Each of us has a solitary road we must travel, we know it as our Path of Life.

The closest personal and most cherished relations we can have is our children, our husband or wife.

We may meet many people along the way, receive good and bad advice and hopefully make good friends.

One thing for sure the road can’t be traveled twice and there’s no turning back when it ends.

Many times our steps may falter as we have to make decisions each time the road may branch,

We must be proud and yet humble, even when the road is the darkest, we still have a chance.

We may even stumble and fall by the wayside or have to take time out just to rest,

Just continue the journey, tho the hill seems too high, the sun may be shining just over the crest.

Don’t become disheartened or weaken when your load becomes too heavy and fall into deep dark despair,

Remember the Spiritual Power is ready to give you a hand, open your heart and follow Him and He will be there.

We know that it is written, if we believe in Him, at the end of our Path is The Promise Land.

Never be afraid to talk to Him and ask for help on your way, He will hear and understand.

Don’t expect tho you love Him and you pray for his help that your road will be only the best,

For the many hardships of our journey we must endure and still show our Faith is His test.

He gave his Life for us and no one could possibly have suffered more than has our Precious Lord.

If we just remain faithful as we walk down our Path we are sure to receive our Reward.

Ida L. Apodaca


1975 seems to be a busy writing year for my Grandmother. I am under the assumption that this particular piece was based on a trip the she made. I know my Mom also read my blog from time to time so maybe she will elaborate, if not, then assumption will have to do.


If you’ve ever been far North in Alaska on the cold and long wintery nights,

Then, perhaps, you’ve been able to see, one of Nature’s most Wonderous sights.

It is called Aurora Borealis, better known to most people, as the Northern Lights

Alone, I have stood there and watched them on their colorful and magical flights,

I could feel but awe at their beauty, as they shimmered across the sky,

It was, almost, as if I could touch them, even tho, they were so high.

A luminous meteoric phenomenon, a wonderous manifestation of art.

Of all of Nature’s Beauties I’ve seen, this one, I hold quite apart.

Sometimes they would ascend up toward Heaven in a flight to Zenith or beyond,

Other times they would arc from Horizon to Horizon like a rainbow to abscond,

Momentarily they would flicker and disappear and I was afraid they’d be gone,

Suddenly they’d appear more beautiful than ever and their resplendent dance would go on.

I could have stood there and watched them forever had it not been for the cold,

If you haven’t already seen them, don’t miss them, such a sight you’ll never again behold.

Ida L. Apodaca


I was sorting through the collection of Grandma Ida’s writings, sorting out duplicates and scanning them to share with my brothers and noticed that she did a lot of writing in 1975. This all of Grandma Ida’s Grandbabies. I know her life wasn’t easy with Gus and I wonder if that is why she wrote the way she did. I know that while we were in Idaho, my Mom had stepped between Grandma and Gus a couple of times to protect my Grandma. We finally got our own place in Boise and things seemed to get better between Grandma and Gus but then again Grandma was very good at covering up the abuse.


There are no words on earth to express the joy that I felt when the Doctor said, “Grandma it’s a girl.”

She was so chubby and sweet, and had so much hair, at the top of her head the nurse made a curl.

My little Lauri, she was the first, and tho I love them all just as deeply, she’s kinda special to me.

It is just as a mother with her first child, as a new world is suddenly opened before you to see.

This was a child from my only child, bringing us closer and making the bonds of our love deeper grow.

The pleasures of becoming for the first time a grandmother, are such that only a first grandma can know.

My joys didn’t lessen, when my oldest step-daughter Aunna, gave birth to our beautiful little granddaughter Racquel.

She was so tiny, like holding a fragile doll, and the love I felt, I can’t find the words to tell.

Again I was grandma, and this wonderful new knowledge, filled me with a deep love and pride in my heart.

For our wonderful Aunna, had given birth to our grandson Bobbie, and a boy is so special, you hold him apart.

Soon my Terri had Michael, another grandson to love and to cherish, and so grew our special treasures to hold.

My step-daughter Christina, gave us little Sarah so sweet, a more beautiful baby, I know, has never been born.

Perhaps I am prejudice, but that is a grandmother’s right, we are given special privilege to blow our own horn.

Last, so far, but not least, is my loveable grandson Chris, the youngest, in my daughter Terri’s family and home.

In distance, we may be apart, but this will never change the love in my heart, wherever they may roam.

Most people don’t get the extra special priviledge we have, that is a daughter, who, has adopted us as her own.

Our Linda has three boys, to whom we are grandparents too, so we need never feel we are unloved or alone.

A family is a Heaven sent gift for us to love and cherish, and forever hold close in our life.

May God guide them, as they each go their seperate ways, and protect them in this world full of strife.

By: Ida Apodaca


I have to apologize I went back and had to check some dates and realized that this piece was written when I was 7 and at that time my Grandma Ida and Gus were living in Idaho. The September after this was written my parent separated for several months and while my brother’s stayed with my Dad I had to go with my Mom to Idaho for a long visit with Grandma. I didn’t mind spending time with my Grandmother, she was awesome, but I missed my brothers. The first story I told with this piece actually took place 3 years later when I was around 9 years old. Again I apologize for messing up the time line.


I have searched my mind, my heart and my soul for the answers as to where our future lies.

Is there ever a chance for survival or rekindling once the beautiful flame of love dies?

Once I loved and cared for you so deeply and that these feelings could change never entered my thought.

My God, what has happened to our lives? What is the answer? Is it what we have sown we have wrought?

What chance is there for a castle to last when it is built on nothing more than crumbling sand?

Perhaps if we’d had a more solid foundation what we tried to build would have been able to stand.

What I feel I know isn’t hatred but only defeat, anguish and deep frustrating despair in my heart.

It seems that the more we are together, instead of growing closer, we just keep drifting further apart.

When we met we were both really searching for a new life and someone for whom we could trust and care,

I guess we just never learned enough about each other to be able to build a life we could share.

I guess one can be too giving and by not demanding or receiving there is no fulfillment on their part.

While with others there is too much demanding and what they do give doesn’t really come from the heart.

There are many good memories along with the bad ones and its these that I want to hold dear,

Sincerely hoping to remain friends and have respect and consideration for each other tho we are far apart or near.

Tho our hurts and mistakes aren’t forgotten, lets learn from them, not let them leave scars for which we pay.

I pray that we can find happiness, fulfillment and a better way of life, should we go our seperate way.

By: Ida L. Apodaca


Last Summer

Sorry for any edits you see in this post, I really wanted to edit the where Microsoft Word indicated they were needed but it felt wrong when she is no longer here with us to grant me permission.


For almost a year we’d been making our plans,
for a special vacation soon as Ronnies’ plane lands.
Our little trailer was painted and spotlessly clean.
All of our neighbors had been watching this scene.
One would have thought from all our bustling around,
the president himself was coming to town.
Mom and I had been shopping and planning the meals,
Checking out what we’d need and looking for deals.
The cupboards and closets were all packed so full,
I was to worry if it was more than our Dodge truck could pull.
Even our little car had it’s share of the load,
As on Saturday morning we started up the road,
Sequim was our destination, fishing part of our plan,
Crabbing, Shrimping, whatever, it was catch as catch can.
We wanted a vacation better than any other,
to enjoy every minute we’d spend with our brother.
We lucked out for sure when we arrived at our favorite place,
The trailer court we’d planned on had an empty space.
Since she wouldn’t take reservation it was quite a worry,
SO We were so happy, we set up camp in a hurry.
One did have to stop tho to admire the view,
overlooking the bay and John Wayne Marina so new.
There was our crab pots and fishing equipment to buy,
So off to Swains in Port Angeles, we did fly.
You’ve never seen a store that carried more stock,
and we went about shopping never minding the clock.
Finally tired, hungry and broker by far,
We loaded our booty in the back of the car.
Now the trailer was loaded with all kinds of good things to eat,
but it was late, we were tired, so we decided on a treat.
We saw a place advertizing, burgers, cooked over the fire,
but let me tell you that place left a hell of a lot to desire.
Oh well; back to our camp there was always junk food to eat,
besides we had to set up our crit pots and put things away neat,
Now I worked like a beaver to get those pots all together,
Frank, our friend, was taking us out if we had good weather.
It was the last day shrimping so we had to try,
to put out Frank’s shrimp pots and get a supply.
We rigged up our poles to try oulugk fishing on the way,
but not a darn thing seemed to be hitting that day.
The wind started picking up and Frank was upset,
we decided to set out anyway to see what we could get.
The men set out the shrimp pots while I guided the boat,
then came the crab pots, but, we hadn’t bought a float.
But that wasn’t the worst, much to my dismay,
I’d set the damn crab pots all the wrong way.
Finally they were out with a borrowed shrimp float,
but the darn wind really started rocking the boat,
So we picked up the pots, all except one,
the darned knot on the float had just came undone.
The shrimp were too small, no crabs in the one pot,
so Davey Jones had got the best of that lot.
On the way back to the Marina we set our one pot out in the bay.
Had to try our luck once more before the end of the day.
Frank said we’d go out later to pick up our catch,
So we headed for town to get our crab pot a match.
Ronnie took a rest while Al and I did the shopping.
After getting what we needed, we hurried back without stopping.
Mom put on the kettle to cook the crabs we’d bring in,
I must say with her optimism we just had to win.
Two Red Claws and a big Dungeoness male was our luck,
Unfortunately on the way back Frank’s boat started to buck,
The engine got hot, seems the darned belt had just broke.
Believe me putting a new one on certainly was no joke.
We checked out the area, crabbed and fished off the dock
spent our time enjoying ali, never watching the clock.
The weather was beautiful, only one night of rain,
and the very next day we had sunshine again.
We went up to Hurricane Ridge, a wonderful ride,
Marvolous, the wonders, that nature can provide.
We fed the birds from our hand and took pictures galore,
of the deer and the views, beautiful memories to store.
One could never see all of this beauty and not understand,
this could only be possible, if touched by God’s hand.
Each night we’d play Yatzee, Ron’s favorite game.
After his Indian War Dance we’ll never be the same.
If I didn’t mention mom’s cooking I’d really be rude,
cause she really out did herself feeding her brood.
One of the highlights of the trip I must mention,
was Ronnies’ swim in the river without intention.
Mom and I crabbed at the dock, and Ron and Al fished for the day,
At tha Elwha River a few miles away.
Ron hooked a fish from a precarious perch on the bank,
then fate played one of its usual pranks,
down he went and broke his pole right in half,
Not only was it cold, but the fish had last laugh.
Deep sea fishing with roger was next on our list,
this was an experience not to be missed.
I know Ron will never forget the Ling Cod he caught that day,
Would like to have seen his face if he’d caught the one that got away.
He reeled and he puffed, then he reeled some more,
I was beginning to worry I’ll tell you for sure,
When Al offered him a helping hand, ” No Way”,
He’d bring that fish in if it took him all day.
It was sixty-five pounds but, from the teeth marks on his tail,
the one that had had ahold of him must have been a whale.
Needless to say that day Ronnie took the glory,
And it probably gets bigger each time he tells the story.
We took a lot of pictures with those ugly fish,
But to do it again is our greatest wish.
Such a beautiful day and to add to our delight
we watched the whales racing us like jets in flight.
Black and white Beauties, putting on their own water show,
And every one there watching enjoyed it I know.
Oh yes, and we rented a boat for the day,
All we caught were some dog sharks, I must say.
We did get a couple of crabs from the pots we’d set out,
that they covered the cost of the boat is in doubt.
Last but not least near the end of my story,
was fishing for Salmon in all of their glory.
We all caught our limits of these silvers of the sea,
but Alan”s was the biggest much to his glee.
Men are always in competition with each other,
but no man wants to be outdone by his little brother.
Mom and Ron came back via a sight seeing tour that Sunday,
we hurried home so Al could be ready for work on Monday.
I’ve never known time to fly by so fast,
but the memories of last summer surely will last.
The best part of all and the dream we hold dear,
Is to do it all over again even better next year.

By Ida Errickson
Jan 1, 1988

Ode To Elsa

My Grandma had a dog named Mack he was a beautiful Boxer. When Grandma Ida and her husband decided that Max needed a mate they got Elsa, she was so sweet. At the time they were living in Idaho and running a little lodge called Clear Creek Lodge. When Elsa died my Grandmother was devastated, I think Mack was to.

This Poem was published in the Boxer Club of Treasure Valley Newsletter but I do not know the date of publication (sometime in the 70’s) if I ever find out I will share it.

Mack and Elsa with their pups. My Grandma Ida is holding onto Mack and Elsa


It was by chance that we found our little Valentine
She was for Gus’s birthday but I knew she’d be mine.
With Mack, our male boxer, it was love at first sight
She wasn’t home five minutes when she had her first fight.
She let the neighbor’s female know this was her territory
And when Mack kissed the winner,
She was in her glory.
So quickly and easily, she fit into our life
And everyone loved Mack’s little wife.
Together in freedom, they roamed through these hills,
Heaven knows, they acquired their share of porcupine quills.
So petite and proud not the most handsome, our little lass,
Gus said, “She’s like Carol Channing, not good looking, but she’s got class.”
As a mother to her babies, she left nothing to desire Nature had endowed her with what some human’s can’t acquire.
My fervent hope, so we will all remember her
Is that her best traits will show in her sons, Duke and Massacre.
I count my blessings that for awhile she was mine.
Little Corona’s Elsa Hera, St. Valentine.

Written by Ida Apodaca