Recipes for Living Don Butterfield

It is sometimes revealing to look into our ancestry to see where our traits may have originated. I have a vague recollection of my great-grandfather, Charles Butterfield, who was born March 17, 1844 in Kalamazoo, Michigan. His family moved from Michigan to Iowa when he was a small child. He died March 22, 1933, in Troy Mills, Linn County near Cedar Rapids, Iowa. His tombstone indicates that he was in the regular army. In order to enlist, Charles lied about his age and served 11 months in the Civil War. I tried to find out about him, hoping and expecting that he had been in some famous battle. Wrong. He was inducted February 25, 1862, served as a prison guard in Alton, Illinois, and was still a private when he was discharged less than a year later.

Great-grandfather Charles was discharged in Cincinnati, Ohio and came to Iowa in a covered wagon. He ended his journey in Dubuque and was the last Civil War veteran in Spring Grove Township. His was the first funeral that I was taken to. I was about six years old and I can remember seeing him in the casket. I thought I detected that he was breathing and I wanted to yell out, "He's alive! He's alive!" but I restrained myself.

Great-grandfather's journey may have ended in Dubuque but his legacy goes on. I remember him as a small man with a goatee. His accustomed place was a rocking chair beside which he kept an ear trumpet so that he could pick up the conversation when he wanted to. He earned his reputation of being kind of a ladies' man. I've been told that when he was in his 80s, he would drive his horse and buggy into Troy Mills to court his 38 year old girlfriend.

Charles' son Ruben was my grandfather. He was born on February 25, 1871. He played several musical instruments and tried to attend all the dances he could. Word is that he picked up some of Great-grandfather's habits, so it is possible that some of it filtered down the genetic line. Ruben was extremely obese and became a diabetic. His death on October 20, 1909 was the result of a cut on his foot that occurred when the axe slipped while he was cutting wood. Gangrene set in and he died. He left seven small children, the oldest of whom lived with my great-grandfather.

Ruben's wife, my grandmother, raised the other six of Ruben's children until they married and left home. After they were gone, she married a man named Starr. She was a very religious woman and usually went to the Four Square or the Assembly of God Church. She was very serious-minded, and I seldom if ever saw her laugh or smile. I don't ever remember my Grandmother Starr kissing or hugging me.

That was not the case with my maternal grandmother. She smothered me with kisses and hugs. I can remember sitting on her lap when I was a pretty big boy. Grandma's maiden name was Bessie Hart and she married LeRoy Aldrich. I have six volumes of the genealogy of my Grandfather Aldrich dating from 1605 up to the present time. In 1631 he came to Massachusetts from Derbyshire in the county of Derby, England. Lois Aldrich was the maiden name of the mother of Nelson and Winthrop Rockefeller, so somewhere in our background we were related to the Rockefellers.

Like Grandmother Butterfield, Grandma Aldrich was also a very religous woman. She belonged to the Holy Rollers and at those meetings she met Carl Walters. Their association subsequently led to a divorce, and she married Carl. It is kind of hard for me to believe that Grandmother Walters had that kind of a past because she was my best friend and confidant. When I told her of some unfair treatment I believed I had received from my parents, she was always sympathetic but would usually end up saying, "Well, you know they are your dad and mother and they are trying to do what is best for you," and that took care of the issue.

I was telling Grandma's son, my Uncle Stewart, about what a great person she was and he said, "She wasn't always so great." I have an impression that my mother and he were what today we would call hyper. Grandma was having trouble knowing how to cope with them. One night they came home from school and on the table was an unsealed letter. Being snoopy, they read it. It was to the Director of Prisons saying that she had two children that she couldn't handle and when would they have an opening at the prison so that she could send them?

My father, Calvin W. Butterfield, was the middle child in his family. Because of the family's plight, it was necessary for him to quit school at an early age and go to work. He probably had a fifth grade education. Every week my father brought home whatever he had earned and gave it to his mother to help raise the children. His mother would carefully count the money, and if there was any extra at the end of the week, she would allow my father to buy a bag of peanuts.

I came along May 3, 1927. Anyone who lived in that era recognizes it as the Depression and the title calls to mind the conditions and what they did to cope. I remember that on hot nights we would take a car-ride trying to cool off. Mother would ask my father, "Do you have 15¢?" That amount would buy three fudgcicles. There were many times he didn't have 15¢. Father got a job and became a buttermaker at the Rowley Creamery. He worked long, hard hours-in the summertime, an average day would be from 5:00a.m. until 6:30 p.m. There was no refrigeration, so he worked seven days a week. But there were no complaints because jobs were important and money was tight. I can remember when he finally made $5 a day and we thought that was really, really good money.

My mother's name was Lois and she was a very hard worker. She took in washing, did wall papering, and anything that would help with the family finances. Mother was only 17 when I was born and she treated me like someone to play with. Even though she always said, "Just wait until your dad gets home," Mother was the disciplinarian. She usually didn't wait for him to arrive but used the yard stick frequently. There was one time when she said to my dad, "You have got to take that boy upstairs and give him a whipping. He's been really bad all day." So we went upstairs and she waited for spanking sounds that never came. In awhile we came downstairs with our arms around one another, smiling and talking. Dad never did spank me.

Mom was the religious influence in my life. She always taught Sunday school in our Presbyterian Church, and if we were in town, we usually went to church on Sunday. She taught the little kids and directed the Christmas programs. One year I was to be one of the Three Wise Men, along with my friends LeRoy Zach and Norman Rosene. We were outfitted in bathrobes, which were borrowed from men in the church, and we were to process into the sanctuary carrying lighted candles. Just as I was ready to walk in, someone said something to me and I turned around, candle in hand, to see what they wanted. LeRoy was close behind me-too close-and his woolen robe caught fire. Wool has a peculiar way of burning. It kind of races- zzt, zzt, zzt and the sanctuary full of people began screaming and ooh-ing. Because the fire was behind him, LeRoy didn't know what was happening. Suddenly my mom ran out on the stage and began beating on him. He wondered what in the world he had done.

My mother believed that we must always be responsible for anything borrowed, so the aftermath of that incident was that I had to buy the local druggist, L.D. Wallace, a new bathrobe. That same rule caused me to buy a new bucksaw for the Sloan family after I had borrowed and broken theirs.

There were advantages to growing up in small towns in those days. Everybody knew me and I was free to wander around anywhere. It was hard to tell where I would be, who or what I might see, or the conversations I might have. One of the men that I remember tagging around after was Howard Satterlee. One time when we were out in his horse barn Howard said “Do you know that you can do anything in the world you want to do if you just believe?" I pr'obably said, "Is that right, Howard?" He said, "Can you lay eggs?" Of course, I would have said, "No." So Howard said, "Go over where that pile of hay is, squat down, close your eyes, and cackle like a chicken." I did that and soon he said, "O.k. Open your eyes." Lo and behold, I had laid my first egg just because I believed. I ran home and told Mom, "Look, Mom, I've laid an egg." I don't remember what her reaction was but I felt mighty proud of myself-and more than a little embarrassed now to realize that this happened when I was old enough that I remember it.

Howard milked a lot of cows and one day he said, "Did you ever drink fresh milk?" I said, "What do you mean 'fresh milk'?" He said, "Right out of the cow. Run in the house and have your mother give you a cup." I came back with a cup and Howard filled it with fresh milk. Have you ever drunk fresh milk? It was terrible! He looked at me and said, "Good, isn't it? Drink 'er down." I finally sneaked to the back of the barn and poured the rest of the milk in the cow gutter. Howard said, "Want some more?" I said, "its awful good, but no thanks."

I went to school in Rowley, Iowa. It was a small school and small schools have to cut comers. One way they did that was to hire a music instructor from Waterloo, who came one day a week to teach us music. Our mothers thought it would be nice if we had band uniforms and they worked very hard holding fund-raising events to pay for them. They were blue jackets with red piping and white pants. Waterloo had an annual band day festival and our instructor enrolled us in this event. We were not a marching band-we were a sitting band-so our instructor gave us about three lessons in how to be a marching band. That was not sufficient preparation to be part of the event. That evening when there was a mass band concert, each town was announced. When they said, "Here is the band from Rowley, Iowa," we took about two steps, gave out two toots and didn't know where we were. We just walked into the stadium and sat down.

From high school I went on to business college, after completion of which I went into the Army. Most of my friends were older than I, so I paid attention to their advice as to what I should do to enhance my military career: (1) Never volunteer, and (2) say that you can do anything but physical labor. I remember when we reported for basic training that we were given a stress test to see what we could do. I did 1 1/2push ups thinking I might look so bad they would put me somewhere else. The next day they gave me a gun in the morning and had me turn it in at noon, at which time they told me to stay in the barracks with my bags packed.

The 1 1/2 days constituted my basic training. I lived in fear that they would catch on and send me back for the rest of basic training but I could look back on my military career later and realize that the longest I was ever away from home was two weeks. I was sent to Omaha, Nebraska, for two weeks of training in the finance department. I was taught how to figure officers' travel and issue vouchers for them to transfer from one post to another. From Omaha I was sent to Clinton, Iowa, to work at Schick Army hospital. The hospital had a lot of registered nurses and student nurses who had to come to our department for travel vouchers. There were always lots of forms to sign and three or four of us decided on a plan to get to know these girls better. While they were signing forms, we slipped in one of our own creation which called for their name, age, which dorm they were in, and the initials F G P. When the girls asked what they were to write by the initials, we told them they pertained to the voucher and we on the staff would fill in that information.

The initials really defined their looks. G meant good looking, F was fair, and P stood for poor. We would follow up by going to the office in the evening, telephone whichever nurse we wanted to call, identify ourselves as the Finance Department, say we were working a little late, and could they stop at the office right away? If they showed up, we asked a few questions that really weren’t pertinent to what we wanted, which was to arrange a date.

There were some civilian girls that worked in the office, also. They became upset when they discovered what we were doing and told the captain. The next thing we knew, we were standing at attention before our superior officer. He said, "I’d like to see the forms you are having these ladies sign." After seeing the questionaire, he said, "You guys throw those things away right now and don't let me catch you doing anything like that again." But he laughed as he said it.

After my discharge from the Army, I went to work for Louis Chanen. Mr. Chanen had begun with less than $1 in his pocket but by this time he had a wholesale/retail business in Independence, Iowa, and had become the largest distributor for Firestone Tire and Rubber Company in the US. He ran a salvage yard and bought furs from trappers. He had a book that he called Louis' Barometer, which contained the basic figures of his operation. Every morning I would meet with him and he would ask, "How's the barometer?" I would answer that we bought so and so much junk over this last period of time. He informed me, "We are not junk dealers! We run a salvage program."

Mr. Chanen's son, Herman, was about a year younger than I. He and I worked in the office with four other fellows. I was the manager and always wrote Herman's weekly check, $35. Mr. Chanen employed fellows who were uneducated and not particularly bright. Every employee had a special job, and each one was in charge of his own department. Every month we had a sales meeting. Everybody realized what they had been doing and usually declared, "I'm not going to work so hard next month."

These were the years when Jews were resettling in Israel. Mr. Chanen was picked by the United Jewish Appeal as one of 13 men to go to Jerusalem. They were to tour and come back to the states to tell the story. He was to be gone several months, and we were all elated that the boss would be away and we could have a good time. The day before he left he called us together. We met at a nice restaurant and he told us what his trip was to be about and the purpose of his going. Before he got through speaking we were all in tears. The door was hardly wide enough for us to get out, get to work, and do a better job than we had done before.

Herman's sister had a rare disease that made it necessary for her to live in a warmer climate. She moved to Phoenix, and we knew that Herman had gone there as well, but we hadn't kept in touch. One day several years ago, Miriam was in the beauty shop and discovered a Look Magazine article that listed the ten newest young millionaries. Herman was one of them.

It was now about 1947. While I was working for Mr. Chanen, my life style began to change. I was ready to be more serious. One day I was in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, on First Avenue and recognized Miriam Margaret Zimpher at a bus stop, waiting for a bus. We'd both grown up in Rowley, so we knew one another. I pulled over and said, "Do you want a ride?" and she accepted. I took her home and asked if I could see her again. She said I could. We were married in 1948 and Toni was born later that year. When Toni was 2 ½ years-old, Jill was born May 11, 1951; and when Jill was that same age, and Wally was born on October 22, 1953.

During those years I had several changes in jobs. Mr. Chanen did a cut-back on his business and sold it to a couple of his long-time trusted employees. By that time my dad and mother owned the creamery so they suggested that I go to work for them. This was also a fiasco. I am probably one of the few people in the world to be fired by his mother. Before the day was over she came and offered my job back to me but I said, "No." I could foresee that the creamery was not going to survive and that it was best for me to get a job elsewhere.

A good friend, Paul Differding, worked at the Rowley bank but wasn't completely suited for that job. He left and ended up in Little Rock, Arkansas, selling insurance. Every time the family (Paul, his wife, and five children) came back to Iowa he would tell me how much money he was making. Why didn't I come to Arkansas and he would help me get into the insurance business?

I had three children and my savings account consisted of a jar of quarters that I had saved by not smoking. Paul's glowing reports sounded good to me, so I called and said, "Would you like me to come to Arkansas and get into the insurance business?" His answer was enthusiastic, "I sure would! When do you want to do that?" I said, "I'm leaving tonight." He back-pedaled pretty fast when reality set in. "Wait a minute. You know you might not make it."

At that point I had nothing to lose, so I kissed the family goodbye and took off for Hot Springs, Arkansas. Within three weeks I knew something was wrong. I couldn’t decide whether I didn’t like insurance or Arkansas. One thing I knew for sure-I missed Miriam and the kids! We discovered a way to do something about that. Miriam's brother, who was in the service, was home on furlough. When he said that he was going back through Springfield, Missouri, we made plans that Miriam and the three kids would ride with him to Springfield, I would drive from Little Rock and pick them up. I had been staying with the Differding family. Their children now ranged in age from eight years to between one and two. However, they had a big house and were willing for our family to stay there, also. Miriam had been down there just three weeks when we saw we couldn't make it, so we got in our old Ford car, which used so much oil that I carried a case in the trunk, and came back to Buchanan County, Iowa.

The very next morning after we arrived, another banker friend, Don Shields, came by and wanted to know what my plans were. I told him I didn't have any. He said, "The Farm Bureau has an opening for an insurance salesman." I interviewed and in three days I was hired. They had a good training program so I learned some good work habits. I remember after maybe six months that I said to my superior, "I am going to quit. Nobody wants to buy life insurance." He said, "Come on, let's get in the car." The place we went was the Buchanan County Poor Farm. He asked the manager if he would give us a tour. The manager had several children, one of whom didn't have life insurance so we wrote a policy on that child. The manager called in another lady. She had three boys that didn't have life insurance and the mother needed more. We ended selling $35,000 worth of insurance at the poor farm. My superior was trying to prove that people do want life insurance and it is up to the salesman to show them what he has to sell.

After being in Buchanan County for about a year, the Farm Bureau transferred me to Clarke County, Iowa, and in a few months they gave me Decatur County also. After awhile it was apparent that the promise of a lasting career with them was remote. The last year I was with them my supervisor came to me one day and said, "I understand you are looking for another job. Is that right?" I said that was right and he said, "If you feel that way, why don't you quit?" I said, "Do you have the papers?" He said, "Yes, I do." I never could figure out whether I quit or was fired from that job, but in either case, there I was once again looking for another job.

Our plans when we came to Osceola was that some day we would go back to northeast Iowa, but the time came when I knew more people in Clarke and Decatur counties than I did in Buchanan, so we started our own agency. It was called a Scratch Agency. That means that you have no policy holders and you are going to have to scratch them out of the woods or wherever you could get your business.

The people of Clarke County were very good to us and enabled us to change our plans of moving to the north but instead to stay in the south. We were living here when my mother died. They customarily came the first weekend in December to find out what the children wanted for Christmas, and so on. Miriam had prepared an outstanding dinner on Saturday night. Mom ate well, much better than usual; but during the night she got really sick. I went to her room and found her sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked horrible! They decided to return home at once, and while she was in the car, she told me what she had never said before. She told me that she was proud of me and my family, and never before had she told me that I did anything well. It could always have been just a little better. It was a high moment but at the same time alarming. I told Miriam that we would never see her alive again. It was true. She died on December 8, 1970. Dad lived until June 6, 1988.

Miriam and I became involved in various aspects of community life in Osceola. We joined the Do-sceola Square Dance Club that had been formed by Mickey Thomas. We enjoyed it and the people a lot. To add to the fun, Mickey set it up that you could earn badges for certain things. You could get a pin if you got four people together and drove 100 or more miles to a square dance. If the square dance caller unexpectedly called four people to come out to have a square dance, you got a pin if you put on your dance clothes and attended. If you got the caller out of bed after midnight to have a dance, you were a member of the pajama club.

I was president of Rotary and of the Chamber of Commerce. I was Master of Ceremonies at the annual Chamber dinner for about 20 years. Fern Underwood was the Chamber secretary at that time and the friendship we formed has lasted 30 or more years. In the early '70s, I was doing some lay speaking. I often knew what I wanted to say and the Bible verse I needed for the text but not where to find it. I would go to Fern’s; we would discuss it, and find the verse. That put our conversations on a little different course than with most people.

While I was president of the Chamber, AMTRAK had its first run through Osceola. They asked if we would try to give them a little publicity so about 40 of us got on the train in Osceola and rode to Creston. Everybody had a good time. That grew into a new venture because the next day I was walking down the street and met Larry Van Werden. He had gone on the train ride and suggested that I start a travel agency because there was none in town. Larry's brother worked in a large agency in Lincoln, Nebraska. Larry arranged for me to talk to his brother, and we became known as outside agents for that agency.

The next thing we became involved in happened also as I was walking down the street, this time with Dick Murphy, who said, "We don't have any bail bondsmen in Osceola. You've got an insurance license, why don't you see if you can get a license to be a bail bondsman?" That became a lasting undertaking that we were involved in for many years. These business ventures have given us a wide variety of experiences. In the insurance business we dealt with accidents, death, fires, windstorms, and drought-there was always something unpleasant that had happened and our customers needed our service. In the travel business we dealt with people of our income level and gave them some pleasant times. The bail bond business was totally different. Here was an element of people I had never dealt or had any association with. These people would tell us anything so it became our responsibility to sort out truth from fiction. They live a totally different life style than you and me. They commit a crime and seem to have no remorse. In one family I have gotten a grandfather, a father, and a grandson out of jail. We have seen mothers there with babies in their arms and had the feeling that the baby would probably end up in some prison as well. The fact is that these people just don't think like we do, and it is extremely hard to deal with them and maintain a sense of hope for the world.

As I look back on all our years in business, I think one of our highest achievements was putting together trips. One time we took about 42 people from this area to London. Over the course of years we also took overseas trips to Ireland, Scotland, Wales, England, Germany, France, Switzerland, Luxenburg, Italy, and Hawaii, plus trips within the states. A trip to northeast United States extended into Montreal and Quebec, Canada. I also was hired by the Jefferson Bus Company for some of their trips in the states. With only one exception, our good friends Bob and Beth Toland were on every trip, and they and Miriam and I have taken trips as well. They were always game for doing everything I suggested except for a helicopter ride.

Bob and Stack Samuelson gave me a few memorable experiences, some of them not so darned funny. They were both practical jokers and with their heads together could come up with some unbelievable pranks. The worst one was when I decided that I wanted to put privacy fence on my lot line and it became a neighborhood controversy. The people living anywhere near us were either for or against me, but in either case were quite vocal. I decided to go ahead with my plans anyway.

There was a time factor because I was scheduled for surgery and wanted to finish the fence before that happened. I wasn't too far along with its construction, when I received a letter on the letterhead of the City of Osceola, stating that I was in violation of the zoning ordinance and I was to desist until I could meet with the City Council. That would delay me several weeks.

On the day I received the letter I had a meeting in Des Moines. I sat there all day and worried about it. It was nearly 5:00 p.m. when I returned to Osceola, but I was able to get in to see Dick Murphy, the city attorney. He read the letter and said, "I don't remember anything like this being in the zoning laws, but you had better quit until you can meet with the Council.” I found out that Jim Brown was the attorney who had drawn up the regulations, but I could do nothing about that until morning. I laid awake and worried and stewed about it all night long.

At 8:00 the next morning, I met with Jim. He also couldn't remember anything in the code that would restrict my fence but he gave me the same advice that Dick Murphy had. I'd better quit. Bayard Shadley had been a council member, and when he happened by I told him about my problem. He wasn't on the council at the time but he advised me to go ahead and build it. I took his advice and a day or two later I looked up and saw Bob and Stack coming around the corner of the house. They were laughing and teeheeing, and it suddenly dawned on me what had happened. I was disgusted with myself to think I'd been so gullible. I should have known that it was these two who had gotten a city letterhead, written the letter, and caused me this problem.

Miriam and I were featured in the December/January 1999 issue of the Birds and Blooms magazine which began, "We used to travel a lot to see pretty places. But one day I began thinking that we should use some of our money and time to create more beauty in our own backyard instead. Then we could enjoy it year-round. After (we) talked it over, that's exactly what we did. The project eventually included renovating both the yard and our home, which we purchased some 40 years ago. The results have been very satisfying..." Our house is more than 100 years old and the renovation that we did was replacing the smaller windows with larger ones so that when we're indoors in the heat of summer or cold of winter, we can still see and enjoy our backyard. Fall used to be our favorite time, but now we can hardly wait for spring to arrive, bringing not only the color as our perennials come to life, but the return of birds. Miriam has bird feeders and fountains for them throughout the yard. Once the ground is workable in the spring, she's not happy unless there’s dirt on her hands. In early spring she plants pansies for color and on Memorial Day weekend she puts in the rest of her summer annuals.

My contribution has been visioning, fencing, constructing a gazebo, laying railroad ties for raised flower beds, a patio, and such. At a time when many couples our age are considering how to dispose of their big houses and moving to a smaller one or an apartment, Miriam and I are building onto ours. We are adding a first floor bedroom and bath and think it is a wise decision.

Our children are very important to us. Toni graduated from Clarke Community High School in 1967, attended Southwest Community College at Creston for two years and earned an Associate of Arts degree. She applied for a job at Preferred Risk Company in Des Moines, and worked there until 1970, when she married Jerry Woods, a high school classmate. Their marriage ended in divorce, but because of it we have a grandson, Jason Woods, born August 19, 1970. He has been a delight! Jason has his Master's in speech pathology. He married Mindy, his high school sweetheart. They live in Minneapolis, where Mindy is a commercial artist at a TV station. Toni is now living in Atlanta, Georgia, as is Wally's family.

Wally also went to Southwest Community College for 1 1/2 years and transferred to Iowa State University, where he met Sandy Van Maanen, and where he received a degree in Industrial Engineering. He anticipated that when he completed college, he would like to get a job with a small company. However, his only job offer was with UPS (United Parcel Service). He started in Des Moines and was tranferred to Omaha, Nebraska. He commuted from Omaha every week to the home office in Greenwich, Connecticut for over a year. Wally and Sandy are married and settled in Atlanta when the home office was moved to that city. They have just built a beautiful home for the family, which includes our grandson Andrew, born August 15, 1985, and Ashley, the only granddaughter, who was born October 8, 1988.

Jill really didn't like school, but after graduation she attended Southwest Community College for two years, then went on to Northwest Missouri State College at Maryville to get her BA, and completed her Master's in education at the University of Iowa. Her first job was at Keswick, Iowa, and then she taught at Spirit Lake, Iowa, working with emotionally disturbed children. Jill remained single until she was 41 years of age, when she married Ernie Backerman who taught junior high science in the same school system as she. Ernie is an excellent husband and he and Jill are very happy, but what I personally like about Ernie is that he is also an excellent carpenter and we really needed a carpenter in our family more than we did a school teacher. Our house has taken on many different looks because of Jill's and Ernie's resourcefulness and skill, and I personally can never thank them enough. They have just now (June 2003) moved to South Carolina.

In August 2001, over a two week period, I underwent extensive tests at Mayo Clinic. Their diagnosis was that I have Alzheimer's disease. Since then we have been through a terrible ordeal! It was worse than dying because who knows how long I could live, what quality of life I would have, and what adjustments my family might have to make? It was always on my mind. Miriam and many of my close friends were never comfortable with what I had been told and encouraged me to get another opinion.

I consulted my friend, Dr. James Kimball, who I knew would be honest with me and would know if there was another step for me to take. I was right, he was the perfect person to evaluate my medical condition and he did it without hesitation. He spent considerable time with Miriam and me, listening to what we told him, and his conclusion was that the first diagnosis was wrong. He was convinced that the medication I had been taking was the cause of the mental confusion and loss of memory that influenced my answers when I had the intelligence test. I don't think there is any way that I can express what Jim did for me. The whole experience has been like receiving the death sentence and then a reprieve Hallelujah! I began a new life on September 26, 2001. Jesus had the experience of healing 10 lepers but only one came back to say thanks. I hope that I never forget to be that one.