WINTER THOUGHTS

                                                

If you can believe the weather forecasters, sometime today it will start to rain and then change to snow and that winter we all hoped would come later then sooner, will be here. I took a “once more” look around the yard this morning to see if there was anything I missed in my winter preparations. Put away the rakes and dumped the potted plants.  I moved the snow blower from storage to active duty, checked the oil and gassed it up. Put the plow on the 4-wheeler. Let the games began.

There is a certain amount of sadness that comes with the end of fall but then sadness might be to strong a word, but the brevity of the proper wording eludes me at this time. I guess it’s somewhere between sadness and acceptance. We had one of those autumn seasons that seemed to be a gift from the Weather Gods but there comes a time when the earth has tilted to far on its axis that even they can’t squeeze out another Indian summer day so they too capitulate and admit its time.

For Molly and I, it’s one last walk in the woods today. I used to walk all winter no matter the weather but old age brings with it a certain amount of uncertainty and slipping and falling far off the beaten path is not something I need. Some time after Christmas Pat and I will leave for a warmer gentler climate. Something that when I was young and brash I swore I would never do. That was before I saw the winter season through the eyes of the skeptic I have now become to be and not the eyes of that energetic young man who loved to ice fish, snowmobile and scoff at the elements. “Bring it on” was my mantra back then.

I close my eyes, sitting here at my desk and my mind wanders back to the early 1950’s in Staples where I grew up. Our house was heated with wood. We had one of those old forced air furnaces in the basement that looked like the arms of an octopus if you ventured down there to see it. It worked on the concept that warm air rises and it expelled its heat through a large register in the floor. Sad to say it only worked as long as you fed it, which was about every two hours. That meant at night the fire went out. Four of us boys wintered in an upstairs bedroom at night. I say wintered because the temperature in that unheated room frequently went below freezing at night. I submit as evidence of this the frozen enamel pot we took up with us for nature calls at night. We were told to empty it and clean it each morning and some mornings that only consisted of tossing a frozen urine ice cube into the commode.

My father walked everywhere he went in the winter because the car won’t start anyway. He wore long johns and two pair of pants to his work on the railroad. Six buckle overshoes with felt boots inside of them. Stocking caps and chopper mitts. But he never complained about the cold and he wouldn’t listen to us if we did. Mom told me that in one twenty-year stretch he never missed a day of work. He couldn’t, he needed the money that badly. Minnesotans are survivors and for many years I was proud to be one too. But I got spoiled as the years went by. So I’ll see you all in the spring but I’ll still be writing from Arizona.

TIPS FOR TAKING A TRIP

A while back, my friend and I, and our two nemesis called dogs, crammed into my SUV and set our sights on Arizona. “What are you going to do down there,” you say. Same thing we do here—only it’s warmer. ­­Hey, that was pretty good logic. I think.

When you pack, keep in mind that, down here in Arizona, they have stores like we have in Minnesota. One credit card takes up far less room than two months of supplies. In 1846, the Donner party took less on their trip to California, than I have taken on some trips. The only advantage to having a car packed full, with dogs and supplies, is that no carjacker in their right mind is going to bother you. Also, remember that 12 oz. of coffee at seven in the morning, means 31 oz. of urine two hours later, squeezed into a 30 oz. bladder; and the urge will manifest itself, right after you have passed the last rest stop, for the next sixty miles. Doing the pee, pee dance while strapped into a bucket seat is no fun.

The trip involves two overnight stops. Because of the dogs we have to go to pet friendly motels which should be named, more appropriately, human friendly kennels. Do not be fooled by vets who say you can drug your dog. Most dogs do well while under the influence, but if anything, bark and growl even more. Its better if you can, drug yourself, so at least you get a couple of hours of sleep. Men—watch what you eat. You are in a closed-up car so forgo the burrito until you get there or, at least, stop to kick the tires once in a while.

Now, there are some games you can play to pass the time on the trip. Roadkill bingo is one of my favorites. But remember, there are very few porcupines in Arizona, and an equal shortage of armadillos in Iowa, so you might have to change the cards from time to time. Instead of a free space, just put a raccoon in there. It is my belief that no raccoon ever crossed the road safely; even though the chicken did it just to show the raccoon it could be done. Remember, you are not allowed to stop to identify any animal that has been repeatedly pulverized. A deer is counted as only one deer, even if it’s all over four lanes. You get double points for anything you run over yourself, but only if it’s still alive.

This is important. Your navigation system will take you on the shortest possible route. It does not know, and I might add, does not care, that getting on the Dan Ryan Express in Chicago, at four thirty on Friday afternoon, is not a good idea. It does not know that babies have been born, weaned, and have taken their first step while going through downtown Atlanta. It is all right to tell it to shut up, once in a while, and get out the old map and look for an escape route. Men do not argue with her about the route. Just do it, and if it’s wrong, it’s still your fault. I know it’s not fair, but as my old dad said, “A fair is where you go to get your pig judged.”  Bon voyage, and may the force be with you.

A DEFEATED MINNESOTA MAN

                                

I wrote this six weeks ago but as I write this it is 25 below zero outside with a wind chill of God knows what. I know this-- I don’t want to know what it is. I opened the back door to let Molly out this morning and she looked at me as if to say, “I will drink my own urine and eat my own poop before I’m going out there.” I grew up the consummate Minnesota male.  I slept in an unheated bedroom with three brothers and lived in a house where we had to let the faucet run at night to keep the pipes from freezing. Most houses creak and groan all winter in the cold, ours just froze solid and let out one big bang in the spring. If we complained about the lack of heat in the house, dad just gave us a look that said he was ashamed of us for being such weak links in the family gene pool and told us to grow a set or we would never survive in this world. That was nonsensical to me when you’re just going to freeze them off anyway.

Once out in the world and on my own I found there were places that actually heated their house’s 24 hours a day. But yet my macho attitude had me taking a job outside in the winter flooding ice rinks and as a fireman fighting fires in subzero temperatures. One fire in particular was fought for over eight hours in 31 below zero temperatures. They had to bust the ice off my turn out gear buckles with a rubber mallet when we got back to the station so I could get out of it. But I lived and I wore it as a red badge of courage. When I recanted this story to my dad, who had worked outside most of his life, he just said, “Poor baby.”

As the years have peeled away I became more aware of how miserable it was sitting in my house in the winter. Wrapped in a blanket, even though it was seventy in the house. I took a few exploratory vacations to warmer parts of the United States. There had to be a reason I surmised why most creatures either left Minnesota or crawled into a hole in the ground to wait out the winter. When I got there, low and behold, some of them birds were there all warm and cheerful. I once told a hotel employee in the south how cold it was back in Minnesota. She had tears in her eyes and took my hand telling me, “ Honey it’s going to be alright now.” To all of you that still have to work and live in Minnesota in the winter. I say God bless and I hope your day in the sun will come. It could be worse-- you could live in Wisconsin.

I love Minnesota. It’s been my home for over seventy-five years. From the end of March to the end of November, it’s unequaled for beauty and quality of life and I’ll be back during that time. In the spring and fall the changes come at us every day, one of them heralding in the glorious summer and another ushering us back out We call it the theater of seasons. But after the 15^th of December until the fifteenth of March, not much changes. At least for me it just stays cold and dark. I live on a lake with sixty-nine homes and come winter there are very few of them occupied. I know today my dad is looking down on me, sitting in this chair in the Arizona sun with a sarsaparilla in my hand and he is scowling at me. I can only say, ”I’m sorry Dad for failing you.” I’m a wimp-- but a warm wimp. I raise my glass. Here’s to you pop’s.

NEW YEARS LETTER

                                             

This morning as I write, there is a soft snow coming down outside of my window. There is a time in late autumn when the world seems washed out of all of its color. Things seem all grim and gray. It’s a time of the year when the days grow shorter and the world grows colder and this all add’s to my melancholy. Then the first snows come and clean everything up. All of the unattractive things get covered up and sealed away and our black and white world of winter takes on its own persona. 

Something else is happening this morning as I write. A few weeks back I wrote a column called, “So God made a baby.” The story of my first great grand child. Today my grandson’s wife is in labor with their first child and another great grandchild for me. My heart has never been fuller then it is right now, as I see my family growing. I thank God that I am still here on this earth to witness this and experience these children being born. When I look out the window at this winter wonderland today, I can only say, “What a beautiful day to have a baby.”

My columns are published weeks after I write them. So by the time you get this Pat and I will be in Arizona for the winter. Leaving Minnesota and my family here is never easy but I have a family in Arizona too, so for me it’s a chance to spend time with them also. In a perfect world-- would it be that we all live blocks from each other and spend Sunday afternoons with hot dishes and Jell-o with vegetables in it, and real whipped cream on top? That’s the world I grew up in, in Staples. No one ever moved far from the nest over there. But for some of us as we grew up and branched out, so did our boundaries and now-- even though many miles separate us, we just don’t seem that far away. I write from my heart and the biggest part of my heart will always be In Minnesota, so my columns will continue.

So it’s a New Year in a vastly troubled world, filled with mistrust, violence and threats around every corner. Drugs and immorality abound and we ask what kind a world, are we bringing these babies into? But is the answer not to have babies and give up on the world. Well that’s kind of like throwing in the towel. NO, I have a better idea. Lets just quit doing what we have been doing and get back to the ideas this country was founded on. The Democrats lost this last election because they were more concerned with culture and social issues that affected one percent, then they were with the real issues that affected most of us. I’m no big fan of the man who got in office and yes he scares the hell out of me but that’s what happens when you breed that much discontent. Lets hope cooler heads will prevail in Washington and they start thinking about where this country is heading and what kind of a world we are leaving for these babies that are just coming into it.

I want to wish Happy New Year to all of me readers. It’s such a pleasure for me to be able to talk to you like this. We need to look at 2017 as three hundred and sixty five pages in a new book. One more chance to get it right. Lets leave our flaws behind us and let’s dwell on all of the potential we do have, to get it right.

    

DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS

                                               

I always remember the day after Christmas as one of those days when your feelings were all mixed up. As a kid maybe you received something special and you were elated and you couldn’t wait to try it out-- or on. Or maybe despite all of your hints, you were disappointed in it all because you weren’t old enough to realize what being selfish was all about. It was more of a time of you receiving then giving anything, so the joy that came from giving was largely absent. You did make your parents a gift in school but you were disappointed when you heard your father whispering to your mom as she opened it, “What in the hell is it?”

As a married adult with kids of your own you could only wonder how in a few short hours, all of your work-- and most likely all of her work-- in the preparation for the kid’s Christmas, had been reduced to a cardboard box full of torn wrapping paper, a sink full of dirty dishes and the dread of the bills coming in January. You remember how long after the kids had gone to bed, sitting on the couch with your arm around her and a drink in your hand, thinking how much she meant to you while she was thinking, “Who’s going to clean up all of this mess.” But in a way you were glad it was over for at least another year and you were most thankful that you still had each other.

As an old adult and a widower living alone you try to do what you can to get in the holiday spirit. You drag out some decorations and try to make the house look festive but the only one who sees them are you and the dog, which outside of peeing on the tree he wasn’t that interested.  You fill envelopes with money because you don’t know what to buy anyone. Your kids are grandparents now themselves, living three hours away and starting their own traditions, so at Christmas you go there and try to fit in. There are way too many places to go, so you just pick one. The excitement you used to have for getting gifts is ebbing. You have everything you could possibly want. But you do still have a family that cares for you, so who could ask for more.

25 years ago I used to go and pick up my father-in –law from the nursing home at Christmas and bring him out to our place for dinner and the evening. I would see the longing faces on those sitting in the day room in their wheelchairs who had no one--no place to go. I felt so bad for them and wanted to bring them all home for Christmas but somehow I realized my home was not the home they wanted to be at. I wanted to sneak my father-in–law out the back door just to avoid the longing faces. I tried to rationalize that maybe they were alone because there was nobody left for them, or maybe there was somebody but it wasn’t possible to bring them home for one reason or another. Or God forbid. No one cared.

My Christmas this year was fine. People I love tried their best to make me happy and that’s not always easy. I did enjoy going to Mass and singing carols even though I sound terrible. Not as bad as that woman in front of me though who I think got laced up too tight in that spangled dress. But all in all, its time to move on with life so happy New Year everyone.------Mike