MY ROAD

                                                            

Each day I walk the road from my house, to the highway with my dog Molly so we get some exercise. It’s the same road I used to walk with another dog Gus, for fourteen years. It’s a road that has proven to have many benefits, beyond getting my heart rate up. It’s for me, a time to enjoy Mother Nature and the serenity that is there. Over the years I have seen, deer, bears, skunks, porcupines and you name it. Over the years I have sorted out so many thoughts and memories. I walked and cried when my wife died. I walked alone for the first time when Gus died and Molly and I have had so many interesting conversations, although she’s not much of a talker. But what has really been the most important thing to me are the conversations I have had with friends and neighbors that stopped to chat with me. People that I would never had seen, if I hadn’t been on that road.

I once met a woman in the winter that was collecting dead sticks and wood for her stove. I never realized that in this day and age someone would have to do that, just to heat her home. I sent her to my house and an old woodpile that was in my shed that would never be used. She was doing me a favor by taking it. I have met so many people on the road looking for directions, even though the road is only two miles long and a dead end. I once met a man who asked me how to get to Nisswa. I asked him why he was looking for Nisswa on this road and he told me, “I’m not. I’m just looking for someone who knows how to get to Nisswa.”

When I first moved up here the road was new and smooth as a baby’s behind. But old age and wear and tear has done the same thing to it, as old age has done to my surface. Left it full of cracks and bumps. My aunt use to call all those wrinkles she had in her old age laugh lines. My dad told her nothing was that funny. They didn’t get along very well. The road has such a crown on it that when you walk, your one foot is several inches lower then the other. So when you walk back you have to stay on the same side of the road so you even your body back out again. Once in my younger drinking days in Staples, the town where I grew up, I walked home from the local watering hole slightly inebriated. I couldn’t figure out why I was limping badly until I found out I was walking with one foot in the gutter. Molly’s got it all figured out she just stays in the ditch and away from traffic.

That’s what life is all about; a walk down a long proverbial road. For many years we walk holding on to our guardians hand. We didn’t get to choose the road and at first that was okay but as we age we yearn to find our own way. Its not that the road we were brought up on was necessarily a bad road; instead being naturally inquisitive we realize that unless we chart our own course in life, we can’t take credit for the path we walked. It will always be some ones else’s choice that we just participated in and like old Frank sang so many times, we want it to be, “My Way.” But all roads have one thing in common. They have an end. A place where you can go no farther. There was a time in life when we could just turn around and start over but that ship has sailed. There is some solace though to be had in all of this. Most of us will never realize where the end of the road really is.

A CONFESSION OF SORTS

                                                         

Just in case I might want to run for president someday, I am going to come clean right now on all of the bad things I have done in my life, so all of you know about them and I in turn, have no dirty secrets. So, pay attention people as you read this, because this will knock your socks off. One day, when I was about four years old and very mad at my mother, I went outside. On the sidewalk that ran in front of our house, for a whole block I stomped on every crack in that sidewalk. Now, my mother’s back still seemed to be fine after that, but she was not one to complain about such things. But Mrs. Klein, next door, turned out to be as hunchbacked as the guy who terrorized Notre Dame, so I might have had a hand in that. Mrs. Klein, I apologize, even though I know you can’t hear me because you’re dead, but I’m sorry that backfired. It was not my intention, but I am no clairvoyant.

I have, numerous times in my life, cut off those labels that say, “Do not remove under penalty of law,” on my pillows and mattresses. I am not proud of this, but I am weak sometimes, and that thing sticking out of my pillow got to be too much, and I just snapped. I have had to live with this on my conscience for a long time, and I must admit, it feels good to come clean on this one

I used to go to a barbershop that had Playboy magazines on the reading table. Now I want you to understand, I did not look at the pictures, I only read the stories, but sometimes it was very hard to not see a picture for a very brief time while turning the pages. My wife started cutting my hair shortly after that, because she said I got too frisky when I came home from the barbershop, and getting a haircut every week was getting way too expensive. Then, for some crazy reason, five years ago she suggested I go back to the barbershop. Women, I’ll never understand them.

I once pirated a movie that I wanted to keep. I have lived in fear of the F.B.I. coming after me for years now, and every time I see that warning on the videos I rent, I have to leave the room. I still have the movie, but it is well hidden in the woods. I have not been there for years because I know I am being followed wherever I go. I am thinking seriously about going into the witness protection program, but it makes it hard to run for office when you don’t exist.

In 1955, at age 14, I stole a pack of cigarettes from the Red Owl grocery in Staples. My buddy, Arnie, and I smoked them all in a junk car, and we both threw up. I did not inhale. I have checked, and the statute of limitations has passed on this petty crime and the Red Owl went out of business, so I consider this case closed.

So there you have it all—the secrets from my sordid past—my soul laid bare for all to see. Mea culpa, mea culpa. I have not yet announced my candidacy, but I am forming an exploratory committee—as soon as I can find someone to be on it. I know it’s late in the race, but what can I say. It’s for our country.---Mike.

HERBERGERS

                                                         

A while back we were informed that Herbergers Department Store was closing in Brainerd. They’re just another victim in a fast changing world, when it comes to retail shopping. I can complain about it and I can write about it-- but there seems to be no stopping it. All over this nation big box stores are shutting their doors and often times taking down whole shopping Malls down with them.

I lived in a twin city suburb years ago next to a mall called Brookdale. It had stores like Dayton’s and Donaldson’s. J.C. Penny’s and Sears. It wasn’t just a shopping center it was a social center with all of its little specialties shops. I remember browsing for books at Barns and Nobles and getting my shoes repaired at a cobblers shop, all in the comfort of an indoor mall. There were always civic events going on in the mall and great restaurants to eat in. But they all existed, dependent on each other to bring in the people.  A few years back it was bulldozed and now in its place, sits a lonely Walmart with one huge parking lot.

Maybe it’s just the change I can’t accept. I’m old and it’s a whole new way of life for me. I’m not reluctant to change. I have an I-phone and a computer. But I still like to shop and try clothes on. Talk to a knowledgeable hardware man about repairs. I think the greatest thing we are losing; besides the jobs the store’s provided, is the interaction we had between friends and neighbors. Instead we choose to stay cloistered in our homes having a delivery service bring us our groceries and clicking away at some online site to buy everything. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

Change is inevitable in this fast paced world. I remember as a boy watching the steam engines coming into Staples where I grew up. These steel behemoths belching steam and smoke, pulled over a hundred loaded boxcars and had been around for over a hundred years and they had a lot to do with the expansion of this country from east to west. I used to go over to the roundhouse where they garaged and serviced these giant machines of burden and stand in awe of them. Then one day in the late fifties I noticed many of them gone, parked on a siding idled and quiet. I asked my dad who was a railroader what was going on? He told me, “take a good look at them son, their days are numbered.” So was the railroad in Staples.

Staples, through innovation survived but it was never the same for me. Brainerd will survive too without Herbergers but the empty J. C Penny store a mile away is testament as to how hard it will be for someone to fill that space. Hopefully the mall will survive. Maybe Ascensus could use another location or maybe they can park discarded Volkswagens in the parking lot? I’m being facieses but sometimes that’s all you have left. Pat and I drive back from Arizona in the springtime on somewhat of a back road to avoid the freeways. We drive through a lot of small towns in Oklahoma and North Texas. The roadsides are bordered with hundreds of shuttered storefronts. What used to be small thriving downtowns is now a graveyard for mom and pop businesses. The town now gets by with a Circle K and a Walmart.  

FACEBOOK

                                                          

Last week, in the heights of a raging blizzard, my daughter-in-law let their six-year-old Labrador “Missy” out to take care of business. Something that took place everyday without incident. For whatever reason the dog bolted and took off running. A few hours later it was evident that she wasn’t coming back. The weather may have played a factor or maybe it was some critter but no one knows what was in that dogs mind at that time. The entire family spent the rest of that day looking for her. They live in a rural area with lots of open spaces. Nightfall came and no “Missy.” Just a broken hearted family

My granddaughter in the meantime had posted the dogs picture and a plea for help on a lost dog app and Facebook. Late the next day they received a phone call from a person many miles away who said she might have seen the dog. My son and his wife went over there and after a short search they found their scared and exhausted dog.

Last week Facebook and its leaders were taken to task by congressional leaders for the way they were running their business. Yes, there are some things that needed changing and the company has said it will take care of them. In the meantime our ‘real news’ starved media did its best to crucify Facebook. They were unrelenting in their negative coverage. No one, from the news industry ever said, “that I heard, if you don’t want something shared, don’t put it on Facebook.” It was just all Facebook’s fault.

The up side of Facebook is this. Without that app my family’s dog would be dead. With one click of a mouse you can share your pictures your thoughts, your fears and sadness with your entire social circle. But you have to realize that whatever you put on there may be up for public consumption. There are ways to speak privately on Facebook with someone, but you need to know how to use those and then do just that. If you have a filthy mouth and your mad at the world in general there are also ways to bump you off the page and we need to do that too.

My family is somewhat scattered around the country and yes we do talk on the phone but Facebook provides the means of sharing your messages and pictures with a lot of people at once. If you are a private person then most people who do Facebook would understand that you are private and yes, it’s not for everyone. Those who use Facebook and know that’s your wishes should respect that. Be careful when you try to talk for others.

With everything, there are those who abuse the privileges that come with this kind of media. Your political views, your inflammatory remarks are better served being kept to yourself. My mother used to say, “Sometimes what is left unsaid, is best said.” Facebook will survive and be better for what is has gone through lately but we the users need to help by using some discretion on what we say and do. In the meantime thanks to social media my son’s family has their dog back.

LIFE IS HARD

                                                           

As I get older, my life gets more complicated. Maybe its because in this world of I-phones and computers and car gadgets that I need to possess to survive, I am over whelmed with all of the technology and no longer have a twelve year old granddaughter readily available to fix things for me. My son-in-law who is a tech genius can fix most of what I mess up but not without scolding me for messing it up. I sometimes feel when I ask him for help, like a two year old who just pooped his pants. Today I did an up grade on my phone and I lost all of my contacts. Not to worry I had them in my computer and someplace called “I cloud,” which might as well be up in the clouds, for all I know how to access it. So I typed them all back in manually which was somewhat productive because there were people in there I don’t know anymore, or never knew and people who have been dead for three years. I called one number to see who it was and I got some life insurance salesman who assured me I had gotten the right number. He wouldn’t let me go until I told him I had leprosy and was in the witness protection program.

So with that in mind I have instituted some changes that will make it easier for me to stay on top of things. I have three children, eight grandchildren and three great grandchildren and remembering all of their birthdays and anniversaries is hard for me. So starting this year I have purchased fourteen belated birthday cards, which I intend to send out at the end of the year with a sincere letter of apology. They will get 1 check for their birthday and Christmas and they can decide on how to divvy it up. It is my belief that the child, whose birthday was in June, will be very happy to be able to celebrate the day twice. He probably got too much on his birthday anyway. I may just throw a happy New Year in the card too. Weddings I will do at the appropriate time. I’m not a total loser.

I sometimes misplace my keys. Someone I love, used to say, “they are always in the last place you used them, so look there.” As good as her intentions were with that statement and however oxymoronic it might sound, if I remembered the last place I left them, they wouldn’t be lost would they? Most often they are in the back door where I left them. Now if your coming over here tonight to check and see if my keys are in the door, and steal my junk, please put them back where you found them and don’t molest me. Bring a treat for Molly or she won’t leave you alone and don’t take her with you, no matter how much she begs.

My very inquisitive and loving friend Pat—and by the way I have to be very careful here, because I live in the same house with her in Arizona for four months in the winter and she does the cooking, is the queen of the question askers. Perry Mason, move on over. For some weird reason she rarely believes anything I say anyway when I answer her. I think asking me things is just a formality to me make me feel good, before she goes and Goggles it and proves me wrong. As a side note I was wrong once when I said I was wrong but I found out later I was right so it didn’t count. I plan on buying her one of those Google boxes someday where she can talk straight to Alexus and by pass the middleman-- mainly me-- Ask away honey.