An Hour in Arches...

Is it possible to grow tired of seeing National Parks?

The politically correct answer would be no. The truth would be yes.

Now I don’t want to seem ungrateful… because I’m not. This has been an incredible blessing for our entire family and we have had an amazing time. But after five weeks of seeing some of the most beautiful sights in the United States, the Leonzo family is beginning to long for the familiarity of the Susquehanna Valley and the comfort of our own beds.

So as we drove through Utah on our way to Colorado (which by the way the drive on Interstate 70 through Utah is absolutely amazing… it is like driving 3 hours through one canyon after the next) we were finding ourselves pretty much National Parked out.

However, simply driving past Arches National Park in Southeast Utah verged on the unthinkable. So before I knew it, I was wheeling the R.V. through the entrance of the park.

Arches is well… how do you say it… made up of stone arches. There are big arches… little arches… fat arches… skinny arches… the only kind of arch that they were missing were golden arches (but hey, give McDonald’s a couple more years and they’ll probably figure out a way to stick a franchise in the visitor’s center).

Although we only stayed an hour, we made the most of our time… crawling on the rocks… taking pictures… and more than anything else, being amazed by the creativity of our Creator.

By Mike

Porky... Just the Right Horse for Dad!

Last week, we went horseback riding in Bryce Canyon, Utah. It was really fun. My horse’s name was Satin, but mom accidentally called it Satan.

John’s horse’s name was Ozzie; Mikey’s was Bonnie; Mom’s was Lucky Strike; and Dad’s was Porky.

Mikey’s horse was a bad horse. She almost flung him in the air. My horse, John’s , and Mom’s horses were the best.

Dad’s horse farted a lot and John was right behind it.

But it was really fun. We went for two hours but after that we wanted to be done because my butt hurt. And we were done.

We saw some cool stuff and it was fun. We saw the mountains, too. It was also raining on us but it was fun.

By Nicole.

Hanging Out with the Angels

At Zion National Park, there is an extremely strenuous hike know as Angel’s Landing. It is a five miles round trip and climbs a total of 1,488 feet. Dad and I wanted to do it because Mr. Holmes did it (and Dad says he can do whatever Mr. Holmes does). Mom could not go because her knee would not be able to handle it (I guess it is because she is starting to get old, but she is awfully pretty for someone whose body is falling apart). John wanted to stay home and play Xbox 360 (we are starting to call the R.V. home… that is pretty scary… please someone come rescue me). Nicole says she has given up hiking (I think she has been emotionally scarred from the trip – but a weekend with Grandma or Nana will probably heal her). So Dad and I got up at 6 a.m. this past Monday morning and took a shuttle to the trailhead.

To my amazement, the trail consisted of several long but not terribly steep switchbacks, a walk through a narrow canyon, and then followed by 21 more insanely steep switchbacks called Walter’s Wiggles.

The Wiggles caused even a young man like me to start breathing heavy. Then to make me feel even more lazy and unfit, we saw a young guy practically sprinting up the trail.

When we got to the top of Walter’s Wiggles, there was a relatively flat area with a great view where we stopped to eat a snack. While we were eating, we encountered a foolish kid (about John’s age) who actually bounced himself against a 1930’s era railing – which was at the top of an 800’ cliff – and pretended to be falling. Dad was not impressed, so in the interest of self preservation, we stayed away from him.

It was at this point that the real hike actually began. For the remaining ½ mile, we had to navigate steep rock faces with seemingly endless falls. In order to do this, we held onto chains - which were bolted to the rock face - to ensure our balance. It took about 30 minutes of moving along the chains until we finally reached the pinnacle of the mountain.

The whole time through the chains, Dad was like a nervous Nellie. He kept telling me to make sure that I had three points of contact on the rock face (who did he think he was – Sir Edmund Hillary?); asking me if I was o.k.; and telling me to be careful (Hey Dad – it’s 1,000’ straight down – you don’t need to tell me to be careful!). In reality, I don’t think he was as worried about me as he was about what Mom would do to him if I got hurt.

At the top, the sight was truly beautiful and I quit asking myself why I didn’t stay back in the R.V. and play Xbox 360 with John. It was a great father and son bonding experience and I am happy to be alive.

By Mikey (with a little editing by Dad to spice things up).

Earthquake in California! The Story the Mainstream Media Didn’t Tell You.

La Mirada, California

At approximately 11:40 a.m. on Tuesday, July 29, 2008, a 5.4 magnitude earthquake struck Southern California and the Leonzo family was there firsthand, risking life and limb, to get you the true story.

It all started off as an innocent trip to Camping World to get supplies for the R.V., but by the end of the day, the Leonzos would be uncovering a massive government conspiracy.

As we were preparing to leave the Camping World parking lot, the R.V. started to rock violently. At first, I thought that it was Kathy catching up on a little aerobics in the back… why I thought that I don’t know… but hey, when something goes wrong, I normally blame Kathy. After her vehemently denying that she was brushing up on her Richard Simmons' moves and another 15 more seconds of shaking, I realized that we were having an earthquake.

The exact same thing was happening in my parent’s minivan… except my Dad was blaming the boys for messing around (he would have probably blamed my Mom, but she was sitting right beside him).

It didn’t take long for the doors of the nearby buildings to fly open and for people to stream out into the parking lot. Over the course of the next several hours we would listen to news story after news story… each reporting that the damage was minimal at worst.

But that isn’t what we saw.

In an industrial area next to Camping World, there were massive explosions and fires. The heat was so intense that we could actually feel it. People were screaming… it was utter pandemonium and chaos.

Rather than being engulfed in flames, we high tailed it out of the parking lot and headed for the I-5 freeway south. However, due to construction (or that is what the government would have you believe), we were detoured through a neighborhood.

As we turned a corner, we couldn’t believe our eyes. Somehow the earthquake had caused a 747 jumbo jet to crash right into the neighborhood. The damage was something right out of War of the Worlds.

The homes were absolutely destroyed. One house had a jet engine sitting in the front yard. Cars were smashed. Clothes and furniture were strewn about. And the most horrible scene of all was the fuselage of the airliner torn open exposing the passenger cabin. Amazingly, there were no bodies. No cries for help. No one wandering the streets.

Yet, in the midst of all of the destruction, the mainstream media was silent…

O.k. I’m just playing around. Yes, we were in the earthquake. The biggest one that Kathy and I have ever experienced (the ones in L.A. during the late 80’s and early 90’s when we lived there were at most magnitude 4.5). And yes, I must admit, I initially thought Kathy was messing around… I have since apologized and she has graciously forgiven me (nothing like a brush with near death to help with the extension of grace).

As for the industrial fire and the airlines crash… I made up the story… but the pictures were real. If you call pictures from Universal Studios’ back lot real. The fire pictures came from the Water World Stunt Show and the crashed airliner was the actual set from War of the Worlds. That particular set was absolutely amazing. They actually brought in a decommissioned 747 and destroyed it in the back lot of Universal Studios.

Well, now that I have restored your faith in the mainstream media… I will return to my vacation and Kathy to her Dancing with the Oldies video.

By Mike.

Fifteen Minutes in Babylon

It’s been seventeen years since Kathy and I last were in Las Vegas. Back then we came for an IBM conference. To say we had a good time would be stretching the truth. We didn’t gamble (if you want to know why, call the church office and get a copy of my message on gambling that I did back in February of 2007), we went to one show at the Excalibur Hotel that wasn’t very good, and it was 110 degrees in the shade. And without getting too spiritual, the entire time that we were there, I felt this darkness kind of hanging over the whole place.

Now, seventeen years later, the word on the street is that it is a new Las Vegas. They have cleaned up the strip, there are scores of new hotels, and there are supposedly lots of wholesome things for families to do.

Not ones to believe that Las Vegas is now family friendly, Kathy and I were obviously not going to stay there on this trip, but we thought it would be interesting to take a 15 minute drive down the strip at let the kids see what Vegas looks like.

Well, let’s just say this... while Las Vegas has a lot of new hotels and amazing things to see (e.g. a mockup of the New York skyline, dancing water fountains at the Bellagio, a pirate ship battle in a massive lagoon in front of the Treasure Island, and a roller coaster running around the top the Stratosphere’s massive tower), it is still (this ought to generate some comments) an evil place.

Before we know it, we are telling the kids to close their eyes. Ads for prostitutes are everywhere. Enormous video displays promoting extraordinarily sensual shows were being broadcast right out onto the street. Not to mention, literally tens of millions of dollars are being gambled each and everyday.

Many people will say, “It’s no big deal, people are only having fun with their money.” Well I ask, “What is the money ultimately being used for?” To keep on exploiting women… to promote excess… to deceive people into believing that you can “make” money without working… O.k. I know I'm preaching and that isn't supposed to happen until the end of the month.

Fifteen minutes in Babylon... that was more than enough…

By Mike.

Destination: California – A Return to Our Past

Before Living Water, before the pastorate, before seminary, before kids, there was just Mike and me.

As we entered northern California, our minds were flooded with fond memories of our visits to San Francisco and Monterey. We enjoyed seeing the sights again and sharing the experience this time with Mikey, John, and Nicole. They were happy to see the Golden Gate Bridge, stick their toes in the Pacific Ocean, and watch the sea lions sun themselves, but I think what they enjoyed most of all was the chocolate chip cookies from a shop on Cannery Row. It has become clear to me that they enjoy and appreciate the sights much more on a full stomach!

Heading down Highway 1, the sheer cliffs and giant boulders of the West Coast were literally breathtaking, especially for me since I was riding on the cliff side of the RV and felt like we might tip over the edge and plunge into the ocean at any moment!

As we drove down the coast, it was amazing to see the total devastation from the recent forest fires. Entire mountainsides were completely burned out. Along the way, we passed several sites where the fireman would stage their equipment and while we didn’t see any active fires, it was clear from the smoke in the air that the fires weren’t too far away.

Eventually, we made it to our old stomping grounds – Manhattan, Hermosa, and Redondo Beaches. Our first stop was to meet up with Mike’s parents who flew out to get a grandchildren fix. They stayed with us a week in L.A. and San Diego and it was awesome. We never cease to be amazed at their generosity and love which they abundantly lavish on us and the kids.

Highlights of our time in California include spending time with Mike’s parents, going bike riding on the strand (paved trail on the beach), seeing our old house, eating at In and Out Burger, playing in the ocean (for the kids), riding a Jet Ski in San Diego’s Mission Bay, spending time with Mike’s cousin David, his wife Melissa and their little boy Lucas, visiting friends from our old church, and going to Universal Studios.

We realized once again what a blessing it was for Mike and me to live here for that brief time in our lives early in our marriage. While this place has many faults (no pun intended), weather and bugs are not among them – Sunny and 75 every day, no humidity, and no bugs are charming aspects not to be taken lightly.

More importantly, though, this is where Mike and I truly bonded as our own family unit, and we grew and blossomed spiritually and individually. The lasting friendships we made here, the spiritual principles we learned here, the biblical models of life and family we witnessed here all have impacted us, and our life, and our decisions in a positive and enduring way. And we are forever grateful for the experiences we enjoyed here both recently and just eighteen short years ago.

By Kathy

Has Anyone Seen a Wal-Mart in L.A.?

Complacency kills. That’s what my instructor pilot used to tell me way back in 1987 when I was taking flying lessons. Yes it's true, shortly after Kathy and I were married, I used my newlywed capital to talk her into allowing me to use some of our wedding money on flying lessons. About $2,000 and 30 flying hours later, we decided to buy a house and paying for the flying lessons lost out to paying for a mortgage.

Although I never earned my private pilot’s license, I did learn several important things. For instance, taking off and flying the plane are relatively easy… it’s the landing part that is hard; any landing that you can walk away from is a good landing; and if you get complacent in an airplane, it typically results in your death.

Now while it is a bit of a stretch compare driving an R.V. to flying an airplane, there have been a couple of important lessons I have learned over the last four weeks. An R.V. is a lot bigger than a car… so when you want to change lanes in your 12,000 pound, 29 foot long behemoth, the guy in the new Mercedes in the lane beside you is going to move. Always make sure that all of the air is out of the water lines before you flush the R.V. toilet… if not your going to get sprayed by toilet water… I’ve lost count of how many times that has happened to me (I thought about wearing chest waders to the bathroom, but I couldn’t figure out how I would go then).

I have also learned that complacency may not kill you, but it will definitely cost you. Such was the case as we made our way into the greater Los Angeles area at 9:30 p.m. Up to this point, there has always been a Wal-Mart parking lot waiting for us to spend the night. Who would have thought that there would only be three Wal-Marts in the greater Los Angeles area – that two of them wouldn’t let you stay overnight – and that the third was located in such a bad area that you could stay overnight – you just might not be alive in the morning.

After an entire day of driving, I was ready to sleep for the night so we typed “Campground” into Thelma and she told us that there were only two campgrounds within a 40 minute drive of our current location. The first was at Point Mugu State Park – right next to Point Mugu Naval Air Weapons Station (I considered trying to talk my way through the guard post at the entrance of the base, but after our last close encounter with the Navy, I figured Kathy would be looking at 5 years and a $10,000 fine. Hey, 6 months without Kathy I could probably handle, 5 years – no way – I would have to start cooking at some point). As we pulled up to the State Park at 10:05 p.m. we were greeted with a closed gate and a sign that said, “No entry after 10 p.m.”

That left the remaining campground – the Malibu Beach R.V. Park. Malibu Beach – that’s where the movie stars live – sounds good to me. Hey with my good looks and incredible singing voice… maybe I would get discovered. So with stars in my eyes, we cruised down Pacific Coast highway, drove past the multi-million dollar beachfront homes, spotted the entrance to the campground, and pulled up to the office.

Anxious to get started on the road to fame and fortune, I walked into the office and asked them if they had any campsites available. The lady at the desk tells me that they are full for the night, but that they have a spot in the overflow parking lot and that we can stay there. Overflow parking in Malibu – hey we’ve been staying in Wal-Marts – so I asked, “How much?” With a straight face the lady replies, “Ninety-six dollars.”

The first thing that runs through my mind is, “Heck, I bet Mary and Joseph didn’t pay ninety-six shekels for the stable and at least they had a roof over their head. $96 for a place in overflow parking! You’ve got to be crazy.” I looked right at the lady and said, “I’ll take it.”

So with my wallet a little lighter, I wrestled the R.V. into the overflow parking lot, closed the blinds, and went to sleep for the night.

The next morning, Kathy and I got up early and headed down to the beach hoping to get discovered. When we arrived on the beach, there were no movie stars, no directors, no producers, no multi-million dollar contract. The only other person on the beach was some guy drinking out of a bottle in a brown paper bag.

Go figure… well at least I can say that I slept in Julia Robert’s neighborhood… that’s got to be worth $96… naah! I think I'll write Bentonville, Arkansas… Malibu could use a Wal-Mart.

By Mike.

Hey Dad! Can Smelling Marijuana Hurt You?

This past Saturday, July 26th, Mom, Dad, Mikey, Nicole, Grandma, Poppy, and I took a very long bike ride to Venice Beach. The trip was good until Pop got a flat tire on his bike. It took about 20 minutes for Dad to fix the flat. As Dad was changing the inner tube, his hand pump broke (he said he wasn’t surprised because he bought the cheapest pump at Wal-Mart). Finally, we got the tire squared away and off we went.

We rode for a while and then we all (except for Dad) started to get hungry… especially Pop. He fell way behind the group. I stuck with him to make sure that he would be o.k. All the while, Pop kept saying he wanted a Diet Coke. Dad basically “force biked” us to Venice Beach where we all got to eat and rest.

At the restaurant where we stopped, there was a sign in the window that said the FDA had given the restaurant an “A” for cleanliness. Pop said that FDA stood for “Friends, Drunks, and Addicts. I found out that he was right when we started to walk through Venice Beach.

The people there were crazy! There was a lady who was standing in front of a shop saying, “Medical marijuana on the second floor. The doctor is in the house!” As we walked further there was a guy wearing gold clothing and whose skin was also painted gold. He would stand completely still until someone dropped some money in the bucket that was in front of him. The moment the cash hit the bucket, the guy would go nuts.

As we walked further we came across a man in a wheelchair who had a sign that said, “give marijuana to the poor.” He was actually smoking marijuana right in the middle of everyone. It smelled terrible. But what was really amazing was that there were police everywhere and they didn’t do a thing.

Venice Beach is also where Muscle Beach is located. I thought that it would be a huge place, but it wasn’t it was like a small gym only it was outside. Of course, the people working out were huge. Thank goodness Dad didn’t try to go and work out… it would not have been pretty.

After a while, we started the long ride back to the R.V. This time, both Pop and Grandma couldn’t keep up. They kept stopping and Dad was getting annoyed. Finally, Dad made Pop get on the back of the tandem bike that he had rented and we got back to the R.V. a lot faster.

Once we were back to the R.V. all Grandma and Pop wanted to do was sleep.

It was a good trip.

By John.

The Bubba Gump Bubble Blowing Boy

Thursday morning in Monterey was great. After slipping undetected from the Navy base, we parked the R.V. on a side street and then rode our bikes into town. During the ride we saw seals on the beach, as well as sea lions.

The main street, called Cannery Row, was a cornucopia of cigar shops, restaurants, clothing stores, and high priced cookie shops (we all wanted cookies and it cost Dad $10 for ½ dozen… fortunately they were good cookies).

One restaurant in particular caught my attention, The Bubba Gump Shrimp House. For those of you that don’t know, Bubba was Tom Hank’s friend in Vietnam in the film Forrest Gump. Bubba owned a Louisiana shrimp business, but he was killed in the war. Eventually, once Forrest returns from the war, he starts the business back up and now the fictional restaurant is real.

Outside the Bubba Gump Shrimp House, there was a college student whose job it was to blow bubbles in order to attract customers to the restaurant. After watching him for a few minutes, I came up with a tongue twister title for him. I called him the The Bubba Gump Bubble Blowing Boy. Oh, the simple pleasures in life.

By Mikey

Kathy - 6 Months and $500 Fine

This past Wednesday started off pretty much like any other day of the Leonzo R.V. Adventure on Steroids… we woke up in a Wal-Mart parking lot and prepared to make our way to San Francisco in order to do a little sightseeing before ultimately ending up in Monterey.

As I fired up the R.V., Kathy plugged the Golden Gate Park into Thelma and let her do the navigating. First mistake… Thelma decides to take us right through the city! It was like driving a camel through the eye of a needle. I’m cutting off cars… stopping in the middle of crosswalks… and taking out small tree limbs with the top of the R.V. Fortunately, we managed to make it to the park without any major catastrophes and no traffic tickets. After eating lunch parked in front of the beach and taking pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge, we stated to head south to Monterey.

Weary of another night in a Wal-Mart parking lot, we decide to splurge on a campground. Kathy – our designated navigator – pulled out our Woodall’s 2008 North American Campground Directory and started looking for a place to stay. She found the Monterey Fairgrounds R.V. Park – full hookups (that’s good) - and after a quick call, she secured an open spot. We were in business!

As we pull up to the R.V. park, I notice a couple of things that seem a little unusual. First of all it appears to be a U.S. Navy facility (the sign says, United States Navy Postgraduate School)… no guard shack, but surrounded by a fence with a code that you have to enter into a keypad to make the gate open. Hey, Kathy called and they said we could come… so I type the code they gave her into the keypad. Nothing happens… I try it again… and again… and again… nothing works. We call the telephone number… it is after 5 p.m. and they are gone for the day. Just as Kathy is hanging up the cell phone, a driver begins to leave through the exit gate. They smile… see that we are having trouble… yell out a different code… I type it in and in we go.

After driving past a couple of government looking buildings, we find the campground, pull into our assigned space, and start setting up. At this point, a nice older man shows up in a golf cart and says, “I assume you have a reservation and are military.” Not exactly sure what he means, tired from a long day of driving, and not too excited about validating our frequent Wal-Mart parking card again, I simply say, “Yes Sir!” Satisfied, with the answer, the man and his mil-spec golf cart roll off into the sunset.

I am now nervous. But I don’t say anything to Kathy… no need to make her worry… besides maybe I misunderstood the guy.

One of the bonuses of staying in a campground is they normally have nice bathrooms… so off I went looking for the bathroom… or should I say head. When I arrive, it is AWESOME – clean, bright, even smells good – kind of like it just passed an inspection. On the way out, I notice a bulletin board which clearly states that this campground is for active duty, reserve, or retired military, their families, or employees of the Department of Defense. I am now very nervous, so I make a beeline for the R.V.

On the way, I see Nicole playing with the dog of another camper. When I stop to get Nicole, what is the first thing the lady says to me? “Are you in the military?” Well, I took a one credit Air Force R.O.T.C. class in college – that ought to count for something – so I said, “I used to be.” Then I told Nicole it was time for dinner, grabbed her hand, and took off to hide in the R.V.

I toss Nicole into the R.V., lock the door, and tell Kathy that we were in deep trouble, that we needed to lay low, and that if anyone asked her about what I did in the military she was supposed to say, “He was special operations… I could tell you what he did… but then I would have to kill you.”

It is at this point, John needs to make a trip to the bathroom. Since John and constipation are not a pleasant combination, I give him strict orders to head directly there… do his business… avoid everyone… and get his butt back in the R.V. What happens? On the way back a person asks John, “Is your Dad in the military?” John says, “My pop was a Marine.” Not technically a lie… it is true my Dad (big Mike) was in the Marines when I was a kid… but not exactly what they were asking.

Fortunately John makes it back with out getting arrested. I am now very, very nervous. So initiate total lockdown! We lock the doors… turn off the lights… go to sleep… and quietly leave at the break of dawn.

Kathy continues to plead innocent. Section of 1382 of Title 18 – United States Code – Trespassing on a U.S. Military Base says otherwise – 6 months imprisonment, a $500 fine, or both.

Anyone interested in corresponding with Kathy in the next 6 months should write:

Inmate Kathleen M. Leonzo
Naval Consolidated Brig, Charlestown
1050 Remount Road, Building 3107
Charleston SC 29406-3515

Did the Rapture Occur in Seattle?

It all started off as a friendly game of global domination between friends and it ended in the possible rapture of a significant part of the former Soviet Union.

Global domination… rapture of the former Soviet Union… Have I lost my mind as a result of too many times dumping the R.V. waste? Is hanging out with all of the strange people on the West Coast affecting my thinking? Or are the events of this past Sunday evening and Monday morning reality?

Let me explain.

After worshipping at my friend Mike Gunn’s church in Renton, Washington, Kathy, the kids, and I traveled about ½ hour north to spend a few days with Jay and Pauline Bridgeman and their precious little girls Abigail and Lillian. We had a great time eating a lunch of fish and chips at a local restaurant with the entire Bridgeman family and then going with Pauline and the girls to the beach.

Rather than joining us in turning over rocks to see what sea creatures we might find, Jay went home to do some surgeon paperwork stuff. He tells me that he spent Sunday morning reattaching a guy’s thumb to his hand after it was crushed between a boat and a dock and that he had to catch up on some of the paperwork regarding that case – personally, I think he was secretly preparing for our planned evening game of RISK.

Thus bringing us to the global domination portion of our blog. RISK is the ultimate American game – there is one simple goal – CONQUER THE WORLD! And that is what Jay, Mikey, John, and I attempted to do on Sunday evening. Jay – the 37 year old highly educated teenager – wanted to be the black armies because – in his twisted mind – he believes black is the color of intimidation. At 6’ 1” and 150 pounds soaking wet, Jay needs all the help he can get in order to be intimidating.

After nearly three hours of attacking and re-attacking, I was completely annihilated and forced to watch Mikey, John, and Jay duke it out. It was at this point that I quickly became bored with the board game.

Earlier in the evening Jay’s beeper had gone off. A teenager had broken his wrist and it needed to be set. Fortunately for Jay… and unfortunately for the teenager… it was going to take several hours before an anesthesia team was available. I personally thought that Jay should go right in, give the kid a bullet to bite down on, and tell him to take it like a man. However, Jay the recipient of the Hershey Medical Center Humanitarian Award, decided it would be better to wait for anesthesia (what a whimp).

Jay could have played RISK until 3 a.m. – but we all figured that it would be a good idea to let him get a little bit of sleep before fixing the kid’s arm – I know I want my doctor rested before he starts torqing my wrist all over the place. So of to bed we went.

As dawn arose over the battlefield, a curious four year old named Abigail assessed the strategery of the prior evening (yes, I know strategery isn’t a word, but if it is good enough for President Bush, it is surely good enough for me). Abigail having just learned about End Times theology in her Mars Hill Church preschool Sunday school class decided to pull a 1 Thessalonians 4 and started to remove all of the black armies from the board. Before I could scream “Rapture” nearly all of Jay’s armies were neatly placed in the plastic storage box and vast sections of the former Soviet Union were devoid of any human life.

Thus we never finished the game… Jay was denied true victory over the Leonzo family… the kid’s arm was set… Abigail experienced grace… and all was well in Seattle.