Off the deep end…

I wonder if Ellen and Reid think their dad has gone off the deep end on issues of nature and the environment. Could be. Hey, we’ve all got to commit to something.

—————-

May 13, 2013

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

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

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

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

It was so great to see you guys for Emma’s birthday. Three generations under one roof. She is a little controller at this point and there’s a sense that she knows she runs the show – at least for now. That was a nice gesture, Reid, with the surprise shave. Liz must’ve liked that. It makes you look younger

A Christmas cedar tree…

December 3, 2012

Ellen/Reid: We were all set to put up the tree but we had issues with the lights, too.  As in not having any lights.  Last year I must’ve dumped the whole shebang when a couple of strands went on the blink (or non-blink).  Now we have some new ones but I was too tired last night to muster the energy.  But tonight is the night for tree trimming.  Not much will go beneath it, but at least we will have something relatively festive.  I’ve even though(t) about springing for a natural wreath.  It reminds me of a story years ago when, in the hopes of saving a buck, I drove a beat up old Plymouth Duster into the countryside and cut down a feral cedar tree along a rural road.

Why in the world anyone in their right mind – that is a rhetorical question – would cruise a dusty country road to slice down a dusty cedar as a Christmas tree – is beyond me. It wasn’t back in the early ’70s, but it is now.  The solitary gift under the tree?  That is for Reid when he visits.

But the thing was covered in gray road-side dust, enough so that there was no green showing through.  So, I tossed it in the shower and tried to rinse all the dust off, which only perpetuated the dust problem in my apartment and made a mess of the bathtub.  It took forever to dry and it never did smell like aromatic cedar but instead like country mud.  Once it was up, the scruffy un-shapely thing looked awful, so back into the trunk went the now-clean tree, and it was returned – quickly – to the country side.  What an idiot.  I haven’t thought of that story for a long, long time, and probably for good reason.

But in a momentary surrender to the holiday spirit, I did bake bread last night for the first time in many moons, and it was enjoyable as ever for breakfast toast this morning.  It reminded me how much I’ve missed the hearty loaves we used to make when you were kids although I don’t recall you two eating that much of it.  If there was a smidgen of planning here, some of it would go in the freezer to be retained for French toast.  It may move me to whip up a few loaves of breakfast raisin bread this weekend.  That’s my fav.  Why didn’t we bake any of that at Thanksgiving?  Sheer oversight is all that was.

Reid, I am perturbed at the lack of contact from the fishing outfitters in Oak Island.  You’d think someone would want to book a 3 – 4 hour excursion for a couple of hapless landlubbers willing to pay their handsome fees.  I emailed 3 of captains, thinking the first one that responded would get our business.  Maybe it’s too close to Christmas for them, but at least they could have responded in some way.  I’ll keep trying.  Otherwise, we rent stuff on the pier and try our luck at whatever might bite there.  They always show pictures of ‘catches’ but the fading photos have dates like ‘June 9, 2009.’  But it will keep us occupied for a few hours.

More depressing climate news this morning.  Now, the pollution-caused blanket that traps the earth’s heat grew at 3% last year, meaning scientists are underestimating how high – or fast – temperatures will accelerate.  We seem to be killing ourselves but mankind is wholly unwilling to do anything about it.  Such a great gift we’ve been given and we know nothing better than to ruin it.  Don’t get me started on the ‘fiscal cliff.’  The boys and girls in Washington had better learn to play together or they will send us in a long, downward spiral, all for party’s sake.  Its mind blowing to think compromise is a dirty term.  Both sides get the blame although I think things tilt the wrong way a little bit more on the GOP side.  Obama has to get off the fence, too.

Most of my Christmas shopping is done, although there is still time to complete your wish lists.  I need to at least pony up for another item or two for each of you, so move off the snide.  Reid, I may unilaterally get you something else in time for your arrival, and Ellen, what is in that box under your tree won’t be enough.  You gotta help me here.  Throw your dad a bone, okay?

Holiday decorations in August…

November 13, 2012

Ellen/Reid: This time next week we will all be gathered under one roof, and I will be that much further away from the ice cream aisle at the local market.  Curses to ice cream.  Trying to kick the vile habit but not doing very well.  My waistline is the worse for it.

But, I cannot wait to board the plan and land in the Twin Cities.  Reid, you and I will do virtually all the cooking, and Ellen, consider this not as acknowledgment of your request for me to be a stay-at-home gramps to sit up with Emma on Black Friday.  It will be a race to see who goes to sleep first, her or me.  The odds are that gramps will be the first to wilt by nodding off.  Emma is too young to say ‘stay with me, gramps’ but we will have a good time.  Baby sitting will be a first for me.  Can’t wait although the diaper thing makes me shudder.  You’ll have to leave good instructions or a pictorial revue of how to do it.

The seasonal thing is already out of hand.  How is it that Santa sets up shop in the mall the first week of November?  Whatever happened to waiting for a few days after Thanksgiving?  If merchants have their way and at this rate, they would begin to put out holiday decorations in August.  That would be one way to gauge that gifts have outpaced the truer meanings of Christmas.  Nordstrom’s is putting out a welcome message that they will not join the commercial crowd and will instead not be adorning the store until after T-Day.  That’s where we should all do our shopping although the store here might be a budget-buster for me.  Speaking of that, you would make things a hell of a lot easier for me if you assembled your wish lists in priority order.  Also, I have no earthly idea what to give Emma other than a kiss on the forehead.  Totally clueless about what babies need or want.  Maybe that is a good thing.  As for me, the list is similar to last year: nothing.  There is nothing I need or want other than to curb my ice cream habit.

This weekend we head to Hilton Head for a couple of days.  The weather will be similar to what we had in Myrtle Beach when Sandy blew through: cool and rainy.  Our cool, however, is not as cold as your cool.  A light fleece and a rain jacket will all that is needed.  It might cause a zip line adventure for Felicia and her daughter to be curtailed.  My plan was to hit the golf course while they slid down the wire.  We also hope to kayak the backwaters which would be an interesting bit of the outdoors that I have never done.  But mostly it will be walking on the beach and finding a decent place to eat.

My Caldwell newsletter is nearly in the can.  By my count, this is about 48 straight months of a church newsletter.  This better buy me some clout when the time comes although I continue to burn the edges, if you know what I mean.

A mouse has taken up residence in the garage.  When I pull in, he is usually illuminated in the headlamp of the car.  This means war.  With peanut butter as bait, there is hope the vile vermin will be exterminated in a few hours, but as of this morning nothing had happened overnight.  Perhaps the rodent prefers smooth over chunky peanut butter.  A web site says when you see one, there are usually others.  But I am in this for the long haul.  Where’s a feral cat when you need one?

Okay, I am set to make pie(s) next weekend, and this time, Ellen, I assure you that sugar will be included in the apple pie.  I will buy all the fixin’s while there.  Rest assured ice cream will not be on the dessert list.  Heaven forbid.

On a need-to-know basis…

The hot-shot diet I pontificated about last week isn’t going so well.  And I made such a big deal of it with Ellen and Reid.

Since then I’ve consumed: two hamburgers, fries, a breakfast sandwich with sausage and bacon, and sausage and pancakes for dinner.  That doesn’t include the wine, gin and tonics, beer, and fish & chips (with mo’ fries) I ate last week on a Florida vacation (all of which was dissected in the letter written and mailed today that will be published next week).  But I promise to do better.  Really.

I think parental diet is on the menu of what kids ought to know about.  They’re on a need-to-know basis and they ought to know.  They already know a lot of personal things anyway (see last week’s post) and that’s okay.  We’re all adults here (as they near their upper 20′s) so very little is off limits.  That’s probably the largest change to the letters over the years; as my two have grown, they get to read things now that were held a bit closer to the vest not so many years ago.

Today’s letter  to the kids (which you will read next week) deals with a trip to Florida where this beach vine inched its way closer to the ocean’s edge.

I told the kids that there is a marginal chance that I might-possibly-maybe-perhaps start to run again.  I need to compensate for a metabolism that has slowed to a snail’s pace while the adding of pounds is occurring with Usain Bolt-like speed.

Here is last week’s letter:

————

October 1, 2012

Ellen/Reid: It’s been more than 10 days since I’ve had any beef, but there hasn’t been any tofu during that span, either.  But one has to start somewhere.  We tried ‘beer can chicken’ on the grill Saturday night – until the grill ran out of gas and we transferred the whole caboodle to the oven.  It was okay but not great although we’re not sure how someone can manage to mess up such a simple meal.  I’ve also started to take the Omega 3 lozenges you recommended Ellen but am still somewhat uncertain what those are supposed to do.  I’d look it up but the new MacAir is in the shop while the files from the decrepit Acer are transferred over to the new machine.  I bought a series of one-on-one lessons at the Mac store and I’ll probably begin to step up to the counter in terms of attendance.  It’s a slick machine but I’m slow on the uptake so the classes will no doubt be helpful.  I’m tired of reveling in my technology stupidity.  Time to enter the new age.

There has been some thought given to resuming a schedule of running on a limited basis.  It’s a weight thing.  I’m not ready to return to the days of what it took to run a 2:24 marathon, but a light jog of a couple of miles a few days a week wouldn’t seem to hurt things.  The only reservation is what even a light dose of pavement pounding might do to the ankles.  Perhaps low impact exercise is the way to go.  At any rate I’ll keep trying to walk it off on the 2.5 mile circuit we take most every weeknight.  Felicia has to slow down to accommodate my lack of speed.

I head to Florida on Thursday to join Bob and the two Daves (Hemminger and Dahlquist).  This is our third such annual adventure, and I suppose we have Jane H. to thank for that.  She keeps pushing us down this path and we are all too eager to follow it.  We will be situated near Tampa but I don’t know the exact location.  I rent the car and the others ride along and tell me where to go.  It will mostly be golf, B.S.ing and a little fishing off the coast followed by more B.S.ing.  The fishing is what I’m really excited about.  The captain of the boat keeps saying what nice fish they’ve been catching but that is code for ‘You should’ve been here last week’ and we all know how most of those turn out.  There doesn’t appear to be any hurricanes in the forecast beyond the ones that have ice in a glass.  Really, we’re pretty much a wine group.  I’ll try to stick to the new diet although there are no guarantees given that surf & turf will likely be on our menu.

Ellen, here are the printed checks from the cleaning service.  I think they are trying to take you to the cleaners, no pun intended.  Their bookkeeping isn’t what it should probably be.  If for some reason we are shown to be wrong – but I don’t think so – then we will make them whole.

Reid, I promise to get your Christmas flight ticket this week.  Thanks for the dates you provided.  Since we won’t get a timeshare, we might drive over to Oak Island and stay at some seedy place on the beach.  But we will still have a good time for a couple of nights.  Oak Island must be about four hours or so.  It’s just this side of Wilmington, which we will probably get over to for one night.

Work is going okay aside from working with the &*%^$#@ attorneys.  They could clog up a culvert with all the legalisms they spew which I have to wade through and translate to useable English.  But monkeys and pigs will fly in formation before lawyers ever write something in plain terms.

It will be great to see you guys at Thanksgiving.  The free range, organic turkey sounds divine, Ellen.  Reid and I will volunteer (won’t we, Reid?) to do most if not all the cooking.  On my oath I will not forget sugar in the pies this year.  Get some of those good green apples and a couple of tins of pumpkin pie filling, and we’ll be in business.

Emma’s Garden…

So, Emma has tomatoes.

On May 5, the day after she was born, her Gramps used a spade to turn over the good, dark Minnesota earth to form Emma’s Garden, a smallish 10′ x 6′ plot of very black dirt.  Into the ground went cilatro, romaine lettuce, peppers, basil, flowers, and red raspberries.  And a single tomato plant.

Emma’s mom shows off State Fair-quality tomatoes on her kitchen counter. A garden is a good thing. Such good soil in Minnesota would be a terrible thing to waste.

A few months later, and thanks to a corker of a Midwestern heat wave, Emma’s plant is producing in quantities I can only dream about.

The rush to build a garden actually springs from Emma’s great grandfatherwho cultivated a garden well into his 80s.   Toward the end as his tillable plot grew smaller and smaller, tomatoes and raspberries were about all he had the energy to tend to.  But he loved the soil and his deep forest-green thumb rubbed off on me, although mine more closely resembles a pale lime green.  Maybe the deeper shade will take hold again in Emma’s mom.

My tomatoes are dwarfed by Emma’s. When I equate them to golf balls, I’m not kidding. I’ve seen bigger hailstones.

Perhaps one day in Reid, too.  Ellen even mentioned expanding the modest-sized chunk of dirt and edible plants next year.  When they were not much older than Emma is now, I vividly recall Ellen and Reid rooted at the Sugar Snap pea and Heritage raspberry plants in our garden.  Very little of those two items ever made it to the kitchen.  But there are far worse things than watching kids gobble up stringless peas and red raspberries.

I suppose a garden is something of an environmental statement which my letters have preached about on more than one occasion.  Ellen and Tim no doubt went more of an organic bend than my enduring reliance on Miracle-Gro.  The larger lesson might be that there’s nothing wrong with getting your hands dirty.  Hopefully, Emma will wash hers off, unlike her granddad.

Here’s what Ellen and Reid found in their mailboxes last week.

———————

August 20, 2012

Ellen/Reid: So I think we have the holiday situation kind of, sort of worked out.  Ellen, you and Tim are not opposed to coming down here for early T-Day, November 15-18?  That is great.  Reid, you will be here for Christmas, correct?  Your tickets are on me.  I’m still not sure of my plans for the official Thanksgiving and should know about that in short order.  St. Paul sounds doable.  You truly have something to be thankful for.  Maybe Thanksgiving should be May 4.

Last Wednesday the 15^th marked my sixth year in Charlotte.  Incredible.  It just does not seem at all possible.  It seems just yesterday I was in Des Moines, and then the upheaval.  If you would’ve asked me five or six years ago (and no one has) for my impressions of the new surroundings, it would’ve been tempting to say ‘send me home’ and that would’ve been that.  But time has a way of leveling the bumps out across the job and social spectrum and now this is home for all intents and purposes.  A little too politically conservative on a lot of fronts, but that is the price to be paid for accepting the role here as an intruder.  Felicia has made a big difference, too.  Since I can work anywhere, there would’ve been a possibility of bolting for the old pastures.  But this is it and its okay.  I would like to get back to Des Moines with more frequency, but it’s hard.

Don’t hold me to it, but I’m thinking of parting with the Harley.  For whatever reason, my balance very recently isn’t what it used to be, and to navigate with a heavy beast like that takes that ability.  Perhaps it is the ribs (which feel the torque on certain turns) but something is different about riding it right now.  Even as recently as a few months ago there was some thought given to a Road King, but that’s been tabled for the time being.  There is always the off chance the next pleasant ride on the next nice weekend day will change my mind.  I hope it does because there is nothing like cruising.

Mike Hill put his dog Buddy to sleep a couple of weeks ago.  Mike posted some poignant videos of Buddy’s last meal on his Facebook page, and you should look that up.  Reminded me of our last days with Scooter.  It’s a dose of reality.

My A/C wasn’t totally on the blink after all.  Apparently all it needed was a new “board” in the upstairs unit – I don’t totally get all the technical gymnastics about it – but the board was about the size of an iPad and cost just as much, too.  So now there is at least cool air circulating in place of the hot, humid air that kept me away at night.  Just another unexpected expense.

Reid, you could do worse than a cruise line as a new client.  That sounds like a lot of fun, and they advertise a fair amount.  I’ll have to start watching for their plugs on the web, which I am sure you will do a good job of promoting and tracking.  I’ll make an exception and declare right now that their Internet ads won’t be the invasive kind.  I’m glad your mom got to get to Chicago to survey the new living arrangements and such.  I’d like us to get up there in short order, too.  Keep me posted as to your availability.   FYI…even a group like Fish makes a stop in the boondocks every once in a while.  They visit here in the next couple of weeks or something like that.  I still remember hauling you and a vanload of your boys to KC to a summer concert and being sold a total bill of goods as to when the concert started and, more importantly, when it would end.

Speaking of ending, that’s it for today.  Let’s really nail down the holiday plans so I can get tickets while they are still getable.  It would be great to have you all down here.  I’ll notify the cleaning service to do their thing just before you arrive.

The prodigal son returns…

Reid has returned, no worse for the wear, from his sojourn to India.  We talked at length last night on a dad-initiated call.  The kids sounds great.  He spent the last half of his trip by his lonesome.  That takes some nerve to pack up and head to the other side of the world when you don’t know but a single soul.  But Reid has a daring side that I admire and encourage (within limits, of course).

If nothing else, his trip affirms he can make his own decisions, spend his own money and be his own man.

Nevertheless, last week’s letter went solo to Ellen.  It was like the old days when she was at Butler U. before her ‘bro arrived.  But Reid’s name is plastered on the salutation line of this week’s letter – which is already in the mail.

———————

Here’s what I wrote to Ellen last week:

February 27, 2012

Ellen: Betsy and I just got done pinging back and forth about your expected due date.  I told her late April or early May.  That sounds about right, doesn’t it?  She’s always so good to ask how you guys are doing.  She asked about the pecking order of visitation once the little girl arrives.  Your photo is good.  You’ve taken very good card of yourself physically and dietary-wise and you’ve hardly gained any weight.  That is a good thing.  Your mom didn’t gain all that much weight with you or Reid, either.

Speaking of Reid, as you say, typical Reid.  He takes the one trip that you want to hear about and we don’t get squat from him.  I hope things are okay.  How did Tim manage to get that one video of Reid and Liz in the cab?  I wish I had her phone because I’d check in to see how the trip went and how Reid is doing.  From all indications, Bangalore is the tech center of India.  Incredibly, my post from last week, which mentioned Bangalore once, gets picked up by a blogger in India who tells me Bangalore is considered a garden spot.  So that was pretty cool.  That made me feel a little better about things.  Hopefully Reid’s having a great time and getting his fill of exploration.  Once a Razzmatazz, always a Razzmatazz.  Hard to sit back and wait to hear about his worldly exploits.  In a major coincidence, Bob Furstenau traveled to Ghana the same day Reid left for India.  Bob was seeing one of the twins, Tori, I think, and he took Adrian with him.  He texted a little bit the first day about how different things were but no word since.

Tim texted me from the Charlotte airport just a few moments ago.  He must be on U.S. Air as this would be their hub.  He says they caught a few red fish but the conditions were awful.  For a fly fisherman that must’ve meant heavy wind because he’s not about to toss any other line in the water.  Once the baby situation settles in, you three ought to come down here and we’ll trek over toward the ocean, down by Charleston or Hilton Head so your little one can anoint her toes in the Atlantic and Tim and I can try our hand at the coastal fish there.  That would be a lot of fun.  I think your bro’ is planning on Thanksgiving down here but we have yet to make any solid plans.  Who knows, he might want to head to M-SP to spend some time with Liz.  We’ll just have to wait and see how all that unfolds.  Depending on your schedule and energy level, I could always trundle up there, too.  I don’t need to bunk with you guys and create unnecessary turmoil.  There have to be motels nearby.  No biggie.  I can go either way.

Another reorganization at work.  But my name still shows on the chart, so that is a good thing.  One of my best friends, Tom, is pulling up stakes and moving his family to Washington, D.C. where he will take a position with a big association.  It’s not a bad move for him other than the price of real estate and uprooting his seventh grader to a new school system.  But that’s the way of the banking world.  There’s just so much uncertainty.  We are still going to contract size-wise down here so he was being pretty prudent in his planning.  Hard to lose friends, though, when you don’t have very many to start with.  We had golfed a far amount and now that’s done.

I’m getting kind of burned out on my church newsletter.  It’s been more than three years of 12 pages month in and month out, and it’s just taken a mental toll.  Hard to keep the creative juices flowing issue after issue.  More and more photos are taking the place of copy.  That’s not all bad from the reader’s perspective if you believe ‘a picture is worth 1,000 words’.  I don’t get much editorial help about news although I’ve not really recruited people to step in.  Some have volunteered but their idea of a contribution is to submit a poem or some other creative reflection.  I need people who can write on events and such and stick to deadlines.  But enough moaning.  Another issue is due March 11.

Thankful? Let me count the ways…

I'm thankful for golf too, even though my golf group mocked my concession speech after my team got whipped last Saturday (after I had boldly predicted victory). It was all in good fun.

Tomorrow I jet, U.S. Airways willing, to Minneapolis-St. Paul to break bread and sup with Ellen, Reid, Tim and last but not least, Henry.

A retrospective of 2011 and all that has gone in it would not be complete without a word of thanks at Ellen’s Thursday table, sure to have her usual flair while the boys dig in.  Events notwithstanding, there is plenty to be thankful for; Ellen and Tim’s good news, Reid getting on in Chicago, health, friends here and elsewhere, and good times closer to home in Charlotte.

Maybe I’m just getting older but times like this week take on increased importance.  Seeing the kids at their grandmother’s funeral doesn’t count; it’s when we get together to laugh, be spontaneous (relatively so) and bask in what’s going on in their lives is what matters most.  Happy Thanksgiving to all.

————

November 14, 2011

Ellen/Reid: Every once in a while I’m reminded why I like my neighborhood so much.  Not that it has fancy homes or any of that.  It’s the quiet that is so lovely.  I went over to the mailbox to retrieve a week’s worth of mail, and the air was very still, and you could hear someone practicing the flute in one of the nearby townhomes.  I couldn’t tell which unit, but for some reason it struck me as very nice in a neighborhood that is sandwiched between the hustle and bustle of big streets and heavy traffic.  Whoever was doing the playing was pretty good.  I stood there for a moment to listen to it.  It was just very pleasant.

Well, the Three Daves (Hemminger and Dahlquist) and Bob (Furstenau) have come and gone.  We really had a great time.  We went over toward Pinehurst on Friday and played golf at a course near there, and then we played Pinehurst #2 on Saturday.  That’s the famous course that hosts the U.S. Open.  The morning started cold, but not overly so, then it warmed very quickly into a beautiful, windless day under a Carolina blue sky.  Not that we brought the course to its knees, but we had a great walk with caddies doing the heavy lifting.  That was fun.  We all hit some memorable shots.  It is an incredible course that’s been around for more than 100 years.  The greens are the toughest I’ve ever played.  The surfaces are crowned so the ball rolls off into bunkers or waste areas.  As you could guess, our accuracy was lacking so we spent a lot of time chipping and putting off the surface.  Reid, I’d love for you to get your game in shape so we could trundle over there.

I suppose the real joy was simply seeing those guys again.  Golf is kind of secondary and is basically the facilitator of the long weekend.  Really, they are a tangible tie to what once was up there.  A couple of nights after good dinners we sat out on the front stoop drinking wine, puffing on the occasional cigar that Dave. D. brought to town, and just shooting the breeze and BS.  We wrapped it up Saturday night at 1 a.m. so I hope the neighbors didn’t mind too much.  It’s not like I’m out there whooping it up like that every weekend.  It was good to hear what they’re each up to, and they’ve all been quite successful.  We avowed to do the same thing again next year, and it’s Bob’s job to figure out when and where.  They all met Felicia and she passed inspection with flying colors.  In some ways I wonder what it would be like to live back in Iowa where I could be around all these old buddies, but with each passing month, my stake is driven a little deeper into the Piedmont.  It’s not the nice weather, it’s just that I am now here for whatever that is worth.  It’s certainly not the politics.  It’s just that I am now here.  I miss my friends, but as someone said, that’s why they make airplanes.  No doubt I’ll figure out a way to get back up that way in the spring.

I won’t grind you guys down with another letter next week since we’ll gather in Minnesota.  I can’t wait to be there and see you guys and cook.  Tell Henry I’ll bring my walking shoes, mittens and a stocking cap.

Went to the gym tonight before we walked around the block.  There are wall to wall mirrors next to the elliptical machine, and my threat is to cover the mirrors with paper so as not to see what I don’t want to see if you catch my drift.  Ugh.  There are a lot of spare pounds to drop between now and whenever.  At least I don’t bake Christmas cookies like your grandmother did.  That would really slap on the pounds.  Each cookie would be worth 10 minutes on the machine.

Okay, I’m out of here.  Chicken and potatoes are baking in the oven and there’s laundry to be done from the boy’s weekend.  Geez, in about a week we’ll all be together.  I can’t wait.

“What’s on your radar screen…”

Last night I inadvertently left off the porch light and dimmed the household lights about the time kids would be expected to tell old jokes in a play for candy. My friend Betsy, however, takes a different approach. That's because Betsy has a bear outside her front door. This is notable because Betsy dresses the 7 foot bear of pine to fit the seasons; i.e. bear as Uncle Sam on the 4th of July, bear as pilgrim on Thanksgiving. So last night, it was bear as Frankenstein. The bear (lugged all the way to Charlotte from Ruidoso, New Mexico by Betsy and her husband Bob) is a literal kid magnet. People flock to see the bear, strangers stop to take photos, people stop by to ask what costume is next. Even the Charlotte Observer has reported on this icon in wood.

I’m not very good at chiding.

Chiding seems closely linked to nagging, hounding and badgering.   None of those approaches – and trust me, they have been tried – have historically worked well with either of the kids.  Remind, yes, chide, no.  It is particularly unsuccessful now that they’re older and have carved out a high degree of independence for themselves.  Somehow I’ve got to do a better job of weaving strong-arm tactics under the larger umbrella of ‘fatherly advice.’  But the historical record on that isn’t so hot, either.

Reid is the principal culprit.    He’s been unresponsive to a few family issues (his sister has borne the yoke of chiding him for me on such matters).He’s near absent when it comes to cold-calling or texting his old man (I did get a text out of the blue yesterday) and – amazingly – the first e-mail I’ve received from him in months arrived this morning (a music download about a group called The Black Keys).  So maybe that’s his way of breaking the ice.  Others have dismissed his negligence as a guy thing.  That’s plausible.

Conversely, if he bugged me all the time I’d worry about that, too.   He’s never been one to tightly grip the apron strings.  Perhaps I should be satisfied with what I get from him, and he should be satisfied with what he gets from me.  Communication detente.

—————–

October 24, 2011

Ellen/Reid: If it sinful to already be thinking of what will be served at the Thanksgiving meal then I have sinned.  A roast turkey, potatoes, stuffing, et al, all of it sounds good.  Or, it could be a sign that in general I think of food altogether too much and my waistline is showing the explosive results.  I have only Dairy Queen and roast chicken with potatoes to blame for it.  I need to join the YMCA and spend all my waking hours there.

Reid, what have you been up to?  I need to hear a little more about what’s on your radar screen these days.  People ask how you’re doing and it’s hard to give them an accurate answer.  But I know that things are okay and perhaps that’s all the answer they need to know.  If you’ll have me, I’ll get to Chicago very soon so we can traipse around the city.  I don’t want to wait until Thanksgiving to see your digs and where you work.  I have been grossly remiss for not getting up there a lot, lot sooner.

Thanks for the photos of California, Ellen.  Those few days of R&R were much well deserved, and it was good for your mother to be with you right now at this wonderful time.  That whole junket had to be a gas.  Can’t wait to hear the details.

I need both of you (and me, too) to call your uncle Ralph no later than Friday about estate issues.  308-382-2128. If he is not available, ask for Jamie.  This is incredibly important to him and to you.  He wants to get a lot of this wrapped up as soon as possible and he will need a little financial paperwork from the two of you; i.e. checking account routing codes so a portion of the estate can be wired to your accounts.  He wants to do this on Friday at the latest.  He leaned on me about this before he and Gayle left for Paris.  I hope they’ve had a good time.  You uncle said he was going to try to blend in with the locals but fat chance of that happening.  Sacra bleu!  The only French he needed to know was ‘how much does this cost?’

It looks as if North Carolina will be an even redder state than it already is after the elections.  I think the good people down here are getting hoodwinked by the fear-and-doom advocates on the far right side of the GOP.  They worry only about fringe issues that won’t lead to job creation or a better environment.  I’m all for morality but drumming up make-believe issues that are tied to someone else’s sense of morality don’t make a lot of sense.  I wish I’d clipped some of the recent editorial cartoons because they nailed it big time.  Pandering to fear just doesn’t work – except on election day.  On the national front, I’m worried about Perry’s insipid drive to run a pipeline filled with oily sludge down the center of the Plains states from Canada to Texas (of course – to Texas, his state).  One rupture and it seeps through the Sand Hills of Nebraska and into the Ogallala aquifer, the main source of fresh water for many states.  We have all this abundant sunshine and water.  Why don’t we harness those resources?  The big GOP penchant is to loosen environmental guidelines all over the country.  A bunch of crazed idiots in my book.  It’s just depressing to listen to those morons.  One in six in the U.S. lives in poverty and another nearly 10% are out of meaningful work and those dolts stay in la-la land.  Where have all the middle-of-the-road, pragmatic candidates gone?

We’re having a beautiful Indian summer right now.  Our leaves locally are turning and the skies are sunny Carolina blue.  Just got the house cleaned and prepped for the arrival of Bob Furstenau, Dave Hemminger and Dave Dalquist from Des Moines.  That will be a fine time all the way around.

I’m out of steam for today.  Doing well, but out of steam.  I’ll be in touch in short order.

Making a mess of things…

Henry's messes are a little different. At least you can clean his up.

Life has a way of making a mess of things.  All sorts of self-created speed bumps get in the way or jangle the ride.  Distance and time do their best, too, to erode relationships and keep apart what had been close.

Perhaps that is what is behind my infernal preoccupation for letters to old cronies – not so much old in years – but folks I’ve known for a long while and have allowed the bridges between us to collapse.  That doesn’t sit right.  I don’t want to get much further down the growing-old pike without trying to rebuild or repair fences.  That’s become important to me.

But the list of friends worthy of bridge repair is incredibly and impossibly long: Pete, Pat, Mike, Pam, Diana, Jim, Mort, Steve, Glen, Ben, et al.  And on it goes.  The letters to Dave, Jane, Bob and now Ray, are just a start, and not even a good one at that.

I refuse to use the hipper online ways of doing such.  Those are too public, too cold, too lickety-split.  This blog is seemingly at odds with that statement but there is a marginal difference because this is intended for a wider – but still very small – group who want to keep up with what’s written to Ellen and Reid.  A week or so ago, Reid texted me to see if it was okay if some of the letters to him could be read at a literary conference in Chicago.  Sure, I said, ‘but they aren’t high art.’  No problem, he replied.  “It’s reality.”

My reality is that I want to re-touch lots of people who meant something to my life.  I’ll keep nickle-and-diming the long and growing list.

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August 2, 2011

Ray: The invitation for the October wedding I’ve been expecting has yet to show up in my mailbox.  Perhaps that is a signal that my courtesy visa to Iowa has expired, along with the rights and privileges therein.  I’ll keep wandering over to the mailbox in the hopes it arrives.  You’ll know as soon as I do.

Just got back from five days of backpacking in Wyoming with a group of 11 that I’d assembled, and the term ‘herding cats’ comes to mind.  We had a great time and comfortably overcame all of the group dynamics which no doubt you can identify and relate to.  Even Ellen and her hubby, Tim, came along for the walk which was a close to a pleasure cruise of backcountry hiking as you can get.  As you saw with Ellen back in our camping days in Minnesota, a premium was placed on clean sets of laundered clothes each day, and as the days wore on and she ran out of fresh stock, things approached near crisis proportions.  Really, she was a good egg about it and fit in quite nicely with the troops.  She’d never done anything like this before and she did a great job.  When we were squatting beside the camp fires, more than once I thought of the storytelling we used to do with the kids, augmented by the occasional spewing of flammable liquor into the fire for dramatic effect at the right time in the tale.  Those were the days.  Caught a fair amount of trout that ended up fire-roasted with lemon pepper, so that made the otherwise bland meals palatable.

We saw a fair number of bikers up in the hills, some headed toward Sturgis, others bent on avoiding it.  The assumption here is that you’ll have already come and gone by the time you read this.  I miss that trip even though 24-48 hours was plenty enough time for me around the Buffalo Chip and the campgrounds.  You can only see so many displays.  It was the going out that had most of the appeal.  Just don’t tell me you trailered your Road King.  They still make t-shirts that honor that mode of travel, sort of.  It’s been at least 10 years for me to make that visit.  My most recent Sturgis hat reads 2001.  My ’03 Heritage is still plugging along, although it’s been so damn hot here it has discouraged riding.  Hopefully I’ll be able to fire the mother up in the near future.  The riding is pretty good down this way if you like twisty back roads.

The only firm travel plans now on the drawing board is Thanksgiving up in St. Paul.  Ellen just rejuvenated her kitchen and that will be my debut trip to see it.  Reid is intent on making the trip, too, as will my girlfriend of about three years, Felicia.  She’s a North Carolinian to the core.  I’ve yet to acquire her twang, although I’m said to be working on it.  She likes to ride the bike and we’ve been all over creation down in these parts.

Well, I’d best get back to the job that pays most of the bills.  If the invitation comes through, I’ll make plans for an added day or so, probably toward the front portion of the trip.  I’m sure Curt can flash-freeze pheasants and toss them in a shipping box.  I’ll depend on your shooting to fill it.

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.