Matt for Governor and on to Chicago!

Tonight we attended an announcement party, one of many, where Matt Entenza formally announced his plan to run for the Governor of Minnesota. I wish him well as I share many of his values. If any of you would like to meet him we could perhaps arrange that. In the interest of full disclosure I should report that this wife, Lois Quam, is the daughter of my cousin, Louise Quam. Does that make us 2nd cousins? or, perhaps, 1st cousins once removed?
Tomorrow is a great day! It is the day we drive to Chicago to meet our granddaughter Mai-evy Christine Townsend Negstad. Yippee!!!!

Wildlife encounters.

While I was driving my 1941 IHC M tractor down the highway at the breakneck speed of 18 mph I spotted a painted turtle contemplating suicide. It was basking in the 88 degree heat on the asphalt road directly in the traffic lane. Stopping the tractor I picked him up and returned him to the water in the ditch. Subsequent trips past the spot indicate that I successfully prevented his suicide as I spotted no flattened fauna on the road.
While I was working on a tractor in front of my garage a sparrow lighted on my cap. He may have stayed awhile but I was so surprised I twitched and off he flew. That was a first in my experience.
Sea Gulls often follow a farmer plowing a field looking for an easy meal. While I was plowing in preparation for planting corn a Red Tailed Hawk followed me. I assume he was hoping I'd disturb a rodent. He flew very close to me and landed on a fence post about twenty feet away. Then he smiled at me and flew away.

Corn planting is done!

Last year was the first time I'd planted corn in 50 years. This year I planted on 4/28 which is very early in SDak. Planting is an exercise is faith. When I was plowing or doing other field operations I could look back and see what was happening. But with planting the operation is invisible, the seeds are deposited underground and out of sight. Trust that the planter is working and the corn will grow is a good exercise.

Birth Announcement

Mai-evy Christine Townsend Negstad was born April 24, 2009 to Lars Negstad and Melissa Townsend. Proud grandparents are Charlie & Sharon Townsend and Al & Joanne Negstad.
Grandpa Al, the Traveling Curmudgeon, is still in SDak. farming.

Spring Chorus!

There's a pond across the street from our house in Sinai. Last week when I was out there the only sounds were the ducks and mud hens. That is, until the temperature hit the 70's. The next morning I awoke to a spring chorus of frogs. What a happy sound!
Now I'm off to plant corn. I'll be back Tuesday!

There is a time to plant...corn!

Last year for the first time in fifty years I planted corn and now, a year later, I can say it turned out rather well. I didn't get the rows very straight no matter how many times I looked back so see how I was doing. But the corn grew and thrived feeding the pheasants all through a cold and snowy winter.
Now it is time to plant again. What have I learned? Maybe I cultivated too much because there weren't many weeds and the pheasants like weeds for cover. Sometimes the corn was planted too close together so the cultivator plowed some up. Pheasants don't care if the rows are straight and the field is far for the neighbors to see. I learned that I still know how to use a planter but I didn't plant enough end rows.
Over the next few days I hope to chop the stalks, plow and disc the field, plant the corn and harrow it once. Then I can sit back and wait for cultivating and spraying thistles. (Someone should produce a horror movie where thistles take over the world.) This means I'll be away from this blog a few days but should come back with some stories.

Brothers go for a ride.

On the recent trip to deliver a tractor to IA, my brother, David, rode along. Theoretically he's retired after selling his farm to his son. In reality father and son just traded positions and he now works for his son. Corn planting hadn't begun so he had the leisure to accompany me.
It was a treat to have that much time with him. It will be no surprise to some of you that we felt no need to talk all the time. It was a 280 mile round trip with additional time loading and unloading. Family and friends...the bonds grow deeper with age.

Think! Why Die? X marks the spot.

Thursday, after delivering a tractor to a buyer at Ocheadan, IA., we were driving north on Interstate #29 in SDak. I started counting the Think! signs on my side of the Interstate. SDak. is the only state I know that erects a sign at the site of every road fatality. In fact, if four people die in an accident they erect four signs at the spot. On one side the sign says, "Think!" and on the other, "Why Die?" and "X marks the spot."
The more recent signs are ofter decorated with ribbons, flowers and other things. These decorations bring home the fact that a life, or lives, were lost on this spot. Seldom do I pass such a sign without a thought about who it was who died here? How did it happen? How old was he/she? Who was devastated by their death? Why did it happen at this spot? Who was first at the scene? What is it like for the police who respond? What has our society lost in the premature death of these persons? How have we become so complacent about the death toll on our roads?
I applaud SDak. for providing this memorial that also serves as a warning to drivers. Perhaps as we pass those signs we could use them as reminders to pray for the family and friends of those who died.
Twenty nine...that's how many signs I counted on the east side from the where we turned on to I-29 from I-90 until we turned off at the Sinai-Elkton exit. I'd guess that's about fifty miles and the road is less than fifty years old.

What, me worry?

Anxiety is a gift that keeps on giving. Edwin Friedman in his book, GENERATION TO GENERATION: Family Process is Church and Synagogue, writes that people can either act as circuit breakers or transformers of anxiety. The circuit breakers meet another person's anxiety and mollify it by their non-anxious response. On the other hand, transformers carry so much of their own anxiety that when they encounter another's anxiety they add to it, thus, transforming it to a higher voltage.
This reminds me of the old joke about an elderly couple. She was a hypochondriac and always worried about their health. She was very fussy about their diet always with an anxious air about the terrible things that could happen. Finally they died and went to heaven. She was ecstatic about how wonderful every thing was. He finally said, "Well, we could have been here a long time ago if you hadn't made us eat all that wheat germ!"
My prayer of the day; "Lord make me a circuit breaker!"

Why do the weakest have the most power?

Have you ever noticed how families orient around the least functional member? Family systems theory recognizes the propensity of the supposed weak family member to control the whole family. Marilynne Robinson's latest novel, HOME, written in Robinson's lush prose tells the story of Rev. Robert Boughton's family. The Boughtons raised eight children in a small Iowa town. Seven of the eight were good, obedient children. And then there was Jack, who was perpetually in trouble, and now, after and absence of twenty years has come home.
Jack, in his dysfunction, is the one is the center of everything. All decisions are weighed to measure the impact on Jack. Will it upset him? What will he think? What is he going to do? It is so true to life...as the more functional give up their power in an attempt to change the least functional. And the irony? all that giving away of their power is the very thing that will ensure that nothing changes and the dysfunctional person remains the center controlling force.
I like HOME even better than I liked her previous book GILEAD.

How insenisitive!

Lars and Melissa were married at All Saint's Episcopal, the church where they serve champagne for communion. That is where we went for the Easter Service. There were two priests serving today and they achieved an almost simultaneous popping of two corks. It definitely gives a celebrative feel.
Father Bonnie was the preacher and she's very energetic. Toward the end of the sermon as she was winding toward a dramatic finish some clod's cell phone, with a very loud ring tone, went off. The culprit was seated in the third row on the pulpit side. It just seems so unnecessary and extremely insensitive. Why can't people at least silence them before church? No wonder concert halls have taken to making announcements about turning them off. In fact, at Orchestra Hall in Minneapolis, they project a message on the front wall, "Please silence your cell phone." And, the very worst part of it was that it was my cell phone. :( Who was calling? Someone who wanted to trade tractors.

Age is a funny thing!

Awhile back I was visiting in Mohall, ND, the place of my first call. In a chat with Erma Aalund she said to me, "Pastor Al, how old do you feel on the inside?" My reply was, "Probably about nineteen, how about you Erma?" Ninety three year old Erma replied, "Oh, probably about twenty one."
The book, WATER FOR ELEPHANTS, by Sara Gruen, which I just read for the neighborhood book club we started, got me thinking about age. Feisty Jacob, age ninety or ninety three , he isn't sure which, has something significant to say about aging.
As I walked to the grocery store this morning Lisa walked with me on her way to Starbucks. I was remembering the day I walked her to her first day of kindergarten. Someone said, "time walks on quick feet". That is certainly my experience.
It may be in one of Elizabeth Connor's books that I read something like this. "Old age is better marked by the wisdom of the soul than the infirmity of the body." I just hope I don't end up both infirm and unwise!

What's your frame?

The geezer, Al, and the geezerette, Joanne, were tooling down the highway to Chicago to celebrate Lars' 40th birthday. I was getting a little bored so I thought I'd see if I could get a rise out of Joanne by proposing to see how far we could drive after the warning light on the gas gauge came on. It worked, and she made a rather forceful statement about what I might experience should we run out of gas.
That got the wheels spinning in my mind. We often say to each other, "could you re-frame that?" when we think the other has taken an unnecessarily negative view of something. The lens, or the "frame" though which we view something really determines much of what we see.
So...what if we viewed an experience, for example running out of gas, as an adventure? Adventures have mystery, curiosity, energy, excitement and often leave us with good stories to tell. "Remember the time we ran out of gas on the way to Chicago and that family of 5 picked us up in their Dodge Neon?" On many of my adventures I often encounter the kindness of strangers.
So, many miles passed as I contemplated what life would be like if I framed more of it as adventure. But, no, I'm not so hungry for adventure that I'd run out of gas like that.

What next!

The last three weeks have been painful for Joanne. She's had back pain running down into her leg. One guess was that walking with her arm immobilized because it was broken threw off her alignment. Monday she called the neurosurgeon to see if she could have a injection in her back. He ordered an MRI for her which she had yesterday (Tuesday). This evening he called her to say she has a herniated disc, L5/S1, and that he was ordering a shot for her.
We plan to drive to Chicago tomorrow for Lars' 40th birthday party so he said he's try to get it early so we can make the drive.
There is a chance that a shot will solve the problem. If it doesn't it may give her relief for some time. Beyond that, if the pain persists, it may mean surgery.
As if she hasn't had enough medical issues...now this. But she's a trooper...grateful for the doctor's concern and quick response, grateful that it isn't worse. But, none the less, she's also bummed. There are so many things she wants do and she's tired of being in pain.

eat pray love Part 2

The New York Times Book Review quoted on the back of eat pray love says, "If a more likable writer than Gilbert is currently in print, I haven't found him or her..." I agree. Her witty self deprecating style is very winsome.
She also strikes deep truth. For example toward the end of the book she recounts going to an island in Indonesia to meditate. She tries to surface all of her sorrow, anger and shame. As she does this she accepts what she finds and makes peace with it. Her point is that we cannot love ourselves unless we can accept the worst of ourselves. Once we have made peace with the worst in us we can begin to love ourselves and then have the capacity to love others.
I look forward to her next book, Weddings and Evictions due out this year.

A prairie boy!

My first residence in the Twin Cities area came when I entered seminary in 1964. On one of my trips back to SDak to visit family I noticed something about myself. When I was driving west toward SDak there was a point when I'd experience a lightness bordering on exhilaration...I'm pretty stoic and don't do exhilaration much. It took me a few trips to figure out what it out. It was where the true prairie began and it felt almost as if a tight band around my chest had been loosened. Growing up on the prairie had imprinted on my psyche.
Joanne and I were in SDak a couple of days last week and once again I had that feeling as we reached the prairie. Some people came live in the woods with deep contentment but not me. It doesn't take long in that setting before I begin to feel claustrophobic.
The months I spent at sea aboard ship when I was in the Marines was made bearable by the sea's horizon. In many ways it reminded me of the prairie. Our living quarters aboard ship were very cramped and I had to duck every time I went through a door (hatch) but the distant horizon was always a comfort.

To the farm...

The weekend before Christmas Lars and I tried to hunt pheasants in a good old blizzard. That's the last time I've been to the farm. So, today, Joanne and I are going to see how my tractors have fared over the winter. It's nice to have our little house in the metropolitan town of Sinai, SD. Having neighbors provides security when I'm gone. It's almost like living in a condo. I used to ask my mother the gossip when she came home from quilting circle. She'd say, "oh there's no gossip, only news" with a twinkle in her eye. So now I can catch up on the news, too.

Sentenced to life in prison without parole...

The trial of Michael Anderson, age 20, just ended and he was found guilty of premeditated murder in the death of Katherine Olson, age 24. Michael killed Katherine when she answered an ad Anderson had placed in Craig's List for a baby sitter. He was sentenced to life in prison without parole.
A friend of mine posted a message on Facebook saying, "justice had been served." I replied, "it may be 'justice' but is it helpful?" Every time I hear a verdict that includes "life without parole" something in me dies.
Michael is 20 years old. He could be in prison until he's 90. What good will that do anyone? Taxpayers three generations from now may be paying the bill for his incarceration. Is there no possibility of restoration, reform or redemption? Is retributive justice all we can do? Our prisons are filled with old people, primarily men, who'd be more appropriately living in a nursing home. Just the health care for these old prisoners is a major cost to tax payers.
When I was doing my practice teaching at the high school in the South Dakota State Penitentiary a young man showed me his misshapen fingers. His father had broken them and he didn't get proper medical care. Most criminals come from a brutal past both physical and psychological. Increasingly our societal response is further brutalization.
Life without parole assumes that future decision makers are incapable of making wise choices. Parole boards hands are tied even when it is clear to everyone that a prisoner is no threat and could be released.
Punish, punish, punish...and where has it gotten us? Prisons are overflowing and every expert in criminology will say there is little deterrent effect. In fact prisons are noted for hardening prisoners and making them less fit for society.
If we want to reduce crime we need more rehabilitation and especially drug and alcohol treatment. In addition we need to focus on the conditions that breed criminals. Let's end this inhumane 'life without parole'.