TEARS FOR A FALLEN OFFICER

                                             

Yesterday I shed a few tears during the funeral of the Mendota Heights Police officer killed in the line of duty. Beyond all of the pageantry of the ceremony I was moved by the overwhelming response of the people who most likely never knew this officer. They lined the route to the cemetery for miles, holding signs and flags. They saluted, they made the sign of the cross or simply dabbed at their eyes as the entourage wound its way to the officer’s final resting place. Those who will carry on where he left off preceded his casket.  And oh yes-- people in public safety know how to honor their dead. What is it that brings us together in time like this? What makes those same people who would most likely pay scarce attention to any police officer on an everyday basis, now honor him?

It is often uttered at funerals and weddings “that the only time we get together anymore is at weddings and funerals.” I have heard it said many times and have said it myself. I seems to me to be an excusable way to say, “I’m sorry I ignored you all of these months or years. “ I have in the last few years lost many friends and loved ones. Always after the final goodbyes-- and it takes a few weeks-- you slowly realize the finality of death. It can come in the form of grief or guilt depending on the strength of your conscience and your place in the life of the deceased.

Sometime in the next few days that Officers widow and children will have to pick up the pieces and go on with their lives. The last friend will leave, the door will close, and they will be alone with their thoughts and memories. We have all been there at one time or another. It’s brutal. Its one thing to cry in the arms of your friends and family. It’s another thing to cry in the dark by yourself. Grief comes on you like a high fever that gradually subsides, a fraction of a degree at a time. Sometimes it flares back up and the process starts all of over again but with each recurrence you build some resistance and the episodes get milder and milder. Sometimes it can leave you emotionally crippled and you have to learn how to live life all over again.

Most us will never have a send off like Officer Patrick received. We will be remembered more for how we lived then for how we died. No white horse with an empty saddle. No caisson to pull our casket past throngs of people. So much of our eulogy will depend on how we lived out our lives, the people we loved and touched and the impressions we made on them. No matter the send off however death is the great equalizer and we are all reduced to our own common soul, left to fend for itself in the great hereafter. It’s not a good time to try and make amends for either the deceased or the survivors.

I have never put a lot of stock in autobiographies. We all like to toot our own horns. But when others who were imprested with the way you lived and loved, tell your story—well my friends that is meaningful. I see so many lives that are lived in obscurity and its sad. We all have so much to give. The great poet William Butler Yeats said and I quote. “Think where mans glory most begins and ends and say, my glory was I had such friends.”

FEELING FULFILLED

                                               

I love nature. Sometimes when things seem darkest I go and walk in the woods. There is always something happening there if you just take the time to absorb the happenings. And if it’s not happening right now, then just sit down and wait for it because it will come along. This isn’t something new for me; I have always felt this way. When I was a young man and moved to the cities for work I would go to a nature area close by where I lived in the suburbs, just to get away from the clutter of a bustling society I was forced to work in. The woods for me was a place to think and contemplate. Sometimes to pray and meditate when I needed outside help. I always went home, somewhat reluctantly, to face my responsibilities, but almost always feeling better even though somewhat unfulfilled. As the years went by I knew that someday, somehow, I needed to return to a place where nature was always close at hand and I did. I have never regretted it but that’s just me isn’t it?

With the deaths of Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Robin Williams, Whitney Houston, one wonders what brought them to that place in their lives, where the worlds pressures pushed down on them so much, that they had to escape, not to nature or religion but to a drug filled environment where one never gets fulfilled and then ultimately to the greatest escape of all, their untimely deaths. It seems so drastic, so unexplainable, that the very thing that took them to the top appears to be their undoing and for some reason they just couldn’t turn their back on it and walk away to a more peaceful place and I know, its not as simple as that even as I write about it.

I think we are all driven to some extent to be successful in life but there are those who say enough! And stop--- and there are those who just keep turning over shovel after shovel full of life, looking for fame and fortune and if they do find it, or some measure of it, it’s never enough, nor will it ever be and all too often they turn out doing just what has happened, to the people I mentioned above. As a writer I have often wondered what would become of me if someday, someplace, I would get vaulted to a higher level then where I have been and how would I react to it. Right now I would say not well. For you see life here in Crosslake, amongst the people I have been blessed to know and call my friends is very fulfilling to me.

The army used to have a recruiting slogan “Be all you can be.” I always felt that slogan should have said, “Be all you want to be.” I sometimes think that seemingly successful people who take their own lives from drugs and depression are all to often people who don’t want to be where they are but have no idea how to go back to wherever it is they do want to be, so they escape the only way they know how. That the demands of the public and their fans trumps their own desires and they are slaves onto themselves. I once had a boss who in her own right was a very good, loving person but when she was at work she turned into something not so nice. She was driven to be at the top and someday with her drive and talents I know she will be there but I am here to tell you-- she will not be happy and I feel bad for her.

ALLI

                                                           

Have you ever had one of those moments in your life when you don’t know whether to laugh or cry? Yesterday was one of those bittersweet moments for me. We went to the cities to witness my granddaughters wedding to her high school sweetheart. The newest member of our family-- Alli’s husband is my kind of guy. He’s filled with patience and humbleness beyond his years. Whenever you give away a daughter, you want to feel that she is going to be loved and respected for the rest of her life and I so got that feeling last night. Yes, Nick finally got his princess

You see Alli was always so loved by her Grandma and me, as all of our grandchildren are, but there is something in Alli that just set her apart. Oh, she’s always had that little bit of a temper and some fire in her belly but for me it was not a bad thing, just unbridled passion for whatever she believes in. Unlike many of us who go where our eyes take us, Alli, seemed to follow her heart. She was that little girl that was always bringing home birds and animals to nurse them from their injuries. Her bedroom was filled to overflowing with stuffed animals and mementoes from wherever she had been in life. She attracted friends like a bee to honey and was always faithful to them. Yes, Alli was just so loving and she still is now and has always shown it.

Then came Nick into her life. Nick was so shy; sometimes you didn’t know he was there, when he was. But you didn’t have to look far for him if you wanted him-- you just looked for Alli. It was more then love for Nick it was infatuation too. For over a year after their engagement we would get almost daily reminders on face book from her of when that magical day was coming. Pictures of the two of them together in almost every possible place, always smiling, always clinging to each other.

Then the big day was upon us. It was an outdoor wedding in what could have been the Garden of Eden, it was that beautiful. I could only think when I saw it yes-- this was Alli. Not some stuffy church full of statues but a stage built right here under the heavens with just the beauty of nature to accent it all. The minister at the wedding said, “Girls start planning their wedding when they are three or four years old” and I believe that to be true. Yes guys truth be told, were just the last piece of the puzzle.

Then it was time and as she came down the aisle, she was so beautiful, so radiant and Nick’s wet eyes shined in the late day sun and it was if he couldn’t take his eyes off from her. As my faithful companion and I were escorted down the aisle by Alli’s brother, there was small table set up next to the altar and there almost at center stage was a picture of grandma taken on her wedding day, just as I remembered her so long ago. My heart stuck in my throat. It was Alli’s tribute to her and she wanted all of us to see the woman she will never forget. I only hope for Nick and Alli that they have what we had for so many years. So in the end my son gave away his only daughter, but there is an old saying that “Your son will grow up and take a wife but your daughters your little girl for the rest of your life.” For grandma she had her moment in the sun she so richly deserved.

THE IMPORTANT THINGS IN LIFE

As human beings, we take comfort in certain things in life. Right now, as I write this essay, under my desk and lying on my feet, is a white Lab dog. I can feel her body heat radiating through my socks, and sense her warm breath on my pant leg.  Right now though, I’m feeling a subliminal message from my furry friend that goes beyond those physical signs, and that’s what I’m feeling the most. That message being, “I want to be close to you. You think it’s just you that feels me on your feet, but this goes both ways, buddy. I feel you, too, and I know that’s what you’re writing about now, so this quiet reassurance goes both ways.”

So often in life just a wink, a touch on the shoulder, or a smile from across the room can say, “I care.” We live in a tech rich world now—where for most people, there is no good reason to not stay in touch with friends and family. I, personally, have been blessed with so many things in my life—but the sum total of my friends and family goes way beyond all the earthly riches I have accumulated. No matter how badly I feel, no matter how lonely I get, a hug from a friend can make it all go away. If you’re willing to take me in your arms, then I’m willing to take you into my heart. It’s just that simple. We need to remember-- with friends and family-- comes commitment.

When I was a small boy, from time to time, I used to stay with my grandparents in a very small town up north that seemed, at least to me, to be on the very edge of civilization. Each day, grandpa would walk about a mile down a dusty dirt road to the little post office lobby.  He would insert a small silver key in that tiny glass door and extract a fistful of letters. I often wondered how an old retired man, like he was, could get so many letters. This was way before the junk mail world we live in now. He would go back home, and open each letter, and his face would just light up. They were letters from his friends. To grandpa, there were no strangers in his life; just friends he hadn’t met yet. Then, after reading each letter, he would sit down with his old Smith Corona typewriter, and with two fingers, he would peck out his reply. Think about all the effort he made to reach his friends. Most days now, when our friends reach out to us, we only have to click on “reply” and say what’s on our mind. My grandpa was my hero in life. He never gave me anything tangible, or otherwise, but he showed me every day of his life, how to live my life and how to treat people.

A while back, I weathered a storm in my life when I lost my soul mate, and I leaned on so many people. They leaned back, propped me up, and took me into their hearts. The road through that storm became less bumpy each day, and the clouds that had been so black, and filled with cold rain, dried up and the winds calmed. Slowly, my dear friends and family, with smiles on their faces, watched me go my way again. We still touch fingertips from time to time—like little booster shots that say, as the pup lying on my feet says, “I’m still here, and if you need me, just ask.” That’s what life is really about my friends. You might be the guy on the playground with the most marbles in your bag, but if you have no one to shoot mibs with, it’s just another heavy bag of marbles to carry around.

REALISIM

                                                           

I have known some optimistic people in my life and generally they are more fun to be around then pessimistic ones. They tend to be happier and attitude is always half the battle when it comes to being successful. Happy, versus crabby, isn’t even a sensible choice. I used to interview a lot of people for jobs where I worked and attitude ranked high on my list. You see skills were something that you could teach people-- but attitude---They either had it or they didn’t. My wife was a very optimistic person but sometimes it was to a fault. She tended to suppress the truth.

Some where between optimism and pessimism there is realism. Realism is a state of mind that lets you see things for what they really are. It’s also a state of mind that helps you make good decisions by gathering the truth and facing your problems. People, who base their decisions on just their feelings, good or bad, tend to make some mistakes. It’s what makes you think when your in a swamp full of alligators, “Yes, I do believe I am smarter than the alligators and if I use my head I should be okay. But those guys will eat me, if I’m not careful.” This versus “I can’t believe an alligator would hurt me so I’m just going to ignore them.” Or “Who gives a crap if they eat me, because the world sucks anyway.”

When it comes to problem solving the pessimist has no answers, only criticism. The optimist has all kinds of answers because there is no such thing as a problem in their life. Don’t worry, be happy and it will go away. Worry is good and it is natural and when managed right it helps you work through things but it is a tool we need to put to good use.

As we listen to the candidates campaigning for office we get a touch of both optimism and pessimism. An inflated view of how good it’s going to be when they are elected and a dark view on how bad it’s been under the present administration. Both of them are nowhere near the truth. The truth is our country is broke, partly because of all the entitlement programs and wars sucking the treasury dry. We spent it and we should pay for it, not our kids. The truth is we just can’t stop the entitlement programs cold turkey but we better start weaning people off of them and now. The truth is we need to raise some taxes and pay our bills and not leave it for others to pay.  The truth is we need to mind our own business more in world politics. The truth is a war in Iran, Iraq or take your choice in the Middle East, could lead toward world war III. Maybe even a nuclear war. The planet is a tinderbox. You think oil is expensive now? The truth is unless we get people running this country, that are wiling to be realistic about our problems, and willing to work with each other to solve our problems and not worrying about getting reelected or helping their friends, we will be writing the final chapters. Yes, as Lily Tomlin use to say on ‘Laugh In’ as she sat in her big old rocking chair. “And that’s the truth.”

What makes me able to say this? Because I’m a realist and I want my country back.

THOUGHTS FOR AFTER THE 4TH OF JULY

                                   

Whenever I am with a group of people, be at a church, a school or any kind of social gathering my attention often gets drawn to the young people. I see them in this care free world they are in and then I think of where they will be in a few a short years, when they will inherit this messy world we have left them. I think to myself ‘It wasn’t like this when we got it. Oh maybe a little bit but not like it is today.” I think also, “We failed them terribly and now they will have to suffer for it.”

We failed them because we took what was working so well and let it slip away and somehow called it progress. In many cases, letting things exist. or come into being that have no socially redeeming value. That isn’t progress but only change, for the sake of change. It all happened because we thought we were being progressive but in all actuality we were letting it happen, just to get them off our backs. Every great society that has failed-- and truth be told that’s most of them-- went down the tube this same way. They all thought it wouldn’t happen to them ---but it did and it will, to us too or should I say not us, but our kids.

I’m no clairvoyant. I have no special powers or insight. I’m just a common guy who somehow managed to hold on to the God given common sense we all are born with. We all know what’s good and what’s bad for this country. The problem is, not all of us give a hoot and it’s showing big time.

Let’s look at some facts and figures. Right now, today, our kids are going to inherit 17 trillion dollars of government debt. It is a financial hole that only a miracle can get us out of and you know what is the worst part? We have nothing to show for it. Nothing but failed wars and social programs that were doomed from the start. I’m not talking about all of the social programs. I’m talking about the ones that are filled with graft and corruption that did nothing but make people who were already rich, richer. Social disparity gets worse every day in this country. How do you go forward,  how do you reconcile this country when there is no level of trust amongst the classes.

When you have no moral conscience, and that is the way we are heading, that’s how things like this get started. The opposite of love is hate. The opposite of sharing is greed. The opposite of humbleness is narcissism. The opposite of power sharing and leadership is power grabbing and control. All of these bad things are the opposite of what our founding fathers had in mind for this country. They knew they wouldn’t live forever but they wanted this country to carry on and be a bastion for freedom for century’s to come. But in one short century we made it all crash. I hope and pray it’s not too late but it’s going to take a herculean effort to get back on track and give those kids, I talked about at the start of this, something to work with. If we can’t do that, then all of the upcoming 4^th of Julys in the world are only going to be lip service every year when they come around and todays and yesterdays generation will only be remembered for one thing. They were the people who ruined our country.

AND THEN THERE WERE SEVEN

Being the oldest in a family of eight kids, there is a luxury you receive that the others don’t get. You get to watch them all grow up. Today, many people in our society place great emphasis on making money or gaining power or notoriety. Our father placed that same emphasis on raising kids. He used to say “He wouldn’t sell any of us for a million dollars” but in the same breath, he would mutter, “I wouldn’t give a nickel for another one.” In the first part of that statement he was being truthful, as he always was. In the last part he was being the entertainer he also was. Truth be told—Dad loved his family.

Somewhere in the middle of that family was Ken. I was only six when he came home from the hospital, after he was born, but I remember it to this day. I remember that little white-haired baby who grew up to be my brother, Ken. I’m not sure “misfit” would be the right word, but from the start it was evident that Ken was marching to his own drummer. He was this little sandy-haired boy who refused to run with the pack, even though he loved all of us very much. This became even more evident in Ken as the years went by. Don’t get me wrong, he was a good kid, he just wanted to chart his own course in life.

Growing up, Ken seemed to always be on the outside looking in. Four of us boys shared a bedroom on the upper floor of that old house on 114 3rd Ave N. It was a cold unheated room. Three of us shared a big bed for warmth, but Ken always slept by himself in a little cot in the corner of the room. He never complained—it was almost like he wanted it that way. Whenever we played in the yard, he would be off doing his own thing. Later in life he got a job at a local gas station. He would be conspicuously absent at mealtime—preferring to go to a café and be by himself.

Then came graduation and Vietnam. Ken was afraid of being drafted because he wanted no part of that war, so he enlisted. The army promised him he wouldn’t be sent there, but they lied, and he was. I will always be proud he served his country but will hate what happened to him. He came home a far different person than when he left. I tried to talk with him about what went on over there, but he never would, preferring to hide his demons with alcohol until it ruled and ruined his life. It overshadowed a lot of the good in him, and believe me, there was a lot of good.

Ken was a talented carpenter and built many beautiful things, both at home and at work. He would come and help you any time, any place. He loved his daughters so much, and even though his family split up, he remained in their lives as much as he could. At our house we would always include him in holiday dinners, but you could see the hurt in those dark blue eyes that was there from being away from his family. He knew and understood why he couldn’t be with them, and blamed no one for it but himself, but it did hurt him deeply. Even though it was so difficult to talk about it. As time went on, we often did.

In the middle seventies we started having family reunions every summer. No one loved those get-together’s more than Ken— especially after the folks died. It was the one time of the year when he was surrounded by the people he loved, and who loved him. For a few short days he could come out of his lonely existence and be one of us, and he loved it. He was always the first one there and the last to leave. That’s one of the memories of Ken I will always cherish. I will forget about the dark times we went through together, and instead, remember the love we shared.

We were brought up in a Christian environment. Our parents were God-fearing people who wanted their children to be believers, too. I know Ken wasn’t good at expressing his feelings about being a believer, but last year especially, I heard him mention prayer and the need for it. I knew then he was still a believer.

We have this circle of life that we are all a part of, and right now that chain has been broken, and there is a hole in our circle. It’s up to us to step forward, close that circle up, and clasp hands once more. It takes a lot to heal a broken heart, and I have been there and done that, so I know. Now I need to do it again, as do all of us. It’s a never-ending circle, you see, because once someone leaves, new family members come to join the circle, and those who left us step into the middle. It’s there in that middle where there is all of that love and wonderful memories, from those who left us, and that continues on for as long as we live—until it’s our time to go.

Rest in Peace my little brother. I loved you.………..Mike

            

TTHE FOURTH OF JULY

                                                

What does the fourth of July really mean to you? Do you know-- or even care about what we are celebrating-- or is it just a great day for a party and a parade? Every time you shoot off one of those bottle rockets, do you think about the freedoms we enjoy in this country or are you maybe hoping the neighbors won’t call the cops on you for your illegal fireworks. Then again maybe, its just a little civil disobedience-- meant to show your hearts in the right place-- but remember you have the freedom to do that in this country. Or maybe, just maybe, you do recall what it’s all about and you don’t want to ever forget. I hope and pray your hearts in the right place.

Yes I know, it’s hard to work up that patriotic fervor we once had in this country. It’s been a long time since we signed the rules of surrender with a country that had tried to conquer us. I personally stood on the deck of that battle ship where it happened last spring in Pearl Harbor, and it was a solemn moment for me. I could feel the presence of General Douglas MacArthur as he accepted the Japanese surrender on that day of Sept 2^nd 1945.That great battleship, the Missouri, is now moored over-looking the watery, oily grave of the crew of the battleship Arizona where it all had started. Symbolically it’s the alpha and the omega. Big Mo’s huge guns, now silent; cast a solemn shadow over that sacred spot as if to say to those brave men interred there, “We taught them a lesson not to mess with us.” There have been many wars since that day in this world; that we have participated in, but none ended like this, with a final resolution. The ranks of those World War II veterans, from this country that fought their way across the pacific and into Germany, on their way to the fall of Hitler and Berlin, are fast disappearing; as is their countries pride they fought so hard for, earned and paid such a heavy price for.

We don’t fight wars to win anymore. We fight politician’s wars with rules that are crafted to prevent anything more then a tie, tip toeing around in the world’s court of public opinion. Truth be told, a couple of them weren’t even a tie and we got the short end of the stick. Yet, our brave soldiers go fight in these countries with one hand tied behind their backs and come home either dead or physically and mentally maimed, never tasting victory and more often then not, scorned by the people who never wanted them there in the first place. I think before we go to war again---unless we are attacked---the rules should be, we raise taxes and pay for it right now and the gloves are off. If were going to commit to sending our soldiers off to war we should pay for it, not our grand kids and we should fight to win it, or stay out of it.

I really believe that the freedoms we celebrate on the 4^th of July are in jeopardy but not by other countries so much. This country is on the way to ruination and it’s not going to be a war that does us in. It’s going to be us that will do us in. For you see those rules we once had drawn up, as the blueprint for a great society, are being manipulated and litigated to pieces by greedy people who have the money to buy off greedy politicians who have the power to change the rules and they are fast doing that. As we celebrate this 4^th, lets remember those who stood for what was right in this nation and let’s not desecrate their efforts-- their memory-- by allowing our country to fade away, just another great society, torn apart by greed and selfishness.

LITTLE LEAGUE

Sometimes, with the advent of summer, my thoughts turn to baseball. Not myself playing baseball—even though I did—but more so for the dozen years that I coached Little League baseball in the city where we lived. I was in my early thirties, with a young boy of my own playing, but that wasn’t the only reason I coached, I truly loved the game. In all actuality, my son would have been treated more fairly with someone who wasn’t his dad. As is all too often the case, I was harder on him than the others.

Coaching was much easier back in those days. All the boys were on a learning curve when it came to the basics of the game, but in the end, we played to win and that was okay. We learned to be good winners, and oh yes, we were good losers, too. If you didn’t practice with the team, you didn’t play with the team, and the parents were fine with that. If the boys were goofing off, they got reprimanded and the parents were okay with that, too. It was a Monday through Thursday thing so the boys could be with their families on the weekends.

We never had an issue with girls wanting to be part of the team. There was a great softball program for the girls and they loved it. My daughters played in it for years. Although I did have an assistant, sometimes I was alone with the boys, or he was. We never had to worry about suspicious parents thinking we could be abusive to their boys. They trusted us, and we respected that trust so much. I never had parents calling me and asking, “Why their boy was or wasn’t playing?” We all knew the rules and we followed them. No angry dads telling me how to coach the game; no moms yelling at me for disciplining their child; nobody calling the family lawyer on us, but sadly, that has all changed.

I have always felt that sports are such a character builder in young people as they are growing up. You learn to interact and function with others and to be a team. Later in life, those same kids, when they go out into the business end of world, will find out how important that is. You learn to be gracious winners, knowing that winning that game wasn’t just important to you—it was important to those kids on the other team to taste victory, also. When the tables were turned and you lost, you learned to be good losers and learn from your mistakes. Winning and losing—again—a huge part of life.

Here is the crux of my story. A few years ago, late in the evening, I received a call from a man who identified himself as one of the kids who played ball for me for many years. Keep in mind, that was thirty some years ago. This man had just left his son’s little league game and on the way home, he said, he started thinking about our team way back then. So he told his son about our team, and the fun we had. After he got home, he said he couldn’t stop thinking about it, so he picked up the phone and called me, just to say thanks. I teared up after I hung up the phone. Tears of pride for a seemingly obscure accomplishment in a day gone by. Before you accuse me of getting all sanctimonious on you, I want you to know my story isn’t unique; it’s done every day in this world, by dads and moms everywhere. I just want them to know how important it is in the lives of those kids—who will never forget you.

JUNE

                                                        

 How well I remember the first days of June back when I was a budding teenager. School was out, and yes it was a happy day indeed. That elusive summer vacation I had day-dreamed about while staring out the classroom window, was now a delicious reality. When it finally came I was like a newborn calf, freed from the pen, and out to the summer pastures for the first time, and it was time to kick up my heels. There was no limit to what I was going to accomplish that summer and my mind was a virtual cornucopia of events that I had thought about since spring had sprung. Like Louie sang in his song, “I saw skies of blue and clouds of white, the bright blessed days and the dark sacred nights.” It truly was a wonderful world.

I never made elaborate plans; I just went with the flow from swimming holes to baseball diamonds, from homemade rafts down the river, to days of just kicking a can down a dusty road with a blade of grass hanging from the corner of my mouth, and my dog by my side. Rainy days were tragic wasted days, as there were no inside activities in my plans. But then as sure as the clock slowly ticks forward and our lives spin hopelessly onward, that magical month of June that sets the stage for all of summer, evaporated and was gone. There would be no recouping the days; I could only wait for time to let it roll around once more. Always, I had the realization in the back of my mind that soon the days of my youth would not be infinite, and all to soon June would be just another warm summer month that I would be destined to work away someplace just to survive.

But then came retirement and every day was a day off, and I was obsessed with recapturing my carefree youth once more, but that was then, and now is now, and I found that nothing is the same anymore. My imagination does not let me live in that care free world I was in back then-- just remember it. All to soon the last days of June will come around, and I will have no idea what I did with the first days of the month. My life still seems to be on that same fast track, when I really want it to be on the slow track, but I don’t know how to get there or even if I can. I remember an old song sung by Waylon Jennings called “Stop the world and let me off.” Maybe that would be the answer huh? Just let me be frozen in time for a while on a warm June day, lying on my back on a lush green lawn, while overhead white puffy clouds drift across an endless blue sky.

Celia Thaxter said,  “It will be eternal summer in the grateful heart.” How well I remember when I first fell in love in summer. My heart was so full to overflowing back then-- that just another drop of love and adventure would have made it spill over. Every day was a new and exciting chapter for me. But you can’t stop the world from tilting and spinning and all to soon the days grow shorter. All to soon summer ends, like your childhood and your innocent’s. It’s not one summer that defines you, however, but the sum total of all of your summers that will complete you and write your story. So you persevere, waiting for the next summer to roll around. Life does have its encores’--- you just have to keep applauding. 

FIFTY FIVE YEARS AGO

                                              

I remember that day as if it was yesterday but in all actuality it was fifty-five years ago. I had spent the night before, packing my meager possessions in a cardboard box because I didn’t own any luggage. Graduation had come and gone and no longer was I a part of that group of young people and that school that we had spent so many years at. In a way I wasn’t even any longer part of the family that raised me. Oh, I could come and visit but someone else would now have my spot at the table. My father had told me it was time to leave and grow up. Fleeting memories of the school sports events, the high school dances and days in those busy classrooms together.  It was all a confusing memory, flashing in my head like strobe lights, on and off. We were like young birds leaving the nest, going in four different directions, destined for whatever was waiting for us in that scary world out there. The evening before this early morning, I had walked back over to the school one last time and looked at the darkened classrooms and peeked through the chained doors. The empty hallways gave off an eerie aura that gave me a chill. Yes, it was time to say goodbye.

I left my parent’s house the next morning sneaking out early so as not to have to say any tearful goodbyes to my parents and siblings. I walked down the dirt driveway from our house heading for the bus station full of mixed feelings. Optimism for my life ahead and sadness for leaving the only way of life I had ever known. I heard a noise and turning around I saw my stepmother standing on the top step holding her housecoat tight to her bosom in the early morning cold. “Don’t forget us”, she said, a sob choking her voice. For a second I wanted to run back and hug her but I knew I would cry and I didn’t want that. I was a young man now and it was time to grow up and just say goodbye. I waved and blew her a kiss and continued walking away.

So much has happened since then. Falling in love and taking a wife and being blessed with three children. Forty some years of working and bringing home the bacon, three houses and countless friends and neighbors. I remember watching our children grow up and then them going out into the world, much the same way I did and praying softly that God would help them find their way, much as I had. Then at last turning to her and saying, “Now it’s our turn my love.”

Ten wonderful years together, at the lake place we had built, shoulder to shoulder, fulfilling another dream we shared, A place where everyday was Saturday and those kids we had pinned our hopes on, would come with those wonderful grandkids we couldn’t get enough of.  In the words of the song maker. “We had joy we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.” So many great days on the lake fishing and playing--- but then gradually it all changed. The grandkids too grew up and took partners and had busy lives of their own. Our kids were going so many different ways with careers and their families and from time to time we would steal a few hours together but the frequency seemed to ebb and flow, less and less each year. Then it came time for her to leave me and life, as I knew it came crashing down.

I have tried to rejuvenate my life.  I met a very special lady and we sneak in as much happiness as old friends can and do. We enjoy a few giggles and travels together and were making a new story, however, neither one of us can or will forget our pasts.

THE CLASS OF FIFTY- NINE

             

Sometime this August, God willing, I will attend my 55^th class reunion. On that spring day in 1959, ninety-one of my classmates and myself, cut our ties to the school that had been ours for twelve long years. We set our eyes and ambitions on carving out a niche for ourselves in this land we all call home. I am sure many of us had great expectations for our lives ahead but others—for the moment at least—just wanted to survive, content to live from day to day and from foot to mouth. Some of us had already grown our wings, and others were still waiting for them to grow.

 Not many years after graduation I heard John Lennon sing, “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope some day you’ll join us and the world will be as one.” What John was singing was his hope that we could find it in our hearts to live in peace in this world. I think, that if any of my dreams could have come true, that would have been the one I wanted the most.  As youngsters, we were born, and had grown up, in a world that experienced the worst war the world had ever known. The war to end all wars, it was called. Yet, I remember practicing in the fifties, ten years later, hiding under our desks in the event of a nuclear holocaust. It hasn’t gotten any better since then, what with the wars and unrest in Korea, Vietnam and the Middle East. Knowing what I know now about mankind, greed and power, it never will. I hope and pray you can change that for your own sake.

As I look over the last fifty-five years of my own life, I sometimes think of Frank Sinatra’s song “My Way,” when he crooned, “Regrets, I’ve had a few but then again, too few to mention.” The way I, personally, have always felt, about regrets in my life, brings back another old saying, and that is, “Where ever you go—there you are and most likely that’s where you deserve to be.” Yes, we did control our own destiny, didn’t we? Outside of the constant world problems we seemed to have so little control over, the fickle finger of fate did reach out and touch us all, over the years, in many ways. For the most part, we lost the generation that spawned us. Spouses, classmates, and even some of our own children are gone, but yet, here we are today, still carrying on. If life has taught us anything along the way, it’s that it may be a victory of sorts to still be here, but sometimes, as a survivor, a lonely one.

So we look back at over a half a century of living, and we say, “What was it we accomplished?” I’ll try to answer my own question. The goals we had after graduation aren’t different than the goals this year’s class of graduates has. College, jobs, marriage, and families—you might say, the building blocks of our society. The thing we never realized back then was to what extent we controlled our own destiny, for in the long run, you have to take what life gives you. You either make something good of it, or let it be an anchor around your neck, dragging you down every day and every step of the way. You need to take those dreams you have had all of your life, and at least try turning them into reality, because the other side of the coin is—when you stop dreaming, my friend, you stop living. For me, at least, my part in a productive society is fading fast and we need to pass the torch. To the next generation in charge, I only hope you will look back at what went wrong and learn from our mistakes. The lessons are free, for you see; we have already paid the price.

MOM'S AND STEPMOMS

                                                             

So Mother’s day has come and gone--- at least as far as the calendar is concerned. It troubles me that so many of us have to wait for that day, to tell their mom’s how special they are to us. It troubles me that success in life, as a woman, is becoming more and more every day, contingent on what else they do in life and not the fact that first and foremost they were, or are a mother. They almost have to apologize if that’s all they want out of life. I want to reiterate here that my definition of motherhood is not just giving birth to a child but it includes the nurturing Mom’s give to their children as they progress to adulthood. I also know a lot of Mom’s have to work and I fully recognize how difficult it must be to play both roles.

When I was four my mother left my father, my brother and myself. For a couple of years an aunt raised me and my brother lived with family friends, as my dad was working for his country. My dad did remarry after the war and I had a wonderful stepmother. She saw to it I was fed and clothed and went to Sunday school. She was never cross with me or demeaning to me or compared me to my step brothers and sisters, I didn’t even find out she wasn’t my mother until much later in my young life. Yes I owe her a huge thanks but through no fault of her own, it wasn’t the same although she deserves an A-plus in heaven for the effort

It wasn’t until I married when I saw how a real mother acts. I used to see my wife rocking our children to sleep and reading them bedtime stories. Telling them how proud she was when they did well and correcting them when that was necessary. Sitting up all night with them when they were sick and taking them shopping for cool clothes for school. Always making sure they were clean and fed. It was something I hadn’t seen before in our house, when I was a kid anyway. I’m not here to chastise my stepmother. As I grew older I often thought how difficult it must have been, to raise someone else’s kids. But all the same I was never hugged or told that I was loved. No one came to my ballgames and if I was bad no one seemed to care about that either. If I missed supper, no one would make an effort to get me something to eat or even cared where I was. I was pretty much on my own. My dad worked night and day to make a living and I’m not using that as a reason to excuse him. The day I married he broke down and cried. The first time that I ever saw him cry and he told me he was sorry for the life he had given me.

Growing up I wasn’t blind to the world around me and I saw how real Mom’s treated their kids and it hurt to know that wasn’t in the cards for me. I guess today that’s why I know how important Mom’s are in our lives. When my wife died I felt so bad for my kids because they had lost a loving mother. I lost my partner too but I have managed to heal that separation and remain happy. I hope Pat is too. My kids just can’t go get another Mother. To all of the good mom’s out there, I want to salute you and tell you maybe your kids don’t appreciate all you do for them now-- but believe me there will come a day when they will. To all of the step mom’s out there today. God bless you and give you the strength to take over where the real mom’s left off. It’s got to be one of the toughest jobs in the world. Just do your best to love them and they will never forget you for that. To my stepmom-- I did love you.

FAMILY TIES----COUNTRY TIES

There is amongst my family of eight siblings, blessings that few people get to enjoy. It’s the fact that some of us are now approaching our middle seventies and we’re all still alive and relatively healthy. But that’s only one of the blessings. The other is all of the grandkids and great grandkids that have come along from these unions are for the most part, good people making their way in this world. My grandfather had a saying. “He said remember Mike, when you raise your son, you raise your sons, son.” I think at least for my family, the proof is in the pudding and I’m not trying to be self-serving here. Remember that grand father I mentioned. That’s where it all started for me and that’s where the credit is due.

Another blessing comes in the fact that we as siblings still all love and respect each other and when one of us has problems we rally around each other and try to help, despite the fact that in many ways we have chosen far different paths in life. We don’t often get hung up on the details though, because in the end, no matter what happens-- she is my sister and he is my brother and we don’t let things like that unravel us. My dad was a big believer in the good book. The one that says, “You are your brothers keeper” “Judge not lest you be judged.”

Last month I listened to a news story where a father killed his son because he wouldn’t pay for cable television. I can’t fathom what brings anyone to the point to kill their own flesh and blood. The news this morning has a high school boy plotting to start another school massacre and right here in old Minnesota nice. You need other examples--- they’re a dime a dozen and they come along everyday. In most cases these are young people who grew up left to there own means. Kids are like electricity. They take the path of least resistant’s and the results are often shocking.

There is a vigilante attitude growing in this country. People are fed up with all of the rules and regulations and they are starting to fear their government. They don’t trust that they or their families will be safe anymore. They can’t understand how we can’t keep drugs or illegal aliens from coming into the country but yet profess to keep terrorists out. They can’t understand how we can go on telling the rest of the world how to live and yet the rest of the world hates us for it. We incarcerate more people then any other country in the world but yet people are still buying guns to defend their families and homes. Something is terribly wrong.

I am not sure we can recover some sense of normalcy in this country anymore. I think the pendulum has swung to far. I think our problems are insurmountable both fiscally and morally. Our government seems to be infected with the same greed and corruption that is tearing our society apart so we have the blind leading the blind. This is how revolutions get started, when the people have had enough. Maybe we need another big war to bring us back together. It worked sixty years ago. But then after all of the bloodshed and smoke went away, we took that hard earned victory, that had made us loved and respected by most of the world and peed it away. No, another war would be a bad idea. Just another band-aid on a huge, huge, wound. 

FLOWING RIVER

In my younger days, when I was living back in Staples, Minnesota, I would often travel north of town a few miles, to the Crow Wing River. This river, at least in those days, was one of the most peaceful and cleanest rivers in the state. I would go out to this remote spot that I loved so much, and just sit on the riverbank in the summer sun and watch the river flow by. There was something serene and peaceful about it, and it always put me in a pensive mood. “Kind of like watching paint dry?” you say. Not if you go there and let it work its magic.

Life, to me, has always seemed like a continuous flowing river. You get one chance to enjoy it. Then, it goes around the bend and there’s no getting it back. There is little you can do to slow its flow, or alter its course. You can only enjoy the moment, make good decisions and go for it. Like the river, you have no idea what is coming along next. It might be something wonderful that you had never thought of before. Then again, it might just dry up and leave you with nothing but mud and rocks to look at. It might even send a wall of water that causes you to momentarily scramble out of the way, but life has taught me that these things are temporary. You deal with them, and then you can go back and sit on the bank once more, and dream. For every trouble that comes your way, there will often be opportunities to set it all right.

We need not dwell on our regrets, but still keep our eyes fixed on the upstream part of life, because life past is just that. But there are lessons to be learned if we pay attention. Yesterday is history, and tomorrow is a mystery, and it is that mystery we pin our hopes on. There are times you want to just slip in, and go with the flow, because it seems so easy, so comfortable to do right now. But something tells you to be cautious, and make a good decision, because once you accept the status quo, it’s hard to go back to your dreams. Swimming upstream, against the current, is very tiring and you may never get back to that spot where you were. All of those opportunities yet to come, that you couldn’t wait for, will now be behind you, and they will spend the rest of your life chasing you far downstream, most likely never catching you. I like to look at the faces of our young people as they graduate and go out into life, but always, I wonder when the seriousness will set in for them. For most of us, that time comes when we have offspring, and we realize the ramifications that will come if we continue to degrade our earth, our values and our way of life. We know that by the time they start to think, like we are now thinking, it may be too late and we won’t be here to say, “I told you so.” On the other hand, it’s hard to be advice-givers when we have made such a mess of things already. It’s hard to say “I told you so,” when we were so much a part of the problem. I know that, someday, mankind will succeed in eliminating themselves because, for some strange reason, we seem destined to do that. Soon after we are gone, the earth will replenish itself, because Mother Nature is far more resilient than we are. For now, she is just putting up with us and our antics.

I THINK IT'S HERE

I say, “I think it’s here,” because life in Minnesota has taught me that you can never be sure when spring has really arrived. But something happened the other day that brought me hope. Many of us have taken a long journey, to some far-off destination we yearn to go to, and have experienced that feeling of relief that comes when we finally get out of the car, or off the plane, and know we are at our journey’s end. It’s as if we have endured something on that trip that had to be done before the real fun begins. We “paid our dues,” you might say, and that’s where that part of my analogy ends.

Here is where the other half starts. Yesterday morning when I got out of bed, and went to the patio doors to check the weather, as I often do, there it was—the ice was gone! Our lake was back, and to top it off, swimming right in front of my house were our loons. All thoughts of that long journey, through last winter’s brutal encasement of snow and ice, were gone from my mind. The dark nights of winter staring at the television, and listening to the wind blow outside the house, were history. We have finally turned the corner.

There lives in many of us an older person, with an aversion from work. We’re retired now, and punching the old clock is a distant memory, but there is such a thing as a labor of love for others and me, and it comes in spring. Each flowerbed I uncover brings little surprises because there they are again, poking their little heads above the earth, searching for the sunlight that is their lifeblood. The dead leaves have been raked and blown away, and just in time the rains come, and that drab brown grass magically finds its chloroform and green is the new color. The rhubarb seems to grow an inch a day and the buds are swelling on the maple and aspen trees. The earth is having a rebirth, and this is a time for celebration.

There is no analogy, however, between my life and the seasons, as is often portrayed. The earth passes from one season to another until the cycle is complete, and then it simply starts over. This reincarnation is second nature to Mother Nature, for you see, she’s been at it a long, long time. But just because it’s October in my waning life—and that might be a generous assumption—it doesn’t damper the feelings I have for spring. I might be old and wrinkled, but I love new things and spring has an abundance of them. God willing, I will get to see them grow up once more here in Mother Nature’s own backyard.

It’s been a few days now since I started this essay. It feels good to walk upright again, and not having to shuffle my feet from one patch of ice to another. I’ve pulled my head up out of my coat collar, and stretched my neck back out. Took the truck out of four wheel drive, and put the plow away. The rakes and shovels are out of the shed, and so is the ibuprofen bottle. I keep thinking that there are more spots hurting than last year, but what the heck, if they’re hurting, then they must still have some life left in them, right? All of us need “a purpose in life” to be able to get up and go on each day. Spring gives us that purpose, and you know what? Summers on its heels, and like they say back where I come from, “It don’t get no gooder than that.”