The Two Ernies (by Rich Holdaway)

I was thinking about Randy's mom and dad and thought you and the kids might like to know some of my memories about them from the 60's, so I wrote this for your blog.  

Maybe in high school where everything is acceptable and at the same time it is not, Randy may have been called “Ernie”, short for Ernest. In old English, Ernest means serious or well-meaning, but Randy may not have been that when he was called Ernie.  I’m remembering how he really didn’t like to be called “Ernie”.

The Ernies I have known are few. There was Ernie Whiting. You had to be careful around Ernie Whiting or something would break - like his leg, or arm. Ernie was a virtual walking stick of chalk, totally whited out. He lived up to his name - Whiting. The other Ernie I knew was a few years older than me. I worked with this guy. His real name was Arnold but he liked the name Ernie, which he pronounced in a way that it sounded like h-o-r-n-e-y ...horney! Who was this guy? He had the grin of a fitful Chinese soldier, teeth busting out over the lips and a complexion of a scalded crawdad! Ernie Arnold could be scary at times.

Gonzo would have been a better choice of a name for Randy (Ernest) - because - Gonzo is a variant of the Portuguese name Gonçalo meaning battle genius or war elf - (I’m just kidding about all of this course). Randy was a pussy cat - gentle, and he really cared about other people if you were “on his side”, and he had respect for his first given name - his Dad’s name. Serious when he needed to be serious and hey...well meaning?...  Can a 401 cu. in. Buick nailhead put out anything less than 300 hp.@4800 r.p.m.?

The other “Ernie” was his dad.

Randy could never say enough about his dad. Talk about a hero - that was Ernest senior!  As we walked the cobbled streets of Paris, Randy would tell me about what his dad said, what he did, how he did it, and it all gelled into an image of a person so powerfully devoted to his son that I thought the guy was a Saint. He seemed larger than life to me. Sometimes I would glance over my shoulder just to make sure that Randy’s dad wasn’t right behind us. I kind of hoped that he would be at times. I pictured a BIG man from Randy’s ranting about his dad. Randy said he was gentle to his mom, but I pictured a Gary Busey type bashing a few heads at an Octoberfest. Boy, was I surprised when I met Ernest Sr. - but then I was not. He took me in like an abduction. Any friend of Randy’s was a friend of the whole Sorenson clan and Randy had written to his family (Dad) and told him to give me the whole nine-yard treatment when I went to meet them.

I needed to make a good impression on Randy’s dad so I prepared--got a haircut, even clipped my nails. I was spic and span, tight shirt - even tighter pants (oh yeah, the 60’s permitted dress-up close to clowns get-up) - I was a walking stick of Aqua Velva! I wasn’t some pock-marked teen with zits enough to make Manual Norega shudder! I was (for the occasion) the prodigal son in spirit. I felt giddy all over, like a first date. Actually, I really didn’t know how to confront the man who had been built-up to be a Paul Bunion, a Goliath or combo of the two. I made it to Kearns - oh dang - all the houses looked the same! I decided to go for the one with the most Fords in the driveway.

I found the house. One of the Fords was a truck; another was a yellow Mercury.

They were all too nice to me. I didn’t even have the quoi faire to know how to politely leave their presence - “Now be careful...Are you sure you have enough fuel to make it back down the canyon to Price?...If you need anything, a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g, just let us know...Please come back and stay with us for a while if you can...Call us when you get back to your aunt’s house (in Holliday)”... and this went on and on. I felt like I had poked them all in the eye when I left, like I really did something bad for leaving - they were just being nice the only way they knew how...Wow.

Now, here is a family that has strong family ties. Ties that yet bind from beyond the grave. Randy was so devoted to his sister Dana. (I wonder why. I know why, of course).  And that devotion is instilled in Bonnie. I know how she is looking out for Dana. Dana one was of the last people that Randy mentioned the day before he died. What I understand is that a person goes to Paradise with the thoughts currently on his mind. To me that is a wonderful thought - a brother’s everlasting love and concern for his sister. And I’ll bet that Ernest Jr. has brought Ernest Sr. up to date as to the continuing welfare of Dana. Randy’s reunion with his dad was probably heard throughout the spirit world when they collided... Something had to “Blow-Up”. 

I’d love to hear about how Ernest Sr. was as a grandpa. Did you guys call him by a special name? What memories do you have of him? Maybe give me a link to follow to read your responses.  My e-mail is: rholdaway4@comcast.net. 

See ya - Uncle Rich