The habit-practice-compulsion

Last week’s letter (we are the well into the 11th year of a weekly note to Ellen) never made it to a door side mailbox before it was read.  Reid opened his within minutes of the email attachment arriving at his London office, and Ellen read the post days before her letter arrived by postal delivery in St. Paul.

The habit-practice-compulsion (it is whatever you wish to call it) just keeps rolling along.  It has its own energy and sense of momentum.

But it consists of the energy of one.   Momentum-less is the original dream: prod non-letter writers (parents in particular) to adopt regular letters as a legitimate low-tech means to simply stay in touch with their kids.  The sense here is almost no progress has been made to move even a small number of people from Point A to Point L (letters).  That failure is a super-duper-sized elephant in the room.  Case in point: subscribership remains low.  I’m not reaching parents at the logical separation point when kids flee for college and the nest is suddenly empty.  That’s when writing a letter might seem to be a viable thing.  The dream, it turns out, is nothing more than a pipe dream.

Other factors may be at work.  My blog itself could be suspect or ill-created/managed/promoted or worse yet, just flat-out uninteresting.  Likely on those counts and others.  Maybe the forest is too close and I can’t see through all those infernal trees.  But I wouldn’t label this as a wholesale rant or whine.  Instead, it’s recognition that the formula isn’t working.  One thing for sure, I’ll keep trying.  Someday the light will come on and I’ll spring forward with an approach that is more viable.

So the blog remains essentially a running, public diary of correspondence between me and my two.  Maybe that is enough.

This morning’s letter to Ellen and Reid is freshly minted and won’t be posted until next week.  The same-week release of last week’s letter on the excursion to the Bridger Wilderness in Wyoming used up whatever free pass I had on that score.

The 24 hour all Emma news channel

The 24 hour all-Emma news channel is still going full bore.  The channel is dependent on fresh content from our typical insider sources – Ellen and papa Tim sending iPad photos and updates – but the news feed has slowed in the last few days.

This past weekend Reid made an appearance in St. Paul, in part to see his new niece.  As the photo shows, Reid has apparently not found his comfort zone when it comes to holding babies.  He’ll need to master that if he’s ever to be a politician.  Hopefully, his career won’t come to that.

Our weekend was spent camping and trout fishing along the North Mill River near Asheville.  An unwitting and apparently food starved 2.5 lb. brown trout somehow found my poorly cast caddis.  More on that next week.

Reid experiences two firsts in St. Paul: an up-close experience with his niece, Emma, and no doubt receiving off-camera assistance with the fine points of holding a baby. Reid’s dad didn’t fare much better when he first held the little wonder.

But for now all things Emma remains the dominant news in the weekly letters.  It’s amazing, at least to me, to think how the letters have morphed from the the original purpose 11+ years ago (a moment’s worth of light reading when the kids were in college) to today’s more family oriented tinge.  Not to worry, the pendulum will swing to other issues.  But not right now.

———

May 21, 2012

Ellen/Reid: The calendar shows a 3 day weekend coming up, but who’s noticing?  There seems to be a long stretch between the faux-holidays like President’s Day and now, but it will be good to have a Monday off.  The plan down here is to head to the western side of North Carolina and maybe camp or do a bit of fishing.  The last time we were up there, Felicia saw a fat, shirtless Bubba-type nutcase spying on us from the bank as we were fly fishing.  He was trying to stay low in the underbrush, but we skedaddled out of there in a hurry.  We won’t go to the same spot but there are yahoos like that traipsing through the woods.  We’ll take the car rather than the bike.

Emma is just more adorable by the day.  That iPad is going to come into some good use, Ellen.  The video was just incredible.  She does seem to be filling out her newborn outfits and it’s good to hear that you are getting around better.  It will just take some time.  We still plan to get up that way sometime in July once all the hubbub has gone away a bit.  We will be good visitors and come in Friday and leave on Sunday.  I’m excited to get back up there to see how the little wonder has grown.  I laughed out loud when Tim sent a picture early, early, early Saturday morning of wide-eyed Emma wishing us a good morning.  Momma obviously was still in the sack.  Tim’s a good dad.  I’ve heard a lot of ‘congratulations, grandpa’ from folks in Des Moines; the Fisher-Freeds, Kenyons, Willits, Allens, et all.  The news seems to have spread quickly.

As you may have heard, North Carolina, in the infinite wisdom of our elective, scared-stiff populace, voted in an amendment to our constitution that bars same-sex couples from tying the knot and denies them couple’s benefits.  It’s unfortunate that a state like this, which will defend gun owner and polluter rights to the teeth, even bothers to vote on such a minor issues because it only demonstrates our widespread, pervasive stupidity.  For all its natural beauty, this is a state that time forgot.  I mean, honestly, what does homosexuality have to do with jobs or anti-terrorism or health care or an educated populace?  If I won the lottery, which no doubt I won’t, I would announce an immediate plan to ship my winnings out of state because the state doesn’t deserve to benefit from whatever money I would spend here.  My guess is that the prejudicial vote will hinder economic growth a little, too.  What employer would want to come here only for nice weather and the proximity of the ocean or mountains?  One step forward, three-four steps back.  Maybe more.

Published the 42^nd edition of my church newsletter out over the weekend.  It’s online at caldwellpresby.org.  The production schedule was hampered this issue by a severe case of writers block.  I mean really severe.  If it weren’t for photos that take up lots of space, you could put the entire written contents on one 8 ½ x 11 sheet of paper.  It’s pretty much an under-the-radar effort and literally it comes together at the 11^th hour.

Got my ticket for the Bridger last Thursday.  The connections will be uber-tight and since I have two stops on the way out, I may ask FedEx to ship my backpack for me to Jackson Hole.  That way I won’t have to mess with it.  If FedEx will ship golf clubs, they’ll ship a backpack, too.  The attendee totals for the trip are still in a small state of flux, but 4-5 seems pretty reasonable at this stage of the game.  That’s enough to still be fun.  Felicia won’t go for fear of the mosquitoes.

Okay, I’m outta here.  This will be a big week of work and I don’t want to wear out my welcome.  You guys have a good, restful Memorial Day weekend, and I wouldn’t mind it if you reported in to me now and again.

Back to the old ways…

You were expecting a photo of Emma at the top of the page?  You’ll need to scroll down a bit.

Yes, she is a little sweetie (aren’t all grandchildren?).  That’s why there are no Grandchild USA contests (or at least I’m not aware of any).  No winner would ever be chosen because all the votes would be cast along family lines.

Still, Emma was the centerpiece of last week’s letter to new mom Ellen and her brother Reid. But you will note that the letter a couple of weeks ago truly wasn’t “official” since it was emailed as an attachment due to a printer ink malfunction.  But what the kids received over the weekend had a stamp on the envelope, therefore marking a return to official letter status.  I have gone back to the old ways, thanks to a new black ink cartridge.

Emma: the apple of her gramps’ eye.

As for the photo of Emma, here you go.

Here, too, is the paper letter.  Just say ‘no’ to email attachments.

—————–

May 14, 2012

Ellen/Reid: It’s just hard to believe that Emma is almost two weeks old.  It still is all a bit surreal.  She’s just a little peanut, and already her looks seem to be changing.  I can’t wait to see her again because that’s when her growth will really be apparent.  It looks as if the next trip will be the second weekend in July.  We would come on a Friday and leave on Sunday.  I assume Emma will get her first view of the lake July 6-7-8 but you tell me what works best for us to visit.  Felicia’s excited to see her.  It is still amazing that your upstairs renovation project was completed virtually the same day Emma was born.  Talk about fortuitous timing.  Wow.  You couldn’t have scripted it better.  It’s good I lost my April 24 bet.  What a mess that would’ve been.

I’m now paying attention to baby coupons in the Sunday paper so those will be tucked into the envelopes.  Everything about babies is really an industry into itself.  Most of the stuff they advertise in the back pages of the coupon section seems feasible enough but I don’t quite understand why people would buy porcelain statuary of babies and other baby knick-knacks.  Sounds like just another garage sale item to me.  You will not receive anything of the sort from Emma’s grandpa.  Next time I head to the store I’ll pay a little more attention to the baby aisle.  Before you know it, she’ll be walking and talking and all of that.  Just as we marveled at how quickly you two nuts grew, the same will be for your perception of her.  It all just happens in a blur.  Betsy thinks the photos of Emma are adorable and she’s been asking for regular updates so keep any information coming this way.  Your timing is also good, Ellen, in that you’ll be able to stay at home during the normal summer break for teachers.

It’s been raining outside this morning which makes for a good enough day to sit in the office.  Wish it would’ve rained this weekend so I could’ve skipped golf altogether.  I’m so tired of playing poorly.  I couldn’t think my way out of a paper bag on the course if my life depended on it.  It is just so humbling.  Reid, how did your little golf gig come about?  Don’t people camp overnight at the public courses in Chicago just so they can snag a tee time?  Good for you to get out and play.  If some kid came along and offered me $5 for my sticks, I might be tempted.  Felicia is working a lot of overtime, including the weekends, and that puts a crimp into any spontaneous plans to ride or get out of town.

The lettuce pot out front continues to pump out a bumper crop.  That’s been a good dietary diversion.  I’m sorry to report that the Swallowtail butterfly caterpillar that was munching on the sprigs of parsley apparently fell prey to some sort of predator because it was gone within a day or two of me thinking it would continue to grow and eat its way into a pupa or whatever they wrap themselves in before emerging and flitting away.  My little bluebirds, sadly, are gone, too.  When I got home from Minnesota I thought they would have fledged so I went out back to check out the nest.  But there they were, dead.  Not sure what happened.  Stories on the web show parasites are a fairly common cause of death in baby birds.  The parent bluebirds had worked so diligently to keep the little ones fed.  They are nowhere to be seen.  I’ve since cleaned out the nest and let it dry out.  Hopefully some other bird species will find it a good nesting site.   Must be that time of year for baby animals.  Saw a small copperhead the other evening, but it was dead, too, and for no apparent reason.  Must be the way of things.

Okay, over and out for this morning.  Keep sending photos of Emma, and Reid, let me know about your iPad situation.  Glad you are finding uses for yours, Ellen.  Let’s use that live video thingie at some point soon.  Ciao.

One continuous dirge…

Ellen certainly needed a break from recent pressures. She got it during a weekend trip to the Bay area and San Francisco to see her mom.

The past few months of writing feels like one continuous dirge.  Hopefully I’ve earned a hall pass from such heaviness.  The most recent two weeks of letters to Ellen and Reid have been nothing more than opening my pea-brain and letting anything and everything come out.  No effort has been expended to do anything beyond the very plain, very vanilla and very ordinary.

My guess is the kids are ready for a breather.  I say that because in a condolence letter from my friend Steve in Des Moines, he opined on the subject of our own looming mortality, and he wondered if our children “see us as we see our parents?”  My response to him just this morning was “probably not.”   I think people tend to avoid the unpleasantness of looking too far ahead.  We deal with the sadness at hand when that time arrives and not until then.  That’s why insurance types build actuarial tables.  That’s for them to worry about.  We know what lies ahead but that’s just it – it is ahead and not now.

So for the time being it is okay to revert to everyday fare in the notes to the kids.  They’re ready for a break, and I am, too.

————-

October 17, 2011

Ellen/Reid: I really do appreciate the concern of you two, but honestly, everything is fine and it will continue to be fine.  We should have no worries until we start arguing about what food (and how much) is going on the Thanksgiving table.  Ellen, the Boyz will handle nearly all of the “food preparation.”  I put dibs on at least the breakfast portions and am expecting to do dinner duty, too.  Geez, in just over a month we’ll be assembling in St. Paul.

EP, wow, you’ll be back from San Francisco before you get a chance to read this.  That sounds like a fun trip.  Oh, to be a fly on the wall around you two.  Talk about a gab fest, but with very good reason.  Your timing is extra-special good on that little trip.  Your mom knows how to shop and I fear – Tim does, too – that those skills have rubbed off on you.  But that’s half the fun.  Why go if you can’t head into the city?  Duh.

Your uncle’s Dance to raise money for cancer research made YouTube.  Gayle somehow got the link and posted it yesterday.  I talked to him this morning and he said he only made a few minor missteps in his almost three minute routine.  He didn’t win the event – the wife of a doctor who contributed several thousand – took top honors.  There were four amateur dancers entered – all are cancer survivors – and they each teamed with a professional.  But Ralph was pretty pleased with his performance as the others had some pretty significant stumbles during their routines.  He was worried about dropping his dance partner but he was able to hold on.  Ralph and Gayle will be in Europe at the time you get this.  They’re headed to Paris for a week.  I’m not aware they’ve ever been out of the lower 48 except for Joe’s wedding in Mexico.  Good for them to get away.  They’ve deserved it.

I’ve reentered the real world and am feeling pretty good about things.  It’s a pretty big weight off of our collective shoulders.  There have been no ultra-sad moments the last couple of days so that seems like a spot of progress.  Last week I was just exhausted but that seems to be passing by at this moment.  Sleep patterns are returning although I will never be accused of staying up late enough to catch the 11 p.m. news.  I think that grates on Felicia a little bit since I hit the sack much earlier than she is otherwise used to.  She and I went through the big box of photos the other night and it really is a cavalcade of memories.  I tried to explain what she was looking at but didn’t do a very good job.  We as a clan did and have done a poor job of writing pertinent information on the back of photos about identities and circumstances around the shot.  I’ll try to rectify that for the two of you.  The online resources will be available to find out more information about people in the pictures.  At least you’ll have some first and last names and towns where they lived.  That’s better than nothing in terms of getting a head start.

There’s no more news on the job front and I take that as a positive.  We keep getting hammered in the daily press and some of it is deserved but not all of it.  Reid, since you have an account at the bank, you can identify with some of the analysis that says the marketing geeks at the big banks know what they’re doing in that they’ve made other services, such as online bill pay, etc., too convenient and attractive to make the switch.  We can only hope that is true.  I still like what I do, for the most part.  And I’m still working.

Well, let the countdown to T-Day in St. Paul begin.  My estimate is a 10-12 pound bird (I don’t think you need a fresh one or a humanely raised or free range turkey or whatever they call them), a 10 lb. sack of potatoes and some other fixin’s and we’re golden.  That will be good eatin’, followed by good snoozin’.

The ‘blue funk’ period…

Gauguin painted Tahitian Women on the Beach. Art historians will be kinder to his funks than they might be to mine.

Art historians are able to detect, name and analyze the stages or periods that famous artists travel through (or endure) on their life journey to find or perfect their style, i.e. Paul Gauguin’s period in Tahiti.  It is beyond reason and highly unlikely that anyone would ever follow me after my demise.  But if they did, that lone misguided soul would dub August, 2011 as my blue funk period.  Their short summation of my work would conclude “…his demise did not come soon enough.”

I am just down.  Maybe the crushing relentlessness of wave after unceasing wave of heat and humidity have exacted a mental toll.  It could be the sheer monotony of the same four walls, same paint schemes, same worn carpeting, same back yard vista, same day-in, day-out routine.  But the malaise is palpable and is as real as it can get.

Perhaps I’m not squeezing enough out of what is there or seizing what should be seized.  On the bright side maybe it is a momentary plateau that is a stair step to another plateau that is ever onward and upward.  It is not so much about absense of fun but of lack of purpose-driven satisfaction.  But there is respite in that to observe Ellen and Reid, neither of them appear to have, nor should they have, such doubts.  They blissfully move on with things at a very good clip.  Perhaps watching them progress and move on is purpose enough.  There is no moping in the letters and one can hope they don’t detect the notes as such.

———-

August 9, 2011

Ellen/Reid: Last night in my writing class last night I put my blog up on the screen as a way to tell my college students that they ought to blog for no other reason than to repetitively practice their writing or to put their oars in the creative waters.  We looked at a few of the most recent letters to you guys, and they razzed me about not mentioning the class to you two in the weekly notes.  To escape their further wrath, this mention will have to suffice.  They can’t attack me as much since last night was the final class.  On the whole they were pretty happy with it, and one of them even gave me a complimentary bag of Starbucks coffee as a parting gift.  My pledge to them is to meet once a month or so for the coming months to see how many of them will actually plow ahead to build their own freelance writing business.  Most will become hobbyist writers rather than full timers.  It was enjoyable for me to teach.  As you know, Ellen, to teach is to learn twice.  If I had to freelance all over again there might be a different way to skin the cat.  A life skill that could come in handy later, I guess.

Betsy had a nice article in the Sunday Observer about the 7’ chainsaw-carved wooden bear at her front door that she dresses up to fit the season or a holiday.

I’ve had Wyoming on the brain the last few days.  Can’t seem to let go of that trip and how much fun it was.  I suppose people will sooner-than-later tire of me rattling on about it but it was really the highpoint of my summer.  I just like the Western lifestyle and atmosphere and will have to retract my ‘I like to visit but wouldn’t want to live here’ statements in Jackson.  If there was a way to affordably do it, that would be marvelous but there are a lot of complicators that would keep it from becoming a reality: affordability, slow real estate movement in Charlotte, the job, a tanking stock market, etc.  But a guy can dream, can’t he?  In a dose of here-and-now reality, I had to submit a bill for food and rental car to the other adults on our journey.  No trip is final until the billing is complete.

I heard from Pat the other day for the first time in a long while.  He was in Atlanta with Mort to get set up for the PGA Championship this week.  I hope he sells a lot of art.  His stuff is still really good.  He’s stuck with it and that’s why Stonehouse is a success.  Time heals all wounds, and the scab has long since covered itself over.  I kind of wish I’d of trundled over there to see him and Mort to how the product is displayed.

Reid, let’s get cracking on the Thanksgiving trip up to St. Paul.  Look at your calendar and give me some firm dates about when you can leave.  I plan to buy our tickets real soon since the price is almost to $400 right now (perhaps less from Chicago).  Just let me know what works for you.  I’m getting excited about it.  Ellen, the odds that Felicia will join us are growing somewhat slimmer.  There is some pressure for her to stay closer to home, which for her is nearby Shelby, otherewise she’d jump at the chance to head north with us.  Shelby is just under an hour’s drive west of CLT.  That’s where her parents and her sister live.  Shelby is largely known for its Liver Mush Festival.  You can look it up.  Liver mush is some sort of ground meat concoction that seems to be roughly the equivalent of spam but is hugely popular in these parts.  You eat it with either mustard or grape jelly.  No kidding.  Andrew Zimmern featured the Shelby festival on his ‘Bizarre Foods’ show.

Well, enough waxing poetic for today.  Reid, let’s talk about T-Day, and Ellen, let’s talk about a tea pot to adorn the new kitchen.

Before mom…

Reid, Ellen and Tim in their post-feast, pre-nap positions at the table.

It was 6F in Minneapolis yesterday and I’ve been too afraid to check this morning’s low (it is 18F at 10:45 which is no doubt colder than a normal person should tolerate).

As it is I am in Ellen and Tim’s living room, Henry at my feet, to keep the string of posts alive.  He and I just finished a frigid walk where he performed all the normal functions a well-fed dog should perform.

Most Fridays a letter is composed to mom.  I will write this week’s letter on the fly for you to see before mom ever receives it.  It will be printed and mailed on Monday once I return to Charlotte (where the high today is forecast to be a balmy 65F).

—————-

November 29, 2010

Mom: I’m writing this letter from Ellen and Tim’s living room in St. Paul.  They are cleaning the floors while their dog Henry and I are lounging on the couch.  It is really cold outside but what else would you expect in Minnesota in late November?  They seem to like it well enough and their little house is cute and snug as a bug.

Reid and I both flew in on Tuesday for the Thanksgiving week.  We’ve had a great time of things.  Not that we’ve done a lot except sit around and talk.  We did go to a very bad, very forgettable movie the other night over at the mall.  The mall, the biggest in the world, was almost empty the night before Thanksgiving, but the news reports said that the stores would open at 2:00 in the morning for the early shoppers.  How nuts is that to get up in the middle of the night to go to a mall to shop?

I did most of the cooking for Thanksgiving.  The kids bought a fresh turkey, about 14 lbs., and it took nearly five and one-half hours to cook at 325F, and even then it wasn’t quite done.  I’m not sure why it took so long but I think Ellen’s oven runs a little cool.  But the other items, the potatoes, the stuffing and, most importantly, the gravy, came out just great.  So the boys ate like boys and it was good to see everyone yak and feel filled.  I baked pumpkin and apple pies from scratch and they came out pretty good, too.  When people are hungry enough they’ll eat anything and tell you it was good.

I called over to your other son’s house last night but you’d already gone.  I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier in the day.  But he said you had a good time and you were glad to see your great-grandkids.  I’m still hopeful of getting out that way for Christmas.

Today we will go get their Christmas tree and put on all the ornaments.  They want to head out to a Christmas tree farm and cut one down.  That’s okay.  My little fake tree won’t go up until I get back sometime next week.  It’s only about four feet high and doesn’t take much to assemble and trim.

Well, mom, their dog is looking at me like it’s time for another walk, so out the door we’ll go so he can do his duty.  You be good, stay warm, and I’ll see you sooner than later.

One dollar words…

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

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

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

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

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

——————–

September 10, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————-

September 10, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

A friend in the nick of time…

Ellen in particular sends lots of photos via her phone. Loveable Henry appears to have become a Minnesota Twins fan, as is Ellen's hubby Tim.

Ever have one of those times in life when you badly, sorely, really needed a friend?  I’ve had my share of welcome friends recently; Betsy, Ferg, Bob, Felicia, Ann, Linda, John, Pam, Pete.  You know the type; supportive, empathetic, helpful.

Then along comes Jane.  Jane lives in Des Moines and I referenced she and her husband Dave a couple of posts ago.  We go way back.  28 years will have to suffice for way back.  Without getting into excruciating detail, Jane was a friend in the nick of time.

In a few weeks, I will be afforded the opportunity to rekindle the relationship in person.  It’s been five long years since we’ve last seen each other, and it’s high time for a reunion.  I couldn’t let this entire situation pass without some sort of correspondence.  On top of that, they know Ellen and Reid very well;  a here’s-what-the-kids-are-doing-now update is way, way, way overdue.  It doesn’t take much to get my motor running when it comes to letters.  Just point me in the right direction and I’ll take things from there.

Here is that letter.

August 30, 2010

Jane/Dave: This has been one hell of a forgettable summer and I’ve looked for some ray of light.  You two are apparently it, and just in time.

I have been woefully out of contact with virtually everyone from Des Moines except for F_________ and a little bit with Greg K_______.  The guilty party pops up in my mirror every morning.  From the sound of things, things haven’t changed up there markedly.  For some reason I was under the assumption that you guys had jettisoned DSM entirely for sunny FLA-USA.  But the weather pages of the paper did not paint a pretty winter picture of Des Moines this past season so no one would have held it against you had you pulled up stakes entirely.

As for North Carolina, my stake seems to be a little further in the ground as time goes by.  It’s a nice enough place.  Charlotte is a good town and it was at its zenith when I moved down here in ’06.  Wine and decadence for everyone.  Those were pretty heady times for the ‘burg, and it’s been in something of a free-fall since then.  The actual timing of the free fall can be directly pegged to my purchase of a townhome at the very tippy-top of the market.  Someone has to buy at full price.  Things have fallen downhill like a rock since then.  If you looked at a map, which you have utterly no reason to do, I would be in what locals like to call ‘South Park’.  My commute to the downtown (which is called Uptown for some flimsy reason) is about 20 minutes.  Not bad by these standards.  I like it here and like where I live.

But here is the real news.  Ellen (now 27) is by all appearances very happily married up in St. Paul.  She just landed her first teaching gig (2^nd grade) after a long, long time searching and applying.  She just persevered.  She and her hubby, Tim (who works at _______) live in a little bungalow not far from the main East-West drag in St. Paul.  They love it although I persistently rub it in deeply in, say, in January, when it’s -31 there and 64F here.  I have to get in my digs sometime.  She was working at a property management firm which paid well but it wasn’t her dream.  Now she gets to live it.  _____________, St. Paul, MN  55105-2409.

On the other hand, Reid (25) is fully acclimated to Chicago where none of us see him leaving anytime soon.  He’s some sort of web/pixel/digital ad campaign geek at a big ad agency there.  I don’t fully understand what he does and he’s grown tired of telling me.  He’s dating a young woman from Des Moines, Jackie, and perhaps that hastened him moving just this week to a studio apartment.  He likes Chicago a lot although we have to wean him from being a Cubs fan.

Kathy has pretty much become a Californian with her new guy.  I plead ignorance on any of the details because I don’t butt in or ask, but from what I glean from the kids and others, it’s a good situation for her, too.  Her house in Clive will go on the market soon and should stand a fair chance of selling.

My father passed away at the end of June, and a few weeks later my job at the bank passed along, too.  This will be one summer that can’t move out of the way fast enough.  That’s why your pending trip is so exciting.  I may be bothered by dropping off people’s radar screens back there, but there’s nothing like rekindling old relationships, as long as we can keep the news out of the newspapers.  I owe you in more ways than one.  See you soon.