Stolen Valor

I don’t get really angry about a lot of things, but flat out dishonesty is one of them.  And this is a double whammy of dishonesty.  



Xavier Alvarez

Medal of Honor

The 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in San Francisco just ruled that Americans have a constitutional right to lie about military service.  Here’s the deal:  back in 2006 Congress overwhelmingly approved what’s called the Stolen Valor Act, which made it a crime to lie about receiving a military medal or service badge.  One year later, a man in California, Xavier Alvarez, claimed he was a Marine and a winner of the Medal of Honor, the nation’s highest military award.  He is neither.  Alvarez pled guilty on condition he could appeal on First Amendment grounds.  An Associated Press report stated the 9th Circuit judges agreed “that the law was a violation of his free-speech rights. The majority said there’s no evidence that such lies harm anybody, and there’s no compelling reason for the government to ban such lies.”  

Doesn’t harm anybody?  Let me exercise my free speech rights and tell you, Mr. Alvarez, and you, judges on the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals, that your actions do hurt people!  Your actions hurt the men and women of the armed services and their families.  This ruling, which condones dishonest and anti-American behavior, comes at a time when some men and women serving abroad are not returning home because they gave their lives serving in Afghanistan, Iraq, and other regions around the world.

Let me tell you a true story about valor.  It’s about one of my heroes.  His name is Thomas Vernon Holyoak.  Grandpa Vern answered a call to serve in the United States Army.  He never personally told me about his service abroad because he did not like war. Luckily, my father convinced him to record what happened before he died so his posterity would know about his service and his experience.

Grandpa left his home in southern Utah in November of 1942. He endured a voyage of more than two weeks to join his company in Africa.  When he arrived, he witnessed World War II first-hand.  After defeating the enemy in the African theater, his unit took part in the invasion of Sicily.  He spent time in the cities of Catania and Palermo (cities I lived in 40 years later while serving as a Mormon missionary).  After again driving out the enemy, his company traveled to England to prepare for the invasion of France.  Grandpa Vern’s unit landed on Omaha Beach.  He spent more than two years with Allied troops as they pushed through France, Holland, Belgium and into Germany where he fought in many campaigns.  He served as a weapons runner, delivering ammunition to the mortar battalion along the front lines.  Seeking a place to sleep on one particular night, he and some fellow soldiers found a German pillbox.  They removed the German bodies inside to make enough room to lay down.  Severe stomach ailments, which later turned out to be an ulcer, forced him off the front lines in Germany and into a hospital for two weeks back in England.  During that time, 90 percent of his unit lost their lives during a fierce battle with the Germans at the Bridge of Remagen.

Upon his release from the hospital, Grandpa received orders to report to southern France where he assisted in guarding 50,000 German prisoners (see some of them below in a photo Grandpa carried with him as a soldier).  He said many of them looked very young, like they were 10 or 12 years old,  He said he felt sorry for them.



Prisoner of war enclosure near Marsielle, France 1945







Corporal Vern Holyoak & Lieutenant Emma Holyoak (his sister) in Marsielle, France 1945





Grandpa Vern was in Paris on May 8, 1945 for V-E Day, when the Allies accepted the unconditional surrender of Nazi Germany marking the end of Adolph Hitler’s Third Reich.  Three months later, he received orders to return home.  As he flew on board a B-17 to Casablanca, French Morocco, a report came over the radio confirming Japan’s official surrender. World War II was finally over.

 

Bronze Star

Thomas Vernon Holyoak was a man of valor.  He fought in seven campaigns:  North Africa, Sicily, Normandy, Northern France, the Battle of the Bulge, the Rhineland and Southern France.  The Army awarded him a battle star for each campaign.  He was also awarded a Bronze Star for hauling ammunition while under fire in Germany.  The commanding general gave his mortar battalion a commendation for its efforts in Germany.  He also received the Good Conduct Medal at the prisoner of war enclosure in southern France.

I, Mark Vernon Holyoak, am proud to be his grandson and his namesake.

Those who serve in the Armed Services are men and women of valor. They represent us. They fight for us. They protect us. They and their families sacrifice for us. They deserve our support. They deserve our loyalty. They deserve our honesty.

(This was originally published in 2011 when Alvarez was already serving a prison sentence for fraud after his conviction of registering his ex-wife for health benefits with his former employer. On June 28, 2012, the Supreme Court ruled the Stolen Valor Act was an unconstitutional abridgment of the freedom of speech under the First Amendment, striking down the law in a 6-to-3 decision.)

Big Fish in the Bitterroot

I love to fish, more specifically fly fish. To me, the whole process is enjoyable—from sitting down to tie flies in the winter to hitting the water when it starts to warm up in the spring. Once in the water, there’s just something about watching a trout rise to the surface and strike at a fly. Some of the smaller fish will jump completely out of the water to get that fly while the larger ones just nose above the water to “sip” it in.

My favorite place to fish, by far, is in a smaller stream with pockets, deep holes, small riffles and overhangs or logs along the bank. I love walking along in the water, feeling the current, hearing the churning of the water and keeping an eye out for other wildlife.


The beautiful Bitterroot River

 My latest outing was completely different yet a heck of a lot of fun. I had a friend (thanks Cameron) who won a 2/3rds day guided fishing outing trip but he could not use it so he passed it on to me. I’d only been in a drift boat one other time and none of the three of us caught anything all day, except when we pulled over and I wandered off to do some wade fishing.

John's first fish on a fly rod

I met up with my guide, friend and Grizzly Hackle owner Dan Shepherd, and friend John Clement, a fly fishing beginner, in the morning. We hopped in Dan’s rig and pulled the boat south of Stevensville where we put in at Bell Crossing in the Bitterroot River. I spent the day fishing on top of the water while John fished mostly below the water with an indicator and nymphs. John had never caught a fish on his fly rod (even though we tried two evenings earlier) so Dan was determined to change that. And that’s exactly what happened.

We hadn’t been on the water 15 minutes when John pulled in a nice whitefish. In fact, by the time the day was done John caught more fish than I did (5 to 3). Even though the fish were not in a feeding frenzy all day, it was a great time. The temperatures were in the 50s with some nice cloud cover. The main bummer was gusty winds at times made it difficult to cast. Still, we had a blast. The fall yellows and oranges of the cottonwoods reflected off the waters leaving everything around us a colorful display.

For me, there were several highlights. The best part was just spending time with friends. (The three of us used to all be in the same church congregation together.) We had a good time and got good direction from Dan as he rowed up and down the river, indicating the best places to try to coax out some nice trout. It was fun watching John’s face light up as he pulled in fish. I did have some luck too. I caught my first fish, a 16 inch rainbow, after casting next to a log jam. Since I had polarized glasses, I actually watched it swim over a submerged log and strike my fly. It was a big lunker and took me a little while to get it reeled in.  



Showing off my 18' lunker Dan



Not long after that, I was casting left off the boat but then saw a fish rises about 20 feet ahead of the boat. I quickly spun and threw my fly right in its path. It surfaced just shy of my small fly and then struck at it. I hooked it immediately but then the fight was on. It seemed to remain in one place for at least 30 seconds.  There was no tugging. It was as if I’d snagged the bottom, but I knew it was a fish because I could see it parallel to the boat. After about a minute, it finally made a run so I let the line out so it wouldn’t snap me off. Dan was worried because the fish was well below the boat. I said “I want to jump out of the boat!” “Not yet!” Dan said. We entered a semi-swift portion of the river and he wanted to get us over to the edge. When he got a little closer I jumped out and got downstream until the fish was again just across from me. Finally, after a 4-5 minute fight, I finally coaxed it to the shoreline. Dan netted it and “Whoa,” there it was. It was big, thick, long and pretty. It turned out to be 18 inches long—the third largest fish I ever caught on a fly rod. We took several photos and carefully handled it in the net until it finally took off back into the Bitterroot. Fun stuff indeed!

I guess my other highlight was lunch. When we got ready to put the boat in, Dan asked John and me if we wanted a table and chairs for lunch. A table and chairs? We told him we’d rather just find a log or a bank to sit on. That’s exactly what we did. Dan pulled the boat over at about one o’clock. Then he got out a small grill and fried up three fat burgers for lunch. Add a couple of salads, chips, a pear and cookies and we were set. In just a matter of minutes, I went from being very hungry to very full. Now that’s how you do lunch on the river.

I only caught one more fish the rest of the day while John caught several more. All in all, what a great outing—great weather, great company, great food, a great guide and great results. Thanks again Dan and John.

Muni Backpacking

 

Jace, Hallie, Mark & our munis

It was Jace's idea.  "Dad, we should go muni backpacking sometime. Wouldn't that be cool?"  How do you argue with that kind of thrill-seeking, teenage logic? 

Muni (mountain unicycle) outings are nothing new for the one-wheeling Holyoak clan (Jace, Hallie and I), like this one last summer up Bass Creek in Montana's Bitterroot Valley.  Usually, we just mess around in the driveway in front of the house or ride down the steep hillside to Lolo School for some trick-riding.  Our most visual and well-known muni ride was a couple of summers back when Jace and I took the chair lift to the top of Snowbowl Ski Resort above Missoula and rode our munis to the bottom.  (Our friends at unicycle.com since posted it on their web site as a way to showcase Jace's Nimbus muni--see our video here.)



Have backpack, will pedal

But this time, we added a whole new element by backpacking in to a camp spot for an evening under the stars.  After I got home from work, we gathered up supplies, filled our backpacks, loaded up the munis and heading into the mountains.  

Jace & Hallie motoring through the mountains

The plan was to take a logging road and drive to the previously designated spot at about 8,000 feet or so in elevation in the Bitterrooot Mountains just below Lolo Peak (9,100 feet).  We'd actually drive to the camping spot, drop off a big cooler of water (because of high fire danger) and some camping chairs before backtracking to a parking spot back in the trees.  A hitch developed in our plan when we arrived only to find a couple of teenagers already there--dang kids!  So we continued to drive past our favorite,semi-secretive huckleberry picking location up the mountain. 

Luckily, it was only about another mile or so until we came to another great spot to camp--maybe even better than our first choice.  The downside was the road ended a short distance later.  So instead of a one mile uphill muni ride, we now had only a four-tenths of a mile downhill ride to the camp site.  We took some photos along the way, had some laughs, stopped and ate some huckleberries, and eventually rolled into the camp site.  I don't think thebackpacks made any difference at all for any of us.  We all just booked along as if we didn't have any extra weight on our backs.   

Hallie and I set up our tent and Jace found a couple of trees where he hung his hammock.  The gourmet dinner menu included hot dogs, Cheez-its, and apples.  We only made a small fire because of the dry conditions, but it was more than good enough to heat up dinner.  My favorite thing about camping is sitting around the fire and chatting.  We did that as the sun set and twinkling stars filled the sky.  The weather was perfect--high 80s when we started and temperatures in the upper 40s at night. 



Mmm, camp food!

  The new day brought a beautiful sunrise that none of us noticed at first because we were zonked.  When we did get up, it was already warm enough to be in short sleeves.  I hopped on my unicycle and rode up to the truck which I drove back to the camp site.  Then, as the kids slept, I hiked up the hill to pick a cup of huckleberries to go with our powdered doughnuts for breakfast.  We took some more pictures on the rocks high above an expansive scenic overlook.  Shortly after that, we loaded up the truck and headed for home.  I did find another trail I'd like to ride in the future that goes further up the mountain, but we'll save that muni outing for another time. 



We came...

   

...we saw...

  

...we conquered!

My Time with the Torch

Ten years ago this week, I, like millions of others around the world, watched the pageantry, excitement and competition of the 2002 Winter Olympic Games in Salt Lake City, Utah. 

But I had a personal attachment to the games that I still proudly display in my basement.  I was an Olympic torchbearer.  At the time, I was a sportscaster for CBS affiliate KREM-TV in Spokane, Washington.  Our television station received a call only days prior to the torch coming to town asking if I we had a representative who wanted to take part.  Somehow, that honor fell to me.

The 1980 "Miracle on Ice" men's hockey team lights the cauldron

 Torch Relay information:

• 11,500 torchbearers
• 65 days (December 4, 2001-February 8, 2002)
• 46 states
• 13,500 miles from source of the Olympic flame in Olympia, Greece
• 50th anniversary of the first Winter Olympic torch relay in the 1952 games in Oslo, Norway

The torch had its on specific design.  The top glass section stood for purity, winter, ice and nature.  The geometric copper feature inside the glass helped hold the flame.  The copper represented fire and warmth.  The center portion of the torch represented the silver mining heritage of the west.  The bottom shiny section represented future and modern technology.

I didn't find out until years later, when the glass portion suffer an unfortunate shattering accident, but I also had a personal connection to the torch itself.  In order to have the glass portion repaired, I sent it to the company that manufactured the torch--Coleman in Wichita, Kansas.  I worked for Coleman two different times in my teens and early twenties.  When I called to seek information for repairs, I talked to someone I actually worked with decades earlier.  Ironic, huh?     

Mark Holyoak:  My Time with the Torch
(originally published 02/1/2002 on KREM.com)

Wow!

Carrying the Olympic torch!

I couldn't believe it when I got the call, and I couldn't believe it as I ran with it.

I arrived at Camp Chevrolet in downtown Spokane, the gathering point for my portion of the course, just before five o'clock Thursday evening.
After a quick live shot for the five o'clock news, I joined the other torchbearers to be briefed on the night ahead.
There were plenty of smiles, hugs and greetings as torchbearers, their friends, and family gathered; all eager to learn all they could about the piece of history they were about to carry.

I arrived at my assigned station, the intersection of Alberta and Upton streets, just before six o'clock.
There were already children, parents, grandparents, banners, posters and American flags on hand.
After getting work responsibilities, two more live shots, "out of the way," we all awaited the arrival of the torch.
Because the Olympic flame arrived some 30 minutes late on a flight from Alaska, it was late by the time it got to us.
But that didn't matter.

Wearing my Olympic torch relay running suit, I can't remember being the focal point of so much attention.

There were pictures, autographs, handshakes, and high-fives from young and old who both did and did not know me.
My wife and four children were there to share the moment, and that meant the world to me.
After being teased by two previous slow-moving vehicles with lights and sirens that passed by, the torch finally approached--some 25 minutes behind schedule.
 But that didn't matter either.

Yes, it was cold.  It was drizzly, but inside I was warm and nervous.

In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I was so nervous.

When the caravan arrived, adrenalin and excitement took over.

I was given the torch with my number, 93, on it.  An Olympic relay official opened a valve so the fuel freely flowed.
I held my torch up to another.
It was finally lit.

I turned and held it with two hands and walked some fifteen yards or so, savoring the moment before beginning to jog.

The two-tenths of a mile or four block run was easy--almost as if I was gliding down the street.

(You get that feeling when you're running downhill, as south-bound Alberta does.)

People cheered, they waved, flash bulbs went off.

I even hard some people call my name.  Thank you friends and KREM 2 viewers!

My support runner was also named Mark.  As he ran next to me, he said something to the effect of "Isn't this something?"

I couldn't disagree.
My legs never tired over the short jaunt, although the three and a half pound torch got a little heavy.

So I changed it from the right to the left hand over the last 100 yards.

All too soon, I reached the next exchange station.  My flame jumped over to the torch belonging to the next relay runner and my time with the flame was done.

The same Olympic official turned off the switch and the fire went out, but that's when the unexpected fun took place.

Because of my television responsibilities, I didn't join the rest of the torchbearers in the bus as the caravan made its way to Veterans Memorial Arena.

Instead, I was surrounded by many on-lookers who said things like, "Look, he's still got a torch!"

I called over everyone I could see, and all within the sound of my voice, so they could put a hand on the torch and take pictures.
What a special experience!

And it was made even more special as I could share it with so many others.
 
It was an honor, a privilege, and something I'll never forget.

As a bonus, I get to keep the shirt, hat, gloves and running suit.

On top of that, all torchbearers had the opportunity to purchase the torch they carried.  And you bet I did that.
Thursday, January 24, 2002--a day, a moment of Olympic history, and an event I will always remember.  (CLICK ON THE PHOTO BELOW TO SEE A VIDEO OF MY TIME WITH THE TORCH.)

That's a Wrap; So Long KPAX



First to sign & date what is now the KPAX "Wall of Fame"

It is over!  My final day at KPAX was May 23, 2012.  That ended a run of nine years and five months at the CBS affiliate in Missoula, Montana.  It was also the final day of a television career than spanned 23 years and nine months.To be honest, it was a day that turned out to be a little different than I anticipated.  To accept my new position as public relations director at the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, I had to submit a 60 day notice at KPAX.  Those two months seemed to pass ever so slowly.  While I loved my time at KPAX, I also welcomed my new endeavour with a sense of excited anticipation.  You know, kind of like when you go to bed on Christmas Eve or when you know you're getting up early the next morning to go hunting.  So I entered the day with a "Let's get this done and move on" attitude.  It didn't quite turn out that way.

"Missoula Valley" by Monte Dolack

The TV station had a "going away" pizza party in the afternoon.  My wife and I wrote permission slips for our kids to leave Sentinel High School early so they could be there with us.  Almost everyone who worked at KPAX stopped in to enjoy some pizza and cake.  Bob Hermes, the general manager, took a moment to say some nice things to thank me for my time at the station.  My former co-anchor, Jill Valley, then presented my wife with a beautiful painting by Monte Dolack of the Missoula Valley.  They said I could either hang it in my new office or find a spot at home.  (When I got home that night, Lori already had it hung it up.)  Then I was asked to say a few words and I felt a lump in my throat as the realization finally started to sink in that I truly was leaving this fine group of people.

 

Jill & I.  Kicking butt & dominating the Missoula TV ratings for 9+ years.

As the day continued, I received phone calls and emails from friends wishing me good luck and congratulations on my final day on the job.  Numerous KPAX employees also stopped by my desk and said nice things as they wished me well.  When I arrived earlier in the day, Jill had left a bag of Doritos for me on my desk.  There were also several cards from KPAX folks that were quite touching.  The newsroom also presented me with a framed photo of the news team and Jill gave me a framed photo of the two of us taken during a University of Montana Homecoming parade. 

As I prepared myself, read over my scripts and went on set for my final 5:30 newscast, I was actually kind of nervous--something that rarely happens.  Before every break in the newscast, the control room showed a different member of the news staff in a recorded tribute.  They were both funny and touching.  Then, at the end of the newscast, they showed video of my farewell party from earlier in the afternoon.  Jill and Erin said a few words before I did the same.  I could see their eyes start to moisten a bit and I felt that lump in my throat return.

I played a softball game with my long-time teammates over my dinner break.  They each brought me a pound of bacon to celebrate the day so I'm set with about ten pounds of bacon for my breakfast future.  (Thanks fellas!)

Mmmm...bacon!

Back at the station, I finished up what had been about a week-long process of converting all of my old 3/4 inch, Beta, and DVC tapes of my television career into 23 DVDs.  The rest of the evening was devoted to cleaning out my desk, my paper files, deleting personal information off my computer, and forwarding contacts and some other digital files to my new email address.  As I would look at the clock, I'd think "Wow, only 90 more minutes to go and that's really it!"

 The late newscast rolled around and my wife and kids returned to the studio.  As Jill and I presented the news, it seemed like any other day until we again came across another set of "farewell Mark" tributes from my co-workers.  That's where the nervous excitement returned. 



Jeans & tennis shoes.  A comfortable anchor is an effective anchor.

Floor Director Wayne, always in control & always entertaining



Final preparations..



...someone is sad.

At the end of the newscast, I had the chance to present some of my favorite stories that I edited together earlier that evening which included the dancing bears, the fox that stole golf balls, my ride with the U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds, the hockey shot of a puck that flew over the glass and landed in a fan's beer, and the famous trampoline bear.  Then my family joined me on set and I said thank you and goodbye to my KPAX family and our loyal viewers.  Again, Jill's and Erin's eyes moistened and I wasn't sure I would make it through the final thirty seconds.  But as happens in all newscasts, we got the "wrap" sign and that was it.  My television career was officially over.

 



My family joined me in the anchor chairs on set for some photos and then they went home. 



Back in the newsroom, I hugged my co-workers goodbye.  One by one they left and I remained alone to do some final video dubs.  It wasn't until about 11:30 p.m. that I finished.  Dubbing--finished!  Desk drawers--cleaned out!  Pictures--removed!  I walked out to my truck with four bags of stuff and drove away with KPAX in my rear view mirror.  That's a wrap folks.  My television career to faded to black.


An altered photo of the KPAX team sent in by a viewer. It still makes me chuckle.