Guilty as charged…

Ellen and Henry try to escape the 102F heat in St. Paul by snoozing on the basement floor

I am a habitual offender when it comes to one of my friend Betsy’s cardinal rules: send thank you notes.  Guilty as charged.

In the spirit of turning over a new leaf, I finally got around to writing my hosts, Stacey and Bruce, who allowed me to stay in their home during my May trip to Des Moines.  As lateness goes, maybe it was still in the 30 day grace period (if such a thing exists) for such niceties.  But if nothing else, it gives me latitude to add Stacey and Bruce to the ever-expanding circle of folks I can write to.

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June 1, 2011

Stacey and Bruce: I’ve let a month slip by without sending you guys a proper thank you for allowing me to crash at your home and come and go as I pleased for more nights than should be allowed.   But it sure beat the alternative which would have been some motel on the outskirts of town.  It was a real treat to stay there.

It is remarkable to see how Jack has grown, and I can only imagine how Max and Alex have matured.  Are they getting older or is it just me?  One in China, the other in Philadelphia?  It just doesn’t seem possible.   The next thing you know they’ll be married and you’ll be grandparents, although let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.  One way to look at it is you have enough room to accommodate a visiting brood.

It was great being back in DSM for even a long weekend.  I was telling Jane Hemminger that I miss the old sod and the people there and there’s a lot of truth in that.  When you look at all the factors, Des Moines isn’t faring too badly vis a vis some of the cities down this way.  Real estate is holding its own, the schools are still good, unemployment is in single digits, commute times are manageable.  None of which you can say about North Carolina, let alone South Carolina.  It adds up to a pretty nice picture.  I was really impressed with how things have pulled together in the downtown.  Charlotte should send a contingent up North to see how it’s done.  When I moved here the city was living the high life in all respects, but when things crashed we went down very hard face first.

I sense that Ellen is on a mommy-track.  All of her friends have little ones and I get the suspicion – she’s never mentioned anything to me so my view may be unfounded – that she’ll join them before long.  She seems to be nesting a bit in that they have gutted the kitchen in their older home in St. Paul for a total makeover.  The tear-out is complete but the work has yet to begin and she is still of the Pollyannaish view that it will be completed by the end of June.  Dream on, kid.  I’m hopeful of getting up there before long to view the work-in-progress although I perceive that they just want me to walk their dog and do their yard work for them.  That would be okay.

Reid is another matter all together.  He has gone incommunicado for another long stretch.  When he surfaces will be anyone’s guess.  I think he’s just getting on with things which I suppose is what boys will do.  We’re on a need to know basis and apparently we don’t need to know.  He likes his new agency and his neighborhood, but that was as of three weeks ago so who knows if the landscape has changed.

Well, gotta run.  But thanks again for letting me intrude for nights on end.  It was great to see both of you, and if by chance you ever get down to the Carolinas, you have a place to crash, too, although my guest room is Spartan by your standards.  See you soon.

Kicking the snow aside…

Dad's new marker is in place. I would've spent far more than the $40 cab ride to honor him.

How can it possibly be six months since June 28, 2010?  As you’ve read time and again, the focus is on the now, not what was then.  But with some frequency I remember what once was and bring that to the attention of Ellen and Reid.

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January 3, 2011

Ellen/Reid: Happy New Year to you both, and let’s hope for good days ahead in ’11.

I’m back in the shop this morning and glad to be working again.  It’s hard to believe that for all or part of six years I’ve been down in North Carolina.  No one has accused me of developing an accent yet.  Instead, when they hear me they say ‘you’re not from around here, are you?’

There weren’t any fanciful resolutions developed on this end.  Forget about weight loss and all the other usual complaints.  Won’t happen.  If there is one thing, it’s to stop pointing the finger at other people’s faults and be a little more introspective and self critical: how I can make things better on my end rather than expecting others to improve?  That’s not so much a resolution as the end result of the past half-year or so.  This sort of personal momentum has been building for a while now.  They say you can’t teach old dogs (me) new tricks but the landslide is already moving in that direction so we’ll see if any of that mud sticks to the wall.  If I can make improvements in small increments, that’s good enough for me.

Reid, I’m glad you’re looking at graduate school.  A colleague here just this morning instant-messaged me that she will continue her efforts to get a business degree on top of her B.A. in communications.  Spreads the risk if or when the job market gets a little dicey.  I like the way she thinks on that.  As we were talking yesterday, it’s fine to pursue the New School but I would do your own ‘spread the risk’ planning by applying to other schools in some concentric circle outside NYC.  I’d look as far up the coast as Connecticut and down toward Philadelphia.  You can always take the train or bus into Manhattan, and you’ll lower your costs and avoid putting all your eggs in the New School basket in the event you don’t get in.  I understand, too, your reluctance to attend a school that might have tentacles in the ad agency world, but if you do end up in New York, that is agency central.  It is where the ad world revolves, or at least it did revolve there.   The reality, unfortunately, is that schools are hard pressed for dollars these days, and they’ll gladly accept agency money in exchange for a seat or naming rights for some class or department.  That doesn’t make it a bad thing by any means, so don’t assume that just because a school has accepted dough from an agency that it means they have capitulated to agency pressures.  But you can’t hurt yourself by getting an advanced degree, especially if you want to become a researcher or teacher which, in reading from the tea leaves, is what I assume you want to be.  Since I’m wrong on the weather, stocks and the outcomes of pro sports, I might be wrong there, too.

I forgot to tell you guys that during my layover in Omaha, I took a taxi over to your grandfather’s grave.  Like an idiot I didn’t think to do this until about an hour before the shuttle to Grand Island was supposed to load, and the taxi driver literally broke all known speed records and ran every light to get me to the cemetery.  But once there I erred on where the grave actually was.   In my taxi-meter/shuttle-to-GI induced panic to find him, I frantically kicked a recent crusted snow off markers in the area where I thought he was buried.  It was so frustrating to think that I would not find his plot, but at the last moment I looked over to the south twenty yards or so, and there I found him.  His marker was, miraculously, not covered by snow or slush.  The new marker is very simple.  I said a few words and in the space of a couple of minutes, was back in the cab headed back to the airport.  That was a highlight of the trip.  One more item removed from my short term bucket list.

Well, in the vein of introspection and improving myself rather than asking others to improve themselves to fit my whim, I’ll sign off for this week.  But I reserve the right to pester you guys this weekend.  Did I tell you it was in the mid-60s here yesterday?