Seven Days Before Christmas 2011

2011 Front Window

Here I sit with the sun reaching in and warming the den and casting silhouettes of the poinsettia and bubble candles onto the sofa while the suns rays reach beyond them to climb the curtains!  I really LOVE the beauty and the simplicity.  It also is really cool that it took me almost an hour to decorate the house.  I have "Gramma Gin's Christmas Trunk" open with Great Gramma Pendergast's homemade quilt lining it and all the family human and pet stockings draped over the edges with Santa hats on the corners.  That is right.  No fussing.  No buying more stuff.  No missing the Christmas tree.  Just smiling and enjoying each moment! 

Oh NO, I just looked out the den window beyond the decorations and see that I didn't get the front window washed this fall!  Horrors!!!  My mind is racing back in time to a former life where I would have sprung into immediate action faster than Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixon on Christmas Eve to repair this astonishing failing by 1) CLOSING the curtains and keeping them closed until the first warm day of spring when I can get outside and wash the window or 2) race out to the garage, yank the 8' step ladder off the east wall, return to house and grab my brand spanking new Norwex cleaning and polishing cloths and dash outside and get the window cleaned before anyone else could witness this horrific event!

But this is 2011 and I have discovered how full and rich life can be - how it is so much bigger than the den window that is dirty on the outside and clean on the inside!  That is not to say that having a clean and orderly home doesn't matter - it does, but it is no longer THE A-1 priority in my life.  There really is so much more!

So here I sit, blogging about my 1951 bungalow simply and beautifully decorated for Christmas.  I also celebrate that it took me less than a minute to recover from the voice in my head that tried to get me to feel guilty about the blasted dirty window.  Nipped in the bud!  And in the time it took me to create this blog post, the sun has moved west - I can no longer see any dirt on the window anyway!    Taddddaaaaahhhh!

1913 George B. Norris Piano

In the late 1950's and early 1960's my great grandmother, Isobel, was bedridden at home.  Her son and daughter-in-law, my grandparents took care of her.  During the summers and long school vacations, my sister went to stay with them to help.  In gratitude for her help, grampa and gramma paid for her to have organ and piano lessons every summer.  She was an excellent student.

Mom and dad then decided to buy a used piano at the Kirkland's auction.  Their farm was just southwest of gramma and grampa's farm.  When my sister graduated from high school and married, mom and dad moved the piano to a unheated building near their house.  It stayed there for several years unattended and all but forgotten.

By 1972 I was married and the mother of three children ages six, four and two.  We moved into a split entry pre-built home that was built in a warehouse in Wisconsin, delivered on two semi trucks from Wisconsin and assembled in two days.

Shortly after that mom and dad decided that that the "old piano" had to go.  It was decided that my family could have it and would put it in our unfinished basement where my children and the day care children who came daily spent a great deal of time.

One day I began hearing my children playing very simple tunes on that "old piano" and then singing those songs together.  I was so excited that I called a piano tuner to give me an estimate on tuning the piano so the kids could take lessons.  It was then I learned that I was the owner of a 1913 George B. Norris, curved top upright piano that was built before 1920 when the pitch of pianos went up "one half step."  He said he could tune it, in spite of a crack in the sound board, but it would be difficult for the kids to practice on a piano that sounded different than the one they would play on a piano lessons or at recitals.  It was then decided that we would buy a new piano to put upstairs in the living room so the kids could practice and play "in the same pitch."

All three kids took piano lessons and went on to play the baritone, bass guitar, clarinet and trumpet - and they all love music!

In 1998 I move to St. Paul and moved the piano here and put it in the garage just until I could get things in the house arranged so I could move it in.  Well, that NEVER happened.  The garage was unheated and this fall we discovered it was wet in early October!  My heart sank.  My daughter hired  two piano restoration specialists who came, looked and gave the same verdict - too far gone to restore.

Last night the 1913 George B. Norris was rolled out of the garage and chopped down to nothing to be carted away to the dump.  Well, almost all of it - I kept the curved top with the gold inscription George B. Norris on the inside.  I don't know what I will do with it if anything but I do know that I just couldn't let all of it go yet.

Amazingly, I can still hear the kids playing those simple tunes...maybe the memories are all I really need to keep.  Maybe... ... ... well, I finally put "george b norris piano company early 20th century" into Google search and found:  George B. Norris pianos were built by the Holland Piano Manufacturing Company of Menomonie, Wisconsin. George B. Norris was the president of Holland Piano Company, and many of their instruments were built under his name. A late-comer to the industry, the firm was established in 1913. George B. Norris built a full line of upright pianos, baby grand pianos, and player pianos. They were known for being of very good quality at an affordable price. Unfortunately, George B. Norris built pianos for less than 20 years, going out of business with the Great Depression. The firm was liquidated in 1931.

I bet it was hard for George B. Norris to liquidate his piano company.  He made really unique and beautiful pianos for the Holland Piano Manufacturing Company, Menomonie, Wisconsin.  I didn't even take a picture of it.  I need to keep the top and will bring it into the house tomorrow so it can be preserved...though I don't know for what!  Am just plain sentimental and ain't gettin' over it anytime soon... ... ... I just closed my eyes and can hear the kids playing and singing and laughing now.

SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder

Caribbean Ocean at Casa del Sol, Puerto Morelos, Mexico

SAD, that is what is described as happening to to some people who live in parts of earth where there is little sun from November to April.  I trust is is a real diagnosis for many people and know it makes for true suffering for those whom it impacts.

Well, SAD has an entirely different meaning for me and has since my first visit to the Yucatan in February 2002!  I have no interest in moving to the Yucatan or Florida or Arizona or even California.  I truly love my little 1951 bungalow in St. Paul, being close to my family, friends and my job.

And yet I know that SAD is a reality for me.  I experience it when I close my eyes and remember my incredible rejuvenating 2002, 2006 and 2011 trips to the Yucatan!  My form of SAD has its own unique definition - I "Sure Am Determined" to return for another eight days surrounded by the warm beauty of the Caribbean in the company of other women from around the United States who gather at Casa Margarita, in the spring and fall, guided by expert travel planners and guides, Connie Delgado (Minnesota), Margo Hinnenkamp (California) and Beatriz Mirabent (Cancun, Mexico).

I have learned just how hard it is to relax and refresh without truly getting away to a place that is safe and serene, with superb beautifully prepared and presented local food, optional side trips with Connie, Margo, Bea and other tremendous women (in the fall these women ranged in age from 35-83) who choose to give themselves this truly priceless gift that needs to be a more than a once in a lifetime experience!

The next trip is planned for March 3-10, 2012.  Visit www.travelinggoddesses.com to learn more and register for the Spring 2012 Goddess Trip!  I SAD to simply be there by anticipating this amazing time with truly wonderful, enlightened, brilliant, exciting, fun and passionate women. 

First Snow 2011-2012 Season

On July 25 I had a total replacement of my left knee.  I knew I wanted to have the surgery so I woud be healed with good strength and balance before the first snowfall, before ice coated sidewalks and streets returned.  Ya, well that was a real smart decision!  I am so glad my new knee is almost four months old.

The snow came yesterday - it began as sleet - then about two inches of beautiful white snow covered the layer of ice.  This morning I left the house before 9:00 to pick up a friend to join him for church.  His congregation was hosting a US Citizen who migrated from the Sudan in 2004 who was speaking about his first trip back to his home village since he left it about 17 years ago. 

Walking and driving were both challenging.  The ice looked like frozen milk!  And it is SO treacherous. Vanity went right out the window.  I wore my winter fleece lined snow boots with deep cut tread that in the 1970's would have qualified them to be official "waffle stompers."  I didn't even think twice, safety was all that mattered!  Most of the people at church also wore sensible footwear - at least those over the age of 50!

Tim Conway "Old Man" Character

Then this afternoon my friend and I went to the Ordway Center for the Performing Arts for final performance of the world premiere of the opera, Silent Night.   The sidewalks downtown were even more dangerous because the sun was melting the surface of the ice.  My friend and I clung to each other as we did the the "Old Man Shuffle" made famous by Tim Conway on the Carol Burnett Show.  We were in good company!  Many of us heading to the Ordway would have made Tim Conway proud!

Oh, you are too young to know about the Conway's "Old Man Shuffle?"  Well, there are critical elements necessary to successfully "do da shuffle":  1) Never pick up your feet 2) hang on to a friend or loved one tight enough to cause serious bruising on their arm 3) slide one foot then the other over the ice at a pace of no more than two inches per slide 4) do not look up, keep looking at your feet 5) pretend you are deaf if people behind you want to get around you cause you are shufflin' too slowly 6) grumble loudly that the the city did not do a better job of clearing the sidewalk 7) enter the Ordway, turn immediately into a sophisticated opera goer and go into immediate denial that you could have won the "Old Man Shuffle" contest had there been one today!

And what about the World Premiere of SILENT NIGHT?  If someone managed to video my friend and I shufflin' to the Ordway and put it on YouTube, I really wouldn't care.  Silent Night, the opera,  was worth every teeth clenching, eyes glued on the sidewalk, shufflin' slide it took to get there!  The cast and staging were astonishing, the script wrenching as it depicted the Scottish, French and German soldiers before and during the Christmas Eve Truce that illuminated the connections and intersections in their lives prior to the war. The human cost of war was profoundly presented. 

When the curtain came down on the final scene a sense of the sacred was so present that it almost felt sacrilegious to applaud.   It felt like I needed to be silent, still, very still and pray ... one person said it was like being in church.  Another agreed.  For me it was simply sacred and still is. 

The Reality Roadhouse: Who Wants to be a Homeless Millionaire

St. Stephens Human Services in Minneapolis is "home" to zAyma Theater Project which writes, directs and produces plays highlighting the reality that people who are homeless or as one of the actors in the play states "residentially displaced" live every minute of their lives.  Many of the actors, singers, musicians are either currently "residentially displaced" or once were.  The stories that the play gives life to are their stories or in the case of the 2011 play (performed 11/13-11/18) some of the stories are from interviews three weeks ago of people at Catholic Charities Opportunity Center in Minneapolis.

What did I learn from the play?
...1/3 of people living homeless are under age 12
...a significant number of people living homeless are college educated
...a significant number of people living homeless are veterans of the US military
...one of the main causes of death of homeless people in Minnesota is that they freeze to death
...their friends in the homeless community often do not learn of their death until they hear the name of a friend read as part of a litany at a candle light vigil in December
...that there are people who have homes who pretend to be homeless
...homelessness knows no socio-economic boundaries...even trust fund babies have been homeless
..."my daughter is seven and she has never had her own bed or bedroom
...when you are able to get a car and can sleep in it, put a pole in the back so you look like are in sales
... get used to being invisible
... ... ... and so much more.  visit St. Stephens Human Services

Paka I'm Back

Those words were spoken by Paikea the young girl in the film Whale Rider.  She speaks them after returning to live with her grandparents instead of going to live with her father.  I am reminded of her words often when I or another comes back from a time away.

I have been away for several months and now I am back!  After several years of left knee bone on bone pain, weakness and knowing that my knee will give out again any time, the time was right for a total knee replacement.  The surgery was necessary because of an injury way way back in 1962 which necessitated the removal of the inside left knee cartledge.   Over the years the knee grew weaker and weaker.

The surgery was 7/25/11 and one of the best gifts I have ever given myself.  Though there is still stiffness and swelling (which can be expected for up to 12 months) my knee is strong, I have my sense of balance back and for the first time in several years I am sleeping the night through.  I haven't felt this good overall in a very long time and it feels very good!

October 28 through November 5 I basked in the sun, sand and the Caribbean near Puerto Morelos, Quintanaa Roo, Mexico.  It is there that I began to sleep the night through and it is there where I rested and refreshed and renewed warmed by the sun, other women on this "goddess trip" and took time to take time out to just "be."

Yes, Paka, I'm back and it is very good!

Found and Saved Family Archives

1855 wedding certificate

23 years ago this week my maternal Great-Aunt Ella called to tell me she, her priest and a social worker had found the nursing home that would be her next home.  She went on to say "come up and move all this shit out of here and I don't ever want to hear about it again."

So, up we went to the eight bedroom home near Dinkytown near the University of Minnesota (U) where she and her older sister Jane, operated a boarding house for young men attending the U.  And we packed up everything, clothes, jewelry, chair, sewing machine in cabinet, books, books and more books, her hand written recipe book from when she was pastry chef at the Kahler Hotel in Rochester, dresses half-sewn, fabric never sewn, and little boxes of who knew what!

Little by little as time permitted I went through her things. Much to my utter surprise, tucked between the pages of books and tiny boxes with very old lace and leather and soft cotton gloves still amazingly white were envelopes that contained birth and marriage certificates and newspaper clippings about my ancestors dating back to the 1800s.  This meant I had to go through every single book flipping the pages and each tiny wooden and tin box to be sure not a single family treasure was hidden within. And so I did!

This morning, I sit in Aunt Ella's  fading shades of green arm chair with cotton stuffing showing and hold this and other documents from my family archives (including the newspaper clipping that was tucked into the folds of the wedding certificate).

I am holding an envelope on which Aunt Ella scrawled with a very dull pencil in her expansive Palmer penmanship "for Robert Moulton and he is to have my iron bank."  Inside the envelope is the marriage certificate of Almond Buckley and Sarah D. Biddle, 25th day pf April, 1855, state of New York, my great-great-great-great grandparents (I am sure that is the right number of "greats") and a very very yellowed newspaper clipping headlined: In Memorium ~ "On Thursday evening, October 10, the grim messenger, Death, entered the pleasant home of M. W. Pendergast, of the neighboring town of Concord and laid his icy hand upon the fond wife and devoted mother and concealed within the dark confines of the sepulcher, one whom the entire community knew but to respect."  In the next paragraph I learn that Mary A. Parker, was born May 22, 1848 in  New York State.  She married W. M. Pendergast in New York, February 4, 1868 arrived at Concord, Dodge County, MN that spring after "crossing the great father of waters"  and died at the age of 41.

The language in the "memorium" is vibrant and rich stating, "Within the sacred precincts of home which was ever Mrs. Pendergast's earthly paradise, her rare wifely and motherly qualities shown with a dazzling luster, seldom equaled and never excelled.  Hers was a home in which hospitality reigned triumphant, and where no amount of sacrifice was too great to be endured for the love of home and friends.  Like the vine, whose caressing tendrils will cling to the shattered oak after it has been rooted from earth, so will the memory of her affections bind up the wounds of sorrowing hearts in that home now desolate."

How the world has changed! Today my computer tells me the word memorium is misspelled and it is NOT!  Next week I will introduce an Immigration Witness event a the 175th Anniversary celebration of the arrival of the Sisters of St. Joseph in the United States at which I will briefly identify that my first ancestor came to the United States in 1631 from Wales and took the freedman oath in 1652.  We are a nation of migrants.  Only those who have always been on this land are truly Native Americans.  My ancestors came from Wales, Switzerland, Germany, Norway and Ireland.  Some of this I know because of archival materials, some through family story.

I celebrate: my ancestors originated in northern Europe, they came primarily to live on and work the land; I live and work with migrants and always have; and today I count as friends and colleagues migrants from Southeast Asia, Asia, Africa, the Pacific Islands, the Baltic nations and the Middle East.  And I wonder, what will their family archives look like?  Most likely they will be internet based as opposed to yellowing envelopes found tucked inside books and tiny boxes.

My Home - googleearthchrome

googleearthchrome photo

Yes. I just had to try.  On Google Earth Chrome it looks SO cute with last year's flowers in the pots, campagin signs and the 167 inch girth sugar maple tree rising from the backyard.  But click "save as" and it turns to a blurry mess that makes the sidewalk look like I live on a curve.

All of this began simply as an exercise ~ knowing that the next two months are full of lots of things I am looking forward to and lots of things that are going to happen simply because of my aging body ~ there is so much I NEED to get done this weekend ~ things that will take me out of my home to do the very practical necesary things when all I want to do is STAY HOME!

Oh, I know it is a holiday weekend and everyone is going to the lake or camping or on picnics or visitng family out of state...with all that is coming up in the next two months...I just want to stay home!  You say, but the fireworks and I say bah humbug...isn't there a way to have fireworks without a gazillion people and sounds at ear shattering decibels?  I was SO hoping the neighborhood would clear out and traffic on the street would come to a virtual standstil, BUT the 2011 Government Shutdown is in its second day, the economy has not recovered, the recession is still alive and it seems the neighbors are all home too!

Okay, I am in a funk.  It is just that simple.  And it has nothing to do with googlearthchrome or the neighbors or the government shutdown.  It really, as comedian Norm Crosby would say is "my altitude!"  

Public Art



35 W Bridge back lite blue

 August 1, 2007, the 35 W bridge collapsed as the evening rush hour was winding down.  Scores of people were seriously injured and too many died. 

A year later the new two-span bridge was open and dedicated.  Depending on the evening I have driven West Mississippi River Boulevard into or out of downtown, it has been back lite in pink, blue or greeen.  This week, however, in honor of Gay Pride Week, it is a "Rainbow over the Mississippi."  It is a very cool and gray June day that I am confident will be made brighter once I drive down the boulevard and under the "Rainbow over the Mississippi."  Makes me smile just to think about it!

Summer 2011 MISSING

I am postive that this "rook" is screaming at the top of her lungs calling summer to COME!  Leapin' lizzards...June 24th and it is down to the low 50's overnight and fighting hard to reach 70 during the day. Usually the weather does not get to me but this week it IS getting to me!

This afternoon, I took my computer out to the deck believing I'd sit there and work then put it away and stay out there doing anything.  After an hour though I ... the lily livered wimp ... packed up my stuff and came back into the house.  Couldn't I just be powerful this once and CALL summer into being?  I mean mid-70's would suffice. 

And if being outside wasn't enough of a dream that is not coming warmly true this afternoon, I made the gargantuan mistake of turning on the TV only to SEE and HEAR Whoopie Goldberg appearing in a variety of costumes talk about "leaking."  Why do thy save body function commercials for the leading up to and into the dinner hour?  Or maybe they don't ... maybe they are on all the time, I just don't know it!  I am particularly grateful that my children are grown and my grandchildren are seldomly here at the dinner hour so I don't have to figure out how to answer their question when the commercial showing the forever youthful blissfully happy couple celebrating that he is taking the right pill so "they will be ready" when that "special moment comes. 

Leaking...ready for special moments...all I want is 70 degrees and sunshine.

A week without TV

Yes, I am so old I can remember when we did not have a television of any kind.  In fact, I don't remember a radio in our house and know for a fact we did not have any kind of a phonograph.

Though no picture of the first televsion our family bought in approximately 1955 exists, this one is pretty close to what I remember us having.  How could it be little black and white people and animals scooting across "it" and making all the sounds people and animals made.

How could I have known that "it" would become the bane of my existence and it would also become on different levels at different times of my life a habit- that in the new millennium 'it" would have people of all colors from around the world looking and sounding different in colorful and amazing other parts of the world with birds and animals I never saw in an encyclopedia (oh, ya, just dated myself again) speaking and living from "it." 

Last week we had strong thunderstorms that produced lightening and thunder that literally shook the house.  I unplugged two TVs and DIRECT TV "box, two computers, one printer/copier/fax and telephones that run through the computer.  The next day I reconnected everything but the two TVs and DIRECT TV box.

Tonight I plugged in one of the TVs, flipped through the channels for about five minutes and shut it off again.  Already I feel better!  Somewhere in the distance the dishwasher hums and outside my den window traffic all but whispers by.  Storms are predicted for tonight with the possibility of high winds and hail.  Guess it is time to unplug the ginormeous  high def with sound so real you'd think the people are in the room and the river is running in the corner next to the TV and the DIRECT TV box.

I am going to my room to continue savoring my book where my ancient imagination creates the people and birds and animals and houses and sounds and rivers and ... just like I did before we got the "talking picture box" that has become a pathetic habit to which I hate to admit!  Wonder how long this "new habit" will last?  So far... a week.

About Pot Gardens

Well, yesterday I potted heirloom beefeater tomatoes in a large pot and dropped seeds into the old grain tub we used to feed animals on the farm long long ago and then I removed all the wood chips from three gardens, removed the weeds (gratefully only a few) put down landscaping mesh and then raked the chips back onto the mesh.  I even "washed the border rocks" that my grandson "picked" from their farm in Dakota County.

This morning everything hurts more than anything else!  My shoulders are screaming that they hurt SO much more than my hips and knees and back.  Ridiculous.  This is an equal high level pain morning with a chorus of muscles screeching and screaming and ouching their way into every bend and twist and it really does feel GOOD.  I can still do it!

Looking out my windows, stumbling out into my yard holding on to stair rails are pure joy!  Ya, I know it is late in the season to be doing this work...but this season is LATE.  I was going out to take pictues of my potted tubs but discovered there are other people who plant in tubs, so I just grabbed this one off google images.

Today, I "want" to finish up but my body is arguing against that plan.  There will be another day.  Think I will explore other options like reading a good book or checking out the new Swing Bridge Park in Inver Grove Heights or calling family to do some summer kind of exploring here at home or ...

All a Week Can Be!

COOKBOOK-Festival Recipes

A ride down country roads in southestern Minnesota to the Lanseboro, MN, Annual Rhubarb Festival complete with a rhubarb stalk toss and songs by The Rhubarb Sisters from Prairie Home Companion fame...

A ride on the back of a Harley Davidson with my son watching the blazing sunset over fields of spring wheat and sprouting corn...

A meeting to "read scholarship" applications and determine the successful applicants at St. Catherine University... 

The great gift of celebrating a dear friend's 71st birthday at the Copper Dome where the wide variety (pumpkin for sure, I forgot to look to see if they have rhubarb) of pancakes and waffles are less than a block away...

Looking out my living room window to see that the hot winds on the record breaking 103 degree day Tuesday broke a large branch of the maple tree in front of my house and being SO grateful that the dying triple maple tree in the backyard was taken down last fall or it too may have been downed by the winds...

Planting heirloom beefeater tomatoes and flowers in pots in the back yard and arranging them on a rickety paint peeling old iron table where the ginormous maple tree once stood...

Trying to get my head around temperatures that went from 103 degrees on Tuesday to 53 degrees overnight on Thursday morning...

"Dead-heading" the petunia pot in the front of my house and hearing the tiny tiny tiny sounds of the brand spanking new Chicadee babies coming from the bird house in front of my den window...

Welcoming the white squirrel back to the neighborhood...

Norwegian Cemetery Story

No picture ... story first picture will come later!

Spring Grove, Minnesota is the first Norwegian settlement in Minnesota and there are many ways other than historical documents that attest to its Norwegian roots.  Among them...
A week ago I took a trip to the Trinity Lutheran Cemetery, Spring Grove, Minnesota where according to regional lore, the old Norwegian caretaker of the cemetery years ago tired of mowing around the grave stones - so he just picked them up, moved all of them to the northeast corner of the cemetery and placed them in neat and tidy rows leaving the rest of the cemetery one green open easy to mow space for the practical man.  And there they stayed until 1975 when the Church did a restoration project placing cement under the stones - two deep in three sections with space between the sections for people to walk among the them.  Then they recorded/engraved in a large book that rests on a stand near the church the names, birth and death dates and location of the actual grave in the midst of the great green open space created by the everything must be in order and easy to care for naturally practical Norwegian caretaker.

Lest you think this is something I just made up, I will post pictures below - as soon as I get them downloaded...!  Though half Norwegian, I am not nearly as practical as the caretaker. Sometimes it takes a picture to make such a tale real.  Later...today or in a day or two.  It is a gorgeous day and I must get outside.

About Decoration Day: Memorial Day - Lilacs in a Fruit Jar

This morning I poured over the newspaper to see what events are happening here in the Twin Cities on Memorial Day 2011.  So much has changed since I was a child ---duaaaahhhh!

Yes, as a child, I knew it as Decoration Day - the day when we remembered falled soldiers foremost.  One year as a Girl Scout I marched in the parade in Zumbrota, MN stopping on the bridge over the Zumbro River to drop rose petals into the water in memory of those who died at sea before proceeding to the cemetery to put rose petals on the graves of soldiers.  Then somewhere along life's path it became Memorial Day - a time to remember fallen soldiers and deceased family members.

Every year...without fail...tradition held that our first stop was my grandparents farm where the kids gathered lilacs, peonies, lilies of the vally, put them in quart jars full of water and then carefully handed them to family members who would hold them carefully in the car as we drove to the Old Concord Cemetery to place them on graves of our ancestors among the graves of soliders marked by brand new flags placed by the Veterans of Foreign Wars.  Sometime during this ritual, we'd hear the West Concord High School Marching Band begin to warm up pulling us to the south end of the cemetery for the annual Memorial Day Program of music, prayers and a patriotic speech.

It was a time when my elders would see friends they had not seen since the previous year who returned for this annual event - my relatives came from the Twin Cities, Rochester, Pine Island, Zumbrota and Marion, IA.  Soon the kids were spilling out all (respectfully of course) over the cemetery and had to be rounded up when it was time to return to grampa and gramma's farm for the annual feast of a gazillion salads, "Dodge Center baked beans" (Aunt Jane brought them), deviled eggs and everything rhubard!  If grampa hadn't mowed it also meant us kids could make dandelion necklaces, bracelets, smear "dandelion dust" on ourselves and each other!  Many years these events included four generations of our family.  The yard and driveway were lined with cars - mostly grey or black until the year Grampa Willie bought a brand-spanking new red Ford " just for Gramma Elsie."

So, Memorial Day 2011 is two days away:  I have sent off emails to family members whose father was a prisoner of war in WWII (declared killed in action but returned home a year later after the prisoner of war camp was liberated by the Russians) and died April 19, 2010; my family no longer goes to Old Concord and gas prices are now over $3.75/gallon, so I will plan to stop by on a day when I am down in Rochester to stroll from the graves of my great-grandparents to my mom's and  "pay my respects" remembering them by dropping flower petals on the graves as I go; this year I will attend the Veterans for Peace Memorial Day Service at the Vietnam Memorial south of the Minnesota State Capitol at 9:00 a.m. and then let the day unfold quietly here in the city.

I have no lilacs in my yard but not to be deterred, I know where to get some which I will put in a quart jar and set on my kitchen table - and I will make rhubard/strawberry crisp to share in the days ahead.  Decoration Day/Memorial Day was one of my favorite traditions growing up.  I miss its richness...

About broken hearts



Simon Linder

 I moved to Randolph Avenue November 1998.  It was then I met the kid with the brightest red hair and vibrant always smiling face and quick hi over the fence who lived next door.  I came to know Simon as a great neighbor and friend, son of my friend/neighbor, Lynne, a tremedously talented musician with a creative mind that was always always creating, and I came to know about the heart condition that he was born with...a condition that reared its head from time to time - and each  time Simon rose to the challenge and healed.

Last September he married the love of his life, Steph, at a Girl Scout Camp along the St. Croix River near North Branch. They married in the log building overlooking the river on a brilliant sun filled late summer day surrounded by family and friends of all ages.  They rented the whole camp, so guests stayed in tents and cabins and Yurts...his mom and I shared a Yurt! A first for both of us. 

There is so much to say...and I can't seem to say it ... you see Simon's heart stopped beating around 1:00 this morning and so many hearts are now broken... sometimes there just are no words with any real meaning. 

When he was hospitalized for two weeks on life support a few years ago, I visited him in the ICU as his "Aunt Ginger"...so I could be with him and his mom...tonight "Aunt Ginger" just wanted to see a picture of him and decided to go to Google Images where I entered "Simon Linder Saint Paul Minnesota"...and there he was ... smiling!

I saved Lynne's message telling me "his heart stopped and he died last night"...I have replayed it ... I have talked to her ... hugged her and...promised to keep my cell phone on if she needs anything night or day...and tonight everything moves through tears.  It can be NO other way.

About Beautiful Yellow Flowers

"Beautiful Yellow Flowers"

I met Abby during my years as household coordinator for Sarah's...an Oasis for Women, a Ministry of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, St. Paul Province.  She came to the United States seeking asylum from Ethiopia, leaving behind her family, friends, culture and so much more - and she brought them with her changing forever how I see the world in so many ways.

One beautiful spring afternoon she returned from her English classes and found me working in the yard at Sarah's.  We visited under a brilliant sapphire blue sky while scanning the neighborhood.  After a few minutes she asked, "how come we have so many beautiful yellow flowers in our yard and these (her eyes scanned the neighborhood) are only green?"  That was the day we talked about the word weed,  how it means any plant that grows where someone does not want it to grow and how many people decide that the dandelion is a weed.

At that time, we chose not to kill the dandelions in the yard at Sarah's because of the cost to the environment, the cost to humans and animals who are impacted by the toxic nature of most weed killers available at that time.  Abby and I decided that dandelions are flowers, NOT weeds!  I also explained that our choice not to kill them probably meant some people in the neighborhood with very green yards wished we would kill them so the seeds would not take flight in the wind and threaten the manicured green "beauty" of their lawns.

Our conversation also reminded me again of my childhood when dandelions were a welcomed sign of spring - when we made beautiful amazing dandelion necklaces and bracelets and fat bouquets that filled out little hands and gleefully presented to our moms and grammas and teachers.  We also rubbed the flower on our cheeks to "put the sun there" for all to see.  Like Abby we saw spring beauty.

I just looked out my den window and discovered that on this very very cool spring Saturday morning, all that is growing with any intensity are beautiful brilliant yellow dandelions - and the less vibrant but equally tenacious lavender creeping charlie, another "weed," yikes! 

Yesterday as and friend and I took a drive into the country, we noticed dandelions abundantly gracing lawns and farm fields and cemeteries and road ditches.  But we didn't see any children gathering them into bouquets or making necklaces or bracelets out of them.

Since meeting Abby I am wonderfully reminded of days gone by when dandelions were a sign of spring bring joy and no one I knew considered them weeds.

About - the third week of Easter

Civil Rights Memorial
Southern Poverty Law Center
Montgomery, AL

Early the morning of April 27 we flew to Midway Airport in Chicago enroute to Birmingham, AL to begin our Civil Rights tour of Birmingham, Selma and Montgomery.   At the conclusion of our tour we planned to attend the 40th Anniversary Celebration of the Southern Poverty Law Center and attend the workshops on topics like hate in the mainstream, hate crimes directed at law enforcement/government, and the civil rights of immigrants and more!

Little did we know that our trip would be wrapped around the devistating tornadoes that struck Tuscaloosa, Birmingham and other cities in north and central Alabama.

We heard the founders of the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC), Morris Dees and Joe Levin Jr.; Julian Bond, first president of the SPLC; Pam Horowitz, one of the first attorneys at SPLC and leaders at SPLC today describe the journey from a two man law office committed to litigating civil rights cases regardless of the ability of those most impacted to pay to an internationally recognized civil rights organization employing 185 persons.

The SPLC overlooks the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church were the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. served as senior pastor and is one block from the Alabama State Capitol where the Selma to Montgomery March for civil rights culminated  - and is just blocks from where Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on the bus.

The event attracted nearly 2000 persons from 49 states!  There is so much to say - and learn from the work of SPLC.  The best way is to visit http://www.splcenter.org/ to learn about teaching tolerance, hate in the mainstream, current litigation, current documentarys that focus on cutting edge civil rights issues of the new millennium.

Though I have been home a week and a day - and I am even more commited to the work of the SPLC than I was two weeks ago.  And, I was not sure that was even possible when I left!  It is not only possible, it is very real. 

About Easter

It is a very gray and cold Holy Saturday which will warm up soon when I begin to make Gramma Elsie's homemade dinner rolls and Hot Cross buns made with black currents, just like Gramma used.  No citron ... candied fruit that we used exclusively for our Christmas Fruitcake.

While Easter was held in my home for many years, I am now a guest who brings something to add to the table.  Each year it is homemade dinner rolls and this year I will add the Hot Cross buns that were the most consistent treat at Easter dinner at Gramma Elsie's. 
It is brightening outside, it is time to begin this wonderful warm fragrant and delicious tradition!

Spring Sewing Bug

Over the course of the winter "me and my 1966 Viking Huskvagna sewing machine" mended clothes, shortened pants and curtains.  Just about all I have done in recent years, alter and mend! Strangely, these mundane tasks I take so for granted and going with friends to a fabric store to pick out accessories rekindled my desire to sew clothing for myself.

So Friday morning I bought the most amazing irridescent blue silk to make a tunic to wear over my basic black older than the hills still perfectly good dress for my upcoming "spring flings."  And wouldn't you just know it, my Viking  for the first time in 44 years needs to go to the repair shop for something other than a good cleaning and basic adjustment.  It winds bobbins but it refuses to sew!

So, I took out my "older" antique sewing machne.  It is a portable Singer in a round topped wooden case and operates when the "sewing arm" is attached to the right front of the machine. A light press of the knee sets it in purring  motion sewing straight even beautiful stitches which is all I need to make the tunic and most of the time all I need to mend, hem, alter clothing and curtains.

Today the pattern is trimmed and pressed, the bobbin is wound and I am ready to create real clothes again!  It is a gorgeous spring morning with people walking and jogging while birds whisk by my den window.  A perfect day to sew!  It is also Palm Sunday, Wuthering Heights Opera at the Ordway and tonight a Seder meal with friends.  This joyful project will be created during Holy Week - in the evening - and it is good.

Next Sunday is Easter and I will wear the tunic and once again celebrate that this side of my creative self is back in gear ... sure am glad I have the old Singer for back-up!

About antiques



My antique rocker

 Yup, I have two of these amazing rockers in my living room along with an 1800s camel backed upholstered and mahogany sofa.  Lovely and "sweet." But they no longer serve my needs in the way they have for the past twenty years.  My grandchildren are growing up, no babies to rock and the "grands" no longer find the rockers fun - the sofa was once a parlor piece - used only on special occasions.  These days I need solid and serviceable.

The time has come to update my living room furniture with perhaps a hide-a-bed sofa and a couple of upholstered chairs.  The "family trunk" must stay as well as my mom's primitive hutch.  Because of its size it too is in the living room, it is really too large for my small dining room.

I also have a late 1800's drop leaf country school table in my upstairs office.  For a time it was my dining room table - now it proudly holds my copier/printer.  I open one 30" drop leaf when I have paper work to do.  That is NOW! Tax time is here and I cannot put it off another day.  It is really quite wonderful taking up only 15 x 40 inches of the floor space most of the time - 75 inches when both leaves are up.  It too is ready to move on so I can get a small desk where I can work on my lap top, write notes and do paperwork.  I have an antique walnut doctors chair that was used at the Mayo Clinic years and years ago that will be perfect to use with the desk.  The printer, telephone and wireless router will move to an inexpensive side stand that hold office supplies.

Now all I have to do is figure out how I can sell these wonderful antique pieces.  The first "expert buyer" arrived yesterday - commented on the beauty and exquisite condition of these pieces - but declined to buy - yup the market is "flat."  I may just need to use all these pieces a little longer...or I may need to do more research and keep calling until I find the right buyer!   Just thinkin' about calling until I find the right buyer...

Geraldine Ferraro and Rosalie Wahl



Rosalie Wahl
1st Female Supreme Court Judge
Minnesota 

In his book, "The Good Fight: A Life in Liberal Politics," Walter Mondale recounts his decision to choose a woman as his vice presidential running mate in 1984 and why Geraldine Ferraro was his choice.  And all of that is very important because Mondale and Ferraro changed the political landscape in the United States forever.
Another woman who strode into arenas where women were held at bay is Rosalie Wahl, who was appointed as Minnesota Supreme Court Justice in 1977 by Governor Rudy Perpich - becoming the first female Supreme Court Justice in Minnesota.  I remember the potency of the day I read of her appointment.  A woman on the Minnesota Supreme Court, her expertise, her perspectives diversifying what until that day was a male domain. 

I remain grateful to her for her passion for the law, including a woman's place in that profession and for Governor Perpich for recognizing her as an extraordinary lawyer who would make an extraordinary Supreme Court Justice. 

I never imagined I would get to meet Justice Wahl much less speak to her. All that changed when then retired Justice Wahl presented at a conference at The College of St. Catherine several years ago.  In her remarks she included the "story of the locust" in which she told how locust are able to traverse rivers and streams because the first to cross willingly entering the water to knowing they will die and that their bodies will create a bridge over which the rest can then pass. 

Justice Wahl then told stories of the "locusts" in her life who strongly and powerfully did the hard work of entering perilous territory previously closed to them, how they perservered paving the way for her to be able to become a lawyer and rise to become a Minnesota Supreme Court Justice. I hung on her every word.  She was powerful and approachable, so approachable that I stood in line to speak to her.  Imagine my utter surprise when I told her how much I appreciated her work and her telling of the locust story that she asked for my address and offered to send me a copy - she did and I still have it!

The Minnesota Historical Society is creating a documentary, "She Who Would Giants Fight" of Justice Wahl's life including telling the story of how she "survived the 1978 election challenge by three male lawyers and the tough tactics of the campaign. She goes on to serve on the Court for 17 years, bringing intelligence, compassion and fairness to every decision she makes."

Her biography reads in part, "While on the Supreme Court, Wahl served as its liaison to the Court's Study Commission on the Mentally Disabled and also chaired its task forces on gender fairness and racial bias. Wahl remained on the court for seventeen years until she retired in 1994 at the mandatory age of 70."

Today the Minnesota Women Lawyers hold the annual Rosalie Wahl Leadership Lecture and award the Rosalie Wahl Leadership Award.   Both Rosalie Wahl and Geraldine Ferraro are examples for me of women who like the locust strode into uncharted territories standing strong in their incredible convictions and abilities to lead our state and nation in ways that forever changed the landscape of our lives. 

I will spend the rest of the day and week celebrating the countless women throughout my personal, our state and national history, who have led us potently to today where three of the last four to hold the office Secretary of State for the United States are women:  Madeleine Korbel Albright (1997-2001); Condoleezza Rice (2005-2009) and Hillary Rodham Clinton (2009-current).

Both Geraldine and Rosalie crossed over bridges built by the women locusts before them and they were locusts for generations who benefit from their locust lives.

Thank you Rosalie for changing us. 
Thank you Geraldine for changing us - may you rest in peace.

The Vulnerable Among Us

The current reports indicate that the budget challenges we face in Minnesota will be addressed at the expense of our most vulnerable, elders and those without insurance to provide them with even the most basic health care.

In 1979 my dear "Gramma Elsie" left her home on the farm "down home"  and moved to an apartment about five miles away in West Concord.  A short time later, she fell breaking her hip.  Surgery was successful but she needed care during her rehabilitation, so she moved again, this time to Pine Haven Nursing Home in Pine Island, 11 miles from "down home."

These were very difficult days for her.  I spent one day every two weeks with her and listened to her as she described her anger at being "put away."   She told the stories that I knew very well having watched her: provide 24/7 loving care for her aging mother-in-law, my Great-Gramma Isabel the last years of her life, five of those years she was bedridden.  She died in her bed at home with her family at her side June 1961.  Her body was taken to the mortuary and then returned to "her living room down home" where she was layed out in front of the south facing windows.  The house filled with people including a man who during the Great Depression was given work by Great Gramma on her farm that provided him with room and board.  He wept remembering her kindness and generosity. 

Gramma Elsie had two years of reprieve before her husband, my Grampa Wille, began his decline rooted in deteriorating hips and other joint issues.  Again she provided 24/7 loving care for him until he began to have a series of strokes that made it necessary for him to go to Pine Haven there he died two weeks later.

At the end of her remembering what she so freely and lovingly gave, she wondered sadly and at times angrily how her family could put her away, why none of us would take her into our home and take care of her now that she needed us.  Well, I tried.  I brought her home for two weeks but learned quickly that all the love I had for her did not make up for the reality that our home was not safe for her (split entry, three levels) and I as a working wife/mother did not have the energy to give her what she deserved.

I treasure the five years she lived at Pine Haven when she and I walked the joyful and angry and sad path of her last years.  We wrestled with each other as she wanted more from the family and felt safe enough to tell me her pain describing that everybody was working and nobody had time to take care of her like she had done for so many others. 

One day as I came to visit, she again said that I did not come often enough, that we all failed her, wondered about why I could not come more often.  Gosh, I came for a full day twice a month!  So on that day I told her how much it hurt when I happily drove the thirty miles each way to spend a full day with her only to have her begin the visit by chastising me for not doing more.  We both ended up crying and hugging and that was the last time we had to go down that painful road. 

In the following weeks, my mom and an uncle asked me "what did you do to your grandmother?"  I sure didn't get their question so I asked what was wrong.  They said she was happier, no longer complaining so much and that the change started after my last visit.  I recounted the visit and they both said, "oh." 

Today I think about what was truly a time of luxury for her compared to what frail elders face today in light of major state budget cuts projected to cut services that provide care for our frail elders in long term care facilities.  How scared would Gramma Elsie be?  She read the papers, listened to the news - she might have been a resident of Pine Haven, but she knew what was going on!

How do our vulnerable elders feel today as they wonder what life will be like for them if the projected budget cuts are passed?  The very people who prepared the way for us; the people who loved us and cared for us into the lives we have today and now some legislators are ready to "throw them under the bus."  Our mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles, veterans, nurses, teachers ... ... ... are too expensive for us.  And I haven't even begun to think about those regardless of age who are mentally and critically ill and therefore unable to provide for themselves.  If this proposed budget cut passes, what does that really say about us?

I know we no longer live in the 1961 or the 1979 world - and I know that I remember when we really did remember that who we are and what we have is because of what those before us lovingly sacrificed during their productive years.

What has happened to us?  I am sure that if Gramma Elsie were living with her full faculties in a nursing home today, I would REALLY get an earful. And I SHOULD! 

As an elder woman I know recently said, "I may be losing my mind, but I still have feelings."
Just thinkin'...... 2011 the world of ME ... the world of WE forgotten, history.

THE ICE AGE

my front steps

This winter I have cursed the snow - the major snow drifts and piles that made it impossible to see clearly to leave one street and enter the next; drifts that came up over my hips on two different snowfalls required hiring professionals to remove snow from my sidewalks. I had to have my roof cleaned professionally for the first time.  Oh, how I have begged for this winter to end over and over and over since the first BIG snowfall December 11th.  All to no avail.

Now the mountains of snow are beginning to melt...melt by day... freeze by night only to hide under a beautiful thin layer of snow many mornings. 

Instead of heading out the door or stepping confidently out of my car, my brain screams - this is THE ice age!  Take your time.  Step lightly.  Be especially careful curbside where the water runs by day and freezes by night.  My friends have fallen - separated ribs - twisted back...it is THE ice age!  Once again I am reminded of how what is so beautiful can also so dangerous.  I am grateful that my friends did not break hip or arm or leg or pelvis.  Chiropractor and pain meds and ice packs, time off from work lead to their recovery.

Spring officially begins in eight days.  Where I used to look foward primarly to longer days wrapped in the warmth of the sun with the promise of budding trees, spring flowers and rhubarb tentatively poking out of the cold earth, I now just want to stop thinking about watching for ICE.

Spring sweet spring come swiftly so people can move about again safely ... ...

TV News and Commercials

1950'a NBC Morning News Dave Garroway

 

 

As a kid way back in the long long ago commercials during news programs (at least the ones I remember) included Ovaltine, and Anacin and cigarettes and liquor.  At the time none of these things were offensive to me.  The news consisted of world, national and local events with the usual assortment of criminal activity. 

I do NOT remember, alright memory may be fading,  news items about professors demonstrating sex toys to students who "chose to stay and were warned the demonstration may be offensive", nor do I remember saga after saga of actors/actresses breaking the law by using illegal drugs or shoplifting or ... ... ... as my "grands" might say, "like ya know Charlie Sheen, is he like sick or like have his brain cells been destroyed by like drugs and alcohol or being a 'john' on a regular basis?"  And all of this is available on the morning news, March 4, 2011.

I used to enjoy the evening news before dinner.  Well, that was before the commercials became focused on the most unbelievable array of commercials showing animated "germs" that can kill off fungus under the toe nails and chase mucus from our systems ... and oh, ya, I really savor those that urge men to take "this pill" so you are ready for that important opportunity.  Gee I almost forgot, Preparation H is another favorite on the evening news.

More and more I seem to be turning off the TV news and reading the newspaper more fully, checking in on the news online from the Washington Post, NY Times, The Guardian and ALJazeera...all commercial free and I can choose what to read!  When I sit down for breakfast or dinner, the food really does taste much better! 

Cannon Falls Bomber Dance High Kick Team Class A State Champions

TARGET CENTER MINNEAPOLIS
A week ago today the team, on which my grand daughter dances, was announced as one of the six teams in the preliminary dance competition for Class A scheduled to dance second in the championship round around 5:30 p.m.

And dance all they did! Dance teams of fewer than ten and teams of more than thirty (Bombers team totals 32).  More than fifty dance teams in Class A, Class AA and Class AAA representing Minnesota High Schools, private and public.  The skill, cooperation and support for each other and each other's teams was unlike anything I had experienced before. 

While the Cannon Falls Bombers were performing, the Sartell-St. Stephen's Sabre fans waited for the Bomber fans to exit to the right so they could enter from the left.  This arrangement reversed when the Sabre team performed.  At the end of the day, the Sabres finished first in Class AA.

The Bomber team and coaches were on the top of the world - exhilerated and exhausted.  This was the fifth time the Bombers High Kick Team took first in state competition.  On Tuesday evening, February 22 their joy turned to saddness when their entire team of coaches resigned citing coaching requires long days away from their families.  The girls were naturally devistated.  They "see" this situation through a much different lense than this proud gramma.

Using the preferred form of communication with teens just now, I texted my grand daughter first of all expressing saddness for this unexpected turn of events and then suggested that being the top team in their state division I was confident that there would be coaches standing in line to coach such athletic, talented, committed young women.  She texted back "thanks."

I continue to be awed by all of the young women athletes and state teams.  Now a week later I continue to celebrate the opportunity this presents to them and their taking advantage of the opportunity in exemplary ways.

Soooo much snow!

It is SO beautiful and we have SO much!  For the second time since December 11, 2010 my front and back doors were blocked by snow.  The drifts in my back yard are up to my hips.  The snow piles that frame my garage apron provide a place for the snow to slow down and drop - which it DID - creating a three foot plus barrior to my garage door.   

No getting out to work today! My neighbor came to shovel me out about noon today.  Around 1:30 the snow was removed from my front and back doors making it possible for me to go outside for the first time since yesterday morning.  By tonight the front steps were again buried as was the walkway to the garage.  A friend invited me out for pizza.  With the aid of my Nordic Trekkers I made my way to the street where she picked me up.  Under the snow pack the street was completely lined with a thick layer of ice.

It is so beautiful...and car accidents were rampant on streets and freeways.  I am a true Minnesotan, born and raised in rural Minnesota where snow drifts along roads and between farm buildings were the rule.  Actually it was normal and expected.  But now I live in the city - have since 1998 and this is the first winter where it feels like I am back on the farm fighting to open doors and get to the garage and find an opening in the snowbanks between the sidewalks and the street so I can go about my usual schedule.

It will be sometime tomorrow before I will have the garage shoveled out.  So I will either take the bus to work or my co-worker will pick me up and drive me in.  Walking is out of the question - many sidewalks are still covered with two feet plus of packed snow. 

It is SO beautiful and it is SO problematic.  We have had draught conditions in Minnesota the last three summers.  Well, I think that after the incredible rains of last fall and the snow this winter, we must be assured that the draught is over for 2011.

I am just thinkin' that there are twenty-eight days until the first day of spring - if only that assured that the snow would stop falling and piling up!  With the way things are going this season, I will not get my hopes up too high too soon.  I will only hope that earth in my yard will be green by June 1 ... ... ...

Title IX: Girls Athletics 2011



2011 Class A
Champions

February 19, 2011 The Cannon Falls Bomber High Kick Dance Team on which my grand-girl is a first year varsity dancer, earned CLASS A CHAMPIONSHIP status in the Minnesota High School League at Target Center last night. 

The team consists of 32 amazing young women athletes.  Brooke is in the eighth grade and achieved varsity status last fall.  The team practiced three hours each night, and during Christmas vacation, five hours a day.  Their grace and beauty, athleticism, enthusiasm and syncronization is astonishing to behold. 

The crowds at Target Center were amazing too. Dance team supporters wore T-shirts announcing which team the wearer was cheering on.  On the back of parents and family members T-shirts was printed the name of the dancer and their relationship to the dancer  "Brooke's Mom," "Brooke's Dad," "Brooke's Sister," "Brooke's Brother."  As each Class exited the arena, they cheered and welcomed in the next Class in saying "good luck."  Dads and grampas and  brothers cheered on their daughters, grand-daughters and sisters as loudly as moms, grammas and sisters! In the 70's and 80's when my girls were competing there were few dads and brothers at their events. My grandchildren win the award (given by gramma) for #1 Sibling Supporters!  They had big signs they made and my eldest grand-girl let the Cannon Falls section in cheers for the team.

How often I have heard it said that girls are all about bickering and back-biting. What I saw yesterday was incredible sportswomanship and professionalism - every young woman a champion, every team state champion team and with three in each Class earned the titles of 1st or 2nd or 3rd in their class.

As a high school student in the 1960s, my classmates and I were allowed to play half-court basketball as part of phy ed class and that was the sum total of our opportunity.  When children in the 70s and 80s were three and five years old I strongly supported Title IX.  Little girls all over the U. S. were able to play T-ball in the summer recreation programs and began playing basketball and vollyball in elementary school and played throughout high school, one went on to compete in track in high school. By the time this generation reached high school they were competing with other high school league teams in their conference.  Some of their friends chose tennis and golf.  This generation learned both remain committed to being physically active and fit.

All of this is made possible byTitle IX - passed into law June 23, 1972 as part of the Educational Amendments.  It requires gender equity for girls and boys in every educational program that receives federal funding.  When it passed, the idea that girls would be able to compete at the state level was a dream.  That dream has long since become a reality for hundres of thousands of girls! 

Now the next generation cannot imagine a time when girls were not practicing and participating and competing in high school athletics - today it is the norm.  Competing in basketball and vollyball, learing team work, cooperation and competition are vital life skills for all aspects of life.  Title IX - a tremendous 38 year old law - provides these opportunities equally and powerfully. Opportunity and choice are priceless! 

Oh - this is the fifth time the Cannon Falls Bombers Dance Teams has taken first place.  GO BOMBERS!

Murbarak leaves Egypt

Presidenital Palace
Port au Prince Haiti

In 1979 as quality control coordinator for a toy factory, I was sent to Port au Prince, Haiti to consult with the owner of the company  that we contracted with to assemble our products under Item 807 of the U. S. Tarrif Codes.

I was there for three days during which my hosts, Renee and Marilyn Chauvet drove me up the mountain to see how the elite live and then through the poorest of the poor areas to see the stark shocking contrast. Downtown I saw the Presidential Palace and the Catholic Cathedral built in the 1600s that still stood but no longer used due to safety concerns.

It was astonishing to see the opulence that Baby Doc Duvilier lived in at the Presidential Palace surrounded by armed tanks and soldiers wearing crisscrossed bullet belts.  Armed guards also stood outside gas stations and on street corners, along the road side - they seemed to be everywhere.  The experiences of that trip have always remained potent in so many ways. 

I returned for seven days in 1998 as part of a mission trip.  On this trip, I went into the slum of Cite Soliet,  a city inside a city built with funds from the World Bank - and without any infrastructure to support that city - no electricity, water, sewer!  I watched as children went to the tanker truck to get water - five gallons per family per day.  Period.  The kids and women put the pails on their heads and headed for home.

There are no public schools in Haiti - education remains a privilege not a right.  We visited Mother Theresa's hospice for infants with AIDS and another for children and adults and a "nursing home" outside the city run by a community of women religious from The Netherlands who provided care to children born with deformitites and a very few lucky elders. In the 19 years since I had visited Haiti, it had also become a city subsummed in air and ground polution with billboards for Nike and 7-UP and Pepsi and Coke and Ford and Chevrolet along the streets lined with discarded plastic bottles, soda cans and plastice bags.

These two trips brought me face to face with evil of dictators and globalization.   

Today as Eyptian President Mubarak fled after his country rose up after 30 years of his dictatorship, my thoughts went right back to Haiti, to the ruthless dictator Baby Doc was, the horrendous poverty and violence the people of Haiti were subjected to under his reign of terror. 

Unlike Baby Doc's exit in the 1980's when he fled with millions of dollars to continue living a lavish life, today Swiss banks immediately froze the assets of exiled Egyptian President Mubarak.  Today I pray that the people of Egypt will be able to rebound and create a healthy society.  The courage of the people in Egypt, their unswerving determination to stand firm provides hope for us all.

May the people of  Egypt rise from the ashes as the Phoenix rose ... may Haiti find justice ... as Mother Theresa said - it is not that we don't have enough resources for the people of the world - it is just that those of us who have so much share so little... ... ...

My first motorcycle show

February 5, 2011

1982 Yamaha "Yama hopper"

My son called late yesterday afternoon and said, "Hey, just wondering if you'd like to go to the Motorcycle Show in Minneapolis tonight?" and I said, "sounds fun" and he quickly replied "I'll be there in 45." 

The phone call took just about that much time.  I scooted to the kitchen and turned of the soup pot, dashed upstairs and tossed my evening sweats aside and tried to imagine what I'd wear...I do not own a single Harley Davidson or Viking or Dukati or Yahama signature shirt or hat or scarf or pin or jacket or boots.  How can I go and not stick out like a total nerd? So I settled on jeans, dress boots and a boring black vest over plum turtleneck shirt.  Boring!  I do not even own any bling.

We had so much fun!  I learned the difference between chain and belt drive bikes between tires for straight riding and those that hug corners and so much more.  There were bikes customized for exhibition that were wildly expensive and shiny with over the top paint jobs, some sitting near the booth that contained antique bikes dating back to 1918.  Of course my son was shopping for after-market options, looking at heated winter gear and imagining what his next Harley Davidson option will be.

When I said yes I had no idea that I would be plunged back into my own love for all things "bike."  My cousins had bikes (as in bicycle) so I learned to ride on a farm driveway that sloped down into a part time pasture where I quickly learned you either learned to balance and peddle or risked falling on a "cow pie."  No amount of begging and pleading got me my own bike.

So of course, I described my plight to my high school friend and her dad overheard.  Little did I know that he would go to work and find a bicycle at the dump, bring it home, fix it up and give it to me for free! It was an amazing gift. I don't know who was more excited, her dad or me.

Several years later one of my brothers got a Lambretta scooter.  As the years passed my brothers moved up to motorcycles so of course I had to hit the road.  I found myself on one of those cycles rounding a corner on a rural blacktop road at 80 mph (ya, it is easy to get lost in the experience and there was NO cruise control).  Utterly shocked I shut it down, turned around and swore I'd never drive a cycle again that could exceed 30 mph. 

My next cycle was a 1982 Yamaha "Yama Hopper."  Perfect!  With a top speed 30 mph it controlled me so I didn't need cruise control. Of course, I usually drove it maxed out.  We lived in a small town so I ran errands, drove it to work and dubbed it my grocery getter.  I haven't ridden it in more than 20 years but it has a special spot in my garage.  I recently found a Yamaha shop in South St. Paul who services them so I planned to save the money and have it restored so Icould ride again (I still have the original manual in my files).

2011 Can Am three-wheel cycle

Then came last night!  Holy cow within moments of walking into the cycle show I saw the Can Am.  At the urging of my son, I climbed  the closest one.  Geez Louise, I need to retire, sell my car, buy cycle gear and a wee little camping trailer to pull behind and hit the road.  This thing is SO cool.  And it has cruise control. 

I signed up to win a Harley Davidson motorcycle.  Gosh, I could trade that in for a new Can Am...I just gotta win that drawing!

As we walked back to his car - me walking with the aid of a Nordic Trekker to ease pressure on my deteriorating left knee - we talked more about different kinds of bikes I might need to consider realizing that knee replacement is somewhere in my future.  My orthopedic doctor does not recommend people with joint issues especially those with replacement joints ride bicycles on city streets or busy trails saying that the risk of serious injury is just too great in the event of an accident.  But I love bicycles.  My son wondered if I might need to consider a three wheel bicycle for safety. I admitted I might.  Drats anyway.

But my mind went directly back to the show, the image of me on the three-wheel Can Am motorcycle.  I could feel comfort and the wind and the sun and see the astonishingly beauty of earth revealed in every blink on every trip.  I can walk for exercise and bike safely on a Can Am! 

Just to be sure that what I experienced while sitting on the Can Am and listening to the saleswoman was real, I brought the catalog home to study the specs. Gas mileage - good.  Stability - good.  Reliability - good.  Cost - doesn't matter I don't have that kind of the money.  These things are so new there are few that are used. But then the drawing will take place tomorrow.  I will wait for the call announcing me the winner.   

The "it is time to ride again" bug is BACK as sure as once dormant chickenpox can return late in life as shingles! From what I have learned from my elders, it appears that the biking bug has been biting members of our family since the 1930's... ...