Theory........

    January 2023, is about history. Days, months, years certainly seem to fly by. Perhaps it’s a factor of our maturity. Think about it. When a child is five, it seems to that child that Christmas will never come. When one is eighty Christmas seems to come almost every month. Why that difference in perspective? Perhaps it has to do with life experienced. When one is five years old, a year is one fifth of their experience. If a person is eighty years old, one year is one eightieth of life experience. Obviously one fifth is much larger, ergo longer.

Well, that’s my theory and I’m sticking with it.😊

Takk for alt,

Al

A destroyer running parallel to our aircraft carrier. The navy called them 'tin cans' and they provided a much rougher tide than the carrier. 1962

Norwegians say.......

     This morning was a test of the Norwegian adage “There’s no bad weather only bad clothing.” The air temperature for the morning walk was -12, and the wind chill -20. Wind chill, of course, assumes a person outside without clothes. Possessing good clothing, walking Kaia was fine. She possesses a fine fur coat so thrives on this cooler weather. She retrieves the bottles and cans she finds in the park. Apparently she has a need to bring me something and now that hunting season is past there are no pheasants to fetch. There was one other dog walker in the park who made a long detour around me while his dog lunged and barked. Kaia totally ignored them while demonstrating how a good dog behaves.

Takk for alt,

Al

       Standing in formation; Okinawa 1961....I'm in the picture.

Dog friendly...

     It’s always been interesting to observe human reactions to dogs in an elevator. Occupancy of a 15^th floor condo in downtown Minneapolis, as I did, gave significant elevator time. Trygve and Kaia accompanied me, serially of course, on those elevator rides. Now there are four floor elevator trips in the OFH.

    Dog friendly persons quickly reveal themselves in the confines of an elevator that holds a dog. They are the ones who immediately engage the dog, while sometimes ignoring the human who accompanies that dog. Other persons simply ignore the dog or may ask “What breed is that?” A few shrink into a corner as far removed from ‘four legs’ as possible.

    For 20+ years I’ve gone to a barber who came from Mexico where she still has a house. She’s VERY dog friendly. Her dogs are so important to her that she drives to her place in Mexico so she can take the dogs with her and not trust their care to another person. Currently she has two pugs and a chihuahua. Yesterday when I went for a haircut the pug, loose in the shop, came over to me while I waited. When I sat in the barber chair Maria draped the cloth around me to shed the clipped hair. Immediately the pug, under the cloth, climbed into my lap and settled down. She/he slept in my lap until Marie finished cutting my hair. Yes, I consider myself dog friendly.😀

Takk for alt,

Al

                 Mt. Fuji after a snowfall.

Mt. Fuji

      In all of the photos in travel books Mt. Fuji is pictured with a full snow cap. Leaving semi-tropical Okinawa for cold weather training in Japan, this was our first view of Fuji. It was about the beginning of November 1962, and the lack of snow was seasonal not an effect of global warming. Looking through the thin layer of clouds a little snow is visible on the highest part of the peak. The tents in the foreground was our housing.

Takk for alt,

Al

This comic re: Crankshaft's flametrower brought to mind yesterday's blog picture of using a flamethrower to burn trash. That picture was in Japan in a washout. The soil on the slopes of Fuji is largely ash and subject to dramatic washouts with heavy rainfall.

Fortunate

     Overnight we received one of those little nuisance snows, perhaps 1-2”, that bother those who have to shovel. As a former home owner, (well there’s The Little House but no need to shovel) cold seemed preferable to snow. Why? There is no need to shovel cold! Fortunately commuting is not part of my daily routine. From my kitchen table I can see the traffic on I-35E as it descends the hill from Mendota Heights to cross the Mississippi river. The speed of these vehicles gives a good indication of traffic conditions. Sitting with my breakfast observing the commuters reminds me of my good fortune...Yes, more for which to be grateful.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                  Burning the trash.

Gratitude!

    It’s been awhile since I waxed eloquent about life as an inmate of the OFH. Entertaining is sooooooooo easy, just bring the guests to lunch or dinner. They, then, can choose from a special of the day or from a full menu. No food prep., no setting the table, no dishes to do and a quiet dining room that does not blast loud music. It’s a great atmosphere for conversation. What’s not to like? To top it off guests presented a loaf of homemade bread. Indeed, life is good and I’m grateful!

Takk for alt,

Al

            Actually had a haircut there several times.

Changed world.

    Think about it! Eight years in a one room country school house with all eight grades together. There was electricity, no phone, no running water and a mile to walk coming and going. There was little in that experience that prepared me for my current duty. Having been recruited to be an after school presence for my granddaughters a new app was downloaded to my smart phone. Back in the day the only smart phones were wrist watches worn by Dick Tracy in the comic book. The new app “Where’s the bus?” allows me to track the girls buses from school to their drop off point. It allows meet to meet the bus with little time spent waiting for its arrival! What’ll they think of next?

    The gap between my elementary school experience and today’s reality makes me feel like I must be 100 years old. Come to think of it, 100 is not all that far away.

Takk for alt,

Al

Neglected to mention readers also in IL and OR.

This is an extreme illustration of a previous blog about creating the world in which we live. 😊

Marine memories

     We didn’t talk like that. Growing up farming, rural, unsophisticated, my world was very narrow, at least until enlistment in the Marines. That threw me in with characters like Rocky from the Bronx. He was in the Marines because he’d been given a choice “enlist or go to jail.” There was Eugene Lysakowski from Michigan, always cheerful and upbeat who’d greet with “What’s the haps, man?” Never once had anyone in Brookings County, SD., ever said that to me.

    Last night in conversation with Ed, with whom I shared three years of Marine duty, Bob Merkel’s name came up. Another Marine, originally from Des Moines, IA., we wondered what happened to him after the Corps. Enter Google, which provided his obituary. Bob, discharged after 6 years of duty, got an engineering degree and died at 71, in 2013. That both satisfied our curiosity and saddened us.

   With that experience, today Google found Eugene Lysakoski’s grave. He died in 1963, identified as Lance Corporal, USMC, which was his rank when we knew him in 1962. Cause of death remains a mystery His grave is in a Catholic cemetery. He could be a casualty of Vietnam, but????

   61 years after my discharge it is obvious that many of those with whom I served have died. Yet, to find some of the particulars of some deaths saddens me in a way that the general knowledge does not.

Takk for alt,

Al

Perhaps I've undercounted blog readers having been reminded of readers in DC, OH, IA, MN, and SD.

One way to a get off a ship. An important  trick was to drop the net immediately when a foot touched the deck of the landing craft below. The landing craft might suddenly drop away and a slow release of the net create a nasty drop.

Road trip

     A two hundred and sixty mile road trip revealed???? that there is much snow in Minnesota. The trip was round, to Wabasso and return. The purpose was to retrieve processed beef for Lars et al. While that butcher shop persists others may not.

    Some few years ago a butcher shop in Lucan, a small town near Wabasso, closed for lack of employees. It was housed in a newer building and looked very up to date. Lacking the necessary labor it closed. Sinai, the town of The Little House, also has a butcher shop. It, too, may have to close for lack of workers. That would be a significant blow to the town, which has only two other businesses. Those are the bank and grain elevator.

    It seems almost every business passed has a sign up “HELP WANTED.” While the labor shortage is acute thousands wait at the United States border hoping for entry. Open the gates and let the immigrants supply the much needed labor.

Takk for alt,

Al

              I even find myself in Garfield. 😀

Today's drivel....

    Maybe four? A friend in ND reports talking to another friend in ND, says that both read this drivel. There’s two in IA who read which puts the readership up to four. Wow! The power may go to the writer’s head.

   Turning on a football game, NFL, it’s snowing at the site of that game. (So many games I wish both could win.) Having received 52” of snow this season I’m glad it’s not snowing here. Have to say “snow shoveling is not missed!” The OFH is some of their adds tout “No more ladders.” Perhaps they should say “No more shovels.” Getting into a car in a garage in the winter that’s 64 degrees isn’t all bad.

   Well that is it for today, got an excuse for a drive in the country tomorrow. That will be nice. Haven’t been out of the Cities since coming to the OFH December 17.

Takk for alt,

Al

           Perhaps I too am a Renissance Man.😁

Small blessings!

    Every morning at 6:00 Kaia and I hike up Montreal Ave. hill to a disc golf course. With no one else there Kaia can run free. She’s trained to run as long as I walk, always keeping me in eyesight, and when I stop walking she comes to me. Now she’s begun retrieving bottles and cans she finds.

   The city keeps the sidewalk next to Montreal plowed. Yesterday a snowplow on the street plowed the sidewalk with chunks of ice. It was a challenge to pick a walkway through the ice. This morning the sidewalk had been cleared again. It’s one of the little things paid for by city taxes and I’m grateful. It’s an excellent reminder of the scope of benefits from paying taxes.

Takk for alt,

Al

     With Berger Hareide from Norway and Lars in fron of The Little House the day Joanne was buried.

Next up?

 Well that’s a first! After copying last night’s blog about In The North Country to Facebook, no one reported having read the book. Though, I do suspect MJV has, she just didn’t flaunt it on Facebook.

  So what’s next? Perhaps it’s time for some history. It’s been all novels lately. Stay tuned.

Takk for alt,

Al

Can't expect to sleep well at night with out daytime practice.😊

Book Report

     Author Ann Patchett has bookstore in Nashville, TN., Parnassus Books. Through this bookstore she has a book of the month club. She picks a recently published book, i.e., first edition, and has the author sign it then it is sent to club members. Being a recipient of a gift subscription to this club, via a Christmas present, I’ve just finished the first selection which I received, copyrighted in 2023.

     This is a book likely to be on best seller lists soon. It’s the author’s first book, a novel, set in Canada in 1859. The locus is a settlement of former slaves who’ve escaped slavery in the United States via the underground railroad to the relative freedom of Canada. In The Upper Country, Kai Thomas’ book, is a story of stories. While in jail an elderly, former slave, asks her visitor for stories and in return tells her story. These tales weave together and are compelling reading while illuminating the reality of slavery. The weaving together of the stories illuminate the past of persons who are living in the 1859 ‘present. It’s another book that would reward re-reading soon. The interconnectedness of persons and events has me pondering after reading the last page.

    I highly recommend it and am keen to see the next book Patchett chooses.

Takk for alt,

Al

Food

     OFH dining in the dining room is cheap. A meal is $11.00 and is added to our monthly bill. A meal consists of a choice of beverage, starter..soup, salad or fruit, entree with side and dessert. There’s a special at each dinner or lunch. If one chooses, other than the special, there are approximately a dozen other entree choices on the menu. Now that I’m residing in the OFH I typically go to the dining room once a week.

    Asked if I cook, I do have a complete kitchen, I replied “I don’t cook, but I prepare meals.” What does this mean? Costco sells frozen vegetables in five pound bags. In my freezer is a bag of peas and one of mixed vegetables. Microwaving a bowl provides the vegetables for the meal. An entree from the grocery store and baked beans or a salad and the meal’s complete. That’s what’s meant by “I prepare meals.” Dessert? perhaps a cookie with a glass of milk before bed.

     Perhaps I could go to the dining room more often to sociable.

Takk for alt,

Al

Memories again

    In previous blogs it’s been suggested that church coffee hour is a third sacrament for Lutherans. It’s certainly a place of grace. Conversing with an avid skier at coffee hour Sunday, her planned trip to California to ski with her 10 year old grandson came up in conversation. This blogger mentioned having been at USMC Cold Weather site not far from where they’ll ski. She wanted to hear about cold weather infantry training. In the conversation I told her about using snowshoes, with which we were equipped for the training, to ski down steep slopes.

    Though she grew up in Michigan with both skis and snowshoes she’d never heard of snowshoes to ski. Recently I saw a clip online of a person skiing on them...should have kept it. When we did it, the snow was powder and the mountain slope very steep. The techniques was to squat on the snowshoes, holding the back of them and ride down. I never managed to stay on the shoes at the bottom of the slope but went tumbling in the snow. Naturally we had full backpacks, rifle, and other equipment. These mountainsides were too steep to walk.

Memory is such a funny thing. Why is that remembered and so much else forgotten?

Takk for alt,

Al

                       These are the type of snowshoes we used.

Memories

    “How many?” “3500+” 3500+ what? That’s an estimate of the number of evening meetings I attended in my working life. It came up at a coffee table after church Sunday. Where I also said “I didn’t mind working weekends as much as evening meetings. This I related to a farm childhood where we worked six days a week. The only Sunday work was the necessary care of the livestock.

   Another thought has occurred to me. Could part of the feeling of burden with evening meetings be related to milking cows? Distinct memories remain of the discomfort of going back out into the cold after supper to milk cows. Was that the farm equivalent of evening meetings?

   This triggered the memory of one of Dad’s dictates. When we returned from church Sunday noon, he insisted that we change out of our ‘church clothes’ before going to tend the livestock. He would also put on clean overalls if he needed to go to town for parts. He’d even shave if he hadn’t in the morning.

   These ruminations are a clue of what a leisurely life I now lead.

Takk for alt,

Al

              Time for a Joanne picture: holding lutefisk in lefse.

     One of the protocols of the dinning room at the OFH, is seat yourself, no assigned seating as in some OFHs. It’s also normal to sit with others if there is room at the table. Ever since I moved into the OFH, Sally and Greg, who live next door, and I have regularly greeted each other. Though we’ve lived next door for a year we’ve never had an in-depth conversation, until last night that is. They had just seated themselves at a table for four when I arrived, so I asked if I could join them. “Of course” they said.

    During the conversation Sally mentioned something about when she retired. That gave me an opportunity to ask from what had she retired. She said she was church secretary at Faith Lutheran Church, Marshfield, WI, an ELCA congregation. Can you imagine that we found some things in common? Greg was the director of the drama department at The University Of WI Marshfield. They moved to MN to be near their twin daughters.

It’s a good like in the OFH!

Takk for alt,

Al

                         Beetle Bailey at cold weather training.

      It's been a very quiet day at the OFH. Though, it looks like the remnants of dog duty on the carpet of the hallway that runs by my apartment. It's time for a preemptive call to the administrator announcing “not my dog.” The first book from Ann Patchett’s, Parnassus Bookstore arrived. It’s engaging from page one. It’s also perfect timing because I’d just finished Cloud Cuckoo Land. Posts on Facebook tell me I’m not the first to have read the later. Though, I may be among the first to read the new arrival because it’s copyrighted 2023! More about it later.

Takk for alt,

Al

I should have tried to climb Mt. Fuji was I was stationed at its base, though the trail may have been closed for winter.

Because you asked...

    One of my two readers, if not you then other one, asked about the fire before moving day, January 7, 2022. Movers were hired to do some of the packing for moving. Most of that was done on January 6. Citing concerns about COVID I was banished while the packers worked lest I become infected. (By the way, I got a 5^th COVID vaccine the other day when I saw my primary care doctor.) Lisa volunteered to be present, for which she should have gotten hazard-es duty pay.

   The three packers, unmasked, were busily packing when Lisa said “I smell smoke!” Looking toward the kitchen she saw flames from the cook top to the ceiling. When the packers had arrived they put the sheets of packing paper on the cook top and bumped a control knob of the burner to high. This ignited the paper. A packer grabbed the burning mass and plopped into the sink and turned on the water extinguishing the flames.

   While there was soot and smoke nothing was damaged. The fire alarm did not activate nor did the sprinkler system. Had the sprinkler system activated there would have been much damage. This episode was a clue about the professionalism of the movers. They got the job done the next day with no serious damage though we all had frayed nerves.

   That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

Takk for alt,

Al

Signifcant Book

     Did either of you read All The Light You Cannot See, Anthony Doerr, for which he won the Pulitzer Prize? Well, he’s published a new book, 622 pages worth, Cloud, Cuckoo Land. This novel tackles the fall of Constantinople to the sultan, Lakeport, Idaho, 1941-2022, and the future up to 2146. What weaves these disparate threads together? A romance in ancient Greece by Antonius Diogenes, The Wonders Beyond Thule. This manuscript in Greek is significant throughout the book.

   Joanne in her reading retirement gave books a chapter and if she wasn’t engaged she went on to another book. Doerr, casting the beginnings of these three separate stories, took more that a chapter to engage me. It’s also so complicated that reading in it regularly, to keep clear the various parts, is also necessary. Persevering rewards the reader with fascinating narrative, beautiful prose and significant insights. Some examples...

   Zeno, in Lakeport, Idaho, toward the end of his life which included time as a POW in Korea, now 86, thinks “In a life you accumulate so many memories, your mind constantly winnowing through them, weighing consequences, burying pain, but somehow by the time you’re this age you still end up dragging a monumental stack of memories behind you, a burden as heavy as a continent, and eventually it becomes time to take them out of the world.” P. 542

   The character Seymour, who is obviously on the autism spectrum, who’s spent his life railing against natural destruction “...realizes that truth is infinitely more complicated, and that we are all beautiful, even as we are all part of the problem, and that to be part of the problem is to be human.” P. 568

   Omeir, recruited to be part of the invasion of Constantinople, in old age as his memory sometime fails is described thus “Forgetting, he is learning, is how the world heals itself.” P.. 585

   The ultimate question of the book: which is better some Utopian perfection or daily life with its contrasts? It reminds me of something Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote in Life Together, "God hates visionary dreaming."

   I recommend this book for when the reader has time to seriously attend to it. Likely I’ll re-read it after a few months.

Takk for alt,

Al

    What are working parents supposed to do? Mid-day a message comes “The school bus that brings your 5^th grader home from school is not running today.” Home is in south Minneapolis. During the legislative session Dad is at the capitol in St. Paul. Mom work for Minnesota Public Radio which is sited in downtown St. Paul. School is multi-miles from home.

    Today grandpa was one duty. First, was to pick up the 8^th grader, also whose bus didn’t run. With her in the car, and competently directing the driving, the fifth grader was also picked up and all made it safely home.

   But what if grandpa wasn’t available? Uffda.

Takk for alt,

Al

                               Christmas Day picture of Kaia.

Tuesday Adventure

     There’s been a question hovering about my Social Security benefit. With nothing scheduled for this Tuesday...the joys of retirement...it seemed a good time to visit the local Social Security Office in downtown St. Paul. Thereby hangs a tale.

    Once, during Advent, this blog was about being a co-creator in the world we inhabit. Trying to practice what I preach it seemed well to image this trip as an adventure. Casting it as adventure triggers patient responses. Since the summer of 1967, when I worked a bit in downtown St. Paul, I’ve been a very occasional visitor. The SS Office is in a downtown bank building. Doing due diligence two things were learned: 1. That parking can be an issue, and 2. That 10:00 am Tuesday has the longest wait time. That’s the time I would arrive. So, what did I do? I went anyway.

   The trusty GPS led to a parking ramp about four blocks from the SS Office. Arrival a the offfice was at exactly 10:00 am. Sitting down to wait I read the morning papers on my phone and at exactly 11:00 I was summoned to a window. Question answered in 5 minutes it was back to the parking ramp, where my car was nowhere in sight. Up the elevator to the first floor of Union Depot the security person directed me to the next parking garage where my car magically appeared.

   Here are some observations of that little adventure. GPS is amazing. There were two armed security officers, males, 30ish, on duty in the SS waiting room. Based on an hour’s observation of their behavior they were; always polite, friendly, cheerful and helpful. At the front of the waiting room was a large monitor that displayed the numbers being served. Also on this monitor were rotating messages in English, Spanish, Russian, Korean, Vietnamese and Chinese...what a great country! Humorously it also displayed information for the blind. In downtown St. Paul the streets and sidewalk are cleared of snow but not the street crossings for pedestrians. Walking 8 blocks two pedestrians were met and very few cars seen.

    So that’s today’s adventure. The OFH raised rents for 2023, 4%, a very modest increase. Social Security benefits went up 8.7%. This discrepancy, another blessing in my life....

Takk for alt,

Al

                                      USMC Boot Camp graduation (file photo).

Special time!

      With both parent's working. Lars for ISAIAH, and Melissa lead producer for MPR's Minnesota Today, I get to spend after school time with my granddaughters. Lars' job has him lobbying at the Capital during the legistlative session. 

    This evening I'll drive to the airport to fetch Lisa back from a trip to Ohio.

    Tomorrow's post will be longer.

Takk for alt,

Al

Anniversaries

     Blogging yesterday passed over two anniversaries that might have been noted. On January 7, 1900, Edith Bergh was born. Why is that important? Because she was my mother! It was always easy to track her age, born as she was seven days into the new century. She was the 10^th child and the 8^th that lived to adulthood in her family. Two sisters were born after mom. Her death came just weeks before her 90^th birthday. Rest in peace good and faithful servant...and I don’t mention her middle name because she didn’t like it.

   The other anniversary is much less significant. It was exactly one year ago yesterday that I moved into the old folk’s home. (Last night at dinner Ann told me she didn’t like me calling it the old folk’s home. Then she relayed a story that while watching a New Year’s Day parade someone asked “What will become of all the flowers?” To which the reply was “They’ll be taken to old people at a rest home.” Ann said that was even worse than Old Folk’s Home.) From day one I’ve liked it here, and I feel fortunate to have secured the apartment I have. Looking out over the trees along the Mississippi to Mendota Heights gives me breathing room.

   When I mentioned the move-in anniversary to Lisa it almost triggered PTSD, recalling the incompetence of the movers. It’s fortunate that the sprinklers in the condo didn’t trigger with the fire they started. It’s amazing with flames to the ceiling that there was no damage. Also amazing it that nothing was damaged in transit. No, they are not on the recommended list.

   I am happy to be here!

Takk for alt,

Al

            After boot camp I was issued an M-1, rifle which I kept until my discharge. Nice haircut, Marine! 😁

Dinner Plans

    Tonight five established inmates of the OFH are meeting a newbie for dinner in the dining hall. This will be an opportunity to orient the new inmate to the intricacies of living in the OFH. This new resident moved in a couple of weeks ago. His wife died very recently so we also can offer support. Being the other widower in the group I’ll try to be helpful about life in the land of grief. Perhaps I’ll introduce him to the concept of “the presence of absence.”

   One of the big differences I notice about grief almost five years since Joanne’s death is the increasing infrequency of ‘triggers.’ Triggers are those random things that occur and sweep the bereaved into a spasm of grief. For example, the fifth Christmas without Joanne was not a trigger. It has come to seem normal to be alone...which is also sad.

Takk for alt,

Al

This was perhaps the most difficult exercise in Marine Boot Camp...doing calethentics in the sand with a pole on the shoulders. Ed is convinced that many of the Marines weren't doing their part. It was certainly strenous exercise. 😀

USMC remembered

   The time I spent in the Marine Corps did provide me with many stories. The last couple of blogs and a conversation with my granddaughter reminded me of a couple more incidents. After boot camp I was assigned to duty at a company based at Camp Pendleton. Pendleton is a huge place, 125,000 acres or 9 square miles. It lies north of San Diego roughly between San Clemente and Oceanside. Pendleton has 17 miles of undeveloped ocean front that Marines use to practice ship to shore exercises.

    Infantry training was conducted on the hills of the camp and that’s the setting for one of the stories. There was a lot of slang in the Marines. For example trucks selling soda, sweets, etc. that are seen by factories, would appear in the parking lot by the barracks on weekends. The slang for what they were selling was ‘geedunk’. “The geedunk truck is here!” Then there were those that civilians would call “know it alls.” In the Corps these Marines were called “sea lawyers.” They always were the fount of information about everything and were always wrong.

   Out in the hills on maneuvers one of these ‘sea lawyers’ made a painful mistake. A six inch rattlesnake fell into his foxhole. This macho Marine whipped out his bayonet and pinned the snake’s head to the ground. So far so good. Then he took the snake by the tail and released its head. The snake immediately swung around and struck him on the hand. Evacuated to the Navy Hospital, our sea lawyer, spent a couple of weeks recovering.

   On a Saturday a Marine went to the ocean beech. This very fair skinned guy fell asleep on the beach, in full sun, for eight hours. He too spent two weeks in the hospital recovering from third degree burns.

Takk for alt,

Al

                   The hills of Camp Pendleton.

          Coming ashore in amphibious vehicles.

More USMC memories

    Yesterday’s post about Marine Corps cold weather training triggered more memories. The main cold weather camp consisted of semi-permanent squad tents designed to accommodate 12 Marines. They were heated with oil burners and had wood slat floors. The showers were also in a tent and they floor in the dressing room was often icy. When we were out on maneuvers we slept in one-man pup tents.

     In my youth on the farm we had ‘a path instead of a bath’. The path led to a two hole outdoor toilet. The cold weather camp toilet was similar but much larger, also in a tent. That tent sported a 12 holer, naturally without dividing curtains. Once a week a Marine would pour a jerry can of fuel oil down a hole and ignite it to burn the paper. That is, until a Marine mistakenly poured five gallons of gasoline instead of fuel oil. The resulting explosion blew up the tent. Fortunately the perpetrator lived to tell about it.

    The dining hall was open air. There was a tent roof over the cooking facilities. Marines stood at chest high shelves outside eating their meals. The food was served into the metal mess kits that was part of everyone’s gear. Yes, we were living the good life!

Takk for alt,

Al

                        A snowy day at the OFH.

Memories!

     Reading the news reports of the moisture that’s been falling on California brought back memories of Marine Corps cold weather training. There’s Marine Corp camp above Bridgeport, CA, in the Sierra Mountains. Training elevations at Bridgeport, as Marines call the base, range from 6,800 feet to more than 11,000 feet. It wasn’t cold as I remembered South Dakota winters but it was cold enough for significant snow. There were some skis but most of our movement outside of camp was on snowshoes. Excellent physical conditioning was essential. Moving with snowshoes, at elevations over a mile high, with a full pack and an M-! Rifle, which weighed 9.5lbs, was very demanding.

     Recently I saw a video clip of a man riding snowshoes down a steep slope. He did something I was never able to do when I ‘skied’ snowshoes. At the bottom of the hill he didn’t tumble in the snow as I always did. The technique was squatting on the snowshoes and then grabbing the back of them for the ride. It beat trying to snowshoe down steep slopes even with a roll in the snow.

    It would be interesting to know how much there is in Bridgeport and if there are Marines there now. The 12+” of snow here would be appropriate for snowshoes. I do have ‘bear paw’ snowshoes that I’ve used when I’m hunting in crusty snow. The Marine snowshoes were about 5’ long.

Takk for alt,

Al

                              No comment.

"...and the livin is easy!"

     When I lived on the 15th floor of the Crossings downtown I'd post pictures on Facebook, on snowy days,  with the caption "Snow is pretty from the 15th floor." Not everyone appreciated that. Today I plan to post "Snow is pretty from the 4th floor." 😁 (See picture below.)

     The Garfield comic above captures life in the OFH. Kaia and I do venture out from time to time. We were back to the OFH from our major morning walk before today's snow began. The weather app reports 6.5" snow here thus far with more possible from now through the day tomorrow. The city of St. Paul is naturalistic. "Snow on the streets? Nature put it there nature can remove it!" 

Takk for alt,

Al

                          Snow is pretty from the 4th floor. 😀

     Well here it is, New Year’s Day, and already I need to post a correction. Yesterday I wrote that my grandfather, Olai Bergh, was interim pastor at Immanuel Lutheran Church, Snelling ave., St. Paul, MN. That it not correct. Now, in possession of the 150^th anniversary book from the church, published in 2021, on it’s anniversary, I see that it’s my great-grandfather, not my grandfather that served there.

    The book records that Pastor Ole Anderson Bergh, my great-grandfather, was there twice. The two years that he’s recorded as serving in that congregation were 1873, and 1877. Wow! That is a long time ago. It’s interesting that his service is recorded in the congregation’s records and is included in their 150^th anniversary book.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                     Rev. Ole Anderson Bergh.

History is where you find it.

      Recently at dinner with another inmate of the OFH, Mervin Thompson, with whom I shared some time at seminary, reported his interest in Lutheran Church history. He was interested in learning about my great-grandfather and my grandfather, both Lutheran pastors. After dinner he looked these men up in his resources, copied out the information about them, and shared it with me.

     This morning as Kaia and I returned from our morning exercise we met Merv as we arrived at the OFH. He related a bit of my family’s history that was news to me. Grandpa Bergh, Olai O., was sent to South Dakota in 1884, after graduating from Red Wing Lutheran Seminary, Red Wing, MN. There he served out his ministry and when he retired he moved to Carter Ave., in the St. Anthony Park area of St. Paul, MN. He joined St. Paul Evangelical Lutheran Church, now on Portland Ave., Minneapolis, which was founded by his father, Ole Anderson Bergh. Growing up my mother, Olai’s daughter, often talked about St. Paul’s.

     The new information that Merv shared with me this morning is that Grandpa Bergh served as interim pastor of Immanuel Lutheran Church, 104 Snelling Ave., St. Paul, MN. This congregation, founded in 1871, recently celebrated its 150^th anniversary and listed among the pastors was Grandpa Bergh. Do other members of my family know this bit of history? Time to find out.

Takk for alt,

Al

           Rev. Olai and Minnie Bergh, and their family. My mother, Edith, is to Grandma's left. Cecelia, the oldest child is not pictured, she had married and lived at Baalaton, MN. and died in childbirth.