In December 1982, my wife and my daughter and I spent Christmas with my wife’s sister and brother-in-law at Colorado Springs, Colorado. Before arriving in Colorado Springs, we embarked on a sightseeing trip originating from Sierra Vista, Arizona. We had just aimed our van north toward the Grand Canyon as part of a much larger extended trip. We were moving from Arizona to Georgia so that I could attend Officer Candidate School (OCS). When we left Sierra Vista, Arizona a thunderstorm had just passed through that part of Arizona. As a result, a spectacular site appeared in the sky. Not one, not two, but three rainbows appeared in the sky. These weren’t your average run-of-the-mill ordinary rainbows. These rainbows were full 180-degree arches that extended from the ground on one side to the ground on the other side. Well, I’ve given you quite a few rabbit holes to occupy your time if you haven’t read any of those previous stories. But I assure you, they’re all worth the read. Of course, they may take you down other rabbit holes. That’s the nature of the game with rabbit holes. They are happy interludes, but you may get lost along the way. Another word of caution. You may lose track of time as well. But I digress. We were on a trip. More specifically, the trip was merely an interlude. Albeit a Christmas interlude or so we thought. However, when we got to Colorado Springs, we walked into a virtual rat’s nest of sorts. Technically, it wasn’t a rat’s nest per se. A mice nest would have been more accurate as a description. Heavens to megatroid, there were mice coming out of our ears. Well, not really coming out of our ears. But you know what I mean. There were mice everywhere. My brother-in-law’s house was a virtual haven for mice. The only thing that was missing was Tom. You know. Tom, the cat. That’s right. No cat. Nada. Zilch. Zip. And my brother-in-law and sister-in-law didn’t know how to use a mouse trap to save their asses. How hard is it to use a mouse trap? Seriously. You bait the trap with peanut butter or a peanut, then you set it, then you wait for the stupid ass mice to take the bait. Bam! It’s as easy as that. But it does require work. All of about one-minute worth of work to bait, set, and place the trap. Apparently, that was one minute too much time to invest in trapping the mice. Cuz let me tell you. There were mice every got damn where. They had six traps. I set six traps the first day I was there. The next morning, I caught and killed six mice. I was used to going hunting in November and December. But usually, I went hunting for bigger critters like deer and antelope and wild pigs. But mice. Come on. This was ridiculous. The second day, I set six traps, and I caught and killed four mice. The third day, I again set six traps, but I only caught and killed two mice. On all subsequent days, I had all six traps set, but I caught no mice. I think I had finally eradicated the population. Then, I told my brother-in-law, “You need to get rid of all of this trash in this garage.” We hauled two pickup loads of trash to the dump ground. Then, he cleaned and swept the entire garage. I don’t know how they had managed to live there before we got there. After mice hunting season was closed, we decorated the interior of the house and set up a Christmas tree. It was starting to look like Christmas in my brother-in-law’s house. We went to my brother-in-law and sister-in-law’s church for a Christmas party, and my wife and I won first place in the raffle contest. The day after Christmas, we went hiking and rock-climbing in the Garden of the Gods. A few days later, we had to get back out on the road to head to Fort Benning, Georgia. But not before we spent New Year’s Eve celebrating with my brother-in-law and sister-in-law. You could say our holiday season that year was a Christmas with gods and mice. I think that was the first year that my wife and I had actually celebrated both Christmas and the New Year’s holiday together. How was I to know that I would soon be involved in OCS in what could only be construed as a series of exercises in futility strung together.
by 
by 