Fifty-Seven Years ago!

      This must mean I'm old! One of the clues to my age is when I remember things that happened decades ago. Such a long memory is only possible for old persons. A memory I have in mind is beginning Marine Corps boot camp fifty-seven years ago. My active enlistment began September 18, 1959, a date I never forget. 

    Prior to boot camp I was a rustic provincial. St. Paul, MN., was as far as I had been from my Brookings County, SD., home. Transported by plane to San Diego, CA., for training, the milieu was dramatically different from farm life at home. Surrounded by a coterie of young men whose life experiences were much different than mine, I now lived under strict rules enforced by drill instructors. The physical regimen was intended to shape us physically. Psychologically the intent was to make us fit as functioning parts of larger unit. Some didn't make it. More recruits washed out because of the psychological stress than from being physically unfit. 

   In retrospect enlistment was a good choice. Too immature psychologically, and poorly prepared academically, for college time in the Marines allowed me to mature. Fortunate to serve in peacetime there was never threat to my life. By the end of my enlistment, I'd chosen a path and was prepared to accomplish what was needed to achieve it.  

Takk for alt,

Al

Assigned to duty on aircraft carrier, the USS Princeton, we were frequently ferried to land by helicopter. The strap across the opening substituted for a door.

Sometimes I sympathize with Rat.

 

  

        When I was new in the OFH I accepted an invitation to the weekly men's coffee hour. There were about twelve of us sitting in a circle. The bulk of the hour was listening to one expound on why we should volunteer at the St. Paul Saints Baseball games. No, I didn't go back. Twice a week there's a Happy Hour in the club lounge at the OFH. When I arrived, there were about twenty persons sitting in a circle. Sitting down at a small table I hoped someone would join me for conversation. Those gathered at the table wouldn't rest until I joined them. For an hour one person talked about his military experience. No, I didn't go back. Veteran's Social Hour at the OFH was about six persons around a round table having an interesting conversation. The group has grown to twelve or fifteen persons, two of whom do 95% of the speaking. No longer do I attend.

A female acquaintance started a Women's Social here in the OFH. When she asked me for suggestions for it, I suggested arranging chairs in smaller conversation groups, which she thought was a good idea. Later when I asked her how that worked, she said, "The women didn't like it because they couldn't hear what everyone said"

    Yes, I'm different, that's clear. One of the sweet privileges of adulthood is the right to vote with one's body. My body votes to be absent from circle time.

Takk for alt,

Al 

Garage Cleaning!

    Smugness goes before a fall. I'd planned to return to The Little House today but delayed my departure.  Tomorrow is garage cleaning day at the OFH. All smug I thought I'd be gone to avoid it. Then with delayed departure I joined the inmates in finding outdoor parking. If a person has a spot in the parking lot and leaves upon return who knows where he/she will be able to park.

   This is what passes for trouble in the OFH. If it doesn't get any worse than this.....

Takk for alt,

Al

If Odie can't find a toy he carries his blanket, anything to play!

Exploring!

    The move to the OFH a few years ago not only put me in St. Paul for the first time it also placed me in the Highland Park neighborhood. It's a very interesting neighborhood. We've been exploring local restaurants such as Bennet's and Cosetta's.  Tonight we went to the old Italian classic DeGidio's. It was a treat. The ambiance is inviting, it's quiet, the food is superb, the prices modest and it's nearby. A good time was had by all and that includes Al! 

Takk for alt,

Al

No Comment!

 

Women's Basketball, World Cup, USA 55 Italy 52

      It was painful to watch. USA's shooting was badly off. Numerous missed layups. The score would not have been very close had USA made the eight free throws they missed. No USA player was shooting well. Italy's best player plays in the WNBA. She played for the Lynx until she was taken in last year's expansion draft. Now she plays for the Golden State Valkyries.

   USA beat China previously. The China team featured Han Zu, who is 6'11" and plays for the New York Liberty in the WNBA. Then there is Ziyu Zhang, 7'3", and 19 years old. You thought Chinese were short! Minnesota Lynx player, Napheesa Collier said she knew she couldn't drive to the basket against Ziyu Zhang.

Takk for alt,

Al

Ziyu Zhang

New Faces!

      For one reason or other inmates vacate their apartments in the OFH.  In my hall alone I can think of six, or more persons who've vacated an apartment. There's a waiting list for the building so as quickly as possible maintenance readies the apartment for the next occupant(s).  As regular absentee upon my return newer arrivals asks if I'm new here? "No" I say. "I was the last of the first residents, claiming the last apartment after the building opened." It's a good place and I'm happy to be here.

     When I return for a few days acquaintances remark on my presence. My rejoinder is, "This is my vacation home, so I'm here for a few days. If many others were not so fixated on their house they too could life this life of leisure.

Takk for alt,

Al

Remembering fondly the students I taught in Thailand (I'm the one wearing glasses.)

Rat does his inner work.

 

     This is one of those days lacking an original thought. So, this comic will be it for today, while I continue to live the good life in the OFH.

Takk for alt,

Al

Medical Appointments

     In the last years of her life Joanne often remarked, "It seems all I do is go to medical appointments." That's also a common refrain of inmates in the OFH. That's not my situation. Because my clinics and doctors are in this vicinity, I do reschedule routine appointment for the times I'm resident in the OFH. So, there was one today and another tomorrow. Barring anything unforeseen the next ones will be in January when I've come north for the winter.

   Blessed with good health, and yes, I'm grateful.

Takk for alt,

Al

 A couple of days ago I posted about Tom helping remove Russian Olives. This is a picture of him at work.

Could have been worse!

     My driver's license expires next month, and because it's a Minnesota license, I went for a renewal today. There was a bit of a wait until I was summed by a very friendly, kind clerk. It's been years since I needed my CDL (Commercial Driver's License) so chose not to renew it. Honestly, I've only kept it for bragging rights. It costs more than an ordinary license, so it was expensive bragging.

   There were a few surprises. One surprise is that I have a year to change my mind about relinquishing the CDL. I was also surprised to be asked about my veterans' status. The VA issued me an ID card and that was sufficient, but why the question? Then, too, there was no vision lest and that surprised me.

   Here's a couple of CDL stories. Several years ago, driving in a Mpls. suburb I was stopped for speeding. The police officer said, "You have a class A license; I don't want to give you a ticket." He gave me a warning. Last year in the Sinai Grain Elevator there was sign. "Wanted, part-time help with a CDL." It occurred to me that I could do that. The deal breaker was that they'd expect me to show up." 😉

Takk for alt.

Al

Old Adage

    The old adage, "What goes around comes around" never resonated with me. Perhaps that changed today. When I left the condo downtown to move to the OFH Joanne's cedar chest when to L's house. Now L is preparing to sell the house so, today, the cedar chest came to the storage unit in the OFH.

   Leaving the downtown condo, I'd downsized enough so there wasn't much in my storage unit. The cedar chest and a huge box with large, framed pictures of ancestors, fit easily. Among the heirlooms in the chest is Joanne's Norwegian bunad. Her mother's friend, Inger Marie, sewed it in the Gubransdal pattern.

Takk for alt,

Al

OFH

       Odie and I motored to the OFH this afternoon. This morning Tom helped me cut Russian Olives that are invading the grass. Being deciduous it's necessary to treat the stumps to prevent their growing back. Back in the early forties when there was a massive tree planting effort to restore the land after the dust bowl Russian Olives were one variety planted.

    The decision to plant them was made a by a person who knew neither cattle nor trees. Planted on the edge of a multi-row of trees they were intended to fence cattle out of the planting. It takes much more than a row of trees to deter cattle. Planting them also assume that none would die thus making an uninterrupted barrier. There always some die off and even if there wasn't they wouldn't repel a determined cow. 

   Like Cedars they have berries eaten by birds. Again, like cedars, birds defecate the seeds far and wide, so the trees invade grasslands. 

Takk for alt,

Al

The Russian olive tree is a fast-growing, thorny, and silvery-leaved tree native to Asia and Eastern Europe, valued for its ornamental flowers and fruit but considered invasive in many regions.

Rooster Crowing!

       Now that I think about it, I haven't heard the rooster crowing across the street from the Little House for a few days. Hearing it brought back memories of Thailand. For ten or twelve years I lived with the same Thai family while I taught English in a local elementary school. For the first several years I slept on a floor mat. About the time I was thinking that I was getting too old to sleep on the floor they bought me a bed. It wasn't much softer than the floor mat but at least I was off the floor. It was in a tiny room upstairs that had just enough room for the bed and a fan. No air conditioning in that tropical climate but there were windows I could open.

   Possessing a good internal clock I've not used an alarm for many years. The house was toward the end of a quiet street so there was no vehicle noise. On occasion the Buddhist temple, a few blocks away, would broadcast a chanting monk. They had a metal gong, that when struck, sounded like a gunshot. Nighttime quiet was sometimes broken by dogs barking or dog fights. In the mornings I knew it was time to arise when roosters crowed and the Muslim call to prayer was broadcast from the local mosque at 6:00 am.

  The local rooster primed these memories.

Takk for alt,

Al

"My" house in Thailand.

This and that...

      Some welcome rain fell last night. The town fain gauge showed .85". Three miles away the rain gauge at the pasture recorded .6" Reports suggest that Brookings, 15 miles away received over 2", I'm jealous. It's very dry and crop yields will likely suffer.

    Beanfields are turning yellow before they drop their leaves. Some corn fields are showing brown while others are totally green. Pasture grass is short and some cattlemen are offering hay to cattle on pasture. Diesel fuel is over $5 a gallon so farmers fuel cost for harvest will be very high.

   Odie doesn't like thunder. He hears it long before I, which is no surprise given my hearing impairment. The sound of thunder interrupts his desire to play. When I go to the bathroom in the night, he grabs a toy hoping to play. He doesn't understand that he's eight. He almost caught a neighbor's Guinea Hen in our yard.

Takk for alt,

Al

 

"Inner Work"

       Working to prepare candidates for pastoral ministry I emphasized the importance of doing one's "inner work."  Without that preparation pastors are likely to be triggered to emotional reactions rather than wise responses. So, what is "inner work?"

" Core Concepts of Inner Work

Self-Exploration: Uncovering the root causes of intense emotional triggers rather than just reacting to external circumstances.
Shadow and Inner Child Work: Engaging with disowned or unconscious parts of the psyche to heal past hurts and recover lost vulnerabilities or strengths.
Mind-Body Integration: Moving from automatic, habitual reactions to thoughtful, conscious responses." Internet
Why is this important?  Perhaps a pastor has an emotional response to a member of the church council. If he/she has done inner work, he/she is perhaps able to trace the response to a difficult sibling. Then rational response rather than emotional reaction is possible.
So why do I bring this up now? It's triggered by a short video clip on the internet. Olivia Miles is a rookie (first year player) on the WNBA Lynx. She's having a phenomenal season. She'll almost certainly to selected "Rookie of the Year". There's also conversation that she may be chosen WNBA Most Valuable Player.
When she was asked in the video why she's so confident she replied. In college I had a significant knee injury. During rehabilitation I did my inner work. I let go of caring what others think, etc.
Never before have I heard of an athlete crediting inner work. To see the actual interview go to my Facebook page where I've reposted the video.
Takk for alt,
Al
PS The Monday edition of The Wall Street Journal had a third of a page article about Miles.

Time for some poetry!

 David Whyte (b.1955)

Fire in the Earth

And we know, when Moses was told,
in the way he was told,
“Take off your shoes!” He grew pale from that simple

reminder of fire in the dusty earth.
He never recovered
his complicated way of loving again

and was free to love in the same way
he felt the fire licking at his heels loved him.
As if the lion earth could roar

and take him in one movement.
Every step he took
from there was carefully placed.

Everything he said mattered as if he knew
the constant witness of the ground
and remembered his own face in the dust

the moment before revelation.
Since then thousands have felt
the same immobile tongue with which he tried to speak.

Like the moment you too saw, for the first time,
your own house turned to ashes.
Everything consumed so the road could open again.

Your entire presence in your eyes
and the world turning slowly
into a single branch of flame.

David Whyte (b.1955) is an Anglo-Irish poet who moved to the United States in 1981 and works for a deeper incorporation of poetry into American life. This poem is from River Flow: New & Selected Poems Revised Edition (Many Rivers Press, 2012). 

All's well with Al and Odie!

Takk for alt,

Al

Late summer 1959.

       At my age memory stretches back a long time. In late summer 1959, enlistment in the Marines was looming. Enlisting in the spring for a September 19, report date, gave me enough time to wonder what I was in for. My life to that point was as provincial as provincial could be. Minneapolis/St. Paul was as far from my South Dakota home as I had been.

    On the day I left for Boot Camp, Dad took me to Arlington to catch a bus to Omaha. Meeting several other recruits, we were taken to taken to the airport. Boarding DC-6, for the flight to San Diego we had our last freedom until after graduating from Boot Camp. Enjoying my first airplane ride was tempered by wondering what awaited at the end of the flight.

   In the San Diego airport, we were met by a Marine Seargent who quickly demonstrated that the honeymoon was over. At Marine Corp Recruit Depot, we were formed into platoons and housed in Quonset Hut barracks that would be our home for the next twelve weeks.

  At the recent family reunion, I was asked why I chose the Marines. The military draft was active in 1959. Wanting to take a break from college the draft would have come for me. Army, Air Force and Navy were also options. The Marines had a provision that recruits with two years of college could enlist for three years instead of the standard four years. Navy and Air Force were both for four years. The Army was two years but didn't appeal. The challenge of the Marines appealed foe I enlisted for three, and the rest is history.

Takk for alt,

Al

The Marines were not all 'spit and polish' but there was also some of that.  Okinawa 1962

Four Followers?

       Perhaps the number of blog followers has doubled.  At the recent reunion at least two persons said they were going to follow my blog, thus doubling from you two faithful followers to four. WOW! So, this post will attempt to bring them up to speed on the need to cut cedars.

    Much of my hobby farm is planted to native grasses. Near these fields are rows of cedar trees planted for the benefit of wildlife. They have several advantages for this. Deer do not like to graze on them as they do on other coniferous trees. Their bushy growth provides winter windbreaks to shelter pheasants and deer. Pheasants often roost is them at night safe from predators such as fox and coyotes. Their berries provide nesting habitat and food for songbirds.  

    It's that later reality, food for songbirds, that prove to old adage that "no good deed goes on unpunished."  Birds consuming the berries defecate the seeds over the grassland and many cedars take root. If they are not removed the result is compromise of the grassland. Cedars growing randomly in the grass destroys the integrity of the grass for ground nesting birds such as pheasants. Prior to white settlement cedars were controlled by bison, who will not tolerate them, and prairie fires. With the bison removed and fires suppressed cedars are now a major problem on western grasslands. 

   Today, Odie and I, walked a section of grass near rows of cedars. This grass was cut for hay in July. When cedar seedlings were found I cut them off below the bottom branch. Coniferous trees cut that way do not grow back. Deciduous trees, on the other hand, will simply resprout.  

Takk for alt,

Al

Some of my grass.

Success!

       The Bergh Family Reunion came to a successful conclusion this morning.  Joy Ranch, the retreat center with a western theme, about 20 miles NW of Watertown SD, is an ideal setting. The family members attending chose between two alternatives. Some, such as I, arrived Friday afternoon and stayed until Sunday morning. Others, living in some closer proximity, spent Saturday at the Ranch.

    Odie spent the time at doggy camp, aka., Canine Country Club Kennel in Brookings. Apparently, it was a good experience for him. While he greeted me warmly when I recovered him, he wasn't wildly enthusiastic. The kennel staff reported that he did well with the other dogs. 

Takk for alt,

Al

One of the Ranch staff took this picture of those of us who remained until Sunday. She did a good job of ascertaining every person can be seen. 

Joy Ranch

       The bi-annual Bergh, my mother's maiden name. reunion is on at Joy Ranch 25 miles northwest of Watertown, SD. There must be almost 100 persons here. A contingent came from Seattle, a couple form FL., a couple from MI, many from Minnesota and south Dakota

    There are five surviving grandchildren of my Bergh grandparents, four of whom are here. I'm the youngest of the five. Four generations are represented. There's no drama and all happily relate to each other. Perhaps the harmony in enhanced by it being alcohol free. Joy Ranch is a great retreat center and has been the site of the last several reunions. Joanne and I sponsored the first one, perhaps thirty years ago and they've been held every two years since.

Takk for alt,

Al

This plaque is in my bedroom ar Joy Ranch.