Now I understand........

While I was in SD I read HALF BROKE HORSES by Jeannette Walls, the author of THE GLASS CASTLE. It is a good read and helps make some sense of the mother in GLASS CASTLE. HALF BROKE HORSES is the story of the grandmother, i.e., the mother of the mother, in THE GLASS CASTLE. If you've read CASTLE then I think you will particularly enjoy HALF BROKE, though it would be good on its own.
So many good books, so little time.

Back and gone again.

I've been absent the blog for a bit, what with caring for Joanne, and keeping up the care site www.caringbridge.org/visit/jnegstad

Tomorrow I leave for a week in SD and thus will be away from the computer for a week. However, I just read such a powerful book that I did not want to delay mentioning it. It is THE LATEHOMECOMER: A HMONG FAMILY MEMOIR by Kao Kalia Yang, Coffee House Press, Minneapolis.
While it tells the story of a particular Hmong family it is, in many ways, the story of all immigrants. The author attended Harding High School in St. Paul and in response to a teacher's question "Is the story of Romeo & Juliet a story of love or lust." She wrote "Love is the reason why my mother and father stick together in a hard life when they each might have an easier time apart; love is the reason why you choose a life with someone, and you don't tun back although your hear cries sometimes and your children see you cry and you wish out loud that things were easier. Love is getting up each day and fighting the same fight only to sleep that night in the same bed beside the same person because long ago, when you were younger and you did not see clearly, you had chosen them." p. 199
Buy it or borrow it and you'll be glad you read it!

Back and gone again.

Mai-Evy, some new pics

Smart....?

On my morning run I pick up litter from the street. Today I retrieved a discarded water bottle that was labeled "Smart Water". It made me think of the aphorism "The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their right name." I think the origin of that saying may be Chinese.
"Smart Water"...that costs more than gasoline, packaged in plastic, with no fluoridation...and on and go its liabilities. Lars suggested a more apropos title would be "Sucker Water"!

What are you doing tomorrow?

Joanne's transition home has gone well. She's glad to get uninterrupted sleep. There are no IV's, no early morning blood draws, etc. She sleeps peacefully until she needs something and then she puts on her call light, "Al, I need...." The curmudgeon sleepily arises and gets/does what is needed and then turns off the light. Doctor's rules are that she cannot be out of bed without her brace and she can't put the brace on alone, so.....
I guess that makes me nurse, physical therapist, cook, nursing assistant, pharmacist, etc. The only bit of confusion she shows is asking me what I plan to do tomorrow. :)
We both eagerly await Lars', Melissa's and Mai-Evy's arrival today. Yipee.
details at www.caringbridge.org/visit/jnegstad

Baggy pants

The current fashion among some young men of wearing baggy pants, you know the ones that look like they may fall at any moment, has amused me. On short guys it looks as if they have no legs. I've always wondered if they ever fall down. Well....

I was eating lunch at the McDonald's in Abbott Hospital (I know, nothing but the finest nutrition for the hospital and me) yesterday. A young man, perhaps 18 years old, was standing in line. He was wearing baggy jeans. As I watched his jeans dropped to the floor. Glancing around with a very embarrassed look he quickly snatched them up. Given the laws of gravity I had assumed it must happen from time to time

Interesting definition!

I was standing outside of Joanne's room at Abbott Northwestern Hospital while some nurses were tending to her. A bulletin board caught my eye. There was a huge banner over the billboard that said "MEASURES OF CARING". Under the heading were the goals of the hospital under a number of categories. Several were written in such technical gobbledygook that I had no idea what was meant. But the 2009 Service Goal leaped out at me. That goal is 7.1% net patient revenue growth. Isn't it interesting that service is measured in economic terms?
It is a good illustration of how health care has become a financial commodity. How much better would it be if health care was considered a fundamental human right rather than product by which profit is made.
Yes! I think we should have some form of universal health care, and, if I were to choose ,I'd choose the Japanese model. For example an MRI cost $87. in Japan!

For an update on Joanne's post surgery progress go to www.caringbridge.org/visit/jnegstad

A very long day!

Joanne reported for surgery at 6am, entered surgery at 8am, finished at 6pm, went to recovery and got to her intensive care room at 10pm. Why so long? She has osteoporosis and the surgeon was very careful about the insertion of the screws. Why intensive care? After 10 hours of surgery he wanted her to have one on one nursing care for the first night. I just talked to the nurse (9am Tue) and she said Joanne had a good night. She'll be moved to a regular room sometime today.
I'll keep her Caring Bridge site updated so you may follow that for details. www.caringbridge.org/visit/jnegstad

Organ Recital

Joanne has been in intense pain for months both in her leg and lower back. So, after much debate, she's scheduled to have her back fusion extended. The debate was not so much about if it should be done, but, about the extent of the fusion, i.e., should it be extended both up and down. She talked to a family friend, an orthopaedic surgeon, attending a spine symposium in Chicago. He asked leading experts and the advice was unanimous. They said to extend the fusion both higher and lower if there was pain both in the back and the leg.
Therefore, she will have surgery at 7:30am tomorrow (Monday) at Abbot Hospital in Minneapolis. The fusion will be extended both ways. She will likely be in the hospital for five to seven days. She will have to wear a back brace any time she is out of bed for the next twelve weeks.
Obviously this is a very difficult time for her but she is taking it like a trooper buoyed by the love, concern and prayers of so many. She has established a CaringBridge link which I will use to give regular up dates on her progress. That link is www.caringbridge.org/visit/jnegstad
Many thanks for all the out pouring of love, concern and support. God bless you all!

More Baptismal Info

Mai-Evy was wearing grandma curmudegeonette's baptismal dress Sunday for the baptism. The dress shows quite well in the accompanying picture of Mai-Evy with her parents. Lisa took the picture.

Baptism

It was fun! It was engaging! It was celebratory! It was worshipful! It was....many more things as well. Mai-Evy Christine Townsend Negstad was baptized at the later service at All Saints Episcopal Church, Chicago. Two years and two weeks prior Lars and Melissa were married in the same place with similar popping of champagne corks at the Eucharist.

All Saints accumulates baptismal candidates until All Saints so there were seven, five at the early service and two at the late. Music for the service was provided by a New Orleans style brass band. The worship space was festooned with pennants inscribed with the names of deceased loved ones being remembered. The names and ages of all the children murdered in Chicago in the past two years were written on chalk boards surrounding the worship center.

Bonnie, the parish rector, was one of five finalists for the position of Minnesota Bishop. She was not elected but had spent much of the week in Minneapolis. She also presided at Lars' & Melissa's wedding.

Aunt Lisa was Godmother and cousin Logan was Godfather.

Some years ago it dawned on some of us that, while, we said baptism was a really big deal, we weren't acting like it. So, we started a whole 'child in our hands' baptismal ministry at St. James where I was serving. So, now, it was gratifying to participate in a service that recognized baptism's significance and took it seriously. I like to think of Baptism as the Sacrament of Belonging.

And Mai-Evy? She was alert and observant throughout it all. She acted like it was a fun event that happened every day. I (we) am (are) blessed!

Baptism Day

No good deed goes unpunished!

Four intrepid golfers headed out on a raw, cold October day to play golf. The curmudgeon being one of them. We have a standing deal that we play for lunch, usually at McDonald's, unless there's a Culver's on our route. Our current handicap is subtracted from our raw score. The two highest adjusted scorers buy for the two lowest. There's also a rule that if there are any ties all scores are considered tied.
So there we were on the 18th green frostbitten, windblown and damp. All of us were looking forward to a hot meal at McDonald's. Three of us had our balls on the green. The fourth person had a difficult downhill chip to a green that slanted hard away from where he was playing. The hole wasn't going well for him. When he chipped he hit the ball too hard and it was about to roll across the green and off. I was standing near the path of the ball and stepped in front of stopping it about 10 feet from the hole.
We finished the game and went to the parking lot to tally up our scores. When the handicaps were considered the person whose ball I stopped and I had the best scores, however, we tied. That invoked the 'one tie all tie' rule. Therefore, my action in stopping the ball, saved that golfer a stroke but cost him, an me, a free lunch! Ah, yes, that good old law of unintended consequences! :)

Effectiveness Training

Over lunch today, with two colleagues ,I brought up Dr. Thomas Gordon and his books on 'Effectiveness Training'. The first one was PARENT EFFECTIVENESS TRAINING which was followed by TEACHER EFFECTIVENESS TRAINING and several others of the same genre'. Gordon's genius was taking basic, sound, counseling techniques and principles, and packaging them for parents and others as helps for effective communication and relationship building.
The basic tools were effective listening, I-messages, conflict resolution, and problem ownership. I learned a lot from Gordon and his work. His concepts and principles remain valid today and I think it is unfortunate that it is not more widely used today. However, much of his work has permeated society even though many have no idea of the source of the language and skills. One of the persons with whom I had lunch said he'd found the Effectiveness material online.
In the 1970's the Lutheran Church was active in promoting his work as a way of helping create functional families. Both the Curmudgeon and the Curmudgeonette were trained as Effectiveness Teachers. When we were in Sioux Falls at Kate's and Brad's wedding last June two persons thanked the Curmedgeonette for the skills they'd learned when she taught Effectiveness Training there in the 70's.

Racist?

Former President Jimmy Carter was roundly chastised for saying that some of the virulent reaction to President Obama's health reform is racist. Intuitively that makes sense when I'm honest about the latent racism in me. However, such motivation is hard to prove.
Now research, quoted in the October 20, 2009 CHRISTIAN CENTURY provides some proof. "...researchers Marc J. Hetherington and Jonathan D. Weiler have evidence that Carter is on to something. They analyzed a late 2008 survey that asked people if they favored a government-run health care system, a system like the one we have now, or something in between. The same survey also asked four questions on race designed to measure racial resentment. The findings revealed a strong correlation between racial resentment and opposition to health-care reform. They say that no such correlation exited in the 1990s when the Clinton administration was making a similar effort at health-care reform." (see page 7)

Better than 1000 words!

About travel...

Klara Glowczewska, writing in the September issue of CONDE NAST TRAVELER quotes Mark Twain from 1869 who wrote "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts." He went on "Broad, wholesome, charitable, views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all of one's lifetime." I wish he was right in the first quote, however, I know too many bigots who travel. The second quote is also not true in my experience. My father held broad, wholesome, charitable views of people though he had almost no opportunity to travel. Most of his travel was done via the printed page.
But the point that Ms. Glowczewska was trying to make is that she believes that Americans are entering a new phase of travel. In this new day she thinks that we are more open to the cultural experiences bring and are less imperialistic. She also thinks that part of the credit goes to the Obamas who are enthusiastic globe travelers.
Of course I hope she's right, because for good or ill, every American who travel abroad is an ambassador for better or for worse.

Newer pics of my favorite subject at 5 mos.

Books to recommend

I've recently read a couple of good books which are very different from each other. THE BOOK THIEF by Markus Zusak is a novel that tells the story of a young girl living though WW II in Germany. Story is narrated by death which gives a unique perspective to the telling. Some stores stock it on the young readers shelves. Our neighborhood book club is reading it and should make a wonderful discussion.
I WAS A TEENAGE NORWEGIAN by Peter Dublin is his story of being an American AFS student in Tromso, Norway in the early sixties. Besides his reflections on using the year to mature personally there is much interesting reflection on Norwegian society. Tromso is north of the Arctic Circle so there are months in which the sun does not shine and months when the sun does not set. Quite a bit of Norwegian language is sprinkled through the book.
Read THE BOOK THIEF when you're in good space and TEENAGE NORWEGIAN when you want a lift.

When did it change?

Somewhere in my education I was taught that the true justice was about rehabilitation. When did our society flip over to pure punitiveness? Some states allow children as young as seven years old to be tried as adults and sentenced to life without parole. American incarceration rates far exceed any other industrialized nation. As spending for prisons has increased money for rehabilitation has shrunk. Studies show that harsh penalties have little deterrent effect. Punish, punish, punish....with little thought about how a perpetrator came to be what he/she is and not about how to rehabilitate him/her. For my nickel punishment is not justice!
This rant brought about by reading the newspapers.

The Pileated Woodpeckers....

Slowing down for a red light I saw a Pileated Woodpecker on an Ash tree beside the road. It was only about twenty feet from me across the right lane of traffic. I stopped about thirty or forty feet behind the cars in front of me so I was parallel with the Woodpecker. A second one soon joined the first. They were about five feet off the ground busily pecking into the tree with their long beaks. The wood chips flew and they seemed totally oblivious to the car traffic passing less than ten feet from their perch.
Keeping an eye on the red light ahead and on my rear view mirror I tried to motion to the van driver behind me to look to his right. Either I failed, or, he wasn't a bird watcher because he zoomed around me to occupy the space between me and the car ahead. As I moved ahead as the light went green the two woodpeckers were still pecking at the tree. It was my first close sighting of Pileated Woodpeckers.

Sweet

Quandry...

When Pres. Bush decided to invade Afghanistan after 9/11 I said "Didn't he learn anything from Viet Nam?" When Obama made Afghanistan a focus during his campaign I wondered but was hopeful. Now that he is requesting more troops I've been skeptical.
Then I re-read THREE CUPS OF TEA and was reminded again of how terrible the Taliban are and how many promises Americans made to Afghanistan. When we helped the Afghanistanis against Russia we promised aid after the war which we never delivered. When we attacked the Taliban after 9/11 we promised aid for rebuilding but then did not follow through because we attacked Iraq and shifted the resources to that conflict.
Now what? How long will it take? It appears that the Afghan central government is corrupt. Can we successfully do nation building? If we leave it appears that the Taliban will quickly resume control. Will the war in Afghanistan do to President Obama what the war in Viet Nam did to President Johnson? If the Russians, whose proximity to Afghanistan is much closer than America's, could not prevail can we?

How quickly I forget!

It's been a couple of years since I read THREE CUPS OF TEA, the story about Greg Mortenson and his work building schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan. I'm almost finished re-reading it for our neighborhood book club discussion on Sunday. It's as inspiring on the second read as it was on the first.
I very seldom re-read books. There are just too many good books to read that I seldom dedicate the time to re-reading. Perhaps that's a mistake. At least I'm startled by how many of the details I've forgotten in a couple of years. For example I'd forgotten that women's centers were a part of the program. After Mortenson completes the first school he's approached by the women of the village who ask for a women's center. The success of that venture leads to the inclusion of women's centers in every village where a school is built.
If you haven't read the book what are you waiting for? If you have read it....well you decide!

A couple of new pics

My favorite subject.

Practice in dying....

Three months were up, it was time for mom to go back to work and dad's paternity leave had been delayed. Grandma and Grandpa were called in to do child care. Leaving your baby for the first day of work is traumatic whenever it happens.
It reminded me of something I once read. I think it was by a Quaker by the name of Douglas Steere. He described such moments as leaving your baby when you go to work, taking your child to school for the first day, walking your daughter down the aisle on her wedding day, as 'practice in dying little deaths'. His larger point was that we never really have anything that we don't let go.
Fifty years ago I knew a mother who was determined not to let her son go. Enough time has now passed to see the unfortunate results of her unwillingness to relinquish control. Perhaps tragedy is too strong a word but at least unfortunate would be the description of a very bright person who never developed emotionally.
Family systems thought, of which I'm very fond, talks about letting go as 'differentiation'. That borrows from physical science the idea of cells differentiating from each other. In family systems the idea is that one differentiates, i.e., lets go, but stays in touch. Speaking personally I often find it easier to differentiate than stay in touch.
Some thirty years ago Thomas Gordon wrote a book, PARENT EFFECTIVENESS TRAINING. In it he introduced some basic interpersonal counseling techniques that parent's could use in raising their children. It is still worth reading. One of the ideas that proved very helpful to millions of parents was the concept of figuring out "Whose problem is it?" For example, if my child is unhappy at school whose problem is it? It is closely related to the idea of differentiation.
With all that said, let's stay in touch! :)

Life's learning.

While I was waiting for Cathy during her Gamma Knife treatment this morning I finished the book BROTHER TO A DRAGONFLY by Will D. Campbell. Will is Baptist pastor from Mississippi who worked for the National Council of Churches in race relations during the 50's and 60's. The 'Dragonfly' is his older brother about whom the book is a biography yet also in many ways an autobiography. It is filled with spiritual and practical insight and, yet, on one level blindingly naive.

Working for civil rights during that volatile time it finally dawns on Campbell that the members of the Ku Klux Klan were also human and suffered their own form of enslavement. In 1963 speaking to a group assembled by the U. S. National Student Association to watch a documentary on the Klan produced by the Columbia Broadcasting System Campbell said "My name is Will Campbell. I'm a Baptist preacher. I'm a native of Mississippi. And I'm pro-Klansman because I'm pro-human being. Now that's my speech. If anyone has any questions I will be glad to try to answer them."
Those words almost caused a riot. After describing the reaction he writes "But it took time to get my little band of radicals settled down enough to point out to them that just four words uttered-'pro-Klansman Mississippi Baptist preacher,' couple with one visual image, white, had turned them into everything they thought the Ku Klux Klan to be-hostile, frustrated, angry, violent and irrational. And I was never able to explain to them that pro-Klansman is not the same as pro-Klan."
It reminds me of a learning from the years when I was living in Davenport, IA. that a life changing realization came home to me. That learning, that every issue we encounter in life is at first an internal one, is critical to the way we relate to the world. For example, if we don't recognize the racism in ourselves we cannot effectively combat racism in society, or if we don't see the violence we harbor we cannot be valuable agents of peace. I remember sitting in a peace group and sensing that there was enough innate hostility in the group to start World War III. The learning came from reading Elizabeth O'Connor's books about the work of Church of The Savior in Washington, DC.
Unless we learn the lesson that every issue we encounter in life is at first an internal one we project our own unresolved issues out on to whatever issue we claim to be addressing. It is easy to project our own inner violence unto whatever person or group symbolizes for us the antitheses of what we believe, e.g., liberals on conservatives and vice versa. Dealing with our own inner bigot is not for the faint of heart nor is it popular to suggest to others that their efforts of behalf of a cause may be driven by their own inner demons.
The very painful part of BROTHER TO A DRAGONFLY is the abysmal, total lack of any awareness of the nature of chemical dependency. Campbell's brother is a pharmacist who gets hooked on prescription drugs and is probably also cross addicted to alcohol. His addiction is viewed as mental illness and/or moral failure. There's no clue in the book that anyone ever used any of the learning's about chemical addiction in addressing the violent, antisocial behavior of the brother. I found myself reading with a mixture of fascination, awe about the experiences and insights and, yet, frustration that no one had a clue about chemical addiction.
In spite of that glaring weakness the book is well worth the read.

Some new pics.

At the Chicago Triathlon.

The clouds were bunched over Lake Michigan. In the space between the clouds and the horizon the morning sun began to show red. A few clouds dropped the dark streaks indicating a shower. Yet, overhead and to the west, the sky was clear. It was chilly in the dawn darkness as the first waves of participants, spaced four minutes apart, in the Chicago Triathlon awaited their turn to swim. Each wave was distinguished by the color of their swim caps. It was approximately a half mile swim, a thirteen plus mile bike ride and a 3.1 mile run.
Son, Lars, celebrated turning forty by doing the triathlon. It's a great spectator event allowing the fan club; grandma, grandpa, wife and daughter, to follow the progress of the swim by walking along the shore. Then, again we could intercept him as he ran and took a short cut to beat him to the finish line. He did well, meeting or exceeding the goals he had set. 9300 others joined him in celebrating his fortieth year. It was a grand party through which Mai-Evy slept.

She's so cute!

It's only been a month since we last saw Mai-Evy but, WOW, has she changed. She's bright eyed, curious and happy at four months. She coos, babbles and loves to chew on her feet. We're in Chicago because Lars is doing the Chicago Triathlon tomorrow. And, of course, it gives us a chance to check in on Mai-Evy. I'll post some pics in a few days so you can see for yourself how cute she is.

Travels with Al.

Dayton, Ohio is not the same as Minnesota. We rolled in Thursday, that would be the Curmudgeonette and I, to 93 degrees and 98% humidity. I opened the car door and said "Wow, isn't this great and the Curmudgeonette stepped out and said "how terrible." We've got about five degrees of mutual comfort zone. Below 70 I'm cold and above 75 she's hot.
We're here visiting our friends Jerry and Jean who've been having some medical issues.
Staying at the Comfort Inn I overheard this exchange in the breakfast room. "Good morning, how are you?" Reply "I'm happy in the Lord" I thought, well at least I know he's not Lutheran.

What is it about travel?

Mysteries abound in life? Why do I love SE Asia so much? Why do I like to travel? Garrison Keillor's "Writer's Almanac" appears on my e-mail every day. Today in his article on William Least Heat-Moon, the author of BLUE HIGHWAYS, he quotes Heat-Moon "When you're traveling, you are what you are, right there and then. People don't have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road."
Perhaps that's part of the mystique of solo travel. Each moment a person can be whomever he chooses. There's a freedom in that like a rich dessert. Great to sample for a bit but it is not for the long haul. For the long haul the gift of relationship stretching back over the years is like protein that sustains and nourishes. Maybe that is why coming home is often the richest part of any trip. Home is where one touches long and lasting relationship.

"This has never happened before!"

Cathy and Tim arrived from North Dakota Monday. Today Cathy was scheduled for gammaknife radiation of her brain tumor at the University of Minnesota Hospital. She was to report at 5:30am. I volunteered for transport duty. So at 5am we left the house and by 5:30 she reported in.
Cathy and Tim were quickly escorted to a preparation room. When she left for an MRI at 7am Tim and I were dismissed until noon. We went to Key's restaurant in St. Paul for breakfast, cruised 2330 Commonwealth where the curmudgeonette grew up, dropped in on Rollie Martinson at the seminary, circled the state capitol, visited St. Paul's Cathedral and the cathedral of salvage equipment better known as Amble's.
By 11:00am we were back at the hospital. About 11:20 the doctor came out apologizing profusely because the radiation equipment was not working. He said that a technician was working on it but her treatment was on hold until the machine could be fixed. At 1:30pm he announced that they were giving up and her radiation would have to be rescheduled. Cathy and Tim in their placid, mature way said "Well, we'd rather wait and know that it is really working." No anger about driving 600 miles in vain nor about the days taken off work. Those two are really a class act. I'm so proud of them.

and the band played on!

My bad! I forgot to mention the band in my blog about Kate's & Brad's wedding. They were very good...must have been 15 or so. They're called DNR. No, it's not the Department of Natural Resources. They're a group of physicians so they call themselves "Do No Resuscitate" or DNR for short.

Nancy Pelosi did not attend.

The curmudgeonette and curmudgeon just returned from a wedding in Sioux Falls. The wedding was at First Lutheran but the reception was outdoors at the Westward Ho Country Club. South Dakota never looked so good. The reception began at 6pm with blues skies, a slight breeze and the temperature was 75 degrees. The setting sun cast a glow over the tent and the guests. It was as lovely as it gets!
For one reason or another I've been to several hundred weddings. Never have I seen such a relaxed bride, Kate. Her calm was more remarkable because both she and the groom live in Washington, DC. Besides that, it was an elaborate wedding with fine service at church and a lovely reception hours later at the country club.
Why such calm? Was it the whirlwind romance that stretched over seven years as they completed their graduate degrees? Perhaps that had something to do with it. But when we asked Kate about the stress she said "What stress? There were no ambassadors to deal with, no secret service people telling her that someone was threatening, no boss changing her mind several times in the last hour...planning a wedding? A piece of cake! (Parenthetically they served pie; apple, strawberry, strawberry rhubarb and blueberry in place of cake. Those hundreds of weddings I attended would have been improved by pie!)
You see, Kate is Nancy Pelosi's right hand assistant and event planner. With that experience planning her own wedding was a simple matter. However, Kate did send the wedding participants a seventeen page e-mail of instructions the week of the wedding! :)
Kate and Brad are an exceptionally fine couple and I wish them every blessing!

To the rescue....

About 7pm the phone rang; "Dad, are you in a rescue mood?" Lisa asked. She's living in a log home in the woods north of Cambridge, MN, about an hour from my house. "What's coming now?" I wondered. That kind of an introduction usually leads into something about car trouble. But this turned out to be cat trouble.
Lisa had been walking with Kjell, the dog, when she heard meowing in the woods. It turned out to be an abandoned cat, perhaps six weeks old and obviously used to both people and dogs. When the cat wouldn't run Kjell didn't know what to do but Lisa brought it back to the house. But, not in the house because she is desperately allergic to cats. Left alone in the woods the kitten would soon be a welfare plan for a hungry coyote.
Before long the curmudgeonette and curmudgeon were making a quick trip to rescue a cat. We left it at the Hennepin Co. Humane Society who, I hope, will be able to find it a good home. It was pretty cat, all black except for a little white blaze on its chest.

Latest Mai-Evy pics.

Infatuation with my granddaughter continues so here are the latest pics.

Farewell to the Diamond Reo.

Some wag has said that the two happiest days of a man's life are the day he buys his boat and the day he sells his boat. More about boats later. Some years ago I bought a 1970 Diamond Reo Truck. In case you don't know about trucks, it was a very big truck, the top of the hood was over seven feet off the ground. During most of its life it carried a concrete mixer but when I bought it it was bare. I put an implement bed on it and used it to carry my bulldozer. A couple months ago I sold the bulldozer to a man in McAllen, TX. Without the bulldozer I no longer needed the truck.
Without a use for it the truck was mostly in the way standing in the alley of my garage. Every time I wanted to access a tractor I'd need to drive the truck out of the garage. After advertising it nationally (one call came from Toronto, Canada!) I sold it locally. Chatting with the man running the excavator tearing down the old post office across the street from the garage I said "you want to buy a Diamond Reo?" Turns out he did want to and he did. So...if you wanted a Diamond Reo....you're too late.
I remember how excited I was the day I bought it and now I'm relieved to have it sold.
Boat story later.......

Truth is humor..

There is an old joke about people in small towns needing to lock their cars during August or they may find if full of zucchini. Well....I was standing in front of my garage in Sinai, SD, Tuesday watching the old post office being torn down. Up drove a local farmer, Tim, in his pick up truck. He stopped in front of me and asked how much sweet corn I'd like. I said I was in town alone so a couple of ears was all I could use. The next thing I knew Tim had my car door open and he's dumping an arm load into the car. Then he roars off looking for more places to unload corn.

Barefoot boy with cheeks of tan...

Or, as we used to say "Barefoot boy with shoes on..." I always went barefoot in the summer time. I remember neither when I began nor when I stopped. I do remember starting too early in the spring when the ground was cold and deciding to wait a bit. My feet became tough as leather and I was able to run barefoot on gravel, through thistles and even in alfalfa stubble.
There was a time I impaled my barefoot on the tine of a pitch fork. That barely slowed me up even though I'd never heard of a tetanus shot.
When I was ten years old we got running water; a bath instead of a path. The workmen laying the pipes made the assumption that I was barefoot because we couldn't afford shoes. But, I had shoes, I just did not want to wear them if I didn't have to. I always wore them on the rare trips to town. I sure didn't want those sophisticated town kids thinking I was more of a bumpkin than they already did.
Now my feet are so tender a trip a few yards to the mailbox is a challenge. Maybe, maybe next summer I'll go barefoot again.

A wedding.....

Heidi and John were married this afternoon. After a cool dry summer suddenly it is hot and humid. The wedding was at a farm turned reception area east of St. Paul, MN. The service was in a grassy clearing with little shade. People who don't like heat said it was hot; nineties and humid. It was a wonderful celebration full of love and respect abounding in good taste. It was filled with elements congruent with their values.
After the wedding we moved to an area where the tables were set under awnings. That was fortunate because thunder soon rumbled and rain fell. It did not dampen the spirits at all.
Gratifying to me was the maturity of the bride and groom who planned a reverent, creative service and a fine reception yet were mindful that marriage is much more than a wedding. I wish them well and will follow their journey with interest.

Golf as metaphor...

It fell to me to make the tee time for our foursome. We usually play Lakeview which is an easy course in Mound, MN on the west edge of Lake Minnetonka. We'd hoped to play the Links at Northfork which is a bit like a Scottish course with huge barren sand spots and tall tough grass in the rough. But the Links was having a tournament so tee times were not available.
A coupon in the paper offered 18 holes plus cart for $26.95 at the Elk River Country Club. It had been at least two years since we'd last played it so I made a reservation. We met at the Target parking lot and car pooled to Elk River about twenty miles north. It was a picture perfect day, seventy eight degrees, no wind and full sun. The course is pretty, set in rolling hills and woods.
We disembarked from the car, paid our green fees, took a few puts on the putting green and teed off. We were full of hope and expectation. It wasn't long until my hope was gone and I realized that, once again, my expectations would be unmet. My score was the worst in...who knows how long.
Golf is a difficult game for which I don't seem to possess the concentration necessary to excel. Add to that, an aging body that just cannot hit a ball as far as it could last year and most of the time my expectations are unmet. I don't get angry, I'm not good enough to do that. I just get disappointed.
So what is it about? Golf is an exceedingly difficult game and I celebrate every good shot. Yet, I admit it is more fun when the percentage of good shots is higher. Camaraderie is a huge part of it. Playing regularly with the same group is deeply meaningful. We keep our handicaps, which I will not print here, and the two worst scores buys lunch for the two best scores. Usually we eat at McDonald's unless there happens to be a Culver's on our route.
Golf is a bit like life. We emerge from childhood into adulthood full of hope and expectation. Many of the hopes are dashed and the expectations unmet. Now by seventieth decade I've often found myself surprised. Peers who I judged to be gifted and expected to excel fell flat. Others, of whom I expected little, have excelled.
Personally I'm filled with a sense of gratitude for the blessings that have come my way. I grieve for others for whom the breaks have not come or who's lives have been much to short.
Now, if I could only just learn to keep my head down.....

Melancholy understood...sort of....

The geezerette and I drove to Sioux Falls Sunday for the wake of long time friend, Tom. After the wake was over we decided to cruise town a bit. We drove around Augustana College, my Alma mater and where we met. We also drove by the house at 817 Roberts Dr. where we lived from '75 until '80.
In the process I was aware of a strong mixture of nostalgia and melancholy. This time I think I figured out the source of, at least some, of the melancholy. On the way to our old house we passed the house where Oliver and Ida Bergland lived. A young man was sitting by the driveway and I thought, "You should know about Ida and Oliver and furthermore you should know me because I knew them and I've been in that house many times."
That's when it struck me; the melancholy comes because I remember the place but the place doesn't remember me. My relationship to the place means nothing to those who are there now. That feels like loss to me and thus it is a melancholy experience.

Worth reading,,,No, highly recommended.

We're a part of newly formed neighborhood book group. The last book we read was THE HELP, by Kathryn Stockett. It's a novel set in Jackson Mississippi during the early sixties. Twenty-two-year-old Skeeter has just returned home after graduating from Ole Miss. She persuades a number of African American women who work as domestic help in white homes to tell their stories. It is very well written and helps one glimpse some of the turmoil of the civil rights movement from a new perspective.
Our discussion at the book group was enriched by the multicultural backgrounds of the group. Perhaps the key to the book is this, "Wasn't that the point of the book? (The book is the one Skeeter writes using the maid's stories.) For women to realize, We are just two people. Not that much separates us. Not nearly as much as I'd thought."

Mai-Evy at three months

When a baby cries......

We were recruited to babysit Mai-Evy last Saturday. Both Mom and Dad had to work. Tough duty but some one has to do it! For about twenty minutes she cried and wouldn't be comforted. She was mad. The bottle wasn't her mommy and she was NOT pleased. Reminds me of my philosophy teacher in college making the point about the elasticity of time. He said "Ever notice the difference in an hour in philosophy class and an hour with your girlfriend?" (It was an all male class.) Twenty minutes with an inconsolable granddaughter can seem like a long time.
But really it was a blast. She's tall, alert and probably the smartest three month old ever. Ah, Yes, retirement's grand that allows such happy duty!

He's not heavy, he's my brother!

This is another story that Lisa B., brought back from the Philippines. Lisa and Dan L. were visiting a school and handing out 'school kits' that American volunteers pack for distribution in developing countries. Each kit has six pencils, a scissor, an eraser, a pencil sharpener, three spiral notebooks and some construction paper in cloth bag.

When the students lined up to receive their bag one boy went over and picked up another boy who couldn't walk so he could be in the line. Lisa and Dan took them aside and got their story.

They are brothers that I will call Carlos and Jose'. Carlos is eight and Jose' is six. Jose' had polio and that left him unable to walk. So, everyday, Carlos carries Jose' to school, two hours down the mountain and every night he carries him two hours back up the mountain home again. As was true of most of the children neither had shoes. Now Carlos has made another decision, he's going to start school over again. He's going to do this so he can help Jose' by being in the same class. Carlos and Jose' were ecstatic about their new school supplies. Carlos said, "We only had one pencil which we shared. Now we each have six and that's enough to last us until we graduate. I've never had a notebook before."

God bless the people who pack school kits and God bless LWR! Check the website LWR.org

Duck, duck rice goose........

Lucky us! We just had a visit from Lisa B., V.P. at LWR (Lutheran World Relief) fresh back from a trip to the Philippines. She brought with her some great stories. She said visiting a new rice processor in southern Mindanao, a very poor part of the Philippines, marvelous as it is, wasn't as interesting as the ducks. She noticed a man herding a large flock of ducks in the rice paddies. LWR had provided the ducks which are herded to graze in the paddies. The ducks eat the weeds, snails, bugs and pests but not the rice. Their grazing has eliminated the need for herbicides and pesticides. They also fertilize as they graze. Additionally they lay seventy or more eggs per day. Many of the eggs are sold, except for those eaten by his family, enhancing his income. Occasionally they'll eat a duck, a treat they never had before. LWR has a great website; LWR.org Check it out.

Coming soon; the story of Carlos and Jose.

and the doctor said....

It was probably during my high school years that my mother fell on the steps in our house and broke her ankle. I saw her fall and her ankle twisted outward at an odd angle. Before any of us could respond she took her ankle, bent it back into a more normal position and said, "There, now it will be OK." Of course it wasn't and she ended up with a cast but that maybe why I'm reluctant to go for medical help.

A few years back I was getting off our roof when the ladder slipped. I didn't really fall. The ladder was on our new, second story deck which is a maintenance free plastic sort of thing. The deck was slippery and the ladder didn't grab as it did on the old wood deck. I grabbed the rain gutter and swung down my shin banging the gas grill. If I were to rate the blows I've received through my life it was about a three, on a scale of one to ten. I steadfastly refused medical help until I developed a good case of cellulitis. Yes, I know, two surgeries and a long scar on my leg were my reward.

The next year a a dog bite on the inside of my thumb eventually led to an infection in the tendon sheath. I have a scar on my thumb and the inside of my wrist from the surgery to flush out the infection. Yes, I know, I should have learned my lesson with the injury to my shin.

Have you ever heard of a 'xiphoid process'? Well I hadn't until today. A couple of weeks ago I noticed a bump at the bottom of my sternum. Where did that come from? Has always been there? Is it changing? Growing? Sore? Well a little but is that because I keep pressing on it? Not wanting to make the mistake of the shin or thumb injury I went to see my doctor, well, actually she's Physician's Assistant and was youth in one of my former congregations. She said, "Have you lost weight?" I said, "Yes". "Well," she said, "that's when people notice their xiphiod process, the cartiginous joint of the floating ribs...perfectly normal."
So that's the story of how I've gone from stoic curmudgeon who will not seek medical help to a hypochondriac.

I'm going canoeing......

"The habituation of workers to the assembly line was thus perhaps made easier by another innovation of the early twentieth century: consumer debt. As Jackson Lears has argued, through the installment plan previously unthinkable acquisitions became thinkable, and more than thinkable: it became normal to carry debt. 11 The display of a new car bought on installment became a sign that one was trustworthy. In a wholesale transformation of the old Puritan moral ism, expressed by Benjamin Franklin (admittedly no Puritan) with the motto "Be frugal and free," the early twentieth century saw the moral legitimation of spending. One symptom Lears points to is a 1907 book with the immodest title The New Basis of Civilization, by Simon Nelson Patten, in which the moral valence of debt and spending is reversed, and the multiplication of wants becomes not a sign of dangerous corruption but part of the civilizing process. That is, part of the disciplinary process. As Lear writes, "Indebtedness could discipline workers, keeping them at routinized jobs in factories and offices, graying but in the harness, meeting payments regularly.' " So writes Matthew B. Crawford in SHOP CLASS AS SOULCRAFT: AN INQUIRY INTO THE VALUE OF WORK.
With economic doldrums we suffer today we see the chickens of this philosophy come home to roost. Here's my confession. Lars graduated from Oberlin College and went to work for the ELCA Board of Pensions processing health claims. I don't think he ever enjoyed it. He'd been doing this for seven months when he told me he was going to quit so he could canoe down the Missouri river through Montana. What was my reaction? "Go for it, you may never have another chance"? "Good for you, that's a great way to spend your summer"? No! Sorry! I did the old, "but you've got benefits blab blab blab". Lars looked down at me and said, "Dad, what are you trying to tell me? that I should gain the whole world and lose my soul?" That brought me to my senses and I said, "Have a great trip."
Lisa gave me the book for Father's Day. As the blurb on the book jacket says, "A philosopher/mechanic destroys the pretensions of the high-prestige workplace and makes an irresistible case for working with one's hands." I've enjoyed the book and had never thought about the narrow constraints under which white color workers labor today and many of the other points he makes.

What hath technology wrought?

Last night I was checking Facebook when I got an Instant Message from Liz in Australia. She is a teacher and taught at Wat Salapoon, Thailand while I was there. While we were chatting via IM on Facebook my friend, Davin, from Cambodia IMd me. So, there I was sitting in MN, simultaneously chatting with friends in Australia and Cambodia.

Comfort food...

I love Farmer's Market. Minneapolis has a great one Saturdays just off Glenwood Ave. NW of downtown. Yesterday the weather was perfect. I like the diversity, the produce, the music, smell of brats cooking, fresh sweet corn freshly cooked, the Hmong grandmas, the jostling crowds, fresh sweet rolls, flowers, bedding plants, honey, jams, cheeses, spices, Somali women negotiating with Hmong grandpas, Latinos bargaining for chili peppers, Hmong grandchildren translating for their elders, Indian women in saris, people speaking Russian, middle Easterners buying eggplant, Hmong hand stitched cloth, organic chicken, fresh eggs.... All this is crammed together under a series of long narrow sheds with roofs but open sides. Lines form in the aisles snaking along between the tables. Queue up and follow along but watch out for the baby buggies.
My purchases included a bouquet and a carmel roll for my sweetie, blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, two kinds of onions, muskmelon, and freshly shelled sweet peas. My mother, Edith, always made creamed peas. Joanne fixed creamed peas for me...my idea of comfort food...summer in Minnesota and life is good.

A farmer went out to...

Thank goodness, and Joanne, for a cell phone. Joanne? she gave it to me when I didn't think I wanted it. Monday afternoon I'd gone out to cultivate my corn which is about three miles from town. My 1951 John Deere A died. While I was checking the points the carburetor overflowed and filled the cylinders with gas. When I tried to start the tractor it wouldn't turn over because of the gas in the cylinders. I removed the spark plugs and ran the starter to pump the gas out. When I replaced the spark plugs the battery was too low to start the tractor.
I knew my friend, Lloyd, was visiting his brother, Marvin, in Sinai. Lloyd's cell phone number is in my directory so I called him to ask about Marvin and got Marvin's phone number. Marvin was just leaving Brookings, fifteen miles away and he said he'd swing by. We used his jumper cables to start the tractor. I drove to the end of the field and back and it died again. The spark was very weak so we went to Marvin's place to get a new condenser. With the new condenser in I made it to the end of the field and the tractor died again. Again there was a very weak spark so we took the magneto off and decided to try again in the morning.
Tuesday morning with a new magneto I made it to the end of the field before it died again. We disassembled the carburetor and discovered the float wasn't floating, it was full of gas. We took the carburetor to Marvin's and put in a new float. Back to the tractor and once again I got to the end of the field and stalled. Rain clouds were threatening but we were able to keep the tractor running at full throttle by turning the gas shut off valve down significantly. So I was able to finish cultivating.
Back at Marvin's place we disassembled the carburetor and found that the new float also had a leak in it. Now, do you see why I like farming?
PS It did rain and inch so cultivating would have had to wait for a couple of days at least by sich time I'd be back in MN.
PPS Marvin is a retired farmer, tractor collector and an excellent mechanic with a well supplied shop.

What does it mean.......

My recent trip back to Mohall, ND, brought an interesting revelation. A few months ago I was thinking about one of the youth I worked with when I was there from '68 to '75. The name, Joel Sandeen, came to mind but I couldn't think of his younger brother. I could visualize him and remember a number of things about him but couldn't come up with his name. He was on my mind for several days and then I've thought about him occasionally since. What does it mean that he came to mind just about the time he died? I hadn't thought of him for years. Oh? His name? Paul, Paul Sandeen.

Melancholy trip.

It was a special time in our lives. I was newly graduated from seminary and just ordained. Lisa was ten months old and Lars was born here. Joanne was ready to take a break from work. Mohall was a vibrant little city on the the North Dakota side of the border with Canada about where Manitoba and Saskatchewan meet. Mohall was the country seat, had a consolidated school, a small hospital with two doctors and a bustling business district. We arrived in the summer of 1968 and left in the fall of 1975.
Visiting Mohall (named after an early resident, M.O. Hall) thirty four years after our departure is a melancholy experience. The people in whom I invested have moved on with their lives. Youth who were active in my youth group have retired, died, raised families...and there is a piece of me that believes they should be as I left them.
The Mohall hospital is closed and main street is largely vacant. The town looks a bit run down and I'm left feeling melancholy as I reflect upon the years, the people and the changes. Aging is such a weird experience, internally I don't feel any older, yet, I'm confronted with the reality of all the time that has passed in my adult life.

There were sand "greens"....

We looked at each other and wondered if we should know each other. It wasn't until I signed the book that she said, "I know you!" "I'm Donita Read Klassey." "So, what year did I marry you?" I asked. "1975" she said. That's the year we move away from Mohall, ND. and she and her husband also left returning a few years ago.
Now she's the manger of the Mohall Country Club where I first played golf as a twenty nine year old newly ordained pastor. There were sand greens in those days and the green fee for members was fifty cents. Membership cost $15. Now that's the cost of green fees for non members and the green greens are nicely cut and well maintained. It was a beautiful ND day, about 8o degrees, blue skies and a slight breeze. At this north west location daylight lingers until 10pm at this time of year. ND is blessed with great sight lines...not too many trees blocking the view.
The sad local news is the death of a fifty three year old woman killed when her motorcycle hit a moose.

Maybe true?????

Lloyd and I would occasionally exchange overnight stays. There were four children in my family and six in his. We were country school classmates and our farms were three and half miles apart. It was always a treat to stay overnight with Lloyd with five siblings there was always something brewing. Lloyd's father, Arnt, had emigrated from Norway. I can still see Arnt leaning into a milk cow and hear the milk squirting into the pail as he carried on a conversation with himself in Norwegian.
Lloyd likes to tell the story of staying at my house one night. We walked home from school together. Gathered around the dinner table my father said, "You boys were late coming home from school tonight." I supposedly replied, "Ya, we had to stay after school for something we didn't do!" "What was that?" my father asked. "We didn't do our arithmetic" I said. Lloyd claims it's a true story but I have no recollection of it and it seems out of character for me. :)

Sneaky!

We never heard her come in. Our little country school had three windows each on the west and the east. The road ran east west on the south side of the school so the driveway was out of sight. We never knew how long Miss VanMaanen had been listening in the entry before she knocked on the door. As County Superintendent of Schools for Brookings County, SD, it was her job to supervise the teachers in the rural county schools. She must have coasted into the school yard in her old car, carefully closed the car door and entered the porch very quietly. No doubt she thought that that was the best way to find out how our teacher was doing. I always found it a bit unnerving and I would think that the teacher must have felt that way, too.

It was 1943...

School was a one room building with a enclosed unheated, porch for boots and coats. On the coldest days the porch was so cold that our sandwiches would freeze by noon. There was no basement so the little building perched on a stone foundation. It was 1943 and I was in first grade. Some animal had dug under the foundation so Marvin Jepson, who was in eighth grade, set an animal trap (#1 Victor) in the hole. When we arrived at school the next day we found a very angry skunk in the trap. Marvin's farm was about a quarter of a mile away so he ran home for his .22 rifle. Shooting the skunk did not improve the situation noticeably though, our teacher, Ruth Quail, did dismiss school for three days to allow the smell to subside.

"I wouldn't change a thing........"

I've often wished I would have bought some art. Lisa and I were in Peru together about seven years ago. We spent some time in the old Inca capital, Cuzco, before visiting Machu Picchu. In Cuzco there were many young artists peddling their art on the street, both drawings and paintings. They weren't asking very much for them, just a few pesos. I regret not buying a large number of them. If I had it to do over I'd buy many of the drawings/paintings. Why? Primarily to support the artists and could probably have found some use for them. It wouldn't have cost me much but it would have been a boost to them.
I did buy a few finger puppets from a woman who had knit them. I wish I'd have bought her whole basket full of them for her asking price...no bargaining her down.
Some people claim to have no regrets about decisions they have made as they move into or through old age. I'm not one of them. There are many things I'd do differently. This reminds me that there is a vast difference between having "one year of experience twenty times" and "having twenty years of experience."

And the winner of the greased pig contest is......

Saturday was the annual fund raiser for the Sinai, SD, fire department. The weather was of my dreams, 80 degrees, full sun and a light breeze. There was no tractor pull this year. Many antique tractors were on display with a variety of competitions; backing a two wheel trailer and a four wheel trailer, pulling a log through a series of traffic cones, a race that involved hand cranking the tractor, rolling a barrel with the front wheels of a tractor and a slow race to see which tractor could go the slowest. All of these activities took second place to the greased pig competition.
There were three classes of competitors; children, women and men. The ground in the pen was soaked with water until the mud was ankle deep. The children's competition was unisex and uniage. The youngest were a couple of boys I'd guess to to be about four or five. They were competing against some girls who must have been at least in their teens. A pig was smeared with lard and turned loose in the pen. The object was to pick up the pig and put it in a tub in the center of the ring. That quickly became second place for some of boys to the joy of belly flopping in the mud. It was a tie between two boys, one holding the front legs and the other the back.
In the women's contest the pig was larger. When one woman successfully tackled the pig she ended up sitting with the pig in her lap. After much effort she finally rose from the mud and deposited the pig in the tub while the other women watched.
For the men the unwritten rules were very different. As soon as a man would get a grip on the pig someone would tackle him. There was no polite standing back to give him a chance as the women did. They seemed to have as much fun wallowing in the mud as did the little boys.
It could go with out saying, there were no members of People For The Ethical Treatment of Animals present.

More pics..that's Gov. Quinn speaking.

Mai-Evy, 7 weeks and first picket duty

Failure to communicate!

Sunday Joanne said, "If we have some time Tuesday perhaps we should pretend we're tourists and do something fun in Chicago." Monday I replied, I'm very quick on the uptake, "If we're going to be tourists my choices would be either Millennium Park or the Art Museum. So we agreed to take the METRA train downtown early today, Tuesday. The train stops only a few blocks from Mark's house where we are staying.
We arrived downtown, walked from Union Station to the Park and discovered that Joanne planned to go to the art museum and I to Millennium Park. We both assumed that the other had the same plan as did we. So we compromised; Joanne went to the museum and I to the park.
Assumptions change; hearing someone talking to him/herself on the street I used to assume mental illness but now I assume cell phone. Yet...how different is that?

Three generations on the picket line!

For six years the workers at Chicago's Congress Hotel, on Michigan Ave., have been on strike. This afternoon, in recognition of that anniversary, there was a large rally in front of the hotel. Though he was in town Pres. Obama did not attend though he had picketed while he was campaigning for the presidency. However, IL. Governor Patrick Quinn was present and gave a rousing speech. There were a number of Aldermen and others who spoke.
The Negstads were represented by three generations. Lars is a research analyst for the Hotel Employees and Restaurant Employees #1 (U.N.I.T.E.H.E.R.E.), Chicago. We brought Mai-Evy to her first demonstration. She was a big hit in her U.N.I.T.E.H.E.R.E. bib thought she didn't much like the noise.
I was moved by speakers who described the differences between working in a unionized hotel and one that was not. Lars was instrumental in the passage of a state law giving Chicago hotel maids two fifteen minute breaks per day.
I wonder what the dynamics are for people who blithely cross the picket and sit by the restaurant window at dinner gazing out at the picketers. Is it a "I've got mine" mind set? Is it a "workers don't deserve more" frame of mind?
I'm proud that Lars has chosen to dedicate his life to worker justice. Oh, yes, when you stay at a hotel/motel don't forget to tip the maid. A couple of dollars won't hurt you but can make a world of difference to a poor woman trying to make ends meet.

Mai-Evy and more........

WOW has she grown in the 5 weeks since we last saw her, Mai-Evy our grandaughter that is. I'll post pics when I get home. What a lucky little girl she is. I wish every child would have her level of care!

"I should have been born retired!"

Frank is my age and he retired a few months after I did. We were having dinner together this spring and I asked about his experience of retirement. He replied, "I should have been born retired!" I know what he means. I'm fond of saying, "Retirement is grand!"
My friend Paul said, "There are three phases of retirement; go go, slow go and no go." I'm in the go go phase. Tomorrow we're headed off to see Mai-Evy, and her parents, for a couple of days. Mai-Evy is now 9lbs 13 oz and 23.5 inches, almost the size Lars was when he was born. She's in the 94% in height for her age. Surprise, surprise. I'll post new pics when I return.

Golfer missing......

Five of us having a standing golf date Thursday mornings. At age 70 I'm the youngest of the group. The oldest, age 86, is the best golfer of us but he was missing yesterday. He had to stay home because they were getting new carpeting and it was his job to move the furniture.

Traveling....

"We are inundated with advice on where to travel to, but we hear little of why and how we should go, even though the art of travel seems naturally to sustain a number of questions neither so simple nor so trivial..." So writes Alain De Botton in his neat little book, The Art of Travel, Pantheon Books, 2002.
So why do we (I) travel and how? Rick Steeves says we should travel as extroverts so we connect with people. That makes some sense to me but as an introvert that takes a lot of energy and sometimes I think I observe things that extroverts miss. Much of my need to travel is the need to experience that which is different. I gather that this does not hold for everyone as I observe many travelers gravitating to that which is most similar to home. In my introverted fashion I often take delight in being where I do not know the language. Yet I know that I miss much when I cannot converse with the locals. I am not one who must see every important site in an area, often taking much more delight in simply being in the places of everyday life.