Plowshares into swords…

I tilt toward the right side of blue politics. Ellen and Reid are on their own in determining their spots on the political spectrum.

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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.

Birds in flight…

Unashamedly, I’ll continue to try to foist environmental issues on Ellen and Reid. Same as my dad did to me; I just hope the lessons sink in a little quicker than they did with their old man.

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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

Emma sneaks a peek…

Maybe there’s something to the adage ‘one picture is worth a thousand words’.

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.

One final marathon

Okay, this is the last marathon photo you’ll see. I promise.

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

Renting a Harley in Portland, OR

Someone asked recently if I sign the letters  ‘Love, Dad.’ You bet, every single time, usually in blue ink. I’ll make such a notation on the blog from here on out.

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March 25, 2013

Ellen/Reid: I suppose this is the time in life (mine, not yours) when we begin to fixate on health and all that getting older stuff. I posted a ‘Live for today’ item last week and now it’s really starting to sink in. Dave Hemminger emailed me this morning along those lines. Mort just sent me an email about ‘taking this

The rest of life may be speeding up but this make-believe turtle is going nowhere fast. He/she has been on our sidewalk for the better part of two weeks. Origin of the slow poke is unknown.

all for granted.’ More and more of the news exchanged between me and my friends will probably reflect this reality of getting along in age. Hell, I don’t care. It is what you make of it. Bring on the Heritage Softail and golf. Why not? Seems to be a running

Live for today rings pretty true…

Health and other of life’s pitfalls shove their way into my consciousness. I’m thinking the idea of living for the here and now is not such a bad mantra, as Ellen and Reid found out in last week’s letter.

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March 18, 2013

Ellen/Reid: There is distressing news this morning in that my friend and fellow hiker Tom Bohr had a significant heart attack yesterday while running. He had to be revived by a runner who by sheer good fortune was passing by, and at this point we really don’t know the extent of things other than that Tom is in the hospital. My friend and pastor John Cleghorn called last night but I didn’t see or hear the call come in which irritates me to no end. Tom would be the last person you would ever suspect to have a heart attack. He was fit and trim, seemed to eat right, and was of low-key and low stress temperament. Reid, you never met Tom, but Ellen, you saw him hike like a monster in

Cook Lake in the Bridger Wilderness, Bridger-Teton National Forest, Wyoming, U.S. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

the Bridger Wilderness a couple of years ago, and now this. Tom was a good friend of mine and he was tireless in his 20-30 hours of work each week at Caldwell Presbyterian. I’m just glad he’s alive right now. I talked briefly to John this morning and his encouragement is to keep Tom in our prayers. Tom and I were to head out to the

The green belt as a nice backdrop…

I can’t count the times these letters have touched on or skirted environmental points over the years. It’s an important touch-point for me and one of the few hot button issues that I consistently push.

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March 11, 2013

Ellen/Reid: The trees out back are beginning to bud, a sure sign that before long we will be completely shut off from view of the units 75-100 yards away. Felicia nosed around at some other single floor condos and she couldn’t find any that had the appeal of ours. The green belt is a nice backdrop, and I suspect that of all the units here, we have the best in that respect. What

The green belt is safe refuge from marauding feral cats for the birds that visit our window feeder. We have a room with a view – and it’s all green.

we don’t have is the warmest unit around. That’s what got us looking around at potentials. Heat rises, and it rises quickly up and out of the room where we want to stay warmest. The fireplace has been on almost non-stop and Felicia vegs in front of it most evenings while I stay

A roomie and going berserk over some snow…

February 18, 2013

Ellen/Reid: Wow, what a weekend.  Naturally, Emma calls the shots of when to do what and how long we take to do it, but that’s just the scheme of things.  That’s what babies do.  She is a dear little one; so quick to smile, so vocal and good natured.  And she works her gramps like a bass drum.  She squawked and I came running.  Yeah, by the time Reid and I return, she’ll be walking up a storm and changing your family dynamics that much more, Ellen.  It is truly amazing how fast they change.

The S.S. Minnow…

December 17, 2012

Ellen/Reid: Reid, I don’t know as if you’ll have a chance to receive this let alone read it before you fly out for Charlotte, but we’ll keep the string intact.

By now it is hoped you will have figured out where

We did fish and Reid did catch fish. Not as many as the better times of year, but enough.

to take Tim and Liz, respectively, for the nice dinners.  Ellen, if there’s anything left over you might buy Emma some sort of designer baby food.  Not that there is anything wrong with strained-diluted-tasteless peas and such, but maybe there is something else on the market at Whole (“Paycheck”) Foods.  I’m not up to speed these days on baby food.  Reid, you can spring for a little pricier

Fasten your seat belts…

December 10, 2012

Ellen/Reid: Fasten your seat belts, your dad is about to go ballistic.

I am disappointed, taken aback and steamed beyond belief about the stinky white gunk this morning floating in the otherwise tranquil little stream behind the house.  You should have a photo of this environmental snafu by now.  How the hell can people dump stuff like this down a storm drain?  It’s the same body of water I watch birds wash themselves in, little fish and tadpoles swim around madly to escape herons and where deer stoop for a drink.   I know it’s only a small stream that emerges from a culvert and that you could jump across without a running start but holy smokes, this is my back yard.  In another 400 yards it empties into McMullen Creek and so whatever damage it may cause here will be multiplied down there.

The white goo that seeped into the stream behind the house. There was no rain to shove it downstream or dilute it; whatever it was stayed this way for most of the day.

It just sickens me that this is how we deem to treat our small chunk of the world.  If Mother Nature has a temper, then it has to be screw ups like this that would set her off.  I sent an email along about the situation with my phone, offered to send an email with a cell phone photo of the white water (and left a voice mail, too), to the pollution control folks at Mecklenburg County but no response so far, which infuriates me.  It is supposed to rain later today, and that will accelerate the problem, literally, by flushing it out of my back yard where it will then become someone else’s problem further down the watershed.  I suppose this is why some of my donations go to the Nature Conservancy, the Sierra Club and the National Wildlife Federation.  Excuse the rant but it drives me nuts.

After you’ve just read the first paragraph, don’t drive me any more nuts by getting me anything for Christmas.  Those iPhone Facetimes with Emma, and your trip to CLT, Reid, are all the gifts I need.  Also, I’ve taken to leaving on the Christmas tree lights at night because when I come downstairs about 5:15 in the morning to make coffee and retrieve the paper, its multi-color glow seems pretty welcoming.  A gift-laden tree it’s not, but that’s okay.  By now you should have received just about everything you’re gonna get.

The newspaper delivery lady got $25 as a holiday gift.  I was up Saturday morning (ugh) about 5:30 and her truck was running in the common area.  I scribbled out the check and carried it outside just as she was getting back into her rig.  It wasn’t much, but enough for her to at least get some thanks.  She delivers the paper like clockwork, rain or shine.  I didn’t say, ‘rain or shine or snow’ because we don’t seem to be on the verge of snow.  Saw that you guys got dumped on in the Twin Cities, Ellen.  Too bad.  I played golf in shirt sleeves yesterday, although don’t read that as trying to rub it in.  Ha.

Reid, you will meet Felicia for the first time when you arrive.  She will meet us at Mac’s for some wings as soon as you step off the curb at the airport.  She won’t go with us to Oak Island, and a word to the wise: we will likely get up pretty early in the morning on Saturday to give ourselves a head start on what should be about a four hour drive.  Those cursed fisher-guides still have not returned my calls.  Hell, we ought to rent our own boat.  If by any chances one of them does call, we may get up really early so we can fish about 11:30 or noon for a half-day.  I’ll be so disappointed if we don’t get out on the water, but at least you can say you’ll have driven through Laurenberg, Monroe, Rockingham and countless other eastern NC bergs.  Trust me, you will see how the other half lives.

Okay.  Outta here.  Work to be done.  Unfortunately, no one to pass the buck to.  Happy holidays!