This is the 2nd biggest holiday of the year! Strange things happen. People don't act normal. It is like a spell is cast over everyone.
Some things are left unexplained. I made coffee this morning and I had coffee all over the countertop. It is like some mystic force caused the brew to bubble up and overflow. Or maybe it is just that I forgot to empty the old coffee out of the decanter and ran the fresh coffee in on top. My "decanter over-flowith". The only explanation is Halloween.
As I started my morning walk at the mall, the first person I saw was one of the maintenance ladies wearing a devils outfit. It was befitting. The horns and devils tail were actually an inprovement. I almost expected her to turn into a bat and fly away. She is the one who always puts an "Out of order" sign at the entrance to the restroom.
It seems that women seem to get "into" halloween. Of course it is a short distance from being a female to being possessed by a spell. There was one lady dressed in loose clothing, a cape and a wig of "ratted blond hair". Air was swirling around her as she walked the mall.
I made a restroom stop during my travels around the mall and a young man (ah, young is 35) was standing in front of a mirror painting his face. The face was chalky white and he was putting black stars around his eyes. I postponed my effort.
On my way home, I passed near the Grasshopper No. 3 household. A flying object almost hit my windshield. It was Shelby Jr. and her broomstick was out of control. I think she was headed for a Starbucks.
Of course the whole day will be strange capped off with gobblins begging for treats tonight. Our front door gets used more tonight than any other day of the year.
It is a day to release the inhibitions. Be yourself. Strange is okay. Come to think of it, most of you don't even have to wear costumes. Just come as you are!
Love,
Dad
My doctor insists on seeing me every 6 months and he schedules a blood test one week before each visit. The blood test becomes the "basis" for judging my health status.
As you might guess, I just went through this 6 month routine and I'm beginning to hate it. The blood test measures 10-12 different things such as cholesterol, protein levels and blood pressure. When taken in total, the blood test information says that I'm medically good for an older person. But, the Doctor hones in on one or two readings and makes suggestions on how to improve. I've learned to dislike this analytical process. Hey, my high reading on the cholesterol is 134. Anything under 180-200 is pretty good. The lower end of my reading is 30. That is borderline for where they like the number but it is considered normal. So the "net" is my cholesterol overall is pretty good. Maybe really good for my age.
Now my secret. I don't do well with people telling me what to do! No, you say! It is part of human nature to challenge authority but I work at it a little harder the most people.
My doctor keeps dwelling on the 30 reading at the low end of the cholesterol range. Apparently my efforts should be aimed first at more exercise and second at losing some weight. More exercise doesn't seem reasonable especially since I walk 3-4 miles every day (for over an hour). So my other option is weight loss. Who wants to hear that? I can't believe he is telling me to lose weight.
You get the idea. I pay big bucks. I get expert advice. I try to suppress the suggestions. I resist.
So where does that leave me? I made it past my 6 month check-up and I don't have to go back until April, 2007. Try as I may, I can't eliminate the Doctor's advice from my mind. Hey, maybe I got what I paid for! I got expert advice on my health that I can process any way I want. What will I do? What will I do?
The lesson here is that we have access to some of the best medical adivice in the world. Use those resources wisely (not without thought). The choices are yours. You'll find the path that is best for you!
Love,
Dad
I am enamored by people who are a little strange! Our whole family is strange, so there is no danger of my losing interest.
Actually, this is about Victoria Caldwell. She happens to be from the State of Tennessee and is a rabid fan of the University of Tennessee. Getting season tickets is very difficult in Tennesee (almost like Green Bay Packer tickets). Victoria has had her application in for years and finally was notified that she was elgible to purchase tickets. She was placed among older fans because they hold their tickets until they die (so most are old).
Victoria is very passionate about the Tennessee Volunteers. She is constantly jumping and screaming as she encourages her team. She yells out two phrases over and over throughout the game. The phrases never change. If her team is ahead and possesses the football, the cheer is "all the way". I resist making all kinds of jokes at this point. "All the way" is good but after 3-4 hours of football it gets annoying. Her second cheer is for when they are behind. "Take the lead" is the charge. Thats it. Two phrases. Six words over and over.
So what is the problem. There is a petition by fans that surround her to get her removed from her season tickets. Apparently, she has a screechy voice and is just plain obnoxious. Of course being in the middle of elderly fans couldn't have anything to do with it?
She has another option. She is very, very attractive. Vivacious is the discription. I don't know if "blond roots" enters the picture, but it wouldn't surpise me. The student section has offered to let her sit with them. They don't care if she has an annoying voice.
This sounds like a trivial problem but how would you like a vivacious vixen jumping up and down in front of you yelling "all the way" for hours on end. As you can see, it is a difficult situation. Maybe she can learn a new cheer like "yes, yes, yes" when they score!
The lesson here is that you encounter all types along your life journey. Being a fan is sometimes tough.
Love,
Dad
Tomorrow marks 29 years! Grasshopper No. 5 was born 29 years ago. It was the end of water retention. It ended concern about high blood pressure. I think the word "phlebitis" came up. Then Mawqwett (Collin's pronunciation) came along. Happy birthday Margaret. May your day be special!
I'm told that Grasshopper No. 1 has her own personal carpenters. One is hubby Tom accompanied by his brother Rich. They are cleaning gutters, replacing awnings, buying new windows and comtemplating replacement of a front stoop. Hey, does it get any better. Grasshopper No. 1 goes off to work and comes home to a remodeled house.
Now my latest mouse story. Our house originally was part of a development in a farmers field. That means lots of critters are natural to the area. We had a mouse or two when we moved into the house but I attribute that to the "movers". Doors were left open all day.
It is October! We have suspected a mouse in the basement (they come in from the cold). We watch a lot of TV in the basement and we take food like sandwiches, popcorn and other morsels downstairs while watching. Crumbs and other food fragments end up in the cushions and on the floor. Mice like that! Yes we do vacuum!
Yesterday I finished my morning exercise and got home. My life parter entended a "high five" with a big smile on her face. I asked what the "high five" was for? I was told she had caught a mouse in the TV room. My wife was anxious to tell me that she went down to collect some cups and newspapers and she noticed that her tall (very tall) water mug had an apple core in it. She didn't remember dropping the core in the mug, but she didn't think twice about it. She picked up the mug and then set it down. That was no apple core, that was a mouse! I asked her what she did with the mouse and she told me the mug and it's contents were still in the basement. What kind of hunter is that? I think the words were "I'm not going near that mug"! In fact, I was told to throw the mug away along with the mouse. So I went into the basement to get the mug and put an end to the mouse saga.
The mouse was alive! Yes sir! The mug was about 20 percent full of water and somehow the stupid mouse had fallen into the mug. It managed to keep it's cute little nose above the water level and it was paddling with it's little paws and staring up at me. Awww! Disney couln't portray the situation any better. It was trapped and there was no chance of getting out of the tall mug.
So what do you do? What do you do? I took the mug and carried it outside. I walked part way down the block and threw the remaining water and the disgusting little mouse into the middle of the street. The last I saw of the mouse he was toddling down the middle of the road hopefully headed for someone else's house.
Then I remembered the story of a guy who caught a mouse, carried him outside his house, set the mouse on fire and released the mouse. The mouse ran back in the house and burned the house down. True story!
Now I am perplexed. Will the mouse find his way back into my abode? I should have killed the little bastard.
So my brave wife can be proud that she caught that little mouse in her mug. The lesson is be careful what you drink. You never know what is in the water!
Love,
Dad
Grasshopper No. 2 spent 4 years at UW-Madison. The years were 1980-1984. I had attended "prissy" Marquette and was buried in the "backwater" community of Sheboygan. I had no idea what the UW Marching Band was. Turns out the Band was the focal point of a sad football program and people actually went to see the football games because the Band did a continual performance before, during and after each game.
Grasshopper No. 2 became one of the first female trombone players in the Band. In fact, she blazed an early trail for women that aspire to play in the band. The Band provided her with "instant" involvement in the University in a meaningful way. Not to mention boys. Lots of boys!
Of course being proud parents, we traveled regularly to Madison on Saturdays to see the Band (and the football team). We brought guests. Nana. Grandpa. Our younger and older Grasshoppers. Friends. It became a social event.
Madison has always had a reputation of being a "party school". Hey, we live in Wisconsin and I think hold the title of "beer capital of the world". There was always a hint of wild parties attended by Band members. Of course, Grasshopper No. 2 was above all of that and there was never a possibility that she might be living the wild life.
It is now over 20 years since the "early days". The UW Band has just been reprimanded for bad behavior. Drinking, oh, my! Hazing; say it isn't true! Sexual encounters, oh no! Incidents involving masochism! This has overtones of the Playboy Mansion West!
The UW Band has been put on probation until further notice. The Band Director has been verbally reprimanded. The Band is going to have to alter their behavior. Yeah, right!
I can't help but wonder about the conditions that existed back in the early 1980's. The Band that I held in such high esteeem has had it's Crest tarnished. I paid for Grasshopper No. 2 to go to UW-Madison. What did I do? What did I do?
Alas, the Band will go on!. They will be a fun group. They will do things that are "edgy" within their own party groups. They just won't get caught a second time! Eventually the cloud of probation will disappear.
The Band does need to clean up their act!
What is the lesson Grasshoppers? Don't let you parents find out what you really did in school!
Love,
Dad
I get to watch my Grandchildren grow up right before my eyes. For some reason their struggles are vivid as I view from a distance. "Struggle" is the operative word. They, of course, come from the perspective of a blank slate. When they are born, all children have a "computer chip" in their brain that makes them unique. After that, each child is exposed to the learning experiences of life and develops into a totally special person. Pretty simple stuff.
My Dad understood the personal growth process. He did things that would just infuriate me (you know, piss me off). He didn't care! He was going to put me in situations that he knew would help me cope with life.
There were two things that were going to happen as I traversed my childhood. First, I wasn't going to sit on my ass. The rule was that "I had to get involved in something". In my case, my choice was sports and I ended up playing football, basketball and baseball. Football was never my favorite and I regularly indicated that I was considering quitting. My Dad's position was that I could quit football, but he wanted to know what was I going to do instead. Well I didn't know what I could substitute for football. Chasing girls and drinking cokes in the local drug store was not an option (we didn't have video games in those days). So I was caught. He knew I probably wouldn't find an alternative function. I played football.
Here is the gift my Dad gave me. Are you ready? This is really profound. Write it down. It is "once you start something, you have to finish it". That's it! I was not allowed to be a quitter. Never. It wasn't going to happen on his watch. Believe me, we had some royal "mind game" battles as I tried to wiggle out of commitments. He was just as stubborn as I was and he was bigger. So I never quit.
By not quitting the things I, I was forced to deal with all of life's issues. Yep, there were coaches I couldn't stand but I had to learn to work with them. There were times in sports when I didn't play "first string" and ended up sitting on the bench. I didn't like that and it made me determined to make the first team. Imagine that. It taught me to deal with other kids that were imperfect like me and supportive relationships were created. It taught me how to win. It taught me how to lose.
Where am I going with this? I want my Grandchildren to be successful. If I could pass on " the gift" I would keep them so busy that they wouldn't have time for any video games and useless diversions. If I could pass on the gift, I would encourage them to try things. If I could pass on the gift, they would understand that quitting was not an option. If I could pass on the gift they would know I loved them.
Love,
Dad
My Grandma Myrna would use early afternoons of each day to prepare food in her apartment for transfer to the City Club kitchen. You know! Chili. Hot beef to be sliced for sandwiches. Stuff like that. She always had her radio on (yes, they had radios in those days) and one of the programs was called "As the World Turns". It was just a melodramatic soap opera but it created a background "noise" that just really went on and on and on. I think it is still on television these days and it still goes on and on and on. I remember the program advertisements for Doans pills. The pills were supposed to relieve back pain which I found out meant they were a laxative. Apparently if you relieve your "bound up" condition, your back pain disappears.
Life goes on. Shit happens. The world adjusts. New conditions are created. The world adjusts. So it is with the lives of the Grasshoppers.
Grasshopper No. 4 is now into week 2 of his new job with Dowco in Manitowoc. No. 4's exposure to the Johnsonville system was invaluable. When I was at Ripon Foods, we hired Ralph Stayer Jr. to consult on empowering employees. Ralph walked the walk. Ralph has a company culture that encourages employee involvement and rewards fresh ideas. Maybe something rubbed off on No. 4. The world turns.
Grasshopper No. 1 starts her new job in Sheboygan today managing a smaller version of the previous Wisconsin Vision outlet. She just had electric shock to slow down her heart. I hope the new job doesn't speed it up! Just kidding. I think Debs is looking forward to the new challenge. The world turns.
Grasshopper No. 5 has always had an interest in photography. Her persistence with photo art and concentrating on people and things in Minneapolis has evolved into a neat segway for her website design for the Star Tribune in the big city. Almost a Mary Tyler Moore repeat. "She's gonna make it on her own". Congratulations on her first gallery showing. The world turns.
Grasshoppers No. 2 and No. 3 are in life's groove. Stay tuned. Something will change. Opportunities will arise and they too will be forced to adjust to the turning world.
I can't reisist ending with a comment on Jennifer Wilbanks, the "Atlanta runaway bride" of seveal years ago. You know. She faked kidnapping two days before her expensive wedding and turned up in Las Vegas or Mexico or some strange location. A definite fruitcake with blond roots. Well, she is suing her former financee for some money he made selling his story about the "runaway event". This is front page stuff! Didn't the North Koreans just set off a nuclear device. What page is that on? And the world turns.
My advice Grasshopper is take Doan's Pills. You won't have any backpain and you'll find it easier to deal with the world.
Love
Dad
I have been accused of being too insensitive but you be the judge. The Wisconsin newspapers have been running front page stories about a bridal dress shop in Milwaukee that declared bankruptcy. The Court system locked the doors. Any bridal dresses that were within the bridal shop become the property of the court even if they have been paid for. The newspapers shows a "bride to be" sitting in front of the bridal shop weeping hysterically because she won't procure the dress of her dreams for her wedding which is in 3 weeks. Did I miss something? It is a dress lady. A white piece of dress material that can be purchased at 100 other places in town. And 3 weeks? How much time do you need to find another dress? Hello? You go to another shop, find the alternate dress you want, and pick it several days before the wedding and everything is okay. There should be a "man-law" or "woman-law" that there is no crying over wedding dresses.
Now the local TV stations are including all the emotion of wedding dresses being locked up because of bankruptcy. Jeepers, isn't there something more important to report on?
There is a good side to all of this. Hopefully the lavender bridesmaid dresses are also part of the bankruptcy proceedings. The bridesmaids won't have to wear those God awful outfits much less pay for them. How do brides find colors like lime, rose, and passion pink?
Then there is a second benefit from this. The groom gets a delay in the wedding. I'm sure he might be devestated initially, but believe me when he looks back on postphonement of his wedding day, it could be the highlight of his life.
Now for a Miller Lite Man Law Council declaration. You know, Bert Reynolds, Mr-T, Puff Daddy et. al.! I think a man-law should be declared that if your fiancee has her dress tied up in bankruptcy proceedings, there should be a mandatory 3 week celebration for the groom. Included should be successive nights on the town, refrigerators stocked with nothing but beer and a weekend in Las Vegas with the guys. Something is needed here to get the future groom past the trauma of the bride's dress not being available.
Am I missing something here? 3 weeks to replace a wedding dress that is tied up in bankruptcy proceedings? Where is the story? Hysterical crying? Portrayal of hopelessness? Almost "my life is over", self pity syndrome. Come on suck it up! It is just a bump in the road. This too shall pass. There is humor in this!
Now I ask you, do you really think I am insensitive?
Love,
Dad
It has always bothered me that I didn't know more about George Andrews. Yep, there was a George in the "Andrews Family Tree". My Grandpa Chalk (Bucky's dad) died when he was 46. He had a stroke. I attribute his dying at an early age to many crude medical operations in the 1940's on his knee. Grandpa Chalk's formal name was Charles which is where I got my first name. Grandpa Chalk had one sibling brother named George who I think was slightly older.
George Andrews lived well into his 90's. I don't know if George made the century mark of 100 or not.
What has bothered me is how two brothers could have such different life spans. There was a undeniable brother similarity. George Andrews was full of energy and had a beautiful head of white hair (at this stage of my life, shades of gray blurr). I met George once or twice as a young kid when George was passing through Plymouth, Wisconsin. He would stop at the City Club to pay respects, tell a few stories and then he was gone. I remember a broad grin and an "Andrews bullshit factor" when he joked.
George was a lawyer which explains the bullshit factor. I think he got his law degree by attending school for 18 months in Denver, Colorado but that is a vague recollection. You didn't need a lot of school to become accredited in the 1920's. To my knowledge, he practiced law until he retired which would have been some time around 1965-70.
The last correspondence I had was from George W. Andrews (I always wondered what the "W" stood for) in Marion, Indiana. I think that is where he spent most of his life.
George tried to refer me to several people that had done a study in family history. He was very vague. The study went nowhere.
So one of the mysteries in my life is why two brothers (Chalk and George) lived such different life spans. I either am destined to live to 100 or die at 46. Wait a minute, I'm already past 46.
I have written many times about Grandma Myrna's Family (Roberts) including trips to the homestead. The Andrews history is a little more vague.
So you see Grasshoppers, my life remains a mystery. There is much more I'd like to know about George.
Love,
Dad