TO MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY

True happiness is a state of mind and must always be preceded by a commitment to good.  We have found out, in our lives, that achieving worldly goods accomplishes little in our efforts to attain true happiness. Some of the richest people I know are the most miserable. I say this because I have found happiness in many places in my life, and it didn’t cost me a penny. I am thankful for that.

I have found happiness in the world our creator gave us. I am amazed each time a flower blooms, or a hummingbird appears, or the sun sets once more over the hills, and across our placid lake. The stars on a cloudless night, a full moon on a forest path, a gentle rain that greens the earth and breathes life back into it. They all speak volumes to me and I am thankful for that.

I am overjoyed with the babies we brought into the world and the babies they have brought into the world. It fulfilled a great purpose in my life. From the time all of them were infants, to seeing them go out into the world on their own, my heart swelled with pride. It is an accomplishment fostered in love and not in money, and my hope, my prayer is that, as my body wanes and dies, a part of me will live on in them and I will be thankful for that.

It amazes me always, the love and commitment of my life bound partner, who spent her life making our lives inseparable. What we accomplished by trial and error, tears and sacrifices, and truly loving and trusting each other could not have been bought at any price. Even though I existed before she knew me, she truly completed me. I see that every day in my family, too, and I am thankful for that.

I think of the people that have come into my life as friends. I did not have, nor have I now, anything to offer them but my friendship and my love for them, but in the end, that was all they really wanted, as do I. Maybe it was their persona that first brought us down that path, but I have found so much good behind that admirable character, that first attracted me, that a lot of it has rubbed off on me and made me a better person. We tend to mold our lives from those around us and we thank God for making good choices. Yes, sometimes we don’t know what we are doing in life, but there are so many wonderful examples out there to emulate. It’s hard to go wrong if you truly care, and we should be thankful for that.

Lastly, I can’t forget my faith in God. All of the good things I’ve talked about are his example, and his way of life. None of it would have existed without him at the very core of my life. When others have failed me and when I have failed myself, as often happened, God was that rock and refuge that was always there for me. He never turned his back on me and all I had to do was ask. I am thankful for that.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.        Mike Holst

THANKSGIVING 20015

                                                

Today as I write this, there is a cold wind whipping up the lake waters. The waves have turned all dark and ugly green, topped with their foamy tentacles reaching out until they come crashing down relentlessly on shore. There’s an ominous feeling of winter in the air today. All of those chores, we lake people go through at the end of the season are done and suddenly were not sure anymore what were going to do to occupy our minds. There was a time this summer when there wasn’t enough minutes in a day to do everything we wanted to do and we had to pick and choose. But wait-- there are a couple of other events taking place this month and next and maybe its time to concentrate on that before the year ends.

Thanksgiving is fast becoming the forgotten holiday. For many of us, first and foremost it’s a four-day weekend, filled with eating, football and family get togethers. I say forgotten because the commercialization of Christmas’s is turning it that way. It seems a month is not enough time to get all of the Holiday shopping done. Anyone who works in the retail industry knows that Thanksgiving is becoming just anther workday for him or her. If they’re lucky they get a couple of hours to enjoy Thanksgiving. Black Friday is so appropriately named because of the shadow of Christmas shopping---not to be confused with the real meaning of Christmas. This looms over Thanksgiving like a dark cloud, striping the holiday weekend of so much of its meaning. Maybe if we weren’t so preoccupied with Christmas we would have time to reflect on what Thanksgiving is all about.

We all know why Thanksgiving was started but do we know why its just not the same as it used to be when it was a trip to grandmas house. I guess unless you’re a farmer the harvest doesn’t really mean as much as a trip to the grocery store to buy the food for Thanksgiving. I guess unless you’re poor or a lonely shut-in you don’t really miss a turkey dinner with all of the trimmings. You eat like that or better many times a year. I guess unless you’re a widower or a widow and remember when the chair next to you at that Thanksgiving table held someone you were so thankful for and her dressing was the best you ever tasted. It was the one-day she took the good china out and how much you miss him or her. I guess when all of the kids and grandkids have grown up and gone their ways and now have a family of their own that now is the time when you realize, what it’s like, to be on the outside looking in.

But if your old enough, you may have something a lot of people don’t have in your memory bank. You have an appreciation for what you have been blessed with over all of these years. You remember Thanksgiving when it was so much more meaningful. You remember people that aren’t here anymore. People who meant so much to you and today, you not only give thanks for what’s on the table and who’s around the table but you give thanks for those who went before you and shared so many Thanksgivings with you, in a kinder gentler time.

To all of you, I hope you have a meaningful Thanksgiving. I hope God blesses all of us with a day we won’t ever forget. But most of all, I hope we realize what it is that makes this country so great and vow to never let it be taken from us.---Mike Holst

LUTEFISK SUPPER

                                               

Every fall, some of my friends and I, travel to Staples to the annual lutefisk supper at Faith Lutheran church. This is an annual festival that has been going on for a long, long, time. How long? I remember it when I was kid and believe me that has been a long, long, time. I go for a couple of reasons, number one being my Brother Huck and his crew, consisting mostly of his sons, have long cooked the fish so its kind of a family affair for me. Number two is, I have a soft spot for that church and although I’m not a member or a Lutheran, I recognize the good they do for the people of that area. Maybe you have noticed, I didn’t say, “I go for the fish.”

Eating Lutefisk, for me reminds me of when I was ten and played house with the little neighbor girls. Those of you who have your mind in the gutter can stop right here, because I said playhouse, not doctor. In our role-playing, the girls would bring out their little tin dishes and make us boys mud pies. We would smack our lips and throw the mud over our shoulders as if it was the best mud pie we ever ate. Now to be sure Lutfisk-- unlike mud-- is edible but it has to be covered with melted butter and salt to bring out the taste.-- Of butter and salt. The fish has no taste. It is akin to a tofu turkey at Thanksgiving time. There is an odor however that you can smell as you approach the church and it does get into your clothing. My dog picked up on it when I came home from the meal and proceeded to rub her shoulder on my pants legs for some time.

To be sure it’s the trimmings that make the meal for me. Lefsa, to me, the Norwegian flat bread, was long a favorite in my parents family and it is for me today. I’m addicted to the stuff. I could eat it everyday. Couple this with sweet potatoes or rutabagas, homemade mashed potatoes and Swedish meatballs, cranberries and homemade pies-- well it don’t get much gooder then that-- ya sure yu betcha. I think the Swedish meatballs were a concession of sorts because I have long considered Lutefisk and Lefsa a Norwegian dish. A lot of jokes have been made about the differences between Swedes and Norwegians but this being a family paper; I will have to keep them to myself.

I want to congratulate the people of Faith Lutheran Church for the fine meal and carrying on the tradition. There were a lot of young people there that night but they were serving the Lutefisk, not eating it. I’m not sure where this tradition will be in twenty years but maybe we will be having Lutefisk Tacos or Norwegian burritos. Served with melted butter and salt of course. But in retrospect I didn’t eat it either when I was young, but here I am eating it now. My dad used to say,” The only thing different between Lutefisk and snot was kids will eat snot.” He always said that while you were dishing up your Lutefisk of course.

To the people of Faith Lutheran I say, “Ser deg nesta ar.” Or see you next year.

Mike Holst

A TRIP TO REMEMBER

A while back, over coffee, I told a story to a friend of mine and now I would like to share it with you. Years ago my wife and I had stopped for the night at a motel in Chamberlain, South Dakota. As I was getting our bags out of the car, there, right next to me in the parking lot, were two men wiping down their Harleys and covering them up for the night. I noticed they had Florida registrations so I remarked, “You’re a long way from home.” One of the men, who looked gaunt and exhausted, said with a tired smile, “We’re only half as far as we once were.”

He went on to tell me that they were on their way back to Florida after riding up to Fairbanks, Alaska. “Wow, what a trip,” I said. He looked at me quietly for a second—I sensed he wasn’t sure if he wanted to carry on the conversation or not—but he finally said, “I am fulfilling a dream.” There were tears in his companion’s eyes who, up to then, had said nothing, just standing there and buttoning up his bike cover. Not knowing where this was going, intrigued, I set my bags down.

“A few months ago,” the man continued, “I was told I had six months to live. One of my dreams had always been to take a trip like this. A week after my diagnoses, I knew it was now or never. I rented two motorcycles, and my friend took off six weeks from his job to go with me, ride shotgun, to make sure I was going to be safe.  I could not have done it without him, and now I’m going home to my family to die.”

I was at a loss for words, but I shook his hand and his friend’s hand, wishing them well. I went up to my room with tears in my eyes. My wife, worried about where I had been, asked what was I doing. “Just talking to some friends,” I said. She looked at me like she didn’t understand, but let it ride, and we went to bed. As I laid there in the dark that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about the man and his friend. As sad as the situation was, there was a victory here, and a profile in courage. He got to live his dream because of a lot of people. His friend, who put his life on hold to go with him, and his family, who unselfishly gave up a lot of the short time they had left together to let him accomplish what he had to do.

I have talked often about this trip throughout life, and the people who have made it so worthwhile by sharing their lives with me. Although I never knew the man’s name, my life was better off for having met him that night. He could have just said nothing when I addressed him, or told me to buzz off. Instead, he chose to share that story with me a complete stranger, and to this day I have wondered why. Was it pride in what he had accomplished, or was it because he just wanted to share the love? I guess I will never know, but if what he told me was true—and I have no reason to believe otherwise—he is long gone from this earth, but his story will live on for as long as I do, anyway. When we left the next morning, the Harleys were gone, but that night will always live on in my mind.

 There comes a time when you have to dare to live your dreams. Life is uncertain, even when you haven’t been given a deadline. Seize the moment.

TODAY

Back in the sixties there was an American folk music group, “The New Christy Minstrels.” One of the songs they sang was called, “Today.” I remember the lyrics to the first verse of that song, and even today they take me back to that time in Minneapolis—a time when I was just going out into the world full of hope—and anticipation for a better life for myself. The words that still resonate with me today are from verse one--“Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine; I’ll taste your strawberries, I’ll drink your sweet wine; a million tomorrows shall all pass away, ‘ere I forget all the joy that is mine today.” At the time, they were meaningless words to some extent, because I hadn’t lived any of those tomorrows. But just as they predicted, they did pass away and now, for the first time, I can feel the subliminal message that was in that verse, way back then, in a way I never felt it before.

There was so much joy in my world back then. I was newly married, and so in love with her and the world. Responsibilities were still few and far between. I had not yet let the world’s problems, or my own problems, press down on me like they do now. In fact, it was like I had stopped the world and gotten off for a while—content to take each day as it came and live the joy that was mine that day. But time marches on, and at some point I got back on the world, and reluctant or not, fell into step. Then with time came babies and homes, jobs and responsibilities, things no one can accurately describe for you. But for the most part life was good, and the happiness that was mine back then continued in a slightly different form, for now that happiness I craved was tinged with accomplishments and pride.

There comes a time in your life when it’s just not your life anymore, but a life you made with someone else, and the children you made. With that comes a new day of parenting and mentoring, and for the first time in your life you fall back to the generations before you to see how that was done because, after all, they raised you and did all right and those kids didn’t come with directions. You get in a never-ending rut of getting up and getting through each day; solving problems and trying to adjust to what’s in and out in life’s journey. Then slowly, the offspring fall out of the nest and test their wings. Whoever coined the phrase “mixed emotions” must have been in this part of life because you want so badly for them to succeed, but you’re still hanging on. You know that their tomorrows are now slip sliding away, too, and they are on a new course you don’t know, and you’re not driving anymore.

So now you enter into the golden years. It’s a new experience that comes without directions or mentors who have since passed on. You’re back to The New Christy Minstrels and “Today,” verse two. “I can’t be contented with yesterday’s glory, I can’t live on promises winter to spring. Today is my moment and now is my glory, I’ll laugh and I’ll cry and I’ll sleep.”

SHE WAS NOT AMUSED

                                             

So my oldest daughter flew up from Mesa with her husband and daughter for a week. Knowing she was coming, I spent two days cleaning my house before she got here because she is a clean freak and she has threatened to call the county and have me put in a foster home. You see once your wife passes away, your daughters feel that you have now reverted back to one step above an infant. I asked Pat, who comes to my house, quite often for an assessment of my house cleaning ability and she said it was good, so I have gotten a second opinion, from one who knows or at least keeps the truth to herself.

My daughter ran my vacuum cleaner for three hours straight the other day. She brings me the collection container and shows me what’s inside. “What is this Dad?” she asks. “That’s called dog hair,” I answered. “You have met Molly have you not? That’s that big dog over by the back door. Molly is a shedding machine. Molly can lose a hair and grow and shed another one, out of the same follicle in the same day. If the doggy gynecologist looked in Molly’s mother’s uterus she would have found a hairball bigger than Dolly Parton’s wig.” She was not amused.

“Dad you have spiders. I have killed two of them since I have been here.” Reply. “Everybody has to be someplace. Even spiders. I hope you didn’t kill Elmer because he was one of my favorites. I feel sorry for Elmer because he only has seven legs but he does get around pretty good for a handicapped spider. Not sure if he was born that way or if he had a terrible accident.” Again she was not amused.

Back to the vacuuming, anything to quit talking about spiders. “Dad how often do you vacuum.” Reply. “Twice a week and then once a month I bring in my back pack blower and do a good job. But only if the wind is from the north and I can open the back door and blow it all outside. By the way the blower found a pair of girls underwear the other day under the bed. It went out the back door and is stuck in that spruce tree; does it belong to your girls? It has ‘Wonder Woman’ on the back of it and I know that’s not you.”  Again she was not amused.

“Dad how many kitchen towels do you think you have. The drawer is so full I can’t close it. You need to change with the silverware drawer because it’s bigger and besides---“Reply. I went to the towel drawer in mid sentence, took out half of them and threw the rest in the trash. “Problem fixed. Leave my silverware drawer alone.” Again she was not amused.

“Dad do you realize your electric toothbrush is sitting within four feet of the toilet?”

Reply. “Actually its thirty three inches and I do keep it there because that’s where the outlet is and I didn’t think having an extension cord draped over the vanity is a good thing and the shortest cord I have is a fifty footer. I want you to know I try very hard not to pee on my toothbrush. I don’t always hit the middle of the bowl but for all practical purposes I still get in the vicinity. If in the future it gets to be a problem I will go outside with Molly by the Spruce tree. The one with the panties hanging in it.” Again not amused.

PRIMING THE PUMP

                                                

When I was a youngster, we had a pump in the park where you could get water for the animals or a cool drink for yourself, after an afternoon of playing baseball. The pump was old and it leaked a little air so to get it started you had to pour some water down the well pipe to prime the pump. The water for priming was in an old rusty coffee can that had been filled by the last person who used the pump.  Once primed, you could pump water as long as your arms held out. Then when you were done you filled the coffee can, and left it there, with water for the next person. The can was always there and always full. It was strangers helping strangers. Someone befriended you, thought of you and you in turn wanted to repay the kindness.

I want all of us to take look around us at the youngest family member we have, be it a niece or nephew, brother or sister, son or daughter or my youngest granddaughter who is eight. These youngsters are our hope for the future and we need to do everything we can to help them get educated and become the leaders of tomorrow. We also need to do everything in our power to safe guard the world they have to live in. We need to leave them some water to prime the pump so they can keep going. We live in an increasingly greedy world, where sharing and caring, often takes a back seat to money and power.

I often look at the youngest generation and think—what kind of a world have we left you? Has our overwhelming greed for self-satisfaction left you an empty can? Our air and waters become more polluted every day. Our code of ethics that used to include good morals and a sense of decency has been watered down. Yes, we do reap what we sow but the sad part of it is, the next generation reaps what we sow also. A few weeks back the Pope came to our country and his message to all of us was, “start caring about each other.” Even if you’re not Catholic or even a Christian, how can you argue with that kind of logic? I’m not an Ellen DeGeneres fan but I watch the news and so often I catch the last five minutes of her show. The last thing she says everyday is “Be kind to each other.” We shouldn’t have to be reminded to do that. It should be second nature.

We look to our government so much to fix things for us and make us all get along. It’s almost like we always need direction from a higher power to do what is right. Or we need a law that makes us do it. What does that say about us? Even as a young boy scout we used to repeat an oath to the scout law. “To help other people at all times. To keep ourselves physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight.” You can bake a cake and leave out an essential ingredient and to all outward appearances it’s still a cake. But the truth will come out when you share it. That’s the way life is too. If you practice what you preach and you preach love and caring then you have all of the ingredients to be authentic.

None of us will be here forever. Lets keep the can full for the next person.

THANK YOU

                                                            

Earlier today I received a phone call from a lady who wanted to thank me for writing for the newspapers. She was a former English Teacher so it was doubly special for me to hear from her. I know for a fact that my English would never win much recognition but I’m glad it met hers and I’m glad to have her endorsement. I love to take compliments and turn them into something positive and today I am here to tell you that the overwhelming amount of people I meet, are the reason I have so much to write about, and my world is so great. These are people who get up each day, to do their part, to make this nation better for all of us and they never get enough credit. This morning this lady told me “she doesn’t say thank you enough” and I’m here to tell you “neither do I,” so----to all of my readers, you don’t know how much it helps a writer, to be a better writer, when you hear positive things, so thank you so very much for your support. 

I need to share my credits with a few other people. Glenda Berndt who helps me out with my writing. My English teacher from a half a century ago who said simply—“Write Mike.” and good things will happen. The Northland Press for giving me a venue to write in. Pat, for keeping me in a good frame of mind and all of you readers who have wrote to me or simply talked to me in passing. Also, it helps to be living in this lake country we live in, where Mother Nature and the good Lord above have blessed us all so much and so often. Writing comes from inspiration and I’m inspired each time I walk out my back door. I have on many occasions met and continue to meet people who inspire me and I have also read much that has motivated me to write better. I think when you sit down to your keyboard and start to compose something; you are always drawn to subjects that have been written about over and over again. There is little new news in this world that hasn’t been done before but there are lots of old stories that need to be written about again. The trick is to write it in a new light and to write about things people want to hear.

I was blessed to travel to Hannibal Missouri over Labor Day. I say blessed because at least in my mind, if I had to lay claim to a writing mentor it would have been Mark Twain. His books are just a soliloquy of life itself, as seen through Twains eyes. Told as only he could tell them because he was the one who had actually lived them. But it’s about something much deeper then his books, as it also applies to his many, quips, quotes and observations of life around him too. He seemed to be always filled with quick wit and an uncanny way of expressing himself. At least in my mind there has been no equal to Mark Twain for all around writing. While in Hannibal, Pat and I took a ride down the old muddy on a riverboat and I couldn’t help but feel the presence of Twain-- or at least his literary creations, Tom and Huck, on every sandbar and Island we passed. I think every red blooded American boy at some point, feels some of the adventurous energy that Tom and Huck had and so many of us have also had a Becky Thatcher in our lives. I think every writer worth his salt has found something that Mark Twain said, and wished they had coined it instead.

GRANDPARENTS

Growing up, I was one of the lucky people who had a meaningful relationship with paternal grandparents. Because of divorce, I never knew my other grandparents, and that is sad. In the summer months, I would spend a week with Dad’s parents at their home in Northern Minnesota, and they made frequent visits to my parent’s home in Staples. When they got older and frailer, they moved to Staples and lived just blocks away from us so my dad could watch over them. They moved to the cities to a rest home about the same time that I was going out into the world, so I was able to continue to see them until their passing.

I think the relationship with grandparents is so special because here are people who love and care about you, without them having much disciplinary duty so, in a way, you’re more relaxed around them and you get a sense of what it was like for your parent to grow up in their home as a child. You also get a glimpse into how your parent compares to them as far as values are concerned. When we talk about the erosion of our morals and values in today’s society, to be able to go back in time another generation really brings things into perspective.

My dad was a great dad, but his dad was my hero. He had an air about him that is hard to explain, it just garnered instant respect. He loved people and went out of his way to meet them and make friends—and he had a lot of them. My dad was more reserved, and although he got along with people, he was not that outgoing. I think, in my own life, I have chosen to be more like grandpa because I had his example to look back on. I am sure, had I never met him, my life would be quite different. Now to be fair, I am sure Grandpa was on his best behavior around me. A luxury not always afforded my father.

In a way, grandparents can be supplemental parents, if we let them. I think most kids would like the opportunity to have that relationship with grandpa and grandma, and I think most grandparents would like to be an influence in their grandchildren’s lives. This can, sometimes, become a little bit of a balancing act because, as grandparents, you may think you know your children well, but your child’s spouse has equal interest in those kids. His/her views and wishes have to be taken into consideration, too, or you become this divisive character—and that does more harm than good.

Divorce and separation of your children can cause a lot of heartaches for grandparents. For many of them, they are robbed of having any kind of a relationship with their grandchildren. A few weeks back I spoke with a wonderful lady who said, “It wasn’t just losing her grandchildren, but losing a daughter-in-law she had grown to love, too, when her son went through with a divorce.” In times like this, as grandparents and parents, you seem powerless and torn. Sir Walter Scott’s words, “Oh what a tangled web we weave,” rings through my head as I write this, but in this case it has nothing to do with deception—just the cruel ironies of life itself for grandparents.

DEALING WITH, FOR BETTER OR WORSE

Today I had a note from a dear friend who has lost her husband to dementia. She went on to say that every day brings with it new challenges for him and her. She never knows what to expect or how he will act from one day to the next. She only knows that this man, whom she has loved all of their married life, is just a shell of what he once was. That the active life he once knew is over, and hers has been put on hold caring for him; that the future for them is not a week, a month, or a year down the road—it is getting through tomorrow. Thankfully, she has family that cares and loves them both very much. Their love surrounds them, but the time always comes when they, as they must do, go home to their busy lives and it’s just her and him again.

Over the past four years, I have made it a quest to try and write about the trials and tribulations that come with aging that most of us never think about. Of all of the cruel diseases that come into our lives, dementia brings with it problems that seem especially egregious because they can last for a long time. To a loving spouse this can be a big chunk of their life, too—a chunk of life taken away at a time when they have so little left to give in the remaining years. I cared for my wife, who had cancer, for eleven months and watched it ravage her body. The time I gave was measured in months not years, and when she passed life for me returned to a form of normalcy. If I’d had a choice I would have preferred it never happened, but we don’t get a choice, do we?

A family member of my own extended family has Alzheimer’s. Over the years, I have watched him deteriorate. He is at a point now where he is locked in his own little world. Still happy, but not that aware of the world or those around him. In his better days this man was an accomplished carpenter. He still has that muscular body that came from years of tipping walls, carrying sheeting and sheet rock, but right now there is little he can do but watch television. His wife must be on guard for his well-being all of the time—giving him his meds and feeding and clothing him. You think back over the years when your kids were little, and you had to get a sitter to care for them just to have a few hours to yourself, but you knew that the day would come when they would be responsible for themselves and you would have your freedom back. The difference here was that you were dealing with a developing mind, that you had great hopes for, and not a deteriorating mind that once was great.

We have all had heroes in our lives and these two women are high on my list. A long time ago they professed their love and commitment to their spouses. Now they are showing the world and us what better or worse, sickness and health really means to them. I remember a time toward the end of my wife’s life when things were especially hectic and precarious. Maybe it showed on my face, I don’t know, but from her sickbed she told me, “I am so sorry to put you through this.” I usually have an answer for most things, but I had no answer for that except to say, “You would have done the same.” I really believe she would have cared for me in the same way.

We all have our limits and capabilities no matter what the situation. This was not meant to cast judgement on those who cannot care for their loved ones.

THE SANCTITY OF LIFE

                                             

I sometimes wish I wasn’t so bothered by the way things are in the world because it tears me to pieces to watch the suffering of so many people. Last week I saw the body of that three-year-old Syrian boy washed up on shore. Later I read that his father, who survived, buried the boy, his other sibling and his wife and returned to his homeland. He said he was only leaving Syria so his family could have freedom. He didn’t care what happened to him any longer and he was going home. Try if you can to imagine what that was like. Try to imagine burying your loved ones on some deserted beach and then going back to the hell you had tried to escape.

We in this country have never known this kind of heartache. We count our calories instead of wondering where are next meal is coming from. We know if we get sick or hurt people will rush to our aid. We know if intruders come, the police will be there to protect us. Our homes are palaces in comparison to the cramped and cold homes these people are leaving behind, to live in squalor, in tents in some far off land. Imagine packing up tonight and leaving your neighbors, your friends, your pets, and most of your belongings and then having no idea where you are going to end up. Not leaving in your warm car or on a bus or train but trekking across the country side without food or water carrying your children and the aged and then when you get to the border being turned back. Talk about the depths of despair.

It is so easy for us to ignore this carnage because all we have to do is not look. Shut of the television or turn to the baseball game or the shopping channel. Instead we will go to bed and worry about the stock market or the Vikings or the traffic on the way to work tomorrow. We will say a hurried prayer for them if we do anything at all because in reality that’s all we can do. If our government intervenes we risk more war and this country is sick of war, as is the rest of the free world. So we will sit tight and let it play out. This isn’t the first time some ruthless leader sacrificed his country and his people for his own selfish whims and it won’t be the last time as nonsensical as that is. We care-- don’t get me wrong. That’s what makes it so bad.

I go back to the little dead boy on the beach and remember when I was a firefighter and although there were many deaths over the years the deaths of children were so egregious because we as guardians are charged with keeping them safe from harm. They depend on us for that and when we fail them it is so sad because all they really wanted out of life was a chance to determine their own fate and we robbed them of that. I cried many times over the deaths of children in fires and accidents and went home to look in on my own kids. Standing in their bedroom doors in the dark and watching for their breathing before I could go back to sleep. Yet those times are just blips on the radar in the amount of lives being lost in the Middle East. One can only hope that our creator has a special place for all the little ones who have died and a hopeless, endless hell for those who exploited them.

Yes, this is the price we as Americans pay, for caring about the sanctity of life.

REMEMBERING

Some days I close my eyes and I’m back in my hometown of Staples. It’s the mid-nineteen fifties and I’m twelve years old. Today I got up to another warm, cloudless summer day and put on my old cutoff jeans, a ragged tee shirt that is much too big for my skinny frame, and some old scruffy tennis shoes with connecting knots in the laces where they have broken and been retied many times. I have some cornflakes and make a peanut butter sandwich on homemade bread, wrap it in wax paper and head out the door. It’s August and I know summer vacation is drawing to a close and I need to pack each remaining day with as much adventure as I can.

My bike lies in the wet grass where I left it last night and I wipe off the seat, wet with the morning dew, with the tails of my tee shirt and head for Arnie’s house. Today we’re going to go north of town to the river and find the raft we made last week out of logs and baling twine and hid in the brush. With shades of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, we’re going to float down the river today. We have a starting point but no ending point; we’ll just go until the fun runs out but in the back of mind is a dream that if we were older and braver, we’d be on our way to New Orleans. My parents and Arnie’s parents know only that were going to the river today. They have no idea what we are going to do when we get there—or when we are coming back. Our plan, when we are tired and done with our adventure, is to let the raft float away and hitchhike back to town. Then find someone to take us back out to retrieve our bikes.

 I think how carefree life was back then. Hitchhiking although illegal was done all of the time. I was yet to hear the word pedophile, or pervert. We trusted everyone. Girls were simply the opposite sex and drugs were something your mom got for you, when you were sick, at the pharmacy. We had no money or watches or phones for anyone to steal—not that we believed that could happen anyway. No jet skis or personal watercraft to play on. Part of that carefree attitude came because we weren’t really responsible for much at that age but part of it came, too, because we lived in a kinder gentler world. Kinder and gentler because it was far less complex then today’s world and we had not yet lost our innocence.

As we age we often rebel against the world we now live in and that’s normal. It was that age of our innocence  I spoke of that we remember now, but time has a way of stripping you of that. Now, you don’t want to conform to the present time because you once knew, at least in your mind, a better way. What once was a pristine world is now seemingly polluted and jaded, physically and morally. I remember, years ago, a fresh snowfall and standing on the back porch, gazing out over the beauty of an unblemished landscape. Then, I stepped out into it and went down the road and retrieved the morning paper. When I returned, and before I went inside, I looked back once more and I couldn’t help but think, while looking at my tracks, that I had ruined the whole thing.  Yes, for every action by man, necessary or not, there is a reaction, and it’s not always pretty. Shannon Alder said, “There comes a time in your life when you have to choose to turn the page, write another book or close it.”

LABOR DAY

As I travel around the Brainerd Lakes area, it’s hard to go very far without seeing help wanted signs by local merchants. With unemployment hovering around 10% in this area, my first reaction is this. Why is it, when there are so many employers, looking for help-- that we still have people without jobs? I thought about this long and hard and this is what I came up with.  Like always, there are two sides.

Work can’t just be seen in the concept of you work-- and you make money. Some of the other good reasons for working are self-esteem and having a purpose and a reason to get up each day. The relationships you develop while meeting and working with other people is priceless. You are more active while working and your body likes you to be more active and will respond by working better for you.

Some of the reasons for not working are, it’s not hard to live at the same pay grade as a lot of the working people in this country, by simply taking handouts and government programs. There used to be a stigma that went with this and unless you were unable to work it was almost shameful to do. But no longer is that true. One other reason is an inflated ego that says, “I’m not going to do that. I’m better then that.” Well I’m here to tell you that if your sitting home watching television, instead of working “You’re not better then that.” You just think you are. If you get out there and be a part of a team, in a working society, you might meet that person someday that will pay you what you think you’re really worth.

There have been efforts to raise the wages of part time and entry-level jobs and I support that. But on the other hand we need to have a tax climate for business’s to help their bottom line also. Are business’s greedy? I don’t think so, most of the new ones fail within a year. That wasn’t there intention when they first started up. Competition can be fierce sometimes. But the ones that survive do so because they recognize how important two groups of people are. Their customers and their employees and they do their best to take care of both of them.

There is phrase that doesn’t get mentioned much anymore and it’s called “Work ethic. “  It’s not for sale anywhere and schools rarely teach it. Most people find this harbored deep in the genes of the people they grew up with.  Work may get you rich monetarily someday or on the other hand it may just richen you socially but it will go a long ways to making you feel good about yourself. My father was steeped in work ethic, working from day up to sunset most of his life. He died, not a rich man, but a fulfilled man because he knew that whatever he had-- he worked hard for. He also knew that his children saw that look of satisfaction on his face and wanted nothing more then to emulate him.  I look at those help wanted signs around Brainerd and I always remember one of Dad’s favorite sayings. “There is always a job for a person who wants to work.” I’ve seen the truth in that in my life. Something our government can’t seem to figure out is-- if there were more people paying payroll taxes and less people living off the taxpayers, we would be better off. On the other side, if you truly can’t work and need assistance. God bless you. Be proud.

WE NEED A LEADER

                                              

At the church I attend, our Priest, will sometimes throw his notes aside and just speak from his heart at homily time. Almost always, you get the feeling that he is being extra serious about his job and he doesn’t feel the need to quote others or dazzle us with flowery presentations from learned people. He just seems to say, “If I can’t convince you with my own words and actions of the seriousness, of living our lives through God, then I have failed.” I really don’t believe that in this man, of whom I speak of-- that failure is even on the table. I think what sets him aside, at least in my mind, is he’s in his thirties and it’s not the wisdom of age so many leaders use as their credentials that drives him. It’s just some God given gift that few people have.

So often in life I have met people who through their examples change the very way you think and feel. It’s not just clergy, it can be teachers, parents and bosses or your best friend or even the guy/gal next door. Were cautious creatures, always sitting on the fence of life waiting to be pushed or pulled one way or the other. Indecisiveness is not a weakness as many might think. For most of us, it’s simply a time to stop and think before we leap. Did you ever notice, why it is so easy to walk forward and so hard to walk backwards? That’s mostly because walking forward seems to be filled with hope, opportunity, an eye to the future and a goal in mind and your looking right at it. Walking backwards smacks of retreating blindly, failure and somehow, starting back over again.

My life has long been fraught with one step forward and two steps back and I often think-- such wasted energy. Have you every wondered why older people seem to be more content? Yes I know-- and I agree, they’re mostly retired and they have less going on in their lives, so consequentially they have less to get upset about. But I think it’s also because they have been there and done that and even if they are physically walking slower then ever, they seem to be one step ahead of others. This is because their efforts are mostly in the right direction. True most old people don’t take direction very well anymore but unless their minds are weak they seem to seldom need direction.

But back to what I was talking about on the first paragraph. People whom at a young age seeming to already have a following. Last Sunday this same Priest talked about Peter and how for a while he didn’t really trust his Lord.  But then he relented and went back to follow him. Trust is what it’s really about isn’t it when we look for a leader? We have an election coming up and the politicians are jockeying around trying to win over our hearts and our votes. But we don’t trust them anymore. My question is this. Where is that man or woman whom we will trust to lead us? Has our government gotten so tainted that they are all bad? Do we have to pick from a blowhard business man or a Secretary of State whom no one seems to trust, or a wishy washy ex governor? Where is the person who will shun the wishes of the lobbyists and the political parties? The person who will say “no” to the leeches who sponge of our government and “yes” to those who want a better life for all of us. Where is that person, who will be his or her own person and one that we can trust?

FALL DAYS AGAIN

It’s the dog days of August already and all of those things in nature that I wrote so excitedly about last May are moving again, but in the wrong direction. The trees are exfoliating, the flowers have said “enough.” The goslings are all grown up and the fawns have lost their spots.  Along with the memories of this summer are all of those things I was going to get done this season and didn’t. But then I’m at a point in my life when my activities are no longer as regimented as they used to be. It can wait for another day, another summer or maybe it won’t get done at all and that’s all right. “What’s that you say you’re giving up on life?” No, not at all. I’m Just tying to keep things going, in the order of their importance. A year from now no one will remember if I painted the house, or changed the carpeting. I will remember making friends with my new neighbors, or a night I shared with my family at the fireworks in Crosby Ironton on the 4th. Concerts in the park in Crosslake and walks with Pat and our dogs or Chef Andy’s delicious beer can chicken and Monica’s healthy salads.

For me this will be the summer that I will remember my Grandsons wedding and my family being all-together again. The countless conversations I had with old friends under a bright blue summer sky, cruising the chain on Marv’s pontoon. Chats with my neighbor Andrea and conversations with Harry. Coffee with the old coots at Pine Peak’s solving the world’s problems. There are times when you no longer have anything that’s important to say to each other, so you tell some stupid joke you told before, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Just being together is what it’s all about and so often just a smile or a good laugh can say what words simply can’t convey. We all remember all to well an empty chair. Summer accentuates these times, by giving us this beautiful stage to meet on before the cold winds blow once more and we shutter and close the doors or some of us scatter south. I mentioned my new neighbors who have small children and what a breath of fresh air it was this year, in a neighborhood of old people, to hear kids playing in the water and enjoying the lake.

Fall sneaks up on you. At first the changes are subtle. You notice a bite in the air when you go get your paper in the morning. The days grow shorter and sometimes it seems like summer is beating a hasty exit but then you adjust and what was once an eight p.m. walk with the dog, to avoid the heat of the day, is now done at six and then four and suddenly you realize you have milked it for all it was worth and you reach a place in your life where you cross-over from the summer that was --to the fall and winter yet to come. Yes the summer of 15-- now belongs to the ages.

 I have always felt that New Years Day should have been celebrated on May first and not January first. You see, at least for me, that is when so much of life really begins. Someday I hope to chronicle my life and I know now, that so much of my story will have taken place in summer. It’s Sunday evening in late August as I write this and the daily parade of pontoons circling the lake has begun. It’s not a big lake and the trip isn’t far and the parade has dwindled in size. Many of the people have left for the city and their jobs. Some of them say, “There is too much of a chill in the air” and have put their pontoons away already. It’s time to enjoy autumn.

PUTTING THINGS INTO PERSPECTIVE

                                    

I really hate to discuss my illnesses with people in this forum but this spring I was presented with some bladder issues. Until you have this problem you really do not appreciate the complexities of the system that helps you get rid of unwanted water. For years, you simply found an appropriate place to do it and did it and yes for you ladies, I understand the places to do it are not as readily available as they are for us guys but be that as it may be. This is the one advantage in the world they can’t take away from us---right boys.

For most of my life I have taken the elimination of bodily wastes’ for granted. When the urge came upon me, I simple looked for the right facility, or place and accomplished what was needed. Elimination was as second nature for me as thinking and breathing and required neither a lot of skill or practice. People have learned, when changing the diaper on a baby boy, to stay out of range of that thing or risk getting wet. But alas as old age has crept in, certain functions have seemed to lose their way, as well as their pressure and I have had to acquire a whole new set of skills. For you see, you simply can’t just decide not to go. It’s no time to be stubborn.

I used to think the brain was the leader of the pack of bodily organs when it came to the complexities of the human body. That when the brain shut down, all worldly functions seemed to cease to exist. After all, I was taught while being a Firefighter that the absence of brain function was the absence of life and so you were simply declared deceased. This always seemed to me to minimize the importance of other bodily functions, as not really being all that essential to life but old age can tell you different.

You need to think of the body as an old coal fired furnace. As long as you shovel in some coal, add water to the boiler, take out the ashes and relieve the steam, things seem to work okay and you have heat. But quit shoveling in the coal, and get caught with too much water, it chokes itself off and the fire goes out. Quit taking out the ashes and you simply run out of room. You need to keep that perfect balance to maintain a good working body. But as the furnace and boiler get older they sometimes develop leaks or valves that won’t open up at all and trouble starts brewing. Unfortunately you can’t just tighten up the packing nut or throw in a can of stop leak when these things happen.

We have long held neurologist and brain surgeons in high esteem in the medical world. But I am here to tell you that proctologist and urologists play a very important part in keeping us up and running and unless the back door is taken care of, the front door and what’s above it might just as well close up shop. As for me, I now embrace, what I used to think of as just another bother. As for right now, I have to go-- and quickly I might add.-- I may even have ashes to haul.

IN A PANIC

                                                           

’Today there was an emergency in my house. My phone went dead and I couldn’t get the charger to work. I have no hard line phone, so I am totally dependent on my cell phone. I was in a panic mode because suddenly I realized I had lost touch with the rest of the world. I was no better off then the diabetic without their insulin or the man whose pacemaker suddenly quit working. What if the president was calling me, or Publishers Clearing house had finally quit teasing me and let me win. What if my daughter was calling me to chat and now having to go to my message center thought, “I m never going to call that old coot again.” What if? What if? What if?

There was time in my life when I was working in Pubic safety and I had to carry a pager, a radio and a cell phone. My, wasn’t I important? Then I retired and not even the wife would talk to me. For the first time in my life however it was peace and quiet. If someone called us, she was always there to answer the phone. In a way I was kind of sheltered from the rest of the world and I thought to myself, “This ain’t too shabby.” Then she passed away and I was on my own again so I bought a cell phone and quit the hard-line phone because---well I didn’t need it and the only people who called me at home were trying to sell something.

My new phone does everything. I threw my alarm clock away because it has one. I threw my camera away because it had a better one. I could block calls without paying an extra charge. I had caller I.D without paying an extra charge.” Want to see a picture of my dog. Here I have forty of them right here in my phone. I even have one where she is smiling. I think she let a sneaker. Which way is north you say? Let me dial up my compass. Can’t add 2 and 2, Let me dial up my calculator. Why is my knee hurting, is there a storm coming? Let me find my weather radar. T.V guide or goggle maps or whatever I need, there is an app for that. There is even an app to help you find the apps. Wow, I am a force to be reckoned with. I’m no longer insignificant or out of touch with the world. Don’t try to sneak one by me cause I’ll know about it.

Then this morning I noticed the battery was low so I plugged it in and nothing. No problem, I’ll call A.T&T in Brainerd. They’ll know what to do. Wait I can’t call anyone without a phone. I’ll just go there but what time do they open? Maybe I can find a pay phone to call them and ask them but the last pay phone I saw was outside of a bar in Nimrod Minnesota and someone had shot it in the heart with a deer rifle. I know I’ll go to Pat’s and use her phone but no, she’ll think I’m nuts, if she doesn’t think that already. Can’t take a chance on that. Good women are hard to find.

Maybe if I just wiggled the cord a little and-- “Oh my God Look at all the lights lighting up and it’s starting to charge. There is a God in heaven and he’s looking out for me. I’ll go to Mass tomorrow, I promise and give thanks for making it right God. But what’s that thing they always say in church at the start. “Please shut off your cell phones.” Oh My. I’m not sure I can do that.