Cindy Hval

On Saturday, Derek and I will celebrate our 28th anniversary. You’d think after all these years together, I’d know him quite well, but he can still surprise me. In fact, this week he made an announcement at the dinner table that has left me shaken. Our son mentioned that the neighbor across the street had acquired several chickens.

There’s something about the magic of first love that time cannot erase. Years may pass, but most of us never forget the first person who captured our hearts. Ollie and Nancy Bowman are no exception.

Ryan Fox is good with his hands. In September, he opened Tick Tock Time Repair in Spokane Valley. But the path he took to launching his own watch and clock repair business wasn’t exactly a straight line.

My 4-year-old son sat at the table, arms folded across his chest, a mutinous scowl radiating his displeasure. Glaring at the plate in front of him, he growled, “Meatlope. I HATE meatlope!” Honestly, I didn’t blame him. Even a healthy dosing of ketchup couldn’t make the dry crumbling loaf any more palatable.

Ryan Fox is good with his hands. In September, he opened Tick Tock Time Repair in Spokane Valley. But the path he took to launching his own watch and clock repair business wasn’t exactly a straight line.

It appears my column on the light bulb phase out flipped a few switches in the Spokane area. The calls and emails that came in response to the column revealed readers on both sides of the lighting spectrum – those who embrace the government-mandated switch and those who are upset about losing their incandescent glow.

Larry Clifford, 68, has had many unusual friends over the years: sea lions, dolphins, penguins and parrots. But his relationship with a cougar named Clark prompted him to write and publish an illustrated children’s book, “Would You Be My Friend?” The Spokane Valley resident and onetime curator of Spokane Valley’s former Walk in the Wild Zoo spent 38 years training exotic animals in places like SeaWorld and the San Diego Zoo, before a back injury forced him to retire.

An email that sat unread for six months ultimately became the inspiration for author Mary Cronk Farrell’s latest book, “Pure Grit: How American World War II Nurses Survived Battle and Prison Camp in the Pacific” (Abrams Books for Young Readers, $24.95). Farrell’s cousin was in nursing school and had written a paper mentioning a group of military nurses who’d been taken prisoner during World War II. She sent the paper to Farrell, but six months passed before Farrell read it. Once she did, she was immediately hooked on the story.

In January, gyms are flooded with new members hoping to keep their New Year’s fitness resolutions. By February, the crowds have thinned as the reality of combining regular exercise with busy lifestyles hits.

In January, gyms are flooded with new members hoping to keep their New Year’s fitness resolutions. By February, the crowds have thinned as the reality of combining regular exercise with busy lifestyles hits.

Hope hung suspended in silvery letters from ribbon in Rachel Devlin’s hands. A friend gave her the ornament in 2005. The friend told her, “Never give up hope,” Rachel, 53, recalled. Devlin had fled an abusive marriage years earlier. The experience left her doubtful she would ever find true love. Instead, she focused her time and energy on raising her daughter. “But hope springs eternal,” she said, smiling softly.

The clickety clack sound of my fingers flying over the keyboard filled my home office as I sat hunched over my desk racing against another looming deadline. I glanced down at my notes and then it happened. The room went dark.

When Olivia Prater met Lucas Morgan last year at Mt. Spokane High School, it didn’t take long for the pair to form a fast friendship. “He and I just really bonded,” said Olivia, 16. “We became best friends.”

My minivan doesn’t boast a bumper sticker proclaiming my child made the honor roll, earned an award or participated in some noteworthy activity. Likewise, I don’t send letters, emails or Christmas cards crammed with anecdotes of my children’s achievements.

With his shock of dark hair carefully coiffed and new red Vans on his feet, Brayden Tucker bounced up to a table at Wandermere Village Centre Cinemas exuding restless energy. That energy is what made him perfect for the role of Lyle Hatcher in the movie “Different Drummers,” which opened Friday at Wandermere.

If you open it, they will come. Spokane Public Library staffers and board members knew this, and thanks to voters who approved a February 2013 four-year property tax levy, they now have the numbers to prove it.

I called him Pete. He was left in my care by an all-too-optimistic friend. She told me he wouldn’t be any trouble. She said she trusted me to watch over him.

When Bill Lockie boarded the bus in Hillyard one morning in 1947, he noticed a cute brunette sitting primly on one of the seats. He took a seat and stole glances at her all the way downtown. Bill was attending classes at Kinman Business University, having recently been discharged from the Marine Corps. “I grew up in Lewiston and joined the service right after I graduated in 1942 – we all did,” he said.

Some people wear their dedication to their teams on their sleeves, sporting jerseys and jackets with team colors and logos. Some folks fly their pride from their flagpoles, car antennas or Clocktowers with billowing banners showing support. I thought about that last week as I sat in the pedicure chair of a local salon, while a nail technician painted my toenails Seahawks green and blue. Only four letters separate fan from fanatic, but despite my Seahawks pedicure I don’t think I’m quite ready to add those letters.

I read something recently that I can’t seem to shake. Something I’ve pondered much at the dawn of this new year. It’s from the book “The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fates.” The author quotes an officer from the military academy he attended who was stepping down from his post to undergo treatment for advanced cancer. The officer said, “When it is time for you to leave this school, leave your job, or even leave this earth, you make sure you have worked hard enough to make sure it mattered you were ever here.”

In the annals of Hval holiday lore, one story is guaranteed to get trotted out each Christmas. My children call it, “Mom’s Christmas Tree Meltdown.” I call it, “Too Many Children, Not Enough Tree,” but whatever its title, the tale marks an embarrassingly Grinch-like episode in my holiday history. My family finds the story hilarious. I do not. The exact year of this event is unclear, but I think our sons were 4, 6 and 8 because they all remember it. Thankfully, Sam was not yet born, so he didn’t witness the debacle.

Editor’s note: Parents may wish to review this article before allowing young children to read it. If you’ve lived in Spokane for long, chances are you, your children or your grandchildren have sat on Jim Burney’s lap.