Cindy Hval

Most parents are familiar with growth spurts. A once-picky eater may develop a voracious appetite and quickly outgrow everything from pants to shoes. But in 1994 when Rhonda Harvitt’s 14-year-old son, Josh Ashby, suddenly gained a lot of weight, a growth spurt didn’t seem to be the cause. She took him to the doctor and was told her son should lay off the junk food and video games and exercise more. Harvitt wasn’t convinced that inactivity was the cause of his rapid weight gain. And when Ashby began to experience severe stomach pain, she took him to an urgent-care center. That visit sent them on a six-year voyage that no family wants to take.

AIRWAY HEIGHTS – Horses stamped impatiently at the Spokane Polo Fields on a recent summer evening. Wind whistled through the stables and a fretful rain spat at the grooms as they prepared the horses for polo practice. The grassy field, so large that 10 football fields can fit within it, sat empty beneath the graying sky. But by Sept. 7, the grounds will be transformed as the fourth annual Tents, Hats and Champagne Cobra Roofing Polo Classic gets under way. The event is the major fundraiser for Ronald McDonald House Charities of Spokane.

Rob Cartwright remembers hearing the tires squeal. Seconds later he was on the ground with a car on top of him. He and his wife, Jamie, were riding his ’71 Harley-Davidson FX on Market Street to meet some friends. They’d just passed the skate park when a 17-year-old driver, talking on her cell phone, made a left turn and literally ran them over.

Staci Hardee and Sherry Reynolds know about grief. Six years ago Hardee’s 32-year-old husband died suddenly from an undiagnosed congenital heart condition. Two years later her father committed suicide. Reynolds had lost both her parents, and three years ago her 19-year-old son died. Both women found comfort in a program called GriefShare.

Tough love has been in our national lexicon since the late ’70s when family therapists Phyllis and David York created an international self-help program. The principles of the program were born out the couple’s experience with their wayward teenage daughter. Now the term is bandied about everywhere, from boardrooms to locker rooms. But recently, I’ve come across three compelling examples of the original concept.

Longtime Spokane residents remember that before there was Macy’s at NorthTown Mall, before there was Frederick and Nelson, before there was the Crescent, W.T. Grant’s Department Store occupied that prime piece of real estate on North Division Street. Morris Clark certainly hasn’t forgotten. That’s where he noticed Jean Vanderberg for the first time. “I saw this good-looking gal, carrying a bag of money,” he said. It was March 1958 and Morris had just gotten out of the Marines.

Spokane has had a lifelong relationship with the military. From the establishment of Fort George Wright in 1899 to the construction of Fairchild Air Force Base in 1942 (originally the Spokane Army Air Depot), the community grew up surrounded by military institutions. However, with the deep blue sea hundreds of miles away, those who serve or have served in the Navy, Marines, Coast Guard or Merchant Marine might feel forgotten. That’s why retired Lt. Cmdr. Bill Aller, USNR, has made it his mission to preserve the legacy of the seagoing men and women who have served their country.

On July 23, under a cloudless summer sky at Franklin Park, a softball game with a difference got under way. The infield chatter was the same. “One down, one away.” “Batter up!” “I got it, I got it!” There were the requisite three bases, home plate and an umpire, but it was the players themselves who were unusual. Many had gray hair peeking out from beneath their caps. Members of the Spokane Senior Softball League were playing a make-up game. The league is composed of teams for those 50-plus and 60-plus and a tournament team for those 70 and older. That tournament team took home a silver medal at last year’s Huntsman World Senior Games in St. George, Utah.

Longtime Spokane residents remember that before there was Macy’s at NorthTown Mall, before there was Frederick and Nelson, before there was the Crescent, W.T. Grant’s Department Store occupied that prime piece of real estate on North Division Street. Morris Clark certainly hasn’t forgotten. That’s where he noticed Jean Vanderberg for the first time. “I saw this good-looking gal, carrying a bag of money,” he said. It was March 1958 and Morris had just gotten out of the Marines.

Longtime Spokane residents remember that before there was Macy’s at NorthTown Mall, before there was Frederick and Nelson, before there was the Crescent, W.T. Grant’s Department Store occupied that prime piece of real estate on North Division Street. Morris Clark certainly hasn’t forgotten. That’s where he noticed Jean Vanderberg for the first time. “I saw this good-looking gal, carrying a bag of money,” he said. It was March 1958 and Morris had just gotten out of the Marines.

According to a recent survey conducted by the Population Reference Bureau, the average American moves approximately 11 times over a lifetime. West Plains resident Mike Oswald is definitely not average. He still lives in the house in which he was born 83 years ago. From his shady front porch Oswald gestured to a towering fir. “That’s where the original three-room house sat.”

What’s it like to raise a budding magician? According to Dave Womach’s father, Dan, “It’s a lot of work.” His famous son was in the area recently for a brief visit, after winding up a yearlong gig at the SandCastle Dinner Theater in Saipan. While in Saipan, Womach set a world record for the deepest underwater card stab – a trick that involved the magician finding a randomly selected card floating near the ocean’s floor and stabbing it with a spear gun. He dove without a scuba tank and had to hold his breath for two minutes.

Experts agree flexibility is the key to any lasting relationship. Happy couples know how to bend, stretch and go with the flow. My husband, Derek, is not flexible. He’s big, strong and muscular, but his joints are tighter than Paris Hilton’s jeans. With that in mind I invited Derek to take a yoga class with me. Now, I hadn’t tried yoga myself, but I have seen Wai Lana Yoga on public TV. I’ve watched her balance languidly atop a cliff with the ocean waves pounding below and a soft Hawaiian breeze rustling the lei draped gracefully around her neck. Really, it seemed like an activity tailor-made for me.

Any parent will tell you, it always happens at the worst possible times. In the middle of the grocery checkout line, during dinner with the in-laws, right before a visit with Santa. You look down at your cherubic toddler and see a tell-tale wet stain spreading across the bottom of her jeans. Potty training isn’t pretty. South Hill mom Heidi Santiago knows just how frustrating the process can be for both parent and child. When she married her husband, Cory, he was just starting to toilet train his youngest child. It wasn’t going well. A seventh-grade teacher at the time, Santiago said, “I looked for books. They all said we should make it fun and positive, but there was nothing out there to make it fun.”

Steve Callihan never forgot Mozelle Maness. Her smile. Her laugh. Her sizzling energy. They dated a bit in high school, but Maness was a social butterfly, and Callihan was shy. He and a couple of buddies would get together and buy flowers. Then, under the cover of night, they’d deliver them to the doorsteps of the girls they liked best.

Thirteen-year-old Mariah Sing looked liked she’d be more at home in shorts and flip-flops instead of BDUs. She stood at attention on the hot tarmac. A gusty summer wind whistled through the hangars at Felts Field, but not a strand of hair escaped her tightly coiled bun. When Chief Master Sgt. DeEstan Turner addressed her regarding the lack of sharp creases on her uniform pants, she softly replied “Yes, Chief,” with her blue braces barely visible behind her lips. At Turner’s urging she repeated, “Yes, Chief” louder and more forcefully.

What’s it like to raise a budding magician? According to Dave Womach’s father, Dan, “It’s a lot of work.” His famous son was in the area recently for a brief visit, after winding up a yearlong gig at the SandCastle Dinner Theater in Saipan. While in Saipan, Womach set a world record for the deepest underwater card stab – a trick that involved the magician finding a randomly selected card floating near the ocean’s floor and stabbing it with a spear gun. He dove without a scuba tank and had to hold his breath for two minutes.

Steve Callihan never forgot Mozelle Maness. Her smile. Her laugh. Her sizzling energy. They dated a bit in high school, but Maness was a social butterfly, and Callihan was shy. He and a couple of buddies would get together and buy flowers. Then, under the cover of night, they’d deliver them to the doorsteps of the girls they liked best.

What's it like to raise a budding magician? According to Dave Womach's father, Dan, "It's a lot of work." His famous son was in the area recently for a brief visit, after winding up a yearlong gig at the SandCastle Dinner Theater in Saipan. While in Saipan, Womach set a world record for the deepest underwater card stab – a trick that involved the magician finding a randomly selected card floating near the ocean's floor and stabbing it with a spear gun. He dove without a scuba tank and had to hold his breath for two minutes.

Tomorrow is July Fourth. The United States of America is officially 232 years old. Picnics, parades, fireworks, barbecues, trips to the lake – they're all part of the big elaborate birthday party that's on the calendar. The true symbol of the day, of course, is the American flag, which will be everywhere.

It looked like a typical airport reunion. Tears, hugs and squeals of joy. But there wasn't anything typical about this family gathering. When Isabella Caldas stepped off the plane on June 19, it was the first time in five years that she'd seen the woman she calls Mom. Six years ago, Caldas had arrived in Spokane from Brazil to begin her yearlong stay as a foreign exchange student.

Thirty-three-year-old K.C. Chapman has found a place where everybody knows his name. Most days he zips down the street in his battery-powered wheelchair to hang out with the regulars at the Illinois Avenue Bar and Grill in north Spokane. "He's the unofficial greeter at the Illinois," said Chapman's sister, Kelley Opperud. Chapman has cerebral palsy and cannot walk or speak, but his physical limitations haven't diminished his outgoing personality or his knack for making friends.