What about moms?…

Reid on the beach at Hilton Head. Cook, digital ad guru, bicyclist, backpacker. All around good kid (most of the time).

Yeah, what about moms?

Sure, the word “dad” has been used frequently here when in reality it is synonymous with “parent.”  I’ve not intentionally excluded moms since they have a high-level stake in this, too.

The educated guess is each parent communicates in their own way and style.  Perhaps a take-charge type will prepare something on behalf of mom and dad.  (But I’ve been wrong so many times before, and that’s why you should never put any faith my weather forecasts or my picks for stocks or pro sports.)  If nothing else, it’s table fare for dinnertime conversations.  How couples accomplish this is something of a mystery to me since I’m a single dad.

But there’s no overt intent to denegrade the stay-in-touch capabilities of moms.  A further educated guess is they are somewhat more attuned to make contact.  It might be their instinctive nature.  The point being, however, that parental title is really of no matter.  It’s all about the doing.

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Seeing how it’s nearly Halloween, we’ll reach into the bag of tricks for an older letter to the Dynamic Duo.

Oct. 16, 2006

EB/Reid: Charlotte was not ready for Uncle Ralph.  Once again, he has proven beyond doubt that there is no one on the face of the earth that he cannot talk to and cannot talk to at length.  From our Saturday lunch where he struck up a conversation with our waitress to a dinner at a co-workers house last night, he dominated the verbiage from start to finish.  But that’s what makes him.  When he gets nervous or excited, he talks.  Nothing deters him from talking.  That’s just the way it is.  It was so funny to have him around here because he just won’t settle down.  We saw the town, watched a couple of games Saturday night at a sports bar – he called Aunt Gayle every 30 minutes for updates on the Nebraska-Kansas State game because it wasn’t on TV – moved furniture around and did errands, worked out twice, and went out for breakfast.  Your cousins, Andy and Joe, are doing pretty well.  As you could guess, Ralph is all excited about the grandchild.  And he misses you guys and asked exhaustively how you’re doing.

The house is slowly coming to order.  Slowly.  No furniture has been delivered yet, as the trees they planted to make the furniture have yet to mature and be harvested, kiln dried then cut and sawn into furniture.  That’s how slow that is.  And the satellite TV won’t be installed until today.  It just killed Ralph to not have TV to watch sports on.  Just killed him.  I’ve got stuff, clothing, strewn everywhere with no place to go until the dressers arrive.  Can’t wait for those.  Actually, the bedroom furniture is in town at the warehouse, so hopefully – knock on wood – it will be here this week.  The guestroom and office are pretty much done except for artwork.  They have a swell Habitat for Humanity store that sells donated furniture, and I snapped up a bunch of really fine lamps, a couple of end tables and 4 different, eclectic chairs for the dining room table.  Now, it’s on to rugs.  It’s really nice to cook with gas.  Makes you feel like a chef.  EB, I have some silverware your grandparents sent, along with those cream colored plates we used to store next to the stove, if you want to take those back with you.  Or, I can ship it to you if you need stuff in a hurry.

Reid, sorry to have cut off your call this morning.  The cell service here is just lousy.  Really want to hear how things are going.  You’re almost halfway through with your stint there.  Can you believe it?  But it all sounds good.

Will take the bike to the Blue Ridge Mountains this Saturday.  It’s about two hours away, and I guess the leaves are just starting to turn.  If the weather holds it should be a beautiful ride.  Really glad to have the bike out, but when it rumbles through my town home development, it’s almost like riding through a canyon of walls, so it must disturb the neighbors.  It’s not like I’m revving it up.  The weather here has been lovely of late, cool and crisp but not overly cold like you’d find in Des Moines.  The days have been just wonderful.

Extended the olive branch to the C____________’s in that Jeff is more than welcome to come down here to explore job possibilities.  No, wait, didn’t I already tell you guys that?  Never mind.

EB, it will be great to have you and the Timster down here.  There are lots of cuisine and culture possibilities.  I may take off the Thursday you arrive so we can tour the town and area in style.  No doubt will take you to a couple of music spots I’ve frequented, the Double Door (blues) and Evening Muse (varied artists).  Both are a lot of fun.  And, you will make a cameo appearance in the office to say hello to the group.  Well, got to rumble.  Catch you two on the flip flop, as they say in the trucking biz.

A public display of private affection…

Today's letter to mom before it was tucked into the envelope. Some aren't sure if letters to her are worthwhile. Not me. If a letter gives her a few minutes of enjoyment, what's wrong with that?

A blog is an odd beast.  It is an open book to whatever the topic is.  Although mine has yet to catch on with the masses, in theory this post could make its way around the globe in the time it would take you to read this whole shebang.  Maybe faster.

What is doubly weird is that this blog is all about what would be, under most normal circumstances, a highly private matter – the personal correspondence between a father and his children.  But here they are, reams of letters, for all to see.

As it has occured to others, how do I reconcile a public display of private affection that others can see, too?  That is a fairly pointed, but fair, question.

I guess the short answer – you will be spared the long version – is that this whole exercise is an object lesson on how one dad goes about the business of family business.  By necessity, you ought to see what the hell I’m talking about in the most graphic of terms – the literal pages themselves.  I’m not above slicing out paragraphs that are solely intended for Ellen and Reid only.  I’ve done so with regularity.  You see most of the dirty laundry but not the whole washer load.  That might change, but not right now.

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Bridger update: The list of tentatives continues to grow.  If everyone went who has voiced an interest, we’d be at 10 right now.  I’m going to do two things: there is a rustic ranch B&B on the outskirts of Pinedale that will provide affordable rooms the night(s) before the trip.  They might also help arrange pack animals (horses or llamas) but I do not know the pricing.

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My brother thinks my letters to my mother are a waste of time.  The staff at her facility don’t think she grasps everything.  But she doesn’t have to grasp it all.  She just has to grasp a few things.  So, I will continue sending a Friday letter to my mother.  Here is today’s letter to her.

October 22, 2010

Mom: We are smack in the middle of Indian summer here.  The weather has been glorious.  Not too hot, not too humid, just right.  I see that the weather in Grand Island is pretty good, too.

Man, Nebraska really got taken to the cleaners by Texas.  I thought for sure that was a game the Big Red would win in a cakewalk.  But nothing should surprise us any more about that team.

Ralph says you’re doing pretty well these days.  That is good to hear.  And it was good to talk to you the other day.  I need to do a better job of calling you.  I promise to do better.

Been riding the Harley a lot.  It’s much more fun to ride when the weather is cool but not rainy.  Rode through the mountains last weekend and it was very pretty.  The leaves are changing and the mountain streams looked clear and cold.  There was not as much traffic on the roads as I thought there might be.  That made for pretty good riding.

I have to admit to having ice cream these last few days.  I went to the grocery store the other night and made a trip down the ice cream aisle.  They had some on sale and I wilted.  It makes me feel guilty to eat it but it sure tastes good.  It’s all gone now.  Urp.

Now that it’s cooling down around here it’s time to begin to bake bread again.  My house just gets too hot when the oven is on during the warmer days.  But with the temperatures cooling it makes the kitchen that much more comfortable for baking.  I should send you a loaf or two.

Looks like I will be in Minneapolis for Thanksgiving to see both Ellen and Reid.  My plane ticket was bought this week and I’m really excited about going.  Ellen has already told me that I’ll be the chief cook for the weekend and Reid wants to help with the cooking, too.  He’s pretty good around the pots and pans.  Ellen isn’t much of a beef lover so it will be turkey the entire time, although her main request is for me to make breakfasts.  It’ll be pancakes, waffles, scrambled eggs and bacon.  Her husband Tim can eat like a horse, as can Reid, so there will be no shortage of food.  I’m glad you will be in Ralph and Gayle’s house for the holiday.  Maybe there is a chance Joe will get out there, too.

Things are going fine at work.  Busy and hectic, but there’s nothing new about that.  I like what I’m doing these days but there’s a lot of it to do.  You be good, stay warm, and watch for another phone call real soon.

The most important letter a father can write…

A few days back I sent Reid a letter with my advice and counsel following his nice review with an ad agency superior who is a few rungs up the ladder.

This sort of note is the most important letter a father can write.  It is a true one-off.  I’m not so much lecturing a son as I am talking to a grown man who is on his way.  Whatever path he follows is really of his choosing.  I can only weigh in with what I perceive from a distance and apply the twists and turns from my own experience.  My job is to be supportive and point out the pros and the equally plentiful cons.

In the final analysis, it’s all up to him.  But he should know I’m there for him every step of the way.  He’s gotten this far totally on his own.  He’s fully capable of taking the next steps, too.  With a little nudge from his old man.

—————-

October 13, 2010

Reid: I’ve got to hand it to you, that was good news yesterday about your meeting with the upper crust.  You’ve come a long way in not a whole lot of time, and they seem to have a good bit of confidence of what you’re doing for the agency.

I wouldn’t fret too much about the raise.  It is still a raise, and probably in line with what a lot of stressed-out businesses are giving these days.  It could be the opposite, trust me.  You have to put your one-on-one conversation in the context of where you were about this time last year, and it is a great sign of their faith.  As for the promotion, that will probably come in due time.  My guess is that as the economy has failed to perk up let alone motor along, agencies are the first to feel the pinch when companies tighten the purse strings.

You should keep doing what you’re doing with _______: working hard at your day job, yet looking for every opportunity to remind them that you have good skills, that you are ready for whatever next step there is, that you have other things to offer other elements of their business.  They apparently are starting to notice those things, too.  You should be far from panic mode at this moment.  Far from it.

That said, there’s nothing wrong with testing the waters.  From what I know of the PR and ad business, that is the lay of the land.  People move and gravitate to the next best thing.  That is just the way and the reality of that world.  I would be cautious about the come-ons and promotions you get from other hiring firms.  You’ll need to be judicious about who you talk to.  Is there someone outside the firm that you might talk to?  The grass can seem to be awfully green on the other side of the fence but make sure to talk to people before you jump the fence to someone else.  Do your diligence on whoever might hire you.  Are they are strong player in your field?  Do they have the pockets to be a player in advertising?  Is the situation right for you?  What’s the buzz about other shops that you might want to investigate a little more closely?  I suppose that’s where the local ad trade rags might come in handy.  I assume, too, that you read those.  You can read a lot between the lines.  I don’t know if Bruce or Bob have any inside information but it might be worth a shot to call them.

I’m not as keen on a move to NYC unless there is something solid there in terms of income and responsibility.  New York is an expensive town and unless you are pulling in some good bucks and have the right situation for your career, I’m just not sure about it.  But on the other hand, you’re young, you don’t have lots of belongings to move, you’re not married (that I’m aware of) and you can always cut and run for another situation back closer to the heartland.

All things considered, things seem to be moving in the right direction.  You have some options that you didn’t have even a year ago.  I’d endorse looking around if you’ve thought about the current situation and see no other roads that you can take to further yourself.  Hey, a raise is better than nothing.  Just make sure you don’t jump ship until you know you can land safely elsewhere.  I’m proud of what you’ve done and how you’ve done it.

Falling upward…

 

My friend Bob sent this photo of my letter to him, plus the $1 I grudgingly owed him for a lost bet.

 

It has been some time – a few months anyway – since I’ve written a letter to only one of the kids.

Now is the time for another.

Reid has done a better than admirable job at his gigantic ad agency in Chicago.  The advertising game is a harsh what-have-you-done-for-me-lately business.  He has persevered after his primary account was lost to a competitor.  He made himself valuable with his attitude and his intellect.  The account went down but he fell upward.  And that is a great thing.  This week he got a raise and a shift to other big accounts.  Maybe he didn’t get all he was after, but I am very proud of his stick-to-itiveness.  This is a kid who, early in his agency career, got axed along with a slew of line staff at another shop.  At a tender age he became a graduate, with honors, of the school of hard knocks.

I’m not sure when the letter to him will ultimately surface on this page.  I will ask but that will be his call.  Yet that is the prerogative of dads and moms: tell their children when they have done something that is good and, secondarily, pleases their parents.  That is the gist of the note to Reid.

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Bridger Wilderness update: Hey, I’m up to one companion for the July, 2011 trip.  My cousin Tom Andersen from Oregon, is on board.  Bring it on, Tom.  Hey, there’s room for plenty more wanderers.

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But it’s Wednesday, and we’ll reach a bit further into my bag of tricks for an older letter to the twosome.

July 9, 2007

Reid/Ellen: As weekends go on the old 1-10 scale, I’d have to give this one a 3.  This is Murphy’s Law as relates to weekends: whatever could go wrong did go wrong.  And once it goes wrong, it really never gets right.

It started when I took the hog in for its 30,000 service — 30,000 miles, can you believe it? – and since the Harley dealership (i.e. crooks) didn’t have loaner bikes, I rented a Dyna Wide Glide for the day at an alleged steep discount.  Anyway, the bike didn’t have a windshield, so it was nice to feel the wind, and bugs, in my face for a change.  I went home and laid around then thought ‘what the heck, I might as well get out and ride’.  So I went northeast of town to Lowe’s Motor Speedway, an absolutely enormous venue that can sit 200,000 for stockcar (i.e. NASCAR) races.

On the way back, it clouded up, and before I knew what hit me, the rain was coming down sideways.  If you’ve never been on a bike in the rain without a windshield, the best way to explain it is that raindrops feel like needles.  In the space of :30, my face was utterly exfoliated.  It was raining unbelievably hard, and by the time I got to shelter under the first Interstate bridge, I was completely soaked.  But it was very hot, in the mid-90s, although the shower cooled it down a fair amount.  Seems we had a microburst which shoved down trees and powerlines all over the city, and by the time I got back to the Harley dealership (i.e. crooks) I’d navigated through standing water and was mud from head to toe because of all the traffic ahead of my kicking up dirt and debris.  And if it’s not enough to catch raindrops, try some sand and stones at 70 mph.  That gets your attention.  Now I’ve been in rain before and really don’t mind it, but this was incredible.

And that was the high point of entire two days.  Against my better judgment, played golf yesterday, and it was more of the same you’ve heard me whine so often about: bad, bad, bad.  Shank, shank, shank.  It’s sickening.  Reid, I may give you my clubs when you and Rachel are down here.  I stink.

Am supposed — supposed — to go in today for a skin treatment called Levalan.  It’s where the dermatologist slathers your face in some gunk and, as he says, you sit in the lobby for an hour or so to “let the marinade work” (his words), then you sit under some blue light for 90 minutes.  It turns your skin bright red — they say absolutely no post-treatment sunlight for 48-72 hours — and in theory it’s supposed to rid your skin of pre-cancerous cells.  I’ve had what they call squamas cell carcinomas taken off in recent weeks and this is supposed to do the trick.  But when he uses words like marinade and sort of laughs off the treatment, it makes you wonder.  So, I’m getting a second opinion in the very near future.

Did bake some round Italian loaves Friday night and dropped them off to some folks around the office on Saturday morning before the deluge.  I dunno, Reid, these loaves are good but my gosh, it’s a three-riser and takes roughly 5 hours from start to finish and didn’t take things out of the oven until 11:30.  Hardly worth it.  But damn, it makes good toast.

Okay, here’s the skinny on Grandma’s birthday.  Uncle Ralph has made arrangements for photos on Friday at 2:00.  I don’t know why he didn’t get this figured out for Saturday, but that’s the way things are.  Can you guys make that?  If you need plane tickets, go ahead and make ‘em.   FYI…with Joe’s wedding in January, it seems plane tickets may be $1,100 according to Ralphie.  That may change our plans a bit.  Let’s reconsider making that trip.

Be good, be safe, have fun.

When mundane is the best you can do…

 

The old girl finally has her N.C. license plate, yet another sign of the apocalypse: my Southern roots. The Oct. 11 letter will deal with okra, cornbread and a mishmash of N.C. roads.

 

There was nothing in last week’s letter to generate much more than a yawn on the part of the kids.  It’s not possible for a letter to be much more mundane.  There just didn’t seem like there was a hell of a lot to it.  But I suppose it did the job in that it spawned a batch of texts and calls between the three of us about the holidays, about work, and their grandmother.  Not that the letters are Gold Star quality every week.  Some days mundane is the best you can do.

But mundane might be welcomed by other people.  Case in point: a young woman in Raleigh sent an e-mail spoof to a friend about her escapades with an unknown number of guys – naming names and anotomical data, of course – and before she knew what hit her, her handiwork did an exponential number on her; 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 512, 1024, etc.  All the way into the millions.  She became an Internet sensation and even made cable TV news.

In a morbid way, maybe the object lesson is that salaciousness is the quick and dirty way to spread the word around.  I’m not at that point yet, but when I feel the urge to exponentially increase my readership, you’ll be the first to know.

—————

October 4, 2010

Ellen/Reid: This is the first morning since I don’t know when that I’ve worn a jacket to the office.  It’s on the cool side and a bit rainy although it will let up here shortly.  Ellen, I noticed in your picture of Henry that your leaves are down.  That’s just how much further along you guys are compared to the Carolinas.

The big news is the extension of my full time employment.  Just when I was ready to give up the ghost a call comes in from HR to inquire if I would be amenable to the extension through roughly mid-November.  My response was ‘of course’.  However, it’s on a rather unfortunate project.  The bank has a backlog of many, many letters of complaint and comment from customers and others, and the decree has come down that we will whittle the pile down.  Enter Dave into the picture.  I am about to become a letter writer, but nothing along the lines of the notes you get.  Rather, these are formulaic letters that must pass legal muster.  But I should be pretty good at it and have hit the ground running fast.  I’m glad to have the extension and the work, and who knows where else it might lead to.

But Tuesday night I have something of an orientation at REI.  I inquired some time ago because I like the store and the subject matter.   But half a glass full is better than none, and without knowing if or when the bank situation might improve, what the heck.  The only ticklish thing is what will come of Thanksgiving in the Twin Cities.  That’s the one drawback to this master plan.

We rode to Savannah this weekend for a budget-minded trip to celebrate my reprieve at the bank.  What we didn’t know was that it was Octoberfest and the town was packed to the rafters with revelers.  We stayed at some budget-minded place well south of the downtown.  One thing about Savannah is that the riverfront has typecast restaurants which all tend to serve the same type of fried seafood which is okay but the better eateries are outside the mainstream so all the unknowing tourists get jammed into the same general vicinity.  But it was still fun and it’s nice to be on the river and watch the boats go by.  The first highlight was riding SC 321 all the way down from Charlotte to Savannah.  A great road, and it puts you very close to the populace which is half the fun.  The second highlight was riding over to Tybee Island which is just east of Savannah.  It’s very nice and while far from fancy is the antithesis of the more well-know spots such as Myrtle Beach, Oak Island, or even Hilton Head.  The ride at highway speed on the Interstate on the way home was a downer.  You just don’t get to see anything other than traffic, traffic, traffic.

Talked to your grandmother the other day.  She is just having a rough go with things.  She has this mind set that it is her against the world.  I posted a photo of her and Ralph and Gayle and at least she’s smiling for a change.  The change in medications is helping a little bit but it hasn’t smoothed over all the rough edges.  As long as she continues to make progress, that’s fine with me.  In some ways I’m distressed at not making the trip to Nebraska – I would already be on the road this morning – because I’d like to see her.  It’s hard for me to think about her out there but she is in a better place than before.  I probably will not get out there for Christmas.

Well, have to dash back to the salt mines and the new situation.  Before long I should have a determination about Thanksgiving and will be in touch about that very shortly.  You two be good and keep your heads above water.  Glad you’re working hard, Ellen, but is it too hard?

Understanding mom…

Mom with my brother Ralph and his wife Gayle on a recent Sunday. That he sees mom almost daily has had a calming effect on her.

Things have improved a fair amount for my mother.  Not so many spells of agitation, which in part may be due to a juggling act with her medications, or she’s becoming accustomed to her new surroundings.  She seems more lucid and aware, although she asks me now and then how things are going in Des Moines.  Things are okay, mom, things are just okay.

But it may also be that the move to Grand Island to be near my brother has helped.  Now she has someone checking in on her almost daily, and it appears to have a calming influence on her.

Her situation will never really improve.  It’s simply the progression of what ails her.  We can all live with her moments of anxiety and disorientation.  Her fits of agitation?  No big deal.  It’s all about understanding mom.

I continue to write to her new address.  The staff who read the letters to her say she enjoys them but there’s no real way to know for sure.  I don’t ask because she won’t remember.  Then again, her ears perk up when she hears about Ellen and Reid, and she never fails to ask how they are.  Perhaps I don’t give her enough credit.  So I’ll keep on reminding her week in and week out.

Here is today’s installment of the weekly letter to mom.

————–

October 1, 2010

Mom: It was really good to hear your voice on the phone yesterday.  I’m sorry to hear you’ve got bumps and bruises from some falls.  Make sure your walker is always pretty close.  But if you’re not using it, send it to me and I can take it with me around the block a few times.  The staff there sent some photos of you, Gayle and Ralph out on the front steps and it was good to see you smiling, too.

Spent part of last night at a shelter for homeless women that my church has set up in one of our spare buildings that had seen little use in recent years.  My minister was hosting a Bible study and I thought I’d pop in for a few photos for the church newsletter.  It’s hard to watch people sleeping on cots, but those that are seem very thankful.  You look at them and think ‘there but for the grace of God go I’ and there’s a lot of truth to that.  There’s more than 50 women sleeping on floors.  It’s tough.

I thought about wearing a jacket the other day but it just wasn’t cold enough.  It’s a sign, though, that our temperatures are moderating a little bit.  I had to laugh today at the news that reported North Carolina was getting dumped on by a tropical storm that was touching the eastern coast.  This far inland we had sunny skies and nice warmth this afternoon.  We did have some rain the other night but nothing to write home about.

Been working like a slave these past few days at work.  I’ve got a new assignment and it feels good to be really getting after it.  I’ve been going in about 7:00 and leaving at nearly 6:00 so it makes for a long day.  Beats the alternative, I guess.  Hey, whatever pays the bills.

I’m sorry to say that it doesn’t appear I’ll be driving to Grand Island like I thought would.  Just too much going on at the office.  But all things considered, I’d rather be in the Midwest eating ice cream with you guys.

Jeez, my diet went to hell in a handbasket last night.  I wanted some fried chicken and I got some fried chicken.  It was at a place called Bojangles, which is a Southern chain of chicken joints.  It’s okay.  It doesn’t taste like yours and I’m sure it was bad for me but I would not be denied.  Had a side of mac & cheese and a biscuit.  I won’t have to eat again for a week.  I’ve had my fix of fried chicken for a while.

Rode the Harley to Augusta, GA last Saturday and broiled like a steak nearly the entire way.  Not a very pretty ride since it was all on the Interstate, but it was good to get the stink blown off as you used to say.  Hey, at 75 miles per hour, I can hold my own with any of that traffic.  I blow by a lot of cars, but they’ll get used to it.  Vrroommm!

A seat at the conversational table…

You don't get to see Reid often...but here's the lad with his old man as we wait for a flight out of Omaha in mid-June. He's a good kid and is the king of digital advertising.

It would be easy to see why most folks perceive I’m overly reliant on weekly letters to Ellen and Reid with a few texts tossed in for good measure (we rarely e-mail each other).  True, letters do a lot of the heavy lifting.  But not all.

One cannot hide behind letters alone.  In a way, the letters are a seat at the conversational table.  Each page gives us an opening on the phone; i.e. ‘I saw this in your letter’ or ‘tell me more about that’ or ’what’s up with this?…’  The letters give us something to talk about once we get past the obligatory ‘what are you up to?’  ‘Oh, not much’ banter.

At the least they have some advance warning about what’s happening on my end of the spectrum.  Perhaps subconsciously they gain time to process information before their custom ring tones alert them that dad’s on the line.  Better pick up the phone, guys.

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Since I’ll be on the road this weekend, I sent my mother her typical letter a few days early.  Nothing earthshaking to share this week.

September 16, 2010

Mom: Now it’s clear to me why skin doctors make the big bucks.  There are lots of people in their waiting rooms and the waits are long.  This morning I lounged for about half an hour before they called my name – and my appointment was at 8:15.  He gave me a good going over followed by a stern lecture about the sun.  He snipped off a little thing on my nose and sent it in for a test and the results should be back in a few days.  We’ll see how it goes.  He underlined the urgency by wanting to see me again in two months.  I’ve become an annuity program for him.  I’ve been trying to wear sunscreen and hats as much as I can.  I think this is residue from my lifeguard/pool manager days back in the swimming pool business all those years ago.  If only we’d known then what we know now.

I’m trying to gear up for a car trip out your way in the next month or so if I can swing it.  I can’t wait to stop by your place and check out your new room – and also check out the food.  If it passes my inspection then it’s good.  No doubt we’ll make a break and head out to some restaurant or ice cream joint that I know you’ve been to.  I’ll stay with Ralph and Gayle, and probably make a side trip to Des Moines to see my friend Steve.  I’ll bring my woolies with me since the temperatures out there will probably be far cooler than the heat we’ve been having here.  Yuck.  But it’s good for my tomato plant.

Nebraska seems to be cruising in football.  Their schedule isn’t the toughest and that may hurt them in the rankings.  Of course, none of the Husker games are broadcast down here and we’re stuck watching Southern teams play Southern teams.  It gets a little old.  I’d rather watch the “name” teams play.  The local pro NFL team, the Panthers, got waxed last week by the New York Giants and already people are saying the entire season will stink.  Probably so.  They’re just not very good.  Hey, they could pay me a million and I’d make a few tackles.

Rode by some cotton fields in South Carolina last weekend while out on a cruise on the Harley.  The locals say they don’t’ see as much cotton grown around here because all the cotton business has moved to China and other factories overseas.  This used to be a big area for cotton mills and cloth and clothing but all you see nowadays are plants that are shut down and shuttered.  I’m telling you when you ride the back roads in the Carolinas you wonder what people do for a living.  It’s depressing.

Hey, Ralph says your new medications are nothing short of wonderful.  That is wonderful.  Glad they finally found a combination that works.

No news from either Ellen or Reid.  But I take that as a good sign that they’re not in trouble (that I know of) and they’re keeping their noses clean and going about their business.  Like Andy and Joe, they are living their own lives.  Can’t wait to see you!

One dollar words…

If I don't grab the chance to write Mary and henry now, the chance will slip by.

When I was a U.S. housing columnist for the Associated Press, one of the guiding tenets was to keep the story as simple as possible for the reader.  You don’t need to be a journalist to grasp that concept.  No one dollar words  when a 25 cent word will do.

The same with letters.  Here are two one pagers written early today.  Both share some of the same material but the telling took a slightly different path in each one.

The first is the usual weekly note to my mother.  In her unfortunate state, it’s fine to update the same topics from week to week.   The sentences tend to be short and uncomplicated.  So are the paragraphs.  Sure, I want to be informational but also to let her know she’s still important to me.  If the page occupies a few moments of her time then we’ve both won.

The second letter is to my dear aunt Mary and uncle Henry (aka Hank).  They live in Portland, OR and face their own health and life challenges.  He’s a former minister (and my mother’s brother) and Mary is a proverbial live wire.  I’ve missed them over the years and this past summer was a chance to reconnect with them and their two sons, Tom and Tim.  Henry asks about his sister at every opportunity.  This letter is another such opportunity.  I can be open and candid with these two.   They are part of the family equation these past few months.  If I don’t tell as much of the  story as I can in what is essentially a one-off letter, it will never get done.

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September 10, 2010

Mom: Never in another million years did I ever think to see you sitting on the back of a Harley, but now I’ve seen it all.  Country House was nice enough to send along photos of the bunch of you perched on the Hog as it tooled around the neighborhood on a pretty day.  That really looked fun.  Hopefully his pipes were loud enough to shake things up a bit.  It’s fun that they have lots of activities for you guys.  If and when I ever get my bike out there we’ll take a ride for real.

I hear through your other son that they’ve dialed back some of your medications.  That’s good.  I’m taking one aspirin a day plus a vitamin, and that’s about all I want to take these days.

Just heard from Ellen this morning and she’s giving a thumbs up to her first week of teaching second graders in St. Paul.  The full debriefing should come sometime this weekend.  She’s got mostly immigrant children so their language skills are all over the map, literally.  She is supposed to send photos of her new classroom and when she does that I’ll include one in the weekly letter.

As for Reid, he’s doing okay, too.  He’s liking his new studio apartment but the one down side is he has to haul out his laundry to the local laundry place.  There are worse things however.  He’s really working hard at his job and liking it quite a bit.  He rides his bike around Chicago quite often and it would be a cheap way to see the city, plus he gets some exercise.  I’d like to see him join a gym but am not sure what his monthly budget allows.

Last weekend was not a real big weekend for me.  Rode my Harley a few hundred miles up toward Winston-Salem, North Carolina.  A nice ride through the countryside.  Stopped at the local Harley shop for a few minutes, then on back home.  Spent Sunday re-staining and waterproofing my little front porch but it looks a lot better now.  You wouldn’t believe how many townhomes are for sale in my little development.  By my count the total is 12.  Times are tough for lots of people and the payments are just a little more than lots of folks can muster month in and month out.  My guess is that Grand Island’s economy isn’t nearly as bad as it is in these parts.  Lots of people looking for meaningful work.

Spent part of Labor Day morning at my church helping to paint the rooms on the second floor of our big secondary building.  It’s being converted to a temporary shelter for homeless women.  It had been vacant for quite some time and needed a good sprucing up.  It’s a good use for the space and the congregation is fully behind the project.  It will house around 50 women in a dorm-type of situation.  Well you be good, and don’t ride into the sunset on that guys Harley.  Not a bad idea, though.

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September 10, 2010

Mary and Henry: This note is long, long overdue, and after this summer, it’s high time I brought you up to speed on most things.

Hank, your sister seems to be doing better these days.  She had a rough patch last month, and Ralph took her to another unit in Hastings where she had a thorough evaluation which was probably long overdue, too.  The end result is that the doctors throttled back the hodge-podge of medications she’d been taking.  The disparity of drugs seemed to throw her for a loop.  She’d been shifted from enough places that with every move came another tweak to her medications.  Now it appears that it’s been ironed out (knock on wood).  She’s back in Grand Island now and appears to do pretty well.  I don’t get to talk to her all that often but when I do she sounds chipper and alert.  She’s somewhat restless though, yet she doesn’t talk about Omaha and the other events.  On the whole I’m glad she’s there because Ralph has seen her just about every day.

I may get out there in October.  We’ve got some estate things to do along with a fair amount of packing at the house.  There have been a lot of people troop through it but there’s not been a single offer.  It’s a reflection of the local economy.  People just aren’t in the market for a home, and if they are, they know they are in the catbird seat in a buyer’s market.

I’ve been in touch with Tom now and again.  He’s a good guy and he keeps me posted on you guys.  He follows my blog relatively religiously (not many people do) and it keeps him up to speed on the latest news.  I can’t tell you how much it meant to have he and Tim shepherd the two of you to Omaha during those trying days.

Tom may have told you I’m back in the job market.  My stake is firmly in the ground in Charlotte so this is where I’ll cast my lot.  Since I’ve come back to the Presbyterian church (I edit the church newsletter and will send the next installment to you.  You can see past issues online at Caldwellpresby.org), my pastor has been beyond supportive.  I’ll admit that my feeble power of prayer has not been extended to the job hunt since it’s my belief that God has more important things on his plate (i.e. showing the divine light to the bizarre Koran-burning, publicity-seeking whack job in Florida) than something as mundane as employment.  Honestly, I’ll be content to ride things out with any sort of work that can be shut off at 5:00 without taking any of it home with me.  I’m fine with that.

Well, it’s back to the job hunt.  I suppose you two will hear from me with a little more frequency now that mom has landed in what looks to be a longer term solution for her.  Don’t think for a minute that you guys haven’t landed in the right spot.  It was the right decision when you made it and it will continue to be so.

Cut the string, not the tie that binds…

The three amigos. We don't get together often, but when we do, we have fun.

The Charlotte Observer, obviously hard-up to fill space, was left with no alternative but to run my op-ed piece (http://www.charlotteobserver.com/2010/09/01/1658443/parents-should-cut-the-string.html) about the worthiness of letters to children as one method of connectedness.  The paper opined a few days ago that parents should snip the string quickly once their kids are in college.  My response was yes, cut the string, but not the tie that binds.

There are worse things than wanting to remain a factor in the lives of your kids.  And far less invasive means of contact.  Is it such a radical idea to want to stay in meaningful touch?

My agenda is not their agenda and isn’t intended to be.  Get on with your lives, guys, but here’s what’s going on in your old man’s life.  Here’s all you need to know in the space of whatever-number-of-words it is (650 or so).  Read it in the morning, or while sorting through the day’s mail, or while you’re idling on the El to Chicago’s Loop, or after work or before you go to bed.  It doesn’t matter when.  But know that week-in and week-out, something other than a bill or a solicitation will land in your mail box.

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My mom gets something in the mail every week as well.  Here’s what should land in her mail box early next week in Grand Island.

September 3, 2010

Mom: Weather seems to be the big news around here these days.  Lots of folks are scurrying from the Outer Banks today as they try to escape the heavy winds and rain of Hurricane Earl.  He’ll brush by there sometime in the next 24 to 48 hours.  We won’t feel much of him in Charlotte.  The weather folks say we’ll get at most a light breeze.  And given the temperatures we’ve had of late, that breeze will be most welcome.

We have endured 90+ days of temperatures over 90 degrees.   90+ days.  It’s just been awful.  And the humidity just makes it feel that much worse.  At least September is here and hopefully the temperatures will moderate a little bit.  I noticed in this morning’s paper that you guys have been getting some 50 degree mornings which would feel wonderful to me.  Your first frost can’t be that far away.  As for us, the only frost we’ll feel is when we stick our hands in the refrigerator freezer.

I was a little too quick to lambast my tomato plant.  A little fertilizer and a lot of water and – bingo – there are finally actual tomatoes on the vines.  The largest is about the size of a tennis ball which is a significant upgrade for that plant.  It has grown to about six feet tall so there’s plenty of growing potential for tomatoes.  It’s been tough in this heat for fruit to set but it seems to be doing so right now.  I keep forgetting that our growing season is way, way longer than yours.  In a couple of weeks when the temps have died down a little I’ll plant some lettuce in a pot on the porch and with any luck that will supply me with lettuce into December.

Ellen is finally teaching her second grade classes.  Not much news has filtered in to me about how things are going but the assumption is that she’ll be doing a great job.  I hope to hear from her this weekend about how the first week actually went down.  She keeps sending me photos of her dog/beast Henry, and that’s a lot of fun to see.

Reid has moved into his new studio apartment in Chicago.  On the map it appears he is northwest of downtown.  It costs him a few more bucks every month but right about now the privacy won’t be such a bad thing for him.  He was tossing around the idea of taking a new job in his same company but there hasn’t been a real update from him for a few days now.  I’ll pester him when the weekend comes around.  He’s got a girlfriend but we know very little about her other than that her name is Jackie.

I’m supposed to teach a class on letter writing at the local community college but from all appearances, not many students share my enthusiasm about letters.  Only two have signed up and I’m afraid that the writing is on the wall – the class will be cancelled due to lack of participation.  We were supposed to have about 15 in the class, and unless some miracle happens in the next couple of days, another weeknight will become suddenly freed up.  Hey, keep your chin up and your attitude good.  I’ll do the same.

Finally, 100…

Look no further for the reason behind nearly 10 years of letters...Ellen, her hubby Tim, and Reid.

Today’s post is the 100th since this blog debuted last January 27th.   You’ll be spared any additional over-the-top celebration.   Finally, 100 posts.   One would think I’d run out of things to say.

For those of you who are regular visitors, thank you for sticking with me.  You’ve seen a campaign about weekly letters that began as a way to momentarily occupy Ellen and Reid’s time in college.  But since those carefree days, the tone, voice and demeanor of the letters has changed.  Lighthearted reports on joys and home life have given way to stark realities of adult life; wins and losses, disappointments and heartaches, anxieties and doubts.  As the kids have matured, so too has what they read.

I’d ask you for a few favors.

1) If you are a regular reader of these pages, keep doing so.  Thank you.

2) If you know someone with college age children or children who have flown the parental coop, forward my URL to them.  Perhaps they’ll find an outlet for their need to stay connected.

3) I’d like somehow to reach college advisors who wrestle with how to cope with or break the loneliness so many students feel.  Maybe letters are one way to help.  I’d like to reach professors of writing, too.  But I don’t know how to reach the upper echelons of college administrators.

4) I struggle with overall promotion of this blog, so if you have ideas to spread the word about this blog, I’m all ears.

5) A wholesale revision of my book – the new title is under wraps – is underway.  I’ll keep you posted on progress.

But thanks again for reading my thrice weekly foolishness.  I believe wholeheartedly in the idea of written communication.  Hopefully, if and when this reaches a 200th post, you’ll continue to agree with that assessment, too.

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Here is last week’s letter to Ellen and Reid.

August 23, 2010

Ellen/Reid: As with subtitles that assure viewers in films that show animals in danger (‘no fish were harmed during the creation of this fishing film’) that was precisely the end result during the course of this past weekend’s trip to westernmost North Carolina.  Rather than dine on fresh rainbows or brookies, Felicia and I instead cooked limp pasta and ate at a funky Mexican place.  It is more proof that I simply don’t know how to cast a fly.  I whipped the water to a froth and the only fish that took the bait were apparently slow on the uptake or had some sort of fish-related learning disability.  The big ones were underwater, laughing.

Saw one of the prettiest streams I’ve ever fished, and if I hadn’t been such a ham-handed klutz in terms of presentation of a fly, I might have actually caught something.  The biggest fish was about 7 inches, hardly enough to keep.  But it was an upgrade from the week before.  At least the catch this weekend was measured in inches and not millimeters.

But it was still fun.  That part of Carolina – almost to Georgia and not too far from Tennessee – is a world apart.  Lots of trailers and the people really do live closely with the land.  We saw some traps and such, and people fish for sustenance, at least in my view.  The streams and rivers get worked pretty hard.  Lots of rafting on the Nantahala (sp?) and a nice river.  It rained hard the last night and that roiled the water beyond fishability.

Now it’s back to the job search.  Sent many letters out last week to local real estate and other companies in the hopes of landing content-related freelance work which is in my wheelhouse.  So many web sites are devoid of true consumer-oriented information.  That might be where I could lend a hand.  I do have my first client – an old friend of mine from Meredith days hired me to do content for he and his wife who are good producers for a real estate company out in the Bay Area of San Francisco.  It won’t be much but the activity around it keeps me eager to do that sort of work.  Who knows, perhaps I can parlay that into other work.  We’ll see.  Literally, there hasn’t been a single feeler from the scads of resumes sent out on so-called Internet job posting services.  Honestly, it will be work in the trenches.  We’ll see how it goes.

Bless Jane H__________’s heart, she is persistent in wanting me to join Dave and Bob F. for a guy’s golf weekend in Idaho in about three weeks time.  It’s a celebration of sorts for Dave.  She’s trying to pick up all the tab, but that’s not going to work for me.  I’d feel too guilty about leaving my post just when I ought to be looking for paying work.  It kills me not to see the guys again, especially after four years, but this just doesn’t feel like the time to be running off and having fun.  Bob is really working me, too, but in a good way.  His most recent text reminded me that the job search would still be there when I got back.  I feel a little bit of a shift, but the guilt would just be overriding for me.

Have to get ready this week for a presentation to the Main Street shop owners in _______, South Carolina.  The street is nearly absent of any business, and the owners appear to dicker about how to attract more business.  What they need to do is spiff up the area and begin to do some group promotion.  The tough part is the Main Street is not one you automatically drive on as you cruise through town.  You have to purposefully turn onto it.  It’s a highly spec job but who knows what it might lead to.

Hey, off to the coffee shop to plot my day’s activities.  You guys be good, keep in touch, and let me know how your worlds are rotating.