We live in a big world!
The U.S. has somewhere around 3-4% of the world population. Last year we passed the 300 million mark as far as U.S. population. Don't ask me if those are just official citizens or if the number actually includes illegal immigrants. It doesn't matter.
That means 96-97% of the world population lives somewhere else in the world.
Which brings me to China. You hear a lot about products being made in China. China also buys our products. Walmart. McDonalds. Caterpillar tractors. Kohler fixtures. So there is huge financial reward for both the Chinese and American companies.
China has a huge rural population. 800 million people live away from the major metropolitan areas. Think about it. 800 million people living in the country in China compared to the total U.S population of 300 million. By the time they all buy TV's, cars, gasoline, lawn mowers and toilets they want and need, somebody is going to make a lot of money. That does't take into account all the people that live in the Chinese cities.
China is the immediate opportunity and will occupy conversation for a long time. It represents jobs and foreign opportunities for many companies.
After China, it will be South America. After South America, it will be some place else in the world.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that there is a lot going on in world and the U.S. with all it's technology and great products stands poised to profit. So when you hear about manufacturing jobs disappearing, there are many jobs and opportunities being created. We have 97% of the world's population to sell to. Now there is a picture. 800 million Chinese driving Buicks. Keep the faith.
Love,
Dad
An acquaintance named Hector came to visit recently. I hardly know Hector but I must have made a favorable impression on him.
Hector was born into a large family. Lots of brothers and sisters. It didn't take long for him to "fend" for himself. He missed a formal education but his "street smarts" were incredible. He ate discarded food and accepted handouts whenever possible. Eventually he retreated to the country to escape the confusion that goes with city living.
Just outside town, Hector found the serenity he was looking for. In his exploration, he found a huge mound made of limestone with lots of open holes. Upon climbing the stone, there was a cave that provided shelter. So Hector made himself at home. Over time Hector married and started his own family.
When Hector arrived on my doorstep, I told him I didn't want him or his type around. He ignored me and and I just couldn't get rid of him. So I called in some help.
You see Hector is a fricking mouse. He climbed the front stone facade of our house and burrowed into a crack where the mortar had deteriorated. He pulled out the insulation and left little brown droppings all over a cement ledge. The mouse is living in my house. I've got a mouse in the house.
I had a mason repair some of cement between the limestone in front of our house. He found the mouse opening. It is now sealed up and hopefully Hector is not able to get in.
The question is "when the mouse opening was sealed", did we trap Hector inside the house? If we did, we just might encounter a mouse during one of our trips down a hallway at night. We are armed with four mouse traps in strategic locations. Hector is on our wanted list.
I will win the battle with the little bastard (if he is in the house). He may be cute but he is creepy. There will be a dead mouse in the house.
I guess living in an area where there was an empty farm field only 15 years ago encourages critters indigenous to the area to take up lodging.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that you don't have to tolerate vermin in your life. Throw them out. Surround yourself with friends that you love.
Love,
Dad
I have tried to post on this Blog all day and have been denied access from the Web. The site finally seems to be responding.
I called my "site manager" in Minneapolis. She acknowledged that she also was unable to enter my Web site. Her advice was "wait it out". Apparently host computers have problems from time to time and they eventually get fixed. What I want to know is, how come it takes days to get ahold of Grasshopper No.5 except when I have a computer problem? She answered my e-mail in less than 5 minutes. Go figure!
My Uncle Bob in Florida apparently will be starting treatments for prostate cancer. The prognosis is very good. As with most cancers, the treatments are difficult. Bob is 83. My dad Bucky (his brother) would have been 87.
We had heard that the new movie release on DVD, Premonition, was very good. Upon visiting with Grasshopper No. 4, we found out he had a copy of Premonition. So we get to see it free.
I played golf on Monday in my Senior Golf League. Have you ever said something really stupid and then wished you'd kept your mouth shut. Last year I played golf with Clarence and his buddy Don. They are both over 85. Don was rather fragile last year and he actually fell over making a swing at the golf ball. So Monday during my round I asked about Don with "how is he doing"? Another golfer said he died. I replied I was sorry to hear that. Another golf said "he apparently is doing very well"! The whole group of golfers broke out in uproarious laughter. There was no disrespect. It just added a little humor to a sad situation.
Collin's last soccer game for the summer takes place Thursday. I am still the good luck charm. Every match I go to he scores a goal. When I miss a match (I've missed two), he doesn't score. Last week he scored a goal on a windy, windy day but his team got "creamed". A player on the opposing team had 4 goals. I have learned that speed is leathal. The opposing player was very, very fast and once he broke free towards the goal with the ball, it was all over.
Being suspicious as I am (no you say), while having our Camry serviced including rotation of tires, I got a call from the service manager indicating that one of my tires had a nail in it. He asked if they should fix it? Dah! What he wanted was authorization to exceed the dollar limit I had imposed. $25 to fix the tire. He handed me a threaded screw when I picked up the car indicating that it had caused the low tire pressure. Now the question is "did the tire really have a screw" or did they pull the screw from the garbage and never really fix the tire. Maybe they screwed me! Naw. They wouldn't do that. Would they?
So the Summer marches on. So far our transplanted trees are surviving. We are too!
Love,
Dad
A good job is a cherished thing. A great job is rare.
The Milwaukee Bucks drafted a Chinese basketball player named Yi Jianlian. He is seven foot tall, thin like a greyhound and can shoot soft jump shots. He stands to make the rookie maximum of $4 million the first year.
Guess what? Yi don't want to play in Milwaukee and he refuses to talk to his new employer (the Milwaukee Bucks organization). He wants to play in a big "chinese populated" city like New York, Los Angeles or Atlanta.
It is good thing that his name is Yi rather than (Ying Yang) as in "up yours". Worse yet would be Long Duck Dong (the exchange student in Sixteen Candles).
Now my rant! Who does Yi think he is? The National Basketball Association makes the rules, pays outrageous salaries and generally provides a fantastic standard of living. Yi has been offered a job and he essentially has said "stick it". If I owned the Milwaukee Bucks I'd move on and tell Yi to stuff his attitude up his ying yang and go live with Long Duck Dong.
I guess it is a sign of the times. There is this attitude that the world owes me a living. What ever happened to being grateful for a $4 million per year job. It buys a lot of Chinese rice. Theoretically, Yi could play for one year, save most of money and never have to work again. Am I missing something here?
I know I don't understand the Chinese culture. If the merge of Chinese and American cultures proves difficult, it seems $4 million per year to start with the prospect of $15 million per year in the future should solve many problems.
The lesson here Grasshoppers is that if somebody offers you a job for $4 million a year, take it. You are one of the chosen few to make that kind of money. Better yet quit whining.
Love,
Dad
Last Christmas Deb and Tom made a phone call to Harry Strobel, owner of the City Club in Plymouth looking for any memorabilia from the past. Harry called back several weeks later and said he found two boxes of "stuff" in an upstairs closet. It turned out to be scrapbooks and newspaper clippings that my Grandma Myrna had accumulated in the 1940's and 1950's.
Harry died last week at age 85. Harry worked for my Grandpa Chalk and Myrna for all the years I lived at the City Club. He was part of the fabric.
Harry got me interested in golf. Many bar room discussions revolved around the game. He and girl friend Doris would invite me to play the QuicQuiOc Golf Course on many occasions. Harry was what they call a "scratch golfer". He usually matched par on each hole and made very few mistakes. The obituary said he won a state amateur title in 1949. I don't think that is right. He did win the Quit Qui Oc Club championship probably in 1949.
Harry had a interesting life style. For many years he would stop tending bar in November and go to Florida to be Captain of a boat for the Dahl family, a successful local car dealer. So in the winter he cruised the Carribean and in the summer he tended bar and played golf. Not bad!
Harry and I would travel over to Lawsonia Golf Course once each summer. At the time, Lawsonia was revered as "the" championship course. It had ten foot high bunkers in the middle of the fairways and one hole was built over an old railroad car. It was like a fantasy "outing".
Harry eventually stopped going to Florida and still tended bar at the City Club. He took a part time job with Arndt's Truck Stop on the edge of town building a small nine hole par 3 golf course for "duppy" Clarence Arndt. Harry did not lack for work ethic.
When the City Club was put up for sale in the early 80's, Harry partnered up with his wealthy brother Chuck to buy it. So since the early 80's, Harry has managed his own business.
I think if you total the years Harry had invested at the City Club, it would total more than Myrna and Chalk. Harry spent more than 60 years either working for or owning the City Club.
Harry had an even keel. He never showed anger. He was good with customers because he could tolerate even the a--h----. I did see him throw a few people out of the tavern bodily but that was the exception. He was always "steady" and mild mannered. I guess that is how you hold several jobs and still enjoy the lifestyle that you like.
Harry never married which was part of his genius. Great lifestyle. Great girlfriend. No serious long term commitments.
I could never figure out why girlfriend Doris didn't tell Harry to get lost. Then again Harry just kind of grew on you. He was easy to be around. There were always interesting things to do.
So rescuing the old scrap books from the City Club proved opportune. Maybe it was meant to be. The City Club now goes into a new stage of it's history. Time will determine it's fate.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that lots of people pop into and out of our life. They play different roles. Harry influenced my golfing and probably my outlook on life. Maybe he is one of the five people I will meet in Heaven (isn't that presumptious on my part). Ha!
Love,
Dad
Rumor has it that all of the Wisconsin Badger tickets for all home games have been sold. That can only mean that 2007 college football expectations over in Madison are sky high. So the excitement reins supreme. Saturday afternoon. Drunken students. Badger band. Good food. Magical smells in the air. A student section of fans yelling eat sh-- (or alternatively f--- you). Time spent with good friends and family. Does it get any better? Can you feel it?
Actually as a high school football player I got my face shoved into the turf many times. As the evening temperatures cool and the smell of wet grass floats through the air, July suggests that "good stuff" is coming.
The Badgers kick off their first full practice Aug. 2. That is 3 weeks away. The hell you say!
The Packers have their annual meeting on July 25 when they will announce that they made $22 million last year that they can piddle away on mediocre free agents. Then July 28 (2 weeks from now), full practices begin in ernest. The first Packer pre-season game begins in early August. Can you feel it.
Grasshopper No. 4 will soon be talking "smack" about his coaching prowess and how the pre-teen children football draft is just awesome. Last year No. 4 had the players and the dynamite game plan. They lost their first 4 games. But here we go again. Hope springs eternal. Can you feel it?
The best part is that the first Wisconsin Badger football game is at home against Washington State (Hall of Fame Game) on Sept. 1 and we have tickets. Go Bucky!
I realize the euphoria of anticipating the football season will quickly wane and the reality of a long season will settle in.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that anticipation is everything. The mind conjures up all kinds of good thoughts. Sometimes the real event turns out to be a disappointment. Don't deny me my fantasies. Football season is just around the corner. Can you feel it?
Love,
Dad
Fear is an interesting thing. The mind creates a ficticious scenario of events that could be painful or disasterous and then a person waits for the bad things to happen.
We attended a Wisconsin Timber Rattler baseball game last week. They are always eventful because T-Shirts are thrown into the crowd, hot dogs are shot high into the stands and colorful "go-carts" race around the field.
We had tickets on the third base side about 12 rows up in the stands. We were lined up with the third base bag.
The game started and it became ovious that a lot of foul balls came back into the stands, bounced off the roof and were caught by fans. They were welcome souvenirs
It was also obvious that some "foul tips" were rocketed into the stands on very low trajectory. Where we were sitting, there was barely a chance to duck if the ball came our way. I was sitting next to Collin and he expressed some concern about ducking fast enough. Of course, I reassured him that there was little chance of getting hit. Guess what? Around the third inning, a left handed batter fouled a line drive in our direction. Screams went out! Everybody's hands went up in self protection. It was like watching a bullet in slow motion approaching you between the eyes. Alas, the ball missed us but it struck a woman about 3-4 rows down in front. At first it looked like it hit her in the head but it turned out it bounced off the front of her shoulder. My guess is that she woke up the next morning with one black and blue sore shoulder.
The reality of getting hit by a foul ball now was real and we anticipated the worst for the rest of the game. No more came our way. To top it off, a batter let a bat slip from his hands in the seventh inning and it bounced off the fence in front of us. He picked up the bat, dusted the handle and proceeded to let it slip again into the 3rd base dug out (right in front of us). If getting hit by the foul ball wasn't enough, bats were now flying around.
Obviously the chances of getting hit by a wayward ball or bat are remote. Having witnessed a few near misses does heighten awareness. A ball hit in our direction did get our adrenalin flowing.
Fear makes us all cautious. There are ways to deal with it. The rewards are usually very great!
The lesson Grasshoppers is that if a bad ball comes your way, be on the look out and duck!
Love,
Dad
"Aunt Martha" was a relative that lived outside Plymouth. She was my Mother's aunt and owned two farms. She was a tough but sweet lady. When I knew her, she was in her 60's. She never had any children and managing two farms was difficult.
My dad Bucky decided to talk to Martha about using some spare farm land. He was going to make a fortune in strawberries. I think he had a "seed catalog" and figured he could procure strawberry plants for almost nothing and then nuture them to produce full, ripe, scrumptions strawberries. He had calculated the yield off each plant and I really don't know how big the forture would have been but I sure we would have been filthy rich.
Bucky bought the plants.
Aunt Martha plowed up 2-3 acres of land.
Chuck and brother Jack raked all the plowed land to prepare for the planting.
Chuck and Jack planted each and every strawberry seedling plant.
Chuck and Jack nutured the plants by watering them initially to take root.
And then, as with many of the hair brained schemes concocted within our household, we waited to reap the harvest.
During the meantime, baseball season was starting and Chuck and Jack along with Coach Bucky got very busy with practices and games. The strawberries were never forgotten but it was tough to check on them because it meant a trip out to Aunt Martha's farm.
Well the weeds started to grow. Chuck and Jack did some weeding. It was a dry Spring and some of the plants got heat stroke because they weren't watered. Slowly, very slowly the strawberry plants lost their promise. There was a panic in June to salvage as many plants as possible. Water sprays. Weeding. Loving care.
We picked a some. We ate a lot. We picked some. We ate a lot.
I'm not sure we sold any strawberries for profit. Poof! Another great idea gone awry.
My Dad had the idea. He put the plan into action. He got cheap slave labor (Jack and myself). He lacked commitment and execution.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that a great idea needs to be followed by hard work. A little luck helps. We had a fortune in our grasp and just let it slip away. Alas, the story of my life! Don't let your ideas die for lack of commitment.
Love,
Dad
In a moment of weakness, I bought one share of Green Bay Packers stock. It was Nov. 24, 1997. The Packers were trying to raise money for their stadium improvement project and I could become a Packer owner for $200.
I am reminded of my investment because I get an annual invitation to attend a stockholders meeting at Lambeau in late July. It is held outdoors so there is a chance I could get rained on. The information I get from the Packers is zero. They read the results of their business at the annual meeting and I guess you can take notes. If I want financial information, I can read the Milwaukee Sentinel and get more detail.
But hey, I can hang the stock certificate for one share of the Green Bay Packers on my wall. I can proudly say that I am one of 112,000 owners.
I get invited to Lambeau once per year. It comes with an invitation to tour part of the new facilities. Last year, they opened up the team locker rooms.
The Packers do not pay a cash dividend to their stockholders. So I get 0 financial return. Favre gets over $11 million per year. What's wrong with this picture?
If I wanted to sell my stock, I'm not sure how I'd go about it. It would involve a complex change of ownership maneuvers. I don't think "ebay" would do the job.
I have bragging rights that I am an owner of one of the oldest NFL franchises. That makes me part of the fabled tradition.
Why did I invest in the Packers? I had a one time shot at becoming an owner and maybe being included in long term financial decisions. My investment is right up there with my red brick (with my name on it) in the walkway just outside of Camp Randall in Madison. The difference is that the brick was a gift (not my money) from Grasshopper No. 2 many years ago.
So as the Green Bay Packers approach training camp with full pads on July 28, we can look forward to another season of quiet desperation and mediocrity. I'll light up my cigar and throw out my chest. I own part of the Green Bay Packers. I am a big time investor.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that we all have made lousy investments. I got caught up in the moment and decided that being a Green Bay Packers stockholder would be cool. Maybe I'll plaster my bathroom walls with the stock certificate. I can't help but wonder how many Dairy Queens I could have purchased with the $200.
Love,
Dad