Political coverage and ads have taken a back seat…

October 29, 2012

Ellen/Reid: We have a little bit of Hurricane Sandy’s tail nipping at us this morning.  The winds are pretty stiff but not bad.  I can only imagine what the folks further east and north are experiencing.  It was fairly calm along the coast at Myrtle Beach over the weekend but the storm was offshore a few hundred miles.  All they had was some mild surf and a little rain.  But they really got tagged along the Outer Banks of North Carolina.  Just a couple of weeks ago residents there were complaining that insurance companies were about to raise their insurance rates by double digits because they felt the impact of storms was unjustified.  I guess they’ve found out differently the last 48 hours or so.  You live along the coast and this is what you get and you should expect to pay for the privilege.  Why people build homes, even on stilts, so close to the water’s edge is beyond me.  That just tempts fate.  I suppose it’s nice when you’re having a gin and tonic on the ocean-facing deck when the weather’s balmy.  For the first time in a long, long time the TV was on this morning as I tried to keep updated on events and the latest storm news.  They showed a map of compiled reports indicating that every state east of the Mississippi was going to feel the impact of Sandy.  One of the unintended, but welcomed, side effects is that political coverage and ads have taken a back seat.

We had a good time on the beach.  Not quite beach weather but still good enough.  We didn’t do much other than lounge around.  We donned our rain gear and walked the beach on Saturday.  Hardly anyone else out.  Just a handful of people on a beach normally crawling with them.  People pretty much hunkered down. 

Felicia on the beach with Sandy at her back. Minimal waves, some flying sand and a storm parallel to us but several hundred miles offshore.

We stayed at the home of Felicia’s sister.  It’s about 500-600 yards inland and you take a golf cart down to the beach itself.  Myrtle Beach is redneck central but it was just fine.  My guess is the greater Myrtle Beach area must easily stretch up and down at least 35-40 miles of 3-for-$10 t-shirt shops and water parks and every imaginable eatery and store and tourist come-on.  It is overrun with people in the summer and if it’s not South Carolina’s largest tourist destination then I don’t know what would be.  It’s just bizarre in its scope.  For some odd reason, people sometimes refer to South Carolina as ‘South Cackalacky’ although I’m not sure where that came from or why they use it.  You could Google it.

But it’s back to reality this morning.  Bob Hall had one of his hips replaced last week and I’ve been in touch with Betsy so see how he’s doing.  Everything sounds okay.  Mobility had been an issue for him, not that he was in a wheelchair, but you could see over the last year of so that it was just hell for him to get around.  Hopefully most of that pain will subside now that the surgery is done. 

I’ve been summoned for jury duty at the end of November and it will be an interesting process.  One of our citizen obligations it would seem.  No sense trying to duck out or shirk the responsibility.  It just goes with living here.  I don’t recall either one of you having to serve.  Is that right?

Well, not much else to share this morning.  I’m writing during an early morning lull in my preparation of a morning item sent out for employees to see.  Lucky them.  Right.

A nice October Saturday in Greenville, SC…

October 15, 2012

Ellen/Reid: I was golfing yesterday with a friend who said this nice weather “is why we live down here,” and he was right.  It was just picture-perfect on Sunday, the golf notwithstanding.  When the skies are blue and the temperatures are mild, it really is a nice place to call home.

The weather was a little colder on Saturday morning when we set off on the Harley to ‘Fall for Greenville’, a street festival in Greenville, SC that the locals said would draw a few hundred thousand over three days.  I don’t care much for South Carolina’s politics, but Greenville and the terrain to get there sure is nice.

Felicia on the main drag in downtown Greenville, SC. during the ‘Fall for Greenville’ festival. South Carolina politics are a turn off for me, but Greenville is a good place to spend a nice Saturday in October. Great ride on S.C. Rte. 11 that skirts the mountains.

Our roundabout route on S.C. Rte. 11 was likely 150 miles to get there.  We rode through some cotton fields and peach orchards and got very close to the mountains, enough to see the leaves begin to turn.  It was chilly even in our leathers but when the sun broke through it was a joy to be on the bike.  The Heritage passed the 48,000 mile mark during the trip.  The festival itself is mostly a food-oriented event and we strolled up and down, mostly people watching, then hit a wine bar for a nice glass of cab and an appetizer.  Then it was on the road again for the 100 miles back to Charlotte.  We’ll return next year, if nothing more than to ride through the countryside.  Good thing we went when we did; the weather is rumbling and raining this morning.

Really starting to get jacked up about the trip to St. Paul for Thanksgiving, and for you, Reid, to get down here for what will be a long Christmas weekend.  I still haven’t planned out what and where we will go, but a good guess is we will probably head toward the ocean somewhere.  Oak Island is the likely landing spot.  There’s a seedy hotel right on the beach next to a fishing pier which will serve us just fine.  We ought to see what’s biting during that weekend, don’t you think?  I will make arrangements.  Who cares what we catch, as long as we catch something.  It would be great to bring home to CLT and Chicago a few filets of edible fish.

The cleaners are here this morning tending to the details I don’t tend to.  They do a nice job, a couple of Hispanic women who really work hard at it.  Betsy gave me their names.  Their monthly stop here is the best $100 I spend.  Not that I don’t keep up, but it’s nice to have their finishing touches, if you know what I mean.  Ellen, I still need to hear how the episode with your cleaners came out.  Bookkeeping is apparently not their thing.  Mine, either.

Watched the hairy video the guy free fall from 128,000 feet and break the sound barrier en route.  He must have noogies the size of basketballs.  That is one hell of a feat.  To get into a balloon let alone jump out of one at a height where you see the curvature of earth is absolutely amazing.  That wouldn’t be for me.

All the pork, sausage, steaks and other dietary stuff that should go off our diet was bagged up this past Sunday and toted over to Caldwell to go into the freezer for the Sunday breakfasts the church prepares for 50 or so homeless women who live in one of the church’s buildings.  It was a win-win for both sides.  It felt good to follow through on the threat to make a culinary change.

I find all the political news depressing.  Not much civility anymore in any of the races.  A woman at Caldwell, Jennifer Roberts, is running for Congress and I fear she’s going to get creamed.  She is a good person, honest and straightforward with the best interests of the people at heart.  The Observer endorsed her, but her opponent is kind of a Tea Party guy whose only mantra is business, anti-environment, etc.  I worry about guys like that who don’t care a hoot about the 47% or for the environment.  If we elect him, we will get what we deserve which won’t be much.

On with life…

A dichotomy was at work within the family in the last week.  It turns out both are celebrations of differing times of life.

My uncle, Henry Andersen, a renown Presbyterian minister and one of those uncles that you could really get to like, passed away on Labor Day.  This coming weekend his children and other relatives, admirers and past congregants gather in Portland, Oregon to celebrate Hank and all that he meant to whole generations of people.

Then there’s Emma.  The celebration around this little wonder started in May and shows no signs of stopping yet.

Emma is ready and rarin’ to go the Minnesota State Fair with mom and dad.

She giggles at peek-a-boo, tries ever so hard to talk, and is a jolt of household energy (even if she insists on playtime during Ellen’s supposed off-hours between midnight and 5 a.m.).

One dedicated, fruitful life of service draws to a close while another enters the fifth month of her new adventure.  Getting on with life, it seems.

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Ellen and Reid probably opened envelopes with this letter over the weekend:

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September 4, 2012

Ellen/Reid: It’s tough deal with my uncle Henry but in other ways a good thing in that whatever suffering he experienced was over.  He was just a plain and simple good guy.  Lived his life as he preached it.  You would suppose that might make things easier for his family but it never is.  He was always fair and decent and we always seemed to get along pretty well.  It is amazing how fast things can turn; healthy and vibrant one moment, then the precipitous fall.  But Tom said things were peaceful at the end.  Henry had been under hospice care for only four days, and in some ways that is a blessing.  Even in his state, Henry was insistent on coming down to see both your grandparents in their failing moments.  Your uncle and I will go to Portland.  I will head out Thursday the 13^th.  Not sure when Ralph will make it.  Probably about that time, too.  Mary was an absolute rock through all of this.  She handled it very gracefully and was a pillar of strength.  I’m glad you both had a chance to experience Henry in the last couple of years.

The Democratic convention is in town.  As much as I’d like to get downtown (or Uptown as the locals call it) for some of the action I will more than likely stay at home and watch on TV and read the paper.  That’s a little too much activity for this guy not to mention all the security.  We walked the golf course yesterday and saw the big military grade helicopters doing their thing very close to the course.  Some sort of dress rehearsal.  I like that the convention is here; good for the city and state although the GOP’s self-described “attack” troops are in town, too.  It’s a good thing they don’t call them “Truth Squads” since that would be stretching it a bit.

Reid, I’d go with your mom’s Calphalon.  That is pretty good cookware and will more than get you and Liz by in your squeezed little space.  You have to be able to cook and every meal in will save you money and increase your together time by that much more.  Food prep is a fairly social time and there’s nothing wrong with that.  We rode to breakfast yesterday morning to a little dive across the border in South Carolina, and there was a table of adults and kids a few feet away.  Three of the adults and two of the kids were on their mobile devices.  It’s whack if you ask me.  The art of conversation takes a nose dive when you see that happening – but Felicia and I both check our ‘smart’ phones when we’re out.

I’m going in tonight to an after-hours orthopedic place to get my right elbow checked out.  It just hasn’t been right since it got smacked in Wyoming and continues to be puffy and very sore.  They may have to drain it.  It’s hard to place my elbow on a table, it is that sore.  I don’t know what the hell happened.  I didn’t realize backpacking was such a contact sport.  We went to a post-Bridger reunion the other night with Tom and Richard and it was great seeing all the photos and reliving the perilous moments (i.e. eating overcooked or distinctly non-flavorful food, blisters and other assorted ow-ies, etc.).

Ellen, I love how Emma is displaying her personality.  She is going to be a handful.  She is working so hard to talk.  Once she finds her vocabulary, her babbling will be non-stop so watch out.  Nothing wrong with that, however.  I’ll have to change my screensaver with one of the new updated shots of her smiling and trying to talk.  Wish I could see the little charmer more often.

Okay, enough already.  Keep the text messages coming, and the photos, too.  Reid, send me some solid dates for Christmas, and I will get your ticket.  Just don’t’ expect it to be First Class.

I used to love to run…

I haven’t thought about running for a long, long time.  My cousin Tom jogged my memory about it in a comment last week.  Literally, I rarely ever talked about running to Ellen and Reid, and certainly never in a letter.  But Reid broke a little bit of ice last week when he called to say he hit the bricks for an 8K (about 5 miles) in Chicago.

There was a time when I used to love to run; now I can hardly imagine lacing up the shoes again.  Where I once wondered how to run a race, now I wonder why I did it at all.  This month marks the 30th anniversary of my last competitive marathon (2:25).  The next day I went cold-turkey and haven’t run, nor missed it,  since.  Bad ankles – even to this day – serve as a reminder of too many miles too fast.  The trophies – Grandma’s, White Rock, Oktoberfest, Drake, Omaha, Lincoln, etc.  – and such went into a box and stayed there until they made a final trip to the dumpster when I moved to Charlotte.

And here’s how last week’s letter went down:

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March 26, 2012

Ellen/Reid: Reid, it’s pretty impressive to be able to run an 8K as fast as you clipped it off yesterday, especially with very little training.  You ought to keep at it.  You ought to Google a running coach – now deceased – named Arthur Lydiard.  He coached a lot of good New Zealand runners back in the day.  His shtick was that runners ought to concentrate on long, slow aerobic distance running rather than anything fast and anaerobic.  I wish I would have paid attention to that.  It might have saved my ankles, but his larger point was you only have so much energy in terms of energy stores and when that is used up, it’s gone.  I would think you would be good at it.  It’s in your genes.  Your cousins were pretty good, your uncle pushed 9:45 in the two mile and I was 2:24 in the marathon and 1:02 in the 20K.  I just wouldn’t push it to the max.  That’s a recipe for disaster down the road.

I’ll follow your advice, Ellen, and buy a ticket now for around May 1 to head north to see your new daughter.  You make a good point that for a change fee the ticket can always be amended.  Nothing like being gouged by the airlines.  The CEO of US Airways said last week the fee is here to stay.  We get Southwest Airlines down here relatively soon, and that should turn the screws on the other airlines somewhat.  My preference would be to stay at a local hotel.  That would suit you all better.  I’ll find something in downtown St. Paul.  I’ll stick around for a couple of days and leave before Ben Franklin’s truism, “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days,” comes to pass.  There’s probably a lot to be said for that.  I’m glad you will take me up on the cleaning service for a few months.  That should make your life somewhat easier.  Just let me know who you have picked so I can chat with them about payment options.

Speaking of which, the cleaning service came in today and for the life of me I have to wonder why they haven’t been here all along.  It is just better in all respects; neatness, aromatically, etc.  They are pros and I am a non-pro.  It’s worth the money.

It was kind of a blah weekend in these parts.  With Felicia’s son’s situation, there wasn’t a lot of levity so we just sort of hunkered down for the duration.  Felicia is very strong.  I’ll keep you posted.  We did go out for a bite Friday night but that sort of dissolved and we made burgers Saturday night and watched the basketball tournament.  The first week of the tourney is more fun than the latter stages.  Without being able to pinpoint why, I’m sort of a Carolina fan although they got rolled last night by KU.  That they stayed in the game longer than they had any right to is testament to their personnel.  They had a couple of key folks out and they paid the expected price.

Saw my first copperhead of the season last week down at a course in South Carolina.  Trust me, when you’re poking around in the weeds for golf balls, the visage of a snake gets your attention real quick like.  It proves that white men can jump.  It wasn’t a monster, a couple of feet long, but length is of no issue once the venom starts to work.  At least I’m rustling around with a club rather than my feet.  Still, all it takes is one lightning strike and you’re done for the day if not far longer.  The dogwoods and azaleas are out right now, and it made for a nice drive to the course which was in the boonies.  My guess is the spring blooms will mostly be gone once the Masters rolls around.  The nesting box we put up last year is now the residence of the Eastern Blue Birds.  They apparently have won the scrap with Chickadees over nesting rights.

Well, you two keep your heads up.  Reid, let’s kibitz about when the two of us will get up to see your niece.  I’ll wager that the day she says “Hello, world” will be Sunday, April 29.  Any takers?

Just stuff going on…

We’re on February’s doorstep and it’s going to be a pretty big month.  No real fireworks (knock on wood), just stuff going on.

Reid shoves off for India (he says he’s ready except he has yet to apply for his Visa. Dad and sister to son/brother: ‘kid, you better hurry’), my twin and me become eligible for Social Security (no checks yet, thanks), we head to Santa Fe, Dave comes down from Des Moines to golf at Pinehurst, and the group I’ll guide for another July backpacking trip into the Bridger Wilderness will get together to make plans and no doubt strategize their ‘anti-bear’ measures.   That’s plenty enough on the docket.  (If anyone wants to climb aboard that trek train to Wyoming, let me know.  The more the merrier.)

More than a couple of folks – including Ellen – inquired about last week’s snit.   It’s just that bad news for my friends put a face on largely impersonal economic numbers.  The situation was alluded to, but in no great detail.  The snit has been snuffed, overwhelmed by just stuff going on.

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January 23, 2012

Ellen/Reid: Summer has its dog days and winter has what can only be described as its blahs.  That’s what we are in right now.  Overcast, damp, wet.  Awful.  It didn’t keep me from playing golf this weekend.  We got rained on hard at a course just over the border in South Carolina so we could only finish 9 holes and walked off like drowned rats, and yesterday was cold but still comfortable enough to walk a local muny.  There was one light moment when a foursome in the fairway signaled me to tee off, and I promptly snap-hooked my drive into the middle of them.  They scattered like so many bowling pins.  They fled for their lives.

Ellen, thanks for tipping me off to Tim’s 29^th.  29.  Yowser.  I was completely daft on it but now it’s archived in my calendar.  It just does not seem possible.  And you’re next.  You’re gaining on it too, Reid.  So no sniveling on your part.  My 62^nd is fast on the horizon.  No gifts, please, other than perhaps some music CDs.  Those are a real hit.  How many times have you heard that?

You guys had/have some nice trips.  We’re not ones to be left out.  We’re going to head to Santa Fe in February for a long weekend.  Felicia has never been to the high desert, and while it could be winterish out there it will still be good to get completely away.  Why we didn’t head toward a warmer clime is beyond me.  I just wasn’t thinking right.  We’ll drive into the desert west of Albuquerque and then up toward Taos.  I’m half tempted to take my fly rod for the streams north of town but my guess is the gear will stay here.  I wouldn’t know what to dunk in the water anyway (Tim, thoughts?) but that’s for another time.  Speaking of travels, Reid, make sure your mom and I have your complete India itinerary and maybe a contact phone/email so we can keep in touch if need be.  That is so exciting that Liz will join you for a portion of it.  Ellen, your photos of Cabo were incredible.  That looked so relaxing, and I noticed the temps were close to 0ºF while you were away.  All the better.  You didn’t want it to be 70ºF at home while you were away.

Steve Allen called this morning to say he put his 90 year old mother in hospice in Missouri over the weekend.  It won’t be long now, he says.  She had much of the same situation that affected your grandmother, so it is a blessing in many ways.  She has been slipping steadily for a couple of years – we know that song, don’t we? – and he will call when things are done.  His daughter Margaret spun her SUV on I-80 on an icy patch on the way to Des Moines and slammed into a guard rail.  $5,000 in damage but she was lucky a semi wasn’t on her tail.  No other cars were involved and she came out unhurt other than being rattled.

Some distressing news continues to pour out at work.  A couple of friends are on their way out, and that does not sit well with me.  They were top shelf workers and good people.  It’s just disheartening to see this happen to people that put their hearts and best efforts into it.   Their attitudes are good and they have oars in the waters and already they have feelers if not outright interviews set up.  That’s more than a lot of displaced workers can say.  Been there, done that.

I’m gonna skedaddle and get back to it so I won’t be among those numbers.  Reid, it’s too bad I couldn’t make it up there before you ditch the states for the Far East (is India the Far East) but there’s always March-April, and you know where we’ll be when the Springtime Baby arrives.

Are they really in their mid to upper 20s?…

Ellen calls Henry and Tim "my boys." A couple of good guys.

I am rarely on top of my game in anything; golf, weight loss, disciplined diet, stock picks, reading, etc.  To that abbreviated list you can add the all-too-late realization that the kids have quickly passed me by.

Reid to India.  Ellen with her own exciting news.  Lives in Chicago and St. Paul (MN).  A marriage, a girl friend, careers, a dog plus whatever else marks their ascendency into adulthood.  Are they really in their mid to upper 20s?

Generations of parents before us warned that parenting never stops.  We’re just the latest to acknowledge as much.  Closer to the truth might be that their mother and I are now relegated to more of advisory roles than simply being rule-the-roost parents.  They ask, we advise.  We are more peers than parents/children.  Perhaps we should be satisfied with where they are and how they got there and leave it at that.  It does give me pause about the habitual persistence in my weekly writing.  Do they really need to read stuff they already may know about given all they’ve got going on?

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November 1, 2011

Ellen/Reid: Monday just totally got away from me; sat down at the work PC about 6:30 a.m. and called it a day about 5:45 (with a couple of breaks tossed in).  So this is created Tuesday morning after my first round of work duties is finished.

Again, no trick or treaters at the door last night.  That is the fifth straight year where not a single piece of candy was dispersed.  I suppose it would help if I turned on the porch light.  Then again, there are no kids in my neighborhood and the unit is tucked deep in the back of the development.  Besides, I’d eat most of the candy before the kids would ever get here.  I’d give them cheap suckers that no one wants.  Betsy sent me a photo of their bear dressed as Frankenstein, and she said they had a horde of kids.  If she had a $1 for every photo of kids posing with the bear, she’d be rich.  Ellen, it sounded great to hear your little neighbors show you their costumes.  In your neighborhood, you’d be flooded with kiddos, too.

Reid, I think you should head to India.  Ellen said as much last night, too.  You know, there will be times in life when you won’t be able to do such travel, and might as well get it done while you’re still young, footloose and fancy free and can afford it.  $2,000 seems like a pretty reasonable deal.  Ever since “Slumdog Millionaire” came out, that has been one of the spots that would have some appeal.  It just looks different, and interesting.  The bank subs out (“off-shoring” it’s called) a lot of work over there, and they seem very nice, smart, and accommodating.  So yes, pack your bags and get over there.  The dress code would be pretty laid back, and make sure you take clothes that you can rinse, dry and wear.  Make sure you give yourself enough time to get your passport and shots updated.  That sounds like an inordinate amount of fun.

Ellen, your little windfall should help in your new circumstances.  That would pay for a second bath and some other remodeling.  All you’d do is add to the value of your house beyond what you already added with the spiffy new kitchen.  So yes, start those upgrades.  Unfortunately, it won’t happen before my arrival for T-Day but that’s okay.  There’s always the next time, say, in May of 2012.  I think it’s really what your grandparents intended for you (and you, too, Reid) and that is to do some remodeling and start some sort of nest egg or college fund.  It’s not a gigantic cushion, but it is a good use of the assets and comes at precisely the right time for you.  That’s cool.  Hard to believe it’s already been a shade over one month.  That’ll take some getting used to but memories would seem to be the best part.  Your uncle has done a nice job of keeping things in place and on track.

More moving and shaking at work.  Folks shifted from one division to another.  The more things change, the more they stay the same.  I don’t know, it’s just the corporate world in action.  It keeps everyone on their toes, or more precisely, their tippy tip toes.  This debit card thing weighs on us, although it’s not as dire as a lot of folks would have it.  I wouldn’t know what to do without bill pay and other bells and whistles like that.  I don’t mean to come off sounding like a shill but there are plenty of good things we do.  It’ll cost us some customers although what the final number is is anyone’s guess.

Next week, Bob Furstenau, Dave Dahlquist and Dave Hemminger are here.  We head over toward Pinehurst on the 10^th.  I can’t wait.  Dave H. drove through Charlotte last week as he and Jane took Will and Ellen on a tour of colleges in North and South Carolina and Tennessee.  Furman and Elon were on the list.  They were moving so fast they couldn’t stop by, which is fine.  I’m glad your college tour days have come and gone.  Remember 114F at KU, Ellen?

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.

Fitting into the larger picture…

There are a few factors behind today’s post.  Three or four years ago, those would have been non-factors and most probably a surprise to those who know me.  In the mix is a friend turned minister, plentiful contemplation time when one lives alone, stumbling into a funky little church, and the larger wonderment of what the larger picture might be for me, or rather, where I might fit into the larger picture.  The pieces aren’t all in place by any stretch of the imagination, but I suppose better to feel the stirrings now than not at all.  Maybe it’s a mortality thing.

Most days this non-theologian waffles on the big issues.  Far be it for me to get all preachy; my glass house has very thin panes.  I relate all this to Ellen and Reid only because they have seen everything else that has gone through my mind so this might as well be in bounds, too.

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March 14, 2011

Ellen/Reid: So Reid, how does it feel to be a short timer?  Too bad there’s not a short break built in between work stints, but worse things could happen.  The downside is your NCAA picks in the office pool probably will come to naught.

Holy smokes, mankind managed to nearly kill off one ocean (south of New Orleans) and now it looks like we’ll trump that in far worse ways in Japan.  If the catastrophic loss of life isn’t painful enough, we’ll insure that even more will be in peril for a much longer period of time.  I don’t know.  It’s all mind boggling.  I turned away from a lot of the pictures.

Delivered my 30-somethingth church newsletter yesterday.  It’s been nearly three years of cranking out 12 pages once per month for my little church.  It’s somewhere between 25-35 hours per month.  But the response is pretty good and my banker-friend turned minister-friend, John Cleghorn, is happy with it so I suppose that’s what counts.  You can see the past issues at Caldwellpresby.org.  Click on “News”.  It’s really become my one creative outlet (beyond what I send you guys).  John gives me total editorial latitude and I can do it in near complete anonymity.  I get a charge out of putting all the pieces together, although prodding/begging parishioners for news tidbits is draining blood from a turnip.  It’s not a highly politicized process by any means and it’s relatively easy to herd the cats.  I always tote my camera with me and am finding that I head to Caldwell a couple of times a week to cover various events.  If you can figure out a way to make church potlucks look appetizing in print, tell me now.

In the larger sense, it’s a rite of atonement for me.  People keep asking me why I persist with this and I just tell them it’s part of my penance.  And I think that’s true for the most part.  It’s my way of giving back and hopefully it will grease the skids a little bit somewhere down the line, if you catch my drift.  It’s really my one contribution to the church because I’m not good for much else.  John is one hell of a preacher, and when he gazes out at his flock, and his eyes settle over my little sphere, it’s almost like he knows I have numerous weak areas that are ideally suited for his railings.  Actually, he never rails.  He’s just incredibly well considered.  I keep telling him I’m the “heathen-in-chief” and to stop looking at me during his sermons.  The truth is, some Sundays he sees me only in spurts.  When I was playing a lot of golf – and will no doubt do again once the healing process takes its course – I’d duck out during lulls in the service to make my tee time; my escape was abetted mostly during the 10 minute window early on when the parishioners get up during the service to pass the peace.  John never mentions my absence but he’s sure to know about it.  At least he gets me for a little while.  Better than nothing.

If this was any other church other than Caldwell, I probably would not be a regular.  I’m even dragging Felicia along with me.  It’s just a funky, mixed race, enthusiastic, non-image conscious congregation.  No suits.  No finery.  No posturing.  You can get on with the business at hand to the degree you want to.  Most of my religious thinking occurs during the service (when I’m not scribbling notes about copy/story ideas for the next newsletter), but one way to look at it is the rest of the heathenistic week gives me something to contemplate in my back pew.

I was beyond lazy this past weekend.  I had a bit of a setback last week and just needed to call of the dogs (and stay off my dogs).  So things felt a lot better this morning, and I am in the office, chipper and ready to go.  If you believe that, I’ve got some swamp land in South Carolina to sell you.  But I’m not sure you’d want to live there.

The Good Book…

This incredible book might be titled Golf Trip 2010 but it should really be called Jane's Book.

Just when there seems nothing that can pull me out of a winter funk – my golf swing is laughable, the Harley won’t start and Felicia has severely limited my carb intake - comes a package from my friend Jane in Des Moines.

Inside was a coffee table-quality hardcover book about last September’s guy’s golf trip to Coeur d’Alene.  Full color photos with narrations and commentary.  Jane let the pictures do the talking but the book spoke loudly about her.  Every bone in her body is creative.  This is indeed The Good Book from a golfer’s point of view.  It’s on the coffee table now, and that’s where it will stay.

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February 2, 2011

Jane: I haven’t bothered to check this morning to see if Phil-the-divined-rodent has seen his shadow or not but I don’t much give a damn: I’m calling for an immediate halt to winter across all time zones and borders.  You saw it here first.  That may not be much salve to you up in Des Moines but hopefully it will work here first.  FYI…our daffodils are already bucking the wintery trend by poking their heads up.  Why a rodent in Pennsylvania is allowed to forecast weather is beyond me.  That should be left to the pros.

I just am at a loss for words about your book.  Honestly, it just threw me for a loop.  How in the world do you summon such creativity on demand all the time?  First it was the invitation and the subsequent flood of well done details for Coeur d’Alene, than this arrives in the mail.  Furstenau and I have texted back and forth about it and for him to use the word “awe” is something in itself.  It is now resting on an honored spot on my coffee table next to the channel changer and assorted paperwork that should be stowed somewhere else.  This sort of work is your calling, and if you can catch a breath of air from riding herd over your three – I’m including Dave in that mix – then such books are where you should spend your time.  By the way, whatever became of the recipe book you were doing a few years back?  It should deserve this kind of publishing.  I offered to send it to Ellen for a quick look but she wants to see it next time she comes to Charlotte.  I think I just found the creative director for my book, whenever the time comes for it.

I’ve reiterated to your Dave that the welcome mat is out down here.  Not to sound like a shill for the local chambers of commerce, but I will throw the North and South Carolina hats into the ring to get everyone to pay a visit down here for golf and socializing…and that would include the spouses, too.  Our weather will beat your weather on all counts.   Never in a million years, however, would my feeble attempts at organization in any way, shape or form match yours, so I will exercise my right to subcontract a portion of that out to you.  I would foresee Charleston or Savannah in the group’s future, given that the other boys tend to like things that float.  My days with boats are long gone.  Really, a visit by everyone would be a great thing.  You have my permission to run that up the flagpole of everyone in Des Moines.  I’ll send some sort of note in that regard to the others in the DDD&B fraternity.

Well, I’m again grateful to be on the receiving end of your creativity.  You have gone above and beyond or however to deign to describe it.  I miss all of you very much, but don’t let me continue to whine about the invitation to all of you to visit.  Consider the door open.

Broken vows to lose weight and grow hair…

I’m not much for New Year’s resolutions.  Already, I’ve already broken vows to lose weight and grow hair that were iffy to begin with.  The jury is still out on the annual pledge to read more books.

But why wait for the new year?  My preference is to sprinkle personal efforts to improve throughout the year.  Among those: once I get in touch, try hard to stay in touch.  A notable example is a regular letter to folks you’ve heard of before: my friends Jane and Dave.

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January 4, 2011

Jane/Dave: As is the custom of the postal delivery services down here, your sparkly holiday card just arrived.  But it still merited a place on the mantel next to the other U.S. mail items that remain unopened such as bills, tax notices and numerous offers of free dinners at nice restaurants if I want to sit through an investment spiel.  I don’t know where they get their mailing lists but it can’t be predicated on the balance in one’s checking or savings accounts.

Coeur d’Alene is still in my rearview mirror although I look at the pictures and scorecard (also on the mantel) with some regularity.  It was the high point of the year.  At some point it is worth a return trip since there were many holes we did not conquer, such as holes 1- 18.  But still it was an incredible time and an incredible place.

I am at the office computer this morning.  As you may have heard, I am back among the working and glad of it.  I’m one more cog in the wheel that answers the many, many letters of complaint that come into the mortgage division every day.  I don’t write the letters but orchestrate some of the responses.  Perhaps it’s not my ideal job but it sure beats the alternative.  As is also the custom of the bank, the actual call to arms for me came at the 11^th if not the 12^th hour.  I was hopeful of such a call but was resigned to know that if the phone did not ring then something else would’ve surfaced.  I’d scraped together some freelance work and that might have sufficed.  If nothing had panned out then yes, I would’ve taken the investment houses up on their offers of a free meal.  That would have forced them to look at their mailing lists much more closely.  But the turn of events is what makes the possibility of a return to Idaho that much more appealing.

In that vein, the door is still open for anyone who wants to visit the Carolinas and needs a home base from which to do so.  I’ve watched your weather and I know it is somewhat better down in these parts.  By my reckoning, the cold here will last another six to seven weeks or so and then it will warm up consistently into the mid-60s and above as the days get longer.  As it is, it will be 55f today but it will be the coldest 55f you’ve ever felt.  Must be the damp air.  I bundle up most mornings as if I still lived in the Midwest.  Actually, there is good golf locally and within hailing distance at Pinehurst, Myrtle Beach and other spots in South Carolina.  The only downer is the dormant Bermuda which is like playing on thin mud.  But at least we don’t have to clear the snow away before we strike the golf ball.

My Ellen was discussing baby names over the Thanksgiving holiday so they seem to have broken the ice on the topic.  Most of her cronies have joined the mommy brigade and it may be that she doesn’t want to be left out.  But there’s plenty of time for her to deal with that and I’m not ready yet to be a grandpa but it will be what it will be.  Jane, you’ll have to mentor me on appropriate gifts from the grandchild-gift challenged.  I could be like Earl Woods and get him/her/them (there is the potential for twins) some clubs but Ellen might not like that all that much.  Hey, it’s never too early to learn.

Thanks again for the nice card and given my propensity for keeping most items of paper hanging around, it will grace the mantel for some time to come.  When you make plans to visit this burg, let me know.