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June 10, 2013

Ellen/Reid: It’s only June 10 and already it feels as if the dog days of summer are in place. It was moist and very warm this morning at 5:15 when I went out to get the newspaper. Maybe that’s just the wages you pay for living in this part of the country. I suppose it is. I walked 18 at a local muny yesterday in the heat of the afternoon and was soaking wet by the time my ball reached the green after five errant shots. But plenty of water was consumed and there was enough cloud cover to stop me from baking like a pork butt on the spit. Got through it just fine but man, was it humid.

My friend John the Presbyterian minister is joining a bunch of folks from Caldwell today to head for protests at the state capitol in Raleigh. If John gets riled up, then the issues are worth getting riled up over. The legislature is just making it tough for the little guy and middle income folks in North Carolina. Restricted voting rights, a highly favorable income tax break for the upper incomes plus a bevy of new taxes on smaller services such as groceries and haircuts that will effectively have the lower classes pay more. These Monday protests have been going on for a while and a fair number of people have been arrested (including an 80 year old woman who was handcuffed to her wheelchair, like she was going anywhere) even though things have been purposely peaceful. As you would expect, the GOP legislators have no intention of meeting with anyone other than themselves or their cronies. Our state has moved from just being red to a deep shade of crimson red. How anyone in the middle class votes Republican escapes me. It must be all about guns and whatnot. Republican zealots are beating their plowshares into swords. All the better to stick it to the little guy.

Reid, I’m excited about the prospect of Chicago. By the time you get this we should know for sure. I’ve kind of dawdled in getting my ticket but it will be in hand soon enough.

We rode the Harley on Saturday for a long-ish trek and stumbled upon a big biker event in a place called Lincolnton. It should be about a 60 minute ride that turned into two hours as we moseyed our way along with the intent of getting to Greenville, SC but Lincolnton was on the route. We spent a few hours at the event and didn’t have second thoughts about going any further. Biker rallies tend to pretty much be all the same but this one had a lot of variety. The people watching is worth the price of admission. The high point may have been the barbeque which was some of the best I’ve had since being down in these parts. Very tasty.

It’s raining hard and straight down as we speak – enough, already – but at least it didn’t pour over the weekend while we were outside. The weekend came and went way too fast but the time from Monday to Friday will feel like an eternity. They say ‘time waits for no one’ but I sure wish it would drag its feet on Friday-Saturday-Sunday sometime.

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June 3, 2013

Ellen/Reid: Pretty stormy last night here. We had a fair amount of rain pelting the windows. Must’ve been the weather pattern that socked Oklahoma earlier in the week. We need the moisture, however. Heck, maybe if it was heavy enough it could have washed away some of the back-assward legislators here in North Carolina. Alas, no such luck. They all reported for duty today.

Otherwise we had a pretty good weekend. Rode to dinner Friday night, stayed home Saturday night and vegged. Felicia worked 12 hours yesterday after driving Saturday to Asheville to see her son so she was beat when she got back. Watched Game of thrones on HBO, and the ending was shockingly depressing. But today is a new day and that’s okay. There’s something about those four day weeks that is addicting. Nothing wrong with Mondays off. I could run for President on that platform and win in a landslide.

One of the baby bluebirds returned to the nest this morning for a quick peek around the old homestead. It was much smaller than the parent birds, and it poked its little head in the hole of the nesting box for a moment before continuing on to somewhere else. We miss seeing them a little more regularly. Nothing else seems to show any interest in the box so it looks like the nesting season has come and gone.

Got my bones rattled yesterday playing golf at a muny course called Renaissance. Was heading to the edge of a small lake when, in the space of a split second, I saw a gigantic cottonmouth as big around as my wrist before it exploded sideways into the muddy water. I mean is shook me although my playing companions reported no other noises coming from my directions. That was one helluva snake. Enormous and long. I’d hate to be a frog or a rodent within range of that beast. Oh man. If that doesn’t cure me of searching for random golf balls, nothing will. Incredible to see that sort of wildlife.

They had a big pro golf event at Wakonda over the weekend. Watched the delayed telecast last night and while the crowds looked good there wasn’t anyone I could recognize in the gallery. I’m sure they pulled out all the stops for the Wakonda membership. I know John F. was likely to go and probably Bob Furstenau. In some ways it’s easier to watch on TV than in person.

Met with some of my blog students over coffee on Saturday morning. Some of them are really doing a great job and others just need a little prod now and then. I’m supposed to teach it again in the fall and that will be the little prod I need to become a lot more proficient at the technical side of blogging. The writing and content comes easy but making your blog look good is another matter altogether. That’s what the students (and their teacher) struggle with. Reid, I’d love to have you take a look and offer any and all suggestions.

Okay, gotta run to the shower before the doc’s. I’ll be in touch sooner than later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

Love, Dad

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May 28, 2013

Ellen/Reid: It was nice to have a long weekend. I needed one. Ellen, Michigan looked fun, and the airport videos of Emma walking the concourse were so much fun. Reid, I’m not sure what you and Liz did but no doubt it was a good time, too. I’m not sure why there isn’t more of a grassroots outcry for a national four day workweek. If I were running for president, that would be a major plank of my candidacy. I would be swept in by acclamation.

This is how they do it at NASCAR races: put up the tent by the pickup and crack a few cold ones.

We rode around Friday night and finally landed in Uptown for what the racing crowd calls ‘Speed Street” which is where they shut off the main drag and let you walk around and gawk at race cars while you drink beer. It’s a NASCAR/red neck thing. We didn’t spend an inordinate amount of time there. You see one race car, you’ve seen them all. The same can’t be said for the ‘necks since the people watching is fabulous. We had dinner and scooted to Mac’s for a final cold one. We went back to Mac’s for wings last night. We are nothing if not predictable. A good chunk of my Saturday was spent in the office just trying to clean up the accumulated mess. From the looks of it, things still look a little disheveled, but solid progress was made. I’ll chip away at it again today in between the half dozen or so calls that are on the docket.

We are trying to strategize the bike ride along the coast of Washington and Oregon but aren’t getting very far. We did get tickets to a Seattle Mariners/Anaheim Angels game but as of yet we have not decided on hotels and the like let alone a hard and fast route. Felicia is a little uptight about what she can/cannot take and I’m trying to drill into her that less is more. We just don’t have the room. The Heritage Softail we’ve rented will be nearly identical to ours with saddle bags, and we have a sizeable new bag that fits over the sissy bar. That’s all we have room for. A couple pairs of jeans, some wash-and-dry shirts, boots, leathers and rain suits and that’s pretty much it. Certainly not stylish by any means.

The lettuce is on its last legs and the spinach and cilantro are kaput. About all that’s left of the container garden on the porch is the one tomato plant and the hard-to-kill oregano. I guess the basil is still hanging around. But it was sure good while it lasted.

The little blue birds up and flew away. We never got to see their maiden flights. They didn’t even say so much as a goodbye cheep. I got to worrying on Friday morning since I hadn’t seen the parents flitting around so I went out to sneak a peek. The birds had fledged. I cleaned out the nest right away and am hopeful some other feathered tenants will nose (beak) around the place as a new spot but nesting season in these parts appears just about over. By habit we both still look out there to see if anything is rustling about.

Reid, I hope you like that new shirt. I really like the Ex Officio’s; built well, relatively stylish and good for the summer weather. You don’t see many short sleeve versions so that’s nice. It doesn’t hurt that they were on sale.

Okay, I’m outta here. Things to do this morning, lots of things. That doesn’t mean all of them are important. Be good, and how to see you all soon.

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May 21, 2013

Ellen/Reid: The little blue birds are testing their wings for flight. I could see them flitting around in their nesting box this morning. Their maiden voyage can’t be but a few days away. I wish I would have put a small dowel just below the entrance hole as a safety net of sorts since the nearest limb would be a 3 – 4 yard stretch for a little one. The parent birds are flying themselves ragged

The blue birds are gone. We didn’t get to see their grand entrance into their brave new world, but we wish the fledglings well.

trying to feed however many voracious nestlings are in the box. I hope I get to see them as they try to fly for the first time. It makes putting up the nest worthwhile if it contributes a bird or two to the population. We placed a second box about 40 yards away but it doesn’t have any activity.

It looks as if I’m going to retire at 65. There’s no particular rhyme or reason to it, it just feels right. The health scare a couple of years ago figures into it a bit – live now while you can. A friend of mine was saying last week that the average life span of men is about 78 years. We can do that math. I want to spend time writing and blogging and riding the bike, golfing if I must, and, of course, seeing you two dweebs a lot more. There would be nothing wrong with working 20 hours a week at a store or golf shop to fill some idle time. I have to talk to John about the specifics but that’s sort of where things rest at this point. Your uncle seems on board with it although he persists in the belief he’ll bow out at 67. Four years seems like a long, long time to wait.

We are tending to Bailey this week. She’s a lab-mix, and is the dog of Felicia’s daughter Suefan. She’s a great dog, a little timid, but nice to have around. Part of me wrestles with the idea of a dog full time, but there’s still a little reluctance to have one. They are work and to some extent tie you down a bit, particularly on weekends. I think Felicia would like one (partly to be a counter to my presence) but I’ve yet to be convinced about it. Definitely no cats. Never a cat.

Other than that, not a ton going on. Got the Caldwell newsletter out the door this week. I’m attempting to try a new graphic design approach. That’s always dangerous when one has no real footing in, or taste for, page design. I thumb through magazines and mostly copy what they do. You can see it at caldwellpresby.org. I’m just North of having done 50 issues. I have got to learn Pages on Mac since my old Acer is about to bite the dust. It has served its purpose somewhat well; get me on the Internet and let me prepare the newsletter.

Reid, give me a hard and fast weekend in June that works for you to receive visitors.

Without exaggeration, the video of Emma walking has been viewed at least 30 times. Video of a granddaughter is a great thing, especially when you live a long, long way away.

No real plans for Memorial Day weekend. Felicia is working and I’ll golf.

Well, that’s about it for today, given the dearth of real news. I’ll give you both a holler this weekend, so keep the phones handy.

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May 13, 2013

Ellen/Reid: I’m up in my office, occasionally sneaking a peak out the window to watch the pair of bluebirds flit in and out of their nesting box to feed what must be at least a couple of young, hungry birds. People persistently want to open the box to take a look and we have to shoo them away. One of the old biddies who sticks

The nesting box is occupied by blue birds about this time of year. I may electrify the perimeter to keep prying hands from opening the door.

her nose in everything around here objected to those instructions, and Felicia set her straight that we paid for and put up the box. Serves the old gal right. Leave the birds alone, lady.

It’s cool here this morning and it feels good. We’ve had the sort of May you’d expect; relatively pleasant with nice temperatures. But that comfort is fleeting. Heat and humidity will have their way with us soon enough.

It was so great to see you guys for Emma’s birthday. Three generations under one roof. She is a little controller at this point and there’s a sense that she knows she runs the show – at least for now. That was a nice gesture, Reid, with the surprise shave. Liz must’ve liked that. It makes you look younger although there was nothing wrong with your trimmed beard. There’s a great picture of you shaving while Emma is peeking at her uncle as he gets to trimming. Liz’s parents went all out on the Friday night. Wish I would’ve been faster on the draw to take a shot of Emma’s footprint in the cake and Tim making short work of the clean up, so to speak. That was hilarious. At least he got an early taste of the frosting.

We are getting excited about the bike ride along the Washington-Oregon coast. The best we could rent was another Heritage Softail, the same ride we have now. Luggage has us in a bit of a quandary since the bike can only accommodate one large bag that fits over the sissy bar and maybe one other. Our helmets, rain gear and leathers have to make the trip. We do have the saddle bags, but the problem is how to transport everything. We’ll have to get used to wearing the same sink-washable clothes that we can dry overnight in the hotel or wherever it is we’ll be staying. One option is leaving a spare piece of luggage at our first hotel in Seattle. That is a possibility. We have tickets for a Saturday night ball game between the Seattle Mariners and the LA Angels. That should be fun. A couple of bikers in the seats. Imagine that. We will likely stop down in Salem to see cousin Tom, and maybe on to Bend to see my friends Sue and Rand Hammond. I need to make that acquaintance again. We might slide through Portland to see Aunt Mary. She’s a good egg. Tom’s boys Ben and Eli live close by, and it would be great to see them, too.

My new blog, http://www.pickupyourpath.com, is off to a slow start, but like with my other one, I’ll be persistent about it. Not many followers at this point but it will be a labor of love in one sense.

Yeah, maybe I am a little whack on keeping my path cleaned up, but it’s all for a good cause. I’ll keep at it.

Only a couple of Twitter followers although being a newby with Tweets, there’s still a lot to learn. If you have to be committed to something, nothing wrong with being committed to the environment. Besides, it gives me something to do and keeps me out of trouble. I have yet to figure out how Pinterest works but I’m gaining on it. If you two have any suggestions on this whole thing, I’ll be all ears. My other creative venture this week is another 12 page Caldwell newsletter, and there’s not a lot of story ideas in the hopper. Somehow, it will work.

Okay, signing off for now. Let me know how things are going. If you are at all serious with your overtures about Thanksgiving down he’ah, we can make that happen. Having you visit is on my short-term bucket list.

The shot of Emma pretty much sums up the week that was (there was no letter written) when I was in St. Paul with Ellen and Reid for Emma’s first birthday; i.e. we were

Emma sneaks a peek as her uncle Reid goes beardless.

all together in the same place, Emma is plenty old enough to be inquisitive as she watched her uncle Reid shear off his three year beard for Liz, his girlfriend, and it was good to play that old family game of ‘catch up’.

But the letter that will be posted next week went in the mail this morning.

That’s because there are no more marathon photos. This shot was on the front of the sports page of the Des Moines Register in April 1982. You can see the photo editor’s crop marks. The race was the Drake Marathon, and

My last hurrah as a marathoner. Drake was a fun race because I got to run alongside my good friend Shane Dooley (a sure fire sub-2:20 guy if not for his crushing work schedule). We got beat like a bass drum but it was a good way to go out even if the 2:20 mark remained elusive – again. It was my last competitive race.

it was mercifully my last marathon since my ankles were rapidly losing their enthusiasm for running at any distance. That’s me, #628. My good buddy Shane Dooley is 664. The guy who won the race, Pat McGuire, is in the bandana to my left. Pat tossed in a 4:50 mile from 16 to 17 and that broke Shane and I like twigs. Shane was 4th in 2:24 and I hobbled home in 5th in 2:25.

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April 22, 2013

Ellen/Reid: It was bizarre writing last week’s letter about the Boston Marathon, and no sooner were things in the mailbox than the news hit about the explosions. I don’t suppose that I would have started over if the letters hadn’t been sent. It’s just the way it works sometimes. Two women from Charlotte were there to watch their mother finish the race and were in the wrong place at the wrong time. One lost a leg, the other had horrible leg injuries. What might possess someone to do such a deed is beyond me. There are no ways to guarantee this won’t happen again. Although not a right, we are free to move about as we please, and it’s impossible to take all the precautions necessary all of the time. We spent all Friday night in jammies glued to CNN on the tube as they surrounded the guy.

I’ll be out of town next week for a couple of days in Arizona for a staff meeting before heading to Minnesota. The St. Paul trip hopefully won’t be impacted too much. My new boss was very accommodating when I asked to leave the meeting early. “Family first” she said. It’s wild, but I get to meet people I’ve worked with for the better part of two and a half years but never met in person. That’s how disparate the operation is. People are spread out the hell all over the country.

Drove a couple of hours to Flat Rock, North Carolina yesterday to see my friend Peter Zandbergen from Omaha. Pete and I went to Nebraska together and for years he’s headed rowing in the U.S., been the Olympic team rowing manager and has been a domestic/international official of long standing. He was down in Clemson, South Carolina (about 45 minutes away) to officiate a big regatta for women. His parents had settled late in life in the Flat Rock – Tryon area and it’s where his sister, Nancy, runs an incredible summer camp – Camp Wayfarer – which draws kids from all over the U.S. and some other countries. It is unbelievable. Anyway, we had a chance to catch up for a few hours and that was fun. The camp draws from the fairly affluent – kids of PGA Tour pros, etc. They pull out all the stops. That part of North Carolina, sort of the gateway to the mountains, is nice. Not the Rockies, but still nice.

I spoke too soon about the blue birds abandoning their nesting box. Just this morning the female is sticking her head out of the box, which must signal her mate to “get me some food, stat” while she incubates her clutch. I hope the chicks make it this year. There are still feral cats roaming around and my pellet gun is at the ready to sting those bastards into submission, or at least long enough to get the message to stay away from the nesting pair. There was some newspaper article recently about feral cats being accountable for something like a billion bird deaths a year. Maybe I should up the firepower ante.

Reid, I must seem like a Bozo (a clown native to WGN in Chicago) to you about all this blog stuff. I only get about 30% of it but it’s the other 70% of it that matters most. Maybe we can kibitz over a beer or two while we’re in the Twin Cities. I just need to get out of the technology Stone Age. It’s frustrating, maddening and irritating all at once. There’s something substantive there but I just don’t know how to get it out, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes on Pick Up Your Path.

About to head online to buy tickets for Scottsdale and will keep you apprised of the itinerary as we go along. Emma looked cute this morning, Ellen, if it’s possible for a baby to look cute after being up-and-at-‘em from 1 to 4 a.m.  When baby ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

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April 15, 2013

Ellen/Reid: I was browsing Yahoo! about 20 minutes ago, and at noon Eastern they started the Boston Marathon. I haven’t thought about that race for a long, long time. It’s incredible that my last one was 33 years ago in 1980. Neither of you have likely heard this story, but if you have, grin and bear it. It was bright sun and in the mid-70s at race time in Hopkinton.

I loved the Boston Marathon. My first finish (2:39) put me inside the top 500 (I guess I’d have to look that up). I’ve not thought about this picture (taken on the down side of the hills at about 25 miles) in 20 years. That was more than a couple of pounds ago. I cannot recall anything from 1978 but remember quite clearly the real events that happened two years later in 1980.

I’d gone there with a few runner friends from Des Moines, including John Leonhardt, the Iron Man. The first inkling that this might not be my day was the feeling of water splashing on me as we lined up. It was a guy taking a final piss and he was hitting my feet. I do recall saying “What the f–k are you doing?” and he said ‘I had to go.’ Geez. The boob. What a way to get started.

I went into the race in really good shape, and if there was ever a race for me to go sub 2:20, and go top 100, that was it. But my head must not have been on straight. Before the gun sounded I should’ve told myself to bag Boston, back off and treat it as a training or fun run and live to race another day – and in cooler temps. But then stupidity took over. I was caught up in the moment, thought I was strong enough to handle things, and hit the bricks at the pace I’d planned on.  With four miles to go, I paid dearly for it. I was on 2:20 pace through 22 miles when I ran head on into the hills. They just killed me. My time ended in 2:39. But that’s not the real story.

When I was barely limping on the downhill with a couple of miles to go, I could hear the roar of the crowd behind me, welling up as someone, the first woman no doubt, was gaining on me fast. My pace – to that point – was fast enough that no women would be ahead of me. I glanced behind and sure enough, here she comes, Jacqueline Gareau of Canada. She was steamrolling, motoring at warp speed. I stuck my hand out, and for an instant she grabbed it. I told her something inane like “First woman, go, go go.” There was no way in the world any other women, let alone hundreds of men, could be ahead of her.

By some miracle among the crush of runners and people, John and I found each other in the parking garage under the Prudential Center. We were covered in brine, our salts long having dried white on our running singlets. We found a couple of spare chairs and literally plopped down (an official came by, spotted us and asked if we wanted to go to the emergency tent. We must’ve looked like death warmed over).

But 40 feet ahead of us was the riser where the winners, Bill Rodgers for the men, and the leading woman, were doing a news conference. I knew who Rodgers was, but when I saw the woman, I told John “That’s not the woman who passed me.” He goes “What the hell are you talking about?” The woman was in gray cotton shorts and t-shirt, not the stuff real runners would wear on a broiling day. I kept telling John that this cannot be the winning woman. No way. No sweat rings on her clothes, no matted hair. None of that. After a couple of cups of water, we beat a retreat out of there to nurse our wounds over a couple of cold beers.  I still thought “What the hell happened to the first woman?”

As it turned out that night, the cat escaped the bag in a big way. People had seen Rosie Ruiz jump in the race not far from the finish line, and her slightly pudgy body didn’t hold up to the scrutiny of the post-race news conference. No women could recall her in the lead pack of women runners. Ruiz couldn’t recount her splits or other race details. It was big news at the time and led to sensor-enabled microchips tied to runner laces to keep frauds out of races. I haven’t thought about that race or Jacqueline or Rosie for a long, long time. I was dragging a plow towards the end of the race, but that story makes it a little more worthwhile.

Love, Dad

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April 8, 2013

Ellen/Reid: It’s depressing to read all this blather about the National Rifle Association. They are way outsized in their power. The citizenry needs to unite on it but our resolve is doubtful because those who might

To me, the NRA is outsized in its power. I don’t begrudge sport shooting and we have an army and National Guard as legitimate defenders. None of us need military grade weaponry.

advocate moderation aren’t capable of organizing like those on the fringes of both sides. Ellen, we can only hope they never realize the idiotic dream of guns in schools. What is our ratio of shooting deaths? It’s like 20 times that of the next developed nation or some number along those lines. Maybe we shouldn’t be considered a developed nation. That would help our numbers. I’m all for sport or bird hunting, but we are clearly over the edge. In my wildest imagination I can’t imagine the founding fathers accepting all this gun nuttiness and military-grade weapon kooks. I thought about getting a pistol a 5 or 6 years ago but backed away from it. I’m just not a gun man. That’s about all the zealousness and diatribe I can muster for one day.

It’s sunny and warming outside the window right now. It’s about frigging time. No doubt we’ll transition from winter to summer heat in the bat of an eyelash. But you can say it’s good for the lettuce on the front porch.

As long as black dirt is available, I’ll keep a garden on the front stoop. I will never give trying to grow a sandwich size red tomato.

Some of the pot space set aside for spinach is going to have to give way to basil. That’s just the way it is with good dirt at a premium. Some of the lettuce hasn’t sprouted so maybe the spinach crop will be replanted where the other seeds refused to, or couldn’t, push through. Before long, perhaps yet this week, a tomato will take root. I’ll never give up trying to grow a half decent tomato.

Looks like we’re going to ride down Charleston way next weekend. We have to get in riding shape for the Washington and Oregon coast. Felicia gets the worst of things because the passenger seat on the Heritage is a lot narrower than the ample seat my derriere is on. We get into Seattle on a Saturday, and our options are to go to a Seattle Mariners game that night or head straight to the coast. At least we have something to look forward to.

Looking at some round eyeglass frames for a change of pace. The rectangles I have now are okay but pretty stodgy looking. Time to come into the new age. I need to step up my game, too, beyond jeans to other more age-appropriate clothing, but that’s not anything new.

Ellen, I don’t know what to get Emma for her first birthday but you can expect a UPS delivery of clothes and some toys. If you have any suggestions on fun toys, great. Make sure I know what size to get her. 18 month? Toddler? Let me know pretty soon as everything will be boxed up and shipped in the next week or two for just-in-time delivery. Loved that short video of her shaking her tail feathers. She’s just too cute. The FaceTimes are really fun and a good substitute for not being there. Before you know it, she’ll think her gramps exists only on a small screen.

Not a whole heck of a lot else to report. Work is (as of this writing) still okay. Not too many people mad at me although that can change in a heartbeat. The blue birds are out back seeming to stuff their nesting box with soft goods for their fledglings. The squirrels are smart as a whip as they’ve wizened up to all my tricks to keep them away from our feeder. The lettuce is up and growing, as is the oregano and cilantro (a must-have herb in any garden although yank it up when it gets wispy in the hot months). What I wouldn’t do for a plot of black Midwestern dirt right now.

Love, Dad

Ellen/Reid: My friend Tom is under the surgeon’s knife this morning with triple bypass. The doctor makes it all seem so simple although he’s not the one lying on the table. But the doc says Tom will be as good as new so the Bridger excursion will be on next year. Reid, you should go with us.

I do have my tickets in hand for Emma’s birthday extravaganza. No thought has been given to lodging but I can take care of myself. I will get a rental car, too. I will take part of Friday to head down to Owatonna to play golf with Steve Allen and a couple of other friends who will meander up from Des Moines. Reid, consider this an appeal about what dates work for you for us

Reid (right) and his dad in ’10 after a visit to his ailing grandfather. Time to see the boy’s new digs in Chicago.

to visit you and Liz in Chicago.

I’m looking down upon the quiet little stream this morning from my third floor window and it’s sad to see a mess of plastic bottles and discarded

The pretty little stream behind the house is constantly defiled by floating debris, such as this submerged plastic and a wind-blown grocery store bag. I don’t know who discards it or why – but now I’m pissed.

debris trapped and floating behind a small, fallen limb that spans the width of the creek. I suppose it’s just something else that will need someone (me) to go down and clean up/remove/recycle all that junk. It really does drive me nuts to see how goofballs just toss stuff out rather than see it (and the stream, too) as a resource. The deer cross where the flotsam is and the birds bathe just a few feet away. This kind of treatment isn’t what Thoreau had in mind 150 some years ago when he wrote Walden; or, Life in the Woods.

Reid, I see Chicago is embroiled in a campaign to shut down a lot of schools for budget purposes. That’s too bad. I don’t know the extent of the situation but administrators are probably targeting the neighborhoods where attendance has fallen. Where you and Liz live (are you on the West side, is that what they call it?) would seem to be a pretty vibrant spot. Ellen, our Republican dolts at the North Carolina state capitol are at it again. They want to do away with teacher tenure and they want some schools to allow non-education trained people – including those who have no college degree – to teach in those public schools. We are just a bunch of damn fools down here. We really are. There must be something in the water that affects their thinking. It’ll only get worse once contaminated water residue from fracking hits our ground water supplies. Great. Fish with three eyes and kids with four arms.  Legislators here are morons of the first order.

We’ve taken to watching Game of Thrones on HBO. It’s pretty good but coming so late to the party (it’s now season 3) has us trying to figure out what the plot is and who the players are. HBO does a nice job with it if you like bloody violence and gratuitous sex. The production values are not half bad for a TV show.

Geez, did you see the horrific break of that kid’s leg in the Louisville-Duke game? You can’t see it any worse than that. I just didn’t have the stomach to watch it until this morning on YouTube, and even then one glimpse from afar was enough for me. That was just awful. Good gesture by both coaches to console each other. That’s a clip that will live on YouTube for a long, long time. Already more than two million views – two million! – by this morning.

It looks like the bike ride up and down the Oregon-Washington coast in mid July is set in stone. Our plan is to get our tickets tomorrow night. Packing is going to be a shade difficult because we’ll have to plan for cold-wet even though it may not end up being either of those, and all of it will have to be carried with us on the bike. I hope to rent a Road King or an Ultra Classic. We’re excited about it. Felicia has never been to that part of the country. Let the adventures begin.

Love, Dad