Nathan William Nakis

Nathan Nakis was taken from this earth on Tuesday, December 16, 2003 while serving his country in Mosul, Iraq. Nathan was the driver of a transport vehicle, and was killed when the vehicle crashed while attempting to avoid a hazard.

Nathan was born in Sedro-Woolley, Washington, on April 12, 1984. He attended school in Sedro-Woolley and graduated from Sedro-Woolley High School in 2002. He was active in symphonic and pep band, club and school soccer, cross country running, and wrestling. He also participated in peer groups such as Natural Helpers and Renaissance. He was a good student who maintained a 3.75 GPA, and was a member of the National Honor Society.

Nathan was always very active in the Boy Scouts of America. He began as a Cub Scout in the second grade and earned the rank of Eagle Scout with Bronze Palm in 2001. He was a member of the Order of the Arrow, the National Eagle Association, and a staff member at Camp Black Mountain in Whatcom County, WA. Nathan's home unit is Troop 67 (4067) from Sedro-Woolley, WA.

In January of 2003 Nathan enrolled at Oregon State University in Corvallis, Oregon, in the School of Forestry. It was his goal to earn a dual degree in Forest Engineering/Civil Engineering.

Nathan enlisted in the Army National Guard in 2001. He completed his basic and advanced individual training at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri in 2002. After moving to Oregon, Nathan transferred to B Company, 52nd Combat Engineers (Heavy), based in Albany, Oregon. In February 2003 the 52nd Engineers were called to active duty and deployed to Fort Carson, Colorado, for training to deploy overseas. In April they deployed to Kuwait, and in May they moved to Mosul, Iraq, where they are currently attached in support of the 101st Airborne Division. Nathan was considered a model soldier by his fellow troopers, and was happy doing his duty in the effort to rebuild the country of Iraq. His unit has been involved in a variety of civil projects including housing projects, athletic fields, road construction, and water systems, as well as improvements to the bases housing our service people in Mosul. He had also recently completed airborne assault training with the 101st and finished near the top of the class. At the time of his death Nathan held the rank of Specialist.

Nathan had a beautiful spirit. He loved people and held no bias. He accepted all people as they were. He loved the outdoors, music, and using his talents to create realities from the dreams he shared with his many friends. He loved and served his family, his community, and his nation with pride and honor. He personified the aspirations of the Scouting Movement. He was deeply loved and will be deeply missed.

When I was a little girl, around 4 years old, I was riding my trike in the kitchen and said to my mother “There hasn’t been a war for a long time huh mom”. I still hear her words echoing in my head “ Oh no Kathy there is the Vietnam war”. I remember looking at her and processing what she said and I moved on to something else without a care in the world. Nobody in my family was in Vietnam, as well as Korea or WWII for that matter. The last war someone in my family had been in was WWI and that was my grandfather who died even before I was born. Fast forward to 1986, it’s my junior year at Sedro-Woolley High School, we are studying the Vietnam War in Mr. Rowley’s US History class, I wonder to myself if there was anyone from Sedro-Woolley who died in Vietnam. Once again I move on to something else without a care in the world. It’s now the present, the spring of 2005 I’m heading to Washington DC with my son. We are planning the things we want to see, reading up on the places to go, The White House, The US Capital, Library of Congress. I decide I would like to see The Vietnam Wall, my thoughts travel back to my US History class and I wondered once again if anyone from Sedro-Woolley died in Vietnam. There were four men. Four men who gave their lives…..

Lloyd Arthur Colfack 

Lloyd was a PFC and served with Army’s 4th Battalion, 23rd Inf. Regiment, 25th Inf. Division as a rifleman. He died March 25th 1968. Lloyd was killed in action at Trang Bang south of Tay Ninh during the opening days of the Tet Offensive. Joel Johnson who was Lloyd’s sergeant remembers Lloyd as a big strong square-shouldered man who was well liked by all in the Platoon and that he is still missed today. Lloyd graduated from Sedro-Woolley High school in 1965 Lloyd is honored on Panel 46E, Row 15 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial


Dennis Wayne Cole

Dennis was a PFC and served with the Army’s 25th Inf Division, Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, 14th Inf. He died August 27th 1967 while on a search and destroy mission in the Iron Triangle at Binh Duong. Dennis graduated from Sedro-Woolley High School in 1966. Dennis is honored on Panel 25E, Row 49 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial

Stephen Brooks Murden 

Stephen was a 1st Lieutenant with the Army’s I FF, Btry B, 1st Battalion, 40th Arty. He died February 3rd 1968 at Quang Tri, in South Vietnam. Stephen graduated from Sedro-Woolley High School in 1964, he was class president, played on the football and tennis teams, he was also a Master Councilor of the Sedro-Woolley DeMolay group. Stephen is buried in Arlington National Cemetery. Stephen is honored on Panel 37E, Row 10 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial

Mark W. Eveland

Mark was a Chief Warrant Officer with the Army’s 1st Calvary Division, D Co. 229th Assault Hel. Battalion. He died August 16th 1969 when his aircraft crashed just outside of Tay Ninh, Mark is honored on Panel 19W, Row 49 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.


I never knew any of these men or their families for that matter. My hope this Memorial Day is that they are remembered. More information can be found on these men at www.Facesfromthewall.com , www.vvmf.org , www.virtualwall.org 

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Dear Facebook,

I love the way you have connected me with old friends from high school and I love the way you allow my friends to keep me up to date the with the weekends activities. Ever since I signed up for you I am no longer a social misfit but a prima donna in the world of drunken cottaging and the Queen of Underground Karaoke parties at the Thursday.

But Facebook, there are a few issues that we need to resolve in order to maintain a healthy relationship.

First of all, you allow people from high school that I've never even spoken to add me as their friend. I dont know them other than the fact that we were apparently in the same homeroom together in grade 9 before I got the braces off. Its creepy that they remember the overalls and the plaid raincoat I was wearing the first day of high school. Please do not allow these people to seek me out.

Secondly Facebook you've now allowed not one, but TWO ex boyfriends to seek me out and attempt to add me as their "friend". We are not friends. We broke up because one was banging groupies while touring with the Dave Matthews Band and the other was nailing his boss in the Royal Oak's beer room. These are not friends, these are men who couldn't keep their dicks in their pants and I wish them nothing but the most degenerate veneral diseases whores like that can come by.

Facebook, I have also become addicted to you to the point where I display withdrawl symptoms if I am away from you for longer than a couple hours at a time. If Im working I break out into a cold sweat wondering who's added me, who's messaged me and what party invites am I missing. If I go longer than a day without checking you I almost seizure. You are worse than heroin.

Facebook you have also gotten me into trouble by allowing me to log on completely shit faced to the point where Ive spilled my poutine all over my laptop. As you already know, drunken Facebooking is considerably worse than drunk dialing. I can deny calling people on purpose when Im loaded I cannot however deny writing self sabatoging messages on peoples walls and telling a booty call how much I enjoyed his throbbing cock last week on his comment page. Please do not let me log onto you when I am this drunk, clearly Im not thinking properly and the Jager-demon has possessed my body / mind.

As well Facebook please stop with the fortune cookies, hugs, smilies, horoscopes, "which family guy character are you" quizzes and other inane bullshit that I must weed through evetytime I log on. Seriously, its annoying and it must stop.

Now Facebook, Im not trying to bring you down, I do love you, I just think we need to communicate with each other to remedy these paticular issues. Especially the drunk one, Ken is still not talking to me. If we can set aside our differences you'll see that we are a match made in virtual Heaven.

Hugs
Me

I love gerbils. I had a few while I was a kid and they were the best pets in the world. I'd put them in plastic balls and let them run around the house, I'd put them on the bed and let them run through my blankets like a tunnel, and I'd get rid of all my cardboard tubes by letting them chew them to pieces and build little nests with them. I remember staying awake late one night watching two of them try to run opposite directions in their running wheel. They'd crawl up the sides until one got higher then flip the other one upside down. It was great entertainment! But now that I'm 39, society won't allow me to own gerbils. Just because Richard Gere gave them a bad name in the 80s and the fact that they're rodents, people are so turned off by people who own gerbils. If I bought gerbils, I'd become a girl who lives alone and has a thing for gerbils. People would think that's creepy, I know, but I have no intention of putting them in my butt. I'm not even curious about it! I just need to get rid of some old cardboard tubes and I'd love to watch them run around aimlessly in that little plastic ball. What's wrong with that? Listen society: I'm lonely and owning gerbils may be the panacea to pass the time. Society, I think I'm going to buy some gerbils, go ahead and hate me. I don't care anymore.

I'll never forget the first time I saw you from across the room. You were doing military presses with a 40lb bar and grunting (rather dramatically, I thought) with each upward thrust. It was about a year ago, and yet you looked like a throw back to 1986. Or so I thought at first. I got the mullet part correct anyway.

But the print leggings... flashback! I had a pair like those from The Limited in the eighties! Oh yeah, I was a hot little number in those "wild thangs", and the added advantage was that they made my slender legs look more muscular.

But I digress.

As I got closer, to my utter astonishment, I realized they weren't leggings at all. They were your real, honest-to-goodness legs, so covered in tattooes that nary a square inch of bare skin could be seen. Cool.

Now, I'll admit, I've seen my share of tattooes, I know they're all the rage and as common as cookies, but I'd never seen such a colorful, artistic, captivating assortment such as this before.

Okay. I was mesmerized. I stared a bit. They were speaking to me.

But oh, lady-man, did you get the wrong idea. My assessment of your legs, and arms, and that serpent thing on your neck writhing down to ?, was borne of curiosity, not desire!

And now you think I want you.

Apparently. In spite of the fact that I will barely make eye contact with you, you think I want you.

In spite of the fact that when you asked me if I was going to use that bench, then made a joke about the exercise balls being attracted to me (they roll about of their own volition, nothing to do with me)... you might take note that my laugh was a snort of frustration, and I vacated the area pronto. And you still think I want you.

And now your newest ploy.

Don't take this the wrong way buttercup, but timing yourself to "just happen" to be naked when I come into the locker room area is really not working in your favor, even if I was on "your team".

You're an impressive specimen no doubt, specimen of what I have yet to figure out. Suffice to say, if I was to swing that way, it wouldn't be with a burly, hairy, short-legged, snaggle-toothed, ink-covered, mulleted butch such as yourself.

Although I'm sure you're a nice person.

Now. I'm an open minded person, generally non-judgemental, far from a prude, to each his (or her) own, I say.

But. It really needs to stop. The touching yourself in a public place-- might be a locker room, but it's still public (yes, I saw your hand coyly slip down to your nether region). The covert staring at my breasts and ass via the mirrors when I get undressed. The intrusion on my personal space in the stretching area (hint: if I can smell your breath, you're too close). Even the smiles and nods of recognition.

What will I do?

Sorry to say, but if you don't cease and desist from your affectionate displays I will have to go to the management. Even though the club isn't run by the Mormon family anymore, I still feel the Olivia Newton-John clone behind the counter will see things my way.

Again, I apologize that it has come to this, but honestly sweetie, even the dumbest man would have gotten the message by now.

Your favorite club member,
The girl in the black running shorts with the long inkless legs

I am a very career-focused, attractive, 5'9, 120lb woman who is seeking a man who is willing to fulfill my ultimate sexual fantasy. I am an executive with a very successful corporation that keeps me very busy and I sometimes have difficulty finding men who share similar interests to my own in the bedroom.

Nothing turns me on more then Jurassic Park themed role play. You must be the animatronic dinosaur, and I must be the helpless child (Tim or Lex) stuck in the park at your mercy.

You will growl mechanically into my ear and stare threateningly. I will feign panic and search for the flash light in the back seat of the visitor jeep. You will sniff at the window slowly and then release a robotic roar into the night air. I scream for Alan Grant, but your over sized robot jaws come crashing down through the overhead window, pinning me to the floor.

I cannot stress this enough however, you must play as a ROBOTIC dinosaur. This is very specific, my interest lie entirely in animatronic dinosaurs, not real ones. I thought I should mention this as there have been unfortunate miscommunications in the past, leading to performances that have left me without an orgasm.

Other situations could include you being the dilophasaurus and spitting in my face and then going for my jugular. Or you could be the ill and moaning triceratops, and I would be Ellie Sadler, digging through your stool to find the source of the ailment. More or less any scene from the film involving a mechanical dinosaur interacting with a human will do fine.

I don't like wasting my time, so make sure you do your homework and watch the film and make sure you can fully embrace the mindset of an animatronic dinosaur. I am an incredibly sexual person and I would make it a blockbuster night that you would never forget.

I was the 30 something girl holding two bottles of chardonay in the condom section of the Wal-Mart. You were the handsome guy in his 50's peering over my shoulder as I made my selection. I was not aware of your presence until the audible gasp when I reached for a box of ribbed magnums. My date did not go exactly as planned; the wine went down ok but I forgot to use the magnums in the heat of the moment and I think I may have gotten the clap. Long story short I still have a dozen condoms left over if you are interested in going out sometime...

If you were the surprise recipient of an enormous purple monkey today, I just wanted to tell you it's my fault and I'm profoundly sorry for putting you through that.

I'd had said enormous purple monkey in the garage for a long time, and I thought I had finally found a good use for it. See it's one of those huge, embarrassing stuffed contraptions they hand out as prizes at carnivals, and somehow I had ended up with it, hated it, crammed it into a back corner in the garage, and tried to forget about it. Well, just try to forget about an enormous purple monkey; it's impossible. It haunts your dreams, sings show tunes in the back of your mind, and shakes its purple ass in your face as if it were right there in front of you. I knew I had to get rid of the enormous purple monkey for good.

Well lo and behold, I saw an ad requesting toy donations for a children's charity and it was like the perfect answer to my enormous purple monkey problem. I eagerly looked forward to putting the enormous purple monkey into some towheaded, Bambi-eyed, cancer-stricken waif's arms and doing a small bit of good for the world (while accomplishing the much more important task of releasing myself from the clutches of the horrible batting-stuffed nightmare). My delight was boundless... but ultimately short-lived.

I glanced at the address where we had been directed to drop off the toys, and, enormous purple monkey in tow, I righteously headed off to make some sick kid's dream come true. I pulled up to 3478 on a pleasant residential street, unloaded the enormous purple monkey, and planted it on the front step of the house. My good deed for the day had been done. I had donated an adorable toy to a good cause and I was certain the owner of the house would come home and be overjoyed to find such a cute sight waiting for them, an enormous purple monkey donated to a cause so close to their heart, ho ho!

Well, fate can kiss my ass. Here's where I should have slowed down to think a little bit. As I drove off in a haze of self-congratulation, I glanced across the street to a porch at an address which I now see could only have been 3487, and saw it loaded with toys and games and sports equipment, and led myself on a mental detour. I thought "well goodness gracious me, if those people don't have a ton of toys! Wouldn't it be great if they donated all that to the charity, it's right across the street after all! Ho ho!" If I hadn't been distracted with my overload of hearty do-gooding I might have thought instead "oh look, maybe that's the address at which we're supposed to drop off the toys!" You see where I'm going with this.

Indeed when I got home I saw that the address I had scribbled down was 3487, not 3478, and, certain that I had inflicted the enormous purple monkey on 3478, I felt a feeling of immediate guilt. Not for depriving some whimpering, dying child of a fabulous enormous purple monkey toy, but rather for setting up some innocent stranger for the scare of his or her life at his or her own home. Damn. Some poor sap is going to pull into his or her driveway and find an enormous purple monkey looking back at him or her and I can only hope he or she doesn't drop dead of shock.

So, if this happens to you tonight, I just wanted to say I'm dreadfully sorry.

Need some light house cleaning. I'm pretty busy and not able to clean my apartment so I need someone to do some light work once a week or so. Here are some pictures to give a general idea.


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