FAMILY NAME

                                            

When I was a young man and just going out into the world, my father gave me a little plaque. A the top of it was written in bold letters our family name “Holst.” Underneath that was a verse that said in part. “You got it from your father. It was all he had to give. So it’s yours to use and cherish, for as long as you may live. If you lose the watch he gave you it can always be replaced. But a black mark on your name can never be erased. It was clean the day you took it and a worthy name to bear. When he got it from his father, there was no dishonor there. So make sure you guard it wisely. After all is said and done. You will be glad the name is spotless, when you give it to your son.”

I have often thought about the message that was there on that tiny plaque and today, it hangs on the wall in my office where I see it often. My grandfather and my father never did anything to tarnish our family name in their lifetimes. I haven’t either but then I’m not done living, am I, so I need to keep working on that. So does my son, his sons and my siblings. My father was a poor man but a proud man. He held in high regard the principals his father had given him. He never had all of the gray areas to deal with that we are subjected to now days in our society, when it comes to morals and behavior. Most of his beliefs and ideals were either right or wrong and most of them were based on his strong Christian faith.

I tend to believe as my father believed but I have to admit it becomes harder and harder to do it. So much of what we once believed to be wrong, has morphed into either right or mildly objectionable. So not only have things changed, but also you can be told you’re wrong to believe the way my parents raised me to believe. I have been told and I have seen others being told, that very thing. My father has been dead for twenty years, yet he still influences my life and my actions even today. Call it pride, call it self-respect, call it what you want too it’s a hard thing to rid your conscience of, when you go against it. To use a modern term, it is my default setting and sometimes when I get too far out of whack, I simply have to reboot and go back.

I once had to go to court to vouch for my kid brother who had done something bad. I went to beg the court for leniency for him because I knew-- and my brother knew-- what he had done was so wrong and he had hurt people. He was an alcoholic and drunk when he did it but that’s not an excuse, it’s just a reason and there is a difference. To my knowledge my father never knew about this act. My brother made restitution to all the people he hurt, was forgiven and to the best of my knowledge never strayed again. He’s gone now too, like our dad and I hope somewhere they did meet again. I know dad would have been proud of him for ending it well.

It is my hope and my prayer that I never tarnish our family name. I know now that if I do, I ruin it for generations to come. No one wants to be affiliated with someone who has done that. I’m not here to judge others and this is not some sanctimonious rant about me. I just meant to share what honesty and integrity meant to my family back then and what it means to me today. 

HUMMINGBIRDS

                                               

Right outside of my office window hang my hummingbird feeders. All day as I write these tiny birds zip in and out to feed. They can fly forwards, backwards and sideways; lift straight up or simply hover like a helicopter. They are the most acrobatic flyers in the whole bird community. Besides eating up all of my sugar they accomplish other things around the yard that are helpful. They help pollinate the flowers on the apple trees and bushes. There are so full of energy yet they are one of the tiniest birds in the kingdom, weighing less then an ounce. Come fall, like the other birds, they too make the long trip to a warmer climate. Its perilous but if they survive, they always come back where they came from.

I wonder if any of the accomplishments mankind has a made in ultra marathons and ironman competitions for endurance levels, can equal what happens when a bird that weighs less then an ounce, travels thousand of miles to Central America to winter. Ruby throated hummingbirds are solitary creatures and fly mostly by themselves, often up to 500 miles a day, their wings beating up to 80 times a second. They live three to five years before they wear their tiny bodies out and die.

These tiny birds build their nests, usually in a crotch of a tree, out of lichens held together with spider webs, which are sticky and hold the nest together. The nest seldom survives the winters so although they will come back to the same location each year, they build new nests every season. They usually lay two eggs that take about eighteen days to hatch. Only the female incubates the eggs. Hummingbirds do eat small insects and spiders and feed them to their young. I have witnessed them eating ants that made their way to the feeder drawn by the sugar water. The nests are hard to spot so watching a female go back to her nest is probably the best way to find a nest. The ruby throat hummingbird is the only one that ventures as far north as Minnesota. There are however many species in the southern United States.

I’m a nature freak when it comes to this stuff. I find this stuff so amazing but yet I never take it for granted. I know that in so much of this world, the habitat for these creatures is in peril. I know too that there are a lot of people on this earth that couldn’t care less. Their world revolves around drugs and alcohol or hedge funds and stock markets. This world is just a place to make money and take that money and play. Nature just gets in the way.

I have too, in front of me, pictures of my great grandchildren. It is my hope that they too will someday become in-tune with nature. That is, if there is anything left on earth worth looking at. If the waters we drink aren’t poisoned with chemicals, and the air we breathe with carbon monoxide. If the oceans aren’t filled with plastic and the polar ice caps melted away, then maybe they will have a chance. How can something that I started out writing about, on such a light side, turn into something so depressing. It’s when you can’t get around the truth that things, even like hummingbirds, gets this depressing.

JOE MAUER

There are moments in sports that you want to just frame and hang on your wall for the entire world to see. Sunday September 30^thwas one such moment. It was the end of the baseball season for the Minnesota Twins and quite possibly the end of Joe Mauer’s playing days. Joe was the quintessential hero of so many baseball fans from the Midwest. A home grown boy who won our hearts many years ago and then cracked them open just a little bit on that last day when he stood there in his beloved catcher’s gear and doffed his cap for the last time. A class act, by a classy baseball player, who will be sorely missed.

As a twins fan our emotions haven’t had to many chances to swell over the years. Oh, I remember the twins of 87 and 91. I got to go to my first and most likely last World Series game. Those series wins were two Cinderella moments in four years that are etched into my memory. We had our Kirby, our Kent and our Jack Morris back then to pay homage too. There was the game five home run by Kirby when only the immortal announcer Jack Buck could say. “And we will see you tomorrow night.”It was our moment in infamy. I’ll never forget the night they won game seven. I wandered around the Minneapolis loop with tears in my eyes and my heart swelling with pride because our Twins had done what no one thought they could ever do and they were not just the World Champs. They were our World Champs.

It was quiet for a few years in the twin’s origination and then along came Joe. Joe was not just a great catcher and batter; he was an all around athlete and an all around good guy. Yes it was off the field too, that he shined. He was a hero to so many kids and little league coaches were telling their young batters everywhere “If you want to be good, watch Joe Mauer’s stance in the batters box. Watch Joe Mauer’s swing.” It was epic and when Joe uncoiled, that picture belonged on top of every baseball-hitting trophy that was ever given out.

There were those naysayers that said Joe made to much money and you know what-- they all make too much money. But Joe never threatened to go to the Yankees, Joe never threatened to boycott the twins or ask to be traded to get that money and who in his right mind won’t take it if it was offered. Joe was just Joe, and the public loved him. There were those who said he was hurt too much but injuries come to the fiercest competitors more then others because they play sometimes with reckless abandon. Joe was hurt the most as a catcher and anyone who has every caught baseball knows what its like to squat in the dirt for three hours while a big league pitcher throws 98 mile an hour fastballs at you and big league batters foul those pitches back off your mask and body while that runner from third base barrels down the line with his shoulder lowered just to take you out.

Joe’s last time at bat was classic Joe, taking that outside pitch and driving it to left field, then making the turn and stretching it into a double. Grantland Rice the great sportswriter said and I quote. “For when the one great scorer comes to write against your name, He marks not if you won or lost but how you played the game.” Thanks for the memories Joe.

END OF AM ERA

                                                

I look out over my front yard tonight and the lake is quiet, shimmering softly in the waning twilight. There was a lot of quiet time this summer at the lake for me. I think I went fishing a few times and there were a few nights, when I just sat on the end of the dock and soaked up the sunsets. They’re just as spectacular now as they always were but something is missing. Maybe it was an old warm and wrinkled hand that was once curled up in mine as we sat there. Maybe it was the small children playing on the beach and maybe it was kids in wet bathing suits, with wet sandy hair in their faces, catching sunfish on one side of the dock and throwing them off the other.

There is something about a lake place that takes sentiment to new highs. The water-skiing, tubing and boat rides. Those evenings around the campfires you never wanted to end. You could see the flames reflected in little kids wet eyes as they stared into the fire, snuggled in sweatshirts in their parent’s laps. You waited all of your life to live like this but as much as you want to now, you can’t stop the world and just freeze these moments. Because time marches on and all to often, those who are the oldest and the ones that find the most meaning in all of this, run out of time first. I have upstairs in my house a corner for displaying all of the picture albums taken over the years. A place literally packed with thirty years of nostalgia.

I rode around the chain with my friend the other day and as we poked along the shorelines I could feel the same things that are playing out in my life right now, being played out in the many cabins and mansion we passed. How I wanted to probe the history of each and every one. How many years I thought has this been the family go to place? How many generations raced to the lake for the weekend and time with grandpa and grandma? There were a few realtors’ signs on the shorelines and for them you know, it’s the end of an era.

Soon I will turn my back on the lake for this season and Pat and I will head for the southwest where the sun is still warm. So many people have told me, “Pat and you have the best of both worlds.” But to be truthful the best is mostly used up and although we do have our moments, so much is gone to the ages. September to me is summers grand finale. I remember Neil Diamond singing the song “September Morn.” One verse is so relevant to me as I write this cool September night. “September morn. Do you remember how we danced that night away? Two lovers playing scenes from some romantic play. September mornings still can make me feel that way.”

As I navigate through the rest of life I am sure there will be many good times yet to be had. Its my hope that my family will keep the lake place so what has happened here over the last thirty years, can be repeated again in other families that too will grow up here. That they also will feel someday as I do now. And when that time comes for that final roll call, I will spend my last days right here where my heart lives. I am sure my story is being played out all over this Eden we call the lake country.