my possesions. In the 80's, this was the drill: Buy a new pair of 501 jeans, wash and wear, wash and wear, and so on. Eventually they would fade and the more worn they appeared, the better. It took quite a bit of time and nurturing to get Levis to look just right. My brother "borrowed" my most prized pair of faded 501's, worked on his car, and got oil stains all over them. I was furious. He angrily offered to buy me a new pair. "That wasn't the point!" I informed him. See Levis 501 jeans routine above.
     I offered him a few olive branches in the course of our relationship, like asking him if he wanted to go see "Rambo" with me. He accepted my invitation, but his girlfriend ended up having some issues, so she had to come along too. At least I tried.
     The story takes a sad turn. My brother had a pretty risky lifestyle and it all came to an end in June of 1987, just two weeks after he turned 21. I was 19 and death had never hit this close to home or this swiftly. The news was numbing, shocking, unbelievable, and it turned our world upside down. After he died, I wished we could have been closer, but we just didn't have the ingredients for that. Or maybe I didn't try hard enough.
     It took me a while to get over my brother's tragic death and I've often wondered what it would have been like had he lived. Would he have stood next to me in my wedding? What kind of uncle would he have been to my kids? Would he have gotten his life straightened out?
     It's been 24 years since his passing and Im feeling... that I just wanted the world to know that I had a brother.
   
   
   

Adventures in Santa Cruz

     My family loves Santa Cruz. We try to get there at least once a year, usually for a Beach/Boardwalk trip. I love pulling off Hi-way 17 into town and seeing that first Santa Cruz native. He/she lets you know you've arrived. As we were planning our summer calendar trying to keep the kids busy while school is out, I discovered the Beach/Boardwalk was hosting movie nights each Wednesday. They were showing "E.T." one evening, so I thought that would be a good flick to watch on the beach with the kids. It was also Pepsi can $9.99 wristband unlimited rides night, so we bought the kids the bands while we waited for showtime.
     It's interesting to see your kids grow up by the rides they graduate to. This year, the thrills were a little bit bigger, a little faster, but I enjoyed watching them laugh on not so kid-like rides such as the Tilt-A-Whirl. I'm waiting for the day when we're on the Giant Dipper together.
     Now, the boardwalk comes with traditions. Gotta have my corn dog and nacho cheese fries. And I don't know when the first time was exactly, but I started a tradition when I was on a trip with the youth group. Since Marty couldn't make it to those outings, I bought her a pair of earrings from the main surf shop just to let her know I was thinking about her. Ten, eleven pairs later,  I once again snuck off with Max, seemingly on a bathroom run, but that was a guise to go get Marty her customary pair of earrings, and as always, from the same shop (I said this was tradition). Max asked if he could deliver them to her. Sure. Earrings delivered, wife happy, worn the next day, success!

   
     We bundled up and settled in to watch the movie on a humongous screen. Snacks were served as we waited to experience Eliot and his alien friend break our hearts. I was really looking forward to Max's reaction to the movie. He's a 5 year old boy so being friends with an alien is pretty appealing to him.
     Right as the movie started, a local couple plopped down right next to me and I mean literally plopped since they were pretty plastered. She kept saying "I love this movie," and to her partner, "Shut up and watch the.... movie," yet with more color. I was worried Julia could hear them, but she was oblivious to their language.
     There's a crass line in the movie that I didn't want my children to hear, so of course I did the obligatory loud cough when that scene came on, but leave it to my drunk friends next to me to repeat it over and over as they laughed. Oh, well. We were in Santa Cruz.
     The idea of a free movie on the beach was a good one, but we left at intermission and didn't get home until 11PM. The kids didn't even take their sandy clothes off, just climbed in bed of their own volition. So I rented the flick the next day and we finished watching it at home. Much clearer picture, a sound system that I could more effectively cough over, and no drive afterwards. But I'm glad we did the beach thing. We made a memory and that's what I'm all about.

Bad Breath Love

     I don't know about you, but I don't brush my teeth the moment I get out of bed. I meander into the living room and see what my kids are up to and they usually end up in my lap or on top of my person in some form. Almost daily, I hear from one of them (if not two or all), "Your breath stinks!" They are always quick to point this out, whether early in the day or at the end when the inside of my mouth hasn't seen a toothbrush since morning.
     Now, being told by your kids your breath stinks isn't the first phrase a parent wants to hear from their children, but as often as I've heard those blunt words from my offspring, I'm not hurt or put off by it. If my kids are climbing on me or tackling me or just sitting with me and are in close enough proximity to smell my breath, then I'm actually feeling the love. They want to be near me. We're tight, we're good, they want to hang with their dad. So I'm not hearing, "Your breath stinks." I'm hearing "I love you."
     Pass the Funyons.

And the Winners are...

The winners for the uber-cool journals as determined by random.org are commenters...

#5 The Braden Family, who wins A Fly Went By

#7 Dee Collins who gets the Arts and Skills of English book, and

#3 Aimee, who will receive the Cat in the Hat Dictionary

Timestamp: 2011-07-15 22:05:22 UTC

Congratulations! Message me your mailing addresses on facebook or email me at shaqne@gmail.com and your winnings will be on the way next week! 

A little secret... I have two more of these custom journals to give away but I'm saving that for later! Stay tuned. In the meantime, head on over to bookjournals.com and start shopping!

MORE Giveaway Madness!

     I have a new friend. His name is Jacob. I stumbled across his website when I Googled "cool journals" or "vintage journals," or something along those lines. And what I found were some very cool and very vintage journals. Jacob takes old books and makes them in to journals/blank books and the results are epic. Each one is hand made and has approx. 75 blank pages with pages from the original book interspersed throughout. This only ups the coolness factor.

    
     I searched the entire catalog at www.bookjournals.com because I didn't want to settle on one I liked, but  wanted to find the perfect journal. I found one he converted from a retro Sunday School book that had the year "1968" in pretty big numbers on the cover (the year I was born). The PERFECT journal!
     I emailed Jacob about how pleased I was with my purchase and he was kind enough to send me more to give away to my faithful readers and followers. Love to journal or wanting to start? What  better book to use? Need a gift? These would make great and unique presents for someone (a teacher would love the Arts and Skills of English title). Got an artistic kid? Perfect for the young artist to draw and create and design in.

  
     So I'm sharing the love. To get one of these little treasures, just comment on this post by saying which is your favorite from first to last. For example...
1. Dictionary (first favorite)
2. English
3. A Fly Went By
     Winners will be selected randomly and the first place commenter will get the journal of their choosing. Leave your comments by this Friday at noon and you will be entered for a chance to be one of three winners! And if you can't wait, hop on over to www.bookjournals.com and shop for the one that fits your personality perfectly. So many cool covers to look at. Hard to choose just one (so I bought two!).

This is God

     I was running an errand with my 6 year old, Ella, and we took a detour to a store where they sell journals. Ella knows if we're patronizing this store that Dad's looking for a new journal so she asked if she could get one as well. Money's tight these days so I told her "Probably not." Lest you think me hypocritical about the possibility of me getting a new journal and Ella being denied, I just bought her an activity book at Barnes and Nobles not two hours earlier. As with many children, my "no" to her request was interpreted as  "You need to be more persistent, honey." So Ella responded, "But I love journals," and proceeded to pick up three or four really pretty ones that she asked if she could have. "Ella, you have journals at home that you haven't even finished yet." Again, lest you think me hypocritical, well, I was, because I have ten or twelve empty journals at home and here I was looking for another one. She found one that was marked $1.99, so I caved.
     Her new found treasure is a wish journal, prompting the owner to write down certain wishes throughout. This is Ella's first entry: "I wish for a lot of things. Today, God, I want to stay with you. I love you so much and you love me to. I love you more than ever." On the next page she drew a picture and wrote at the top "This is God." (The above picture is not Ella's depiction. Our scanner's not working. Dang).
     This is joy. She could have written a wish list filled with items from Toys R Us, but she didn't. This is parenthood, hoping and praying that your kids grow up to know God in such a way. This is humbling, since I almost prevented this moment from happening. And this is worth $1.99.
    

And the Winners are...

Hello, journal lovers, here are the winners to my journal giveaway determined by Random.org: 
Commenter #3, McLesP and
Commenter #1, Nikki D. 
Timestamp: 2011-06-25 00:56:09 UTC


McLes, you get the first choice, of either the New Yorker Dogs journal or the Elvis journal. 
McLes and Nikki, either message me your mailing addresses on facebook or send it to shaqne@gmail.com and I'll be sending you your journal goodness next week. Congrats and happy journaling.

I'm Just Giving Things Away Over Here!

     Hey, friends, my last giveaway was so fun to do I'm doing it again! In my ongoing attempts to proselytize and convert the whole world to journaling, I'm giving away not one but TWO brand new journals. The first is a journal from teNeues.

     This is a hard cover, lined journal with a magnetic flap cover. It's approximately 200 pages and a fun journal. The line on the cover says, "Bad dog, bad dog," she said. "We should have gotten a cat."
     The second journal features the King himself...

     Another hard back, brand new ruled journal with Elvis' autograph on the bottom right corner of each right page and includes a ribbon marker.
     To win, just leave a comment here at If This Couch Could Speak by this Friday at noon. Winners will be chosen randomly. Winner #1 will get first choice and the runner up the other journal. Once the winners are announced, message me your address on facebook or email me your address at shaqne@gmail.com. If you're not a journaler, try to win for someone who is. They make great gifts!
Thanks for stopping by, "thank you very much."

Beautiful Marty

    
     Almost 21 years ago, I met a girl in college. Once we became friends, I started calling her "Beautiful Marty," because I thought she was, well, beautiful. And she was, inside and out. I called her that so much that other people started referring to her as Beautiful Marty as well. Once it stuck, I don't think I ever didn't greet her with this moniker I had bestowed on her. And, although we weren't college sweethearts, our love story was meant to be.
     We started dating after graduating. When I would be filling friends in on my love life and drop Marty's name, many of them would come back with, "Beautiful Marty?" Yes, Beautiful Marty. Just recently I read a transcript from a friend's book that's about to be published. She asked Marty if she could include a conversation they had in her upcoming release. Our friend the author mentioned in her writings that in college I referred to my future wife as "Beautiful Marty." I never knew how widespread that nickname had become, but why shouldn't it? It is a very fitting nickname.
     When Marty had her surgery in 2008, it initially changed her appearance drastically. At the time, we had been married for 11 years. I've said it before, but I have never felt more married to her than when she was in that hospital recovering. This was my wife. We had made vows to each other, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, that we would walk side by side through whatever. As I watched her endure the pain of her recovery, I felt my commitment to her come alive. It didn't matter what her appearance was. I had fallen in love with the beautiful person that she was (is) on the inside and I would be the stupidest man on the planet to ever walk away from such an incredible woman. Let's not forget that she's loved me warts and all and stuck by my side when I hadn't made it all that easy for her to do.
     We were talking in the car and I brought up her famous nickname. She thought I was just being nice to her back in college and that I meant she was beautiful on the inside (I assured her it was inside and out). She said maybe God allowed me to see her that way all those years ago knowing what we would be going through down the road. It's quite a thought, but all I know is I still think of my wife as "Beautiful Marty," because she is. It's a fact, and it ain't ever gonna change.
      
    

Losing Bethany

     When I was still a student at Bethany College, I would go into the library and pick up a periodical or two and read them by the fireplace. One magazine I browsed through on a regular basis always had several ads for other Christian Colleges. Sometimes I would wonder what would have had happened if I had gone somewhere besides Bethany. Thinking about all the great friends I had made on campus would always put a stop to the wondering. "If I had gone to Northwest, I never would have met ______________ and I can't imagine my life without them." I know had I enrolled elsewhere, I wouldn't have known any better. I would have been oblivious to Josh and Marlon and Trent and Justin and Eric and... but since I knew them, I didn't want to think about not knowing them. And I never would have known these great friends were it not for a little college called Bethany.
     After 92 years of equipping, training, and sending people into all the world in the Name of our Lord, my alma mater is closing it's doors. I knew it might happen,  but when the official word came that Bethany would be ceasing operations, I was surprised by the emotion I felt about it. It is like a death in my family. I am mourning the loss of this great institution along with thousands of others. If you don't believe me, check out the Bethany Alumni group page on facebook. A funeral is taking place; people expressing their grief, some their anger and denial, but mostly a lot of memories and smiles are being shared. The only thing missing at this memorial service is the physical hugs and the spread. Otherwise, we've all pretty much gathered to say goodbye.
     But how? How do I say goodbye to this place that I called home for four years? That time shaped me, challenged me, stretched me, and prepared me for the real world beyond the classrooms. There's too much to say, too much to thank her for in one setting.
     My Bethany experience was redemptive for me. I hated Junior High. I was picked on and nerdy and loathed that place with every fibre of my being. High school was a little better, but I still kind of blended in, got lost in the crowd. Bethany was different. It was as if God was saying, "Let Me redeem those lousy teen years, and have a good time." And that good time started immediately my Freshmen year.
     For all the social experiences I had (including being socials director my Sr. year), the most impacting times were spent one on one with God. I loved walking down to the Redwood Bowl amphitheater and gazing up at the majestic redwood trees convinced that it was God's handiwork. I loved the little prayer room under Craig Memorial Chapel where I could sing my brains out in worship. And I loved that chapel, late in the evening when no one else was around. I would cry out to God for unsaved loved ones and ask for God's forgiveness and direction for my life. And He met me there time and again. I "built" many altars in that holy place, and I will mourn not being able to go back to revisit them.
     So, I'm losing Bethany. Yet no one can close down my memories, my friendships, the milestones, and the lasting impact that college had on my life. She was 92 when she passed, but her impact will touch generations beyond. Goodbye, ol' girl. You served us well and will be sorely missed.
  

The Bethany Ambassadors singing at Glad Tidings Temple in San Francisco, where it all began in 1919.