tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-200787502024-03-07T02:56:04.179-06:00Horseshoe SevenTwo Kinds of LuckUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1059125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-85246456585517113622023-12-02T15:18:00.002-06:002023-12-02T15:18:18.586-06:00My Poetry Book is at the Printer!<p> Yes, I've been publishing poetry in small magazines since the 80's. I may have been wearing a mullet when I wrote some of them. And I always dreamed about having a book collection out there in the market, but I never took much action to make that happen. </p><p>But my poetry book, <i>Bootjack,</i> is being printed, or at least in the queue for being printed. It's the second book publication from Pasque Press, the publishing arm of the South Dakota State Poetry Society. The book features some poems about South Dakota, but there are also many travel and literary subjects. It would be great to have that in hand before Christmas time. Many of the poems are very recent, but some date from those mullet days. I'm proud to having it come to fruition, and if you're reading this, you'll be hearing more about it soon. </p><p>If you're not familiar with bootjacks, they were a standard item in the houses where people wore cowboy boots. Bootjacks made it easy to get your tight boots off, which can be tough if you like your boots nice and snug like I do. And bootjacks were a required project in our high school shop class, so everyone (all guys, back then, no girls), took one home, cowboy boots or no cowboy boots. </p><p>Check out the other holdings from the South Dakota State Poetry Society and the opportunities there at <a href="http://sdpoetry.org" target="_blank">sdpoetry.org</a>. They publish Pasque Petals, a twice-yearly magazine that focuses on poems and poets with a South Dakota connection. And they host contests and workshops. This year they're also hosting Poetry on the Road events throughout South Dakota. If you have a chance to get to one, you'll hear good SD poets and have a chance to read poems of your own at the open mic! </p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-86971597475047038052023-02-01T09:02:00.007-06:002023-02-01T09:02:56.975-06:00Welcome to February, Humans<p> It's the last day to submit poetry to the spring issue <a href="https://sdpoetry.org/pasque-petals/" target="_blank">Pasque Petals,</a> which is the publication of the South Dakota State Poetry Society, and for which I am the editor for the fall issue. So, naturally, it's time for me to submit some poems. </p><p>Who knows why a person like me, procrastinator extraordinaire, waits through the months and weeks until he comes to the very edge of failure, to finally act? </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhswHD03c9ot8kWcblJEh4nte-eNrWV8XyKYKYDN38xQDhWao-gc4EXPRGNmr5URCZPDDssyxFJLnYFfMouNGGQEP3Wkr3TYcLZmokq01ZRBeeb91AQz-c-xU1RrG6JcEMnShQEQS1Hiw2vTp944UvtCFQP2BBte8o49AOEVNyFjYuYBvEej5w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhswHD03c9ot8kWcblJEh4nte-eNrWV8XyKYKYDN38xQDhWao-gc4EXPRGNmr5URCZPDDssyxFJLnYFfMouNGGQEP3Wkr3TYcLZmokq01ZRBeeb91AQz-c-xU1RrG6JcEMnShQEQS1Hiw2vTp944UvtCFQP2BBte8o49AOEVNyFjYuYBvEej5w" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Who can say? Some of us hold on to the idea of possibility as long as we can, releasing it only at the last minute, when actuality is required. </div><br /><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-77971397342833981202023-01-30T08:14:00.005-06:002023-01-30T08:41:49.328-06:00A Purge<p> The wife and I near the end of another successful purge of material items from our home, 496 items, one for every numbered day in the month of January. One item for the first day, two for the next, and so on through the month. And they're not trivial items, including some books that were easy to hang on to, hand made ceramics, and irreplaceable souvenirs from trips. </p><p>Have we used the item recently? Do we need it? Do we love it? Most material things, things we keep in the house and ignore for sometimes years, are only burdens, weights on a sense of freedom. They're things we choose to keep in our care, whether we have to dust them or not. If we wanted to pack up and move to Italy, for example, we would need to deal with the items, whether we sell, donate, or set them on fire. </p><p>Right now many of the purged items await their fate in our dining room, and there I see some things that were projects long delayed. Most things have gone to the thrift store; some, gifts from generous friends and family, have gone to distant thrift stores. </p><p>Our 496 or so items are merely a drop in the bucket. We've had a brief discussion about extending the purge through February, so if you're in the market for a beer-making kit, rarely used, or wine-making items, shoot me a line or watch the online markets. We might lighten our burdens further. </p><p>Edit: Shortly after posting the message above this morning, I read <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2023/jan/30/queen-of-clean-marie-kondo-says-she-has-kind-of-given-up-on-tidying-at-home" target="_blank">an article in the Guardian</a> indicating that Marie Kondo, the Japanese woman known for preaching de-cluttering, has decided she now has other priorities--her three kids. Now, she says, her house is messy. So there. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-8595238784233507442022-10-10T07:57:00.000-05:002022-10-10T07:57:05.558-05:00Fall ColorsHappy Native American Day!<div>It's good to know that South Dakota is doing something right in regard to the fall celebration of Native People, unlike many of the other states that celebrate rather the arrival of Columbus to the continent. Much more could be done for South Dakota Native peoples, which was in evidence as a friend and I drove out recently to Custer State Park's Buffalo Roundup. One might comment on the place name changes that have occurred over time to eliminate some egregious choices--for example, Black Elk Peak, the highest in the Black Hills. How about dumping Custer from the state park roster? </div><div><br /></div><div>But I'm thinking more of the abject poverty that still plagues the tribes. Efforts to lift reservation communities from their struggles don't seem to be doing the trick. It's still like a drive through an impoverished country when you approach, and then drive through, places like Pine Ridge. We could do better, both as a nation and a state. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-16067515557677866812022-10-09T08:06:00.001-05:002022-10-09T08:06:11.335-05:00Packing the Days<p> Yesterday was an example of the kind of days that have been rolling along this summer and into the fall. One thing after another as I try to get a number of things taken care of and behind me. The day began with some typical activities, not under any pressure, having some coffee and solving a few puzzles to keep brain fogginess at bay as the brain ages--sudoku, quiptoquip, mini-crossword, wordle. Then I got on the treadmill and walked three miles, alternating this past week between running a bit and walking versus just walking. It feels like things are going better and taking off some pounds I really don't need. Shower. </p><p>Then breakfast and off to the lumberyard to get some drywall to patch the hole I cut for the plumbing repair, which seems to be working just fine, thank you very much. Then to the hardware store for new guts for the upstairs toilet, that seems to want to stay running after you flush it. Both projects await. </p><p>Then off to Winfred to help with the harvest, driving a grain cart for Joe and Gary as they reap the corn rewards of summer. Meanwhile, plenty of messages rolling in from Casualene and others looking to help a family new to Madison and arrange for a refrigerator delivery since I had one to donate. Other messages to arrange for help moving the fridge. With harvest done for the day, off to Tom and Karen's to pick up a dolly to move the fridge (with a nice talk with Tom trying to ease more into easier living), then to Howard to get ready to move it, then John arrived to help (with a nice talk with John about random stuff) and off to Madison to deliver the appliance to a trailer court, where I was met by Casualene and her husband Ken and son Isaac. Got the fridge in the dilapidated trailer as the family and some young missionaries watched. </p><p>I hadn't been through that trailer court for years, and never often, and the state of things in some of the homes made me both cringe and feel gratitude that my own trailer court days are behind me. There are those who seem to have so little that a dirty sagging trailer serves as a welcome refuge, and I was happy to know that my donation of a fridge I didn't need would make a difference for them. </p><p>Then, finally home to the wife and supper and some pleasant viewing of Derry Girls, season 3, on Netflix. </p><p>Tucked into all this are brief moments in the tractor jotting down some lines and tidbits inspired from harvest action and aimed at a little poetry. Finally then, finishing my Roddy Doyle novel <i>Love </i>and off to dreamland. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-35740849478251690512022-09-21T09:18:00.003-05:002022-09-21T09:18:49.528-05:00More plumbing<p> Still more plumbing. I haven't yet been able to identify where the plumbing leak is, and the plumber I called has not responded to a message on his machine. So currently the upstairs bathroom is a mess, though the shower and sink are still functional. Today I need to put the toilet back one way or another, whether there's a leak or not. We've got company coming. </p><p>My niece Tina and her toddler Violet will arrive in SD on Saturday and my sister Rita will pick them up from the airport. They'll stay with us a couple of days and visit Mom, who has yet to meet her youngest great-grandchild. She's looking forward to it. </p><p>News today is of Putin's call for more conscripts to fight his losing battle in Ukraine. News on that fight is front and center of my news consumption, and the uptick in rhetoric about the invasion sent another chill through me as I think about what it all might mean for the rest of the world. It's a dangerous situation, with one man with a grudge and an ego to match feeling cornered and condemned by the West. He's got a lot of power over what Russia does, but perhaps his latest gamble will undermine the support he has for his actions against Ukraine. </p><p>So my plumbing problems are pretty small in comparison to the devastation happening in Ukraine, but I look forward to getting that situation resolved. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-79797221863706051762022-09-15T07:39:00.001-05:002022-09-15T07:39:08.798-05:002022 is Slipping Away<p> Tempus fugit. That phrase has been running through my mind recently as the weather starts to change and summer chores turn to preparation for fall, then for winter. I've always taken pride in taking care of business for myself, the chores that need to be done around the house and yard, the maintenance on the house, repairs and updates. But recently there's been more than enough to go around. </p><p>The summer began with a huge windstorm--the derecho that hit Madison in May and kept us busy with huge downed trees and damaged buildings, both at home and at the rental property. Work on a flip house I bought in March ate up much of the summer. Covid. Drought. Renters moving out, with the updates that come from that process, including painting the entire garage and the trim on the house. Furnace troubles there. Yard work. </p><p>Most recently we discovered a leak in the plumbing in the upstairs bathroom. Dealing with that problem is on the agenda for today. The seeping water has been going on for some time, and it damaged the 220 volt line running out to the dryer in the back entry, requiring a new line, which I installed yesterday after the electrician that came said he got it working (he didn't). His diagnosis was that the dryer was bad, so we went hunting for a dryer (and considered buying a washer/dryer set) until some friends offered their old dryer when they bought a new set. But it was the line, and our dryer was fine. It's all back together. But the leak remains. And we have an extra dryer sitting in the back yard. </p><p>Meanwhile, the rental garage still isn't painted, the flip house awaits, and my visits to my mom in the nursing home have fallen off. </p><p>Also--and maybe this weighs more on my mind than anything else--some of my family have cut me off from communication. The past couple of days have seen some changes, though. One brother and his son are in town to see Mom, but there's nothing from them and I suspect I won't see them. Messages go unanswered. Same with my daughter. And another brother. At the same time, another brother who has been simply out of touch for years called and we had a good talk. Maybe that's the way these days. It's easy to let go of people, I guess. Maybe it always has been. </p><p>But time goes on. I'm not sure if it heals wounds. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-74718701516685234782021-12-30T06:40:00.003-06:002021-12-30T06:40:21.554-06:00A Second View<p> When I began this blog, it was fun to expound on the world around me, near and far (mostly near), and I posted several times a week for a while. I commented on everything from our garden to travel to food and drink. And sometimes, rarely, politics. 2021 has passed with one commentary on finishing my wood pile, which has since once again become a mess, even though as winter has set in, my wood pile has begun to shrink once again, its summer preparation being fed into the maw of our hardy wood stove. </p><p>I'm sure our new year will have many challenges and joys, but for now the year is ending quietly, with days growing slightly longer with each sunrise. I look forward to what the new year will bring. Some say that a good ritual is burning something from the old year to mark a new beginning. I've got a pile of logs that will serve. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-62209861099330756412021-06-05T15:48:00.001-05:002021-06-05T15:48:23.804-05:00One small completion<p> Many things in life to unfinished, from old needlepoint projects to old car restorations. Search on Craigslist for "project" and you'll find a wide variety of items for sale that have been revealed to the owner to never be complete--cars, motorcycles, furniture, houses. </p><p>I've had one such project in the back yard--one of many, but I'll tell about this one--waiting for completion and today, now finished. It's not much, really, but after several early mornings of hard work and persistence, I'm able to call it complete. </p><p>It's my wood pile. I'll use much of it this winter, but for now, it's all cut, split, and stacked, drying this summer for when the cold comes on and I decide it's time to fire up the wood stove as a bulwark against the frigid wind and snow. </p><p>Some of the wood was fairly new, even some only a few days since being gathered and dropped in the yard, but some of it--and this is the key--has been back there for years. Many years. I had been gathering and piling up logs in preparation for the cutting, splitting, stacking, but much time had passed for some of them. As I was tipping up some of the stumps to be split, you could see that earthworms were beginning to get comfortable beneath the logs, and in some, colonies of ants had taken up homes and burrowed tunnels for themselves, scurrying from the newly split logs in frantic haste, many of them carrying precious eggs, hunting for a new place to nurture them into being. </p><p>In the past, rabbits, squirrels, and even a woodchuck had taken up residence or shelter in my wood piles, and mice were frequently evident in the wood I brought in to the house, so that Penny, the dog, sniffed carefully at the fragrant firewood. </p><p>But for now, there is a vast space in the back yard, where the tree limbs and trunks awaited my effort, and now, after hours beginning at 7am at over 70 degrees, and this afternoon, now at 98 degrees, I can call it finished, an impressive woodpile, nearly six feet high, six feet wide, and over 20 feet long. Add that to the smaller woodpile left from last year, and I think I'm good to go for next winter. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-63766819349962974662021-04-19T16:23:00.000-05:002021-04-19T16:23:28.269-05:00The Purge<p> I have to say it. It's not easy for me to get rid of crap that I've accumulated. Once it gets into my brain-activated database, it's got anchors, and shucking it can require all the horsepower of a riverboat dredge. </p><p>But it can happen, especially when you have more books than you have shelves for, so I've been giving away some serious books, some of which were specifically obtained to enhance my ability to teach my classes. That's no longer an issue, so if it's a teaching book, it should go to a teacher. And I've made progress, and shelf space is opening up. </p><p>Still, I know people who are publishing books, and I want to be in on the ride. Ted Kooser, for example, newly engaged in the Facebook world, has a new book out, <a href="https://www.gibraltareditions.co/catalog/kooser" target="_blank">A Suite of Moons, from Gibralter Press</a>. At $40, I probably won't spring for a copy right away (though that's for a signed copy). Meanwhile, in a recent Facebook post and poem, Ted tells about his love for yard sales and his love for children's books. Of which, apparently, he has a plenty. </p><p>I've often thought of Mr. Kooser's poetry as a model for the kind of poem that I want to write, but I've got to NOT follow his example in terms of accumulating illustrated children's books. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-54119995012745351952021-04-11T23:29:00.005-05:002021-04-11T23:29:55.436-05:00Dreaming of More than a Walk with Wildlife<p> The little to report is evident. You know what's happening around the world if you're paying attention, and if you're reading this, you're paying attention to a lot more than most folks, so it's worthwhile mentioning the state of the daffodils in our yard and the dwarf irises. They're blooming, the bright yellow daffodils and the purple dwarfs. </p><p>Tomorrow is my first grand-child's birthday, and she's turning nine. She's a bright child, devoted to her mother and father, learning still to love her little brother and her cousin. We'll pay her a visit and offer a gift for her birthday. </p><p>In other news, we took a good walk in the sunshine with a friend before the wind came up and brought another couple of cool nights and days this week. </p><p>And I got the plumbing on the Roadtrek camper fixed, I think, so the grey water tank won't leak like it was. I hope--not at all. And I helped my Georgia brother-in-law in his search for a camper equivalent to mine. </p><p>The wife and I keep considering a place to go this summer. Apparently, Iceland is so popular that plane tickets to REK are sold out until June, even with the lava flowing and the volcanoes erupting. And the Canadian border is still closed. But Colorado is open, and other states will take us if we jump in the van and hit the road. </p><p>My brother JP is back from his Mexican land voyage. I was tempted to board a plan and join him there for a day or two and ride back with him. But not this time. </p><p>Still, the time will come for traveling again. And I'll take it. Meanwhile, here's a reminder of a drive we took when we spent some time in Ireland. (Not our video.) </p><p><br /></p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_0xIEZd35uE" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-9973291599684866742021-04-09T09:42:00.000-05:002021-04-09T09:42:01.649-05:00A Measure of Calm<p>Rain has come to South Dakota, leaving the ground wet and lush while bushes and grass and flowers and trees are pushing forth their buds and new shoots and blooms. It's an explosion of green in Madison, with the snow only so recently gone. </p><p>I've transplanted some lilac shoots from along the driveway back into the area behind the row of ancient lilacs that stand tall and bloom with gusto once the spring is fully under way. I hope the new rains will keep the lilacs and other plants newly transplanted alive until they can sink their roots and fend for themselves. </p><p>I'm watching too the trees I planted last fall when the Arbor Day trees came in and I managed to plant them before the snow came. Whether those tiny sprigs will survive is anyone's guess, but they got more care than ones I usually got, including some chicken wire to protect them from deer and squirrels and other sapling-eating beasts. </p><p>Speaking of beasts, it's been fun to see some relatively rare animals recently. We've tracked down several eagle nests and seen some bald eagles, and a fox crossed our trail on the drive to Brookings. And in the back yard, we saw a mink the other day, and a groundhog. And deer and squirrels are regular visitors. So we've got some company in our little patch of earth. </p><p>I'm hoping to get some writing done today, and this little exercise has limbered up the keyboard. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-80655493056787568712020-11-24T08:10:00.004-06:002020-11-24T08:10:50.481-06:00Moving Day<span> </span>Yesterday was moving day for our friends Stacey and Andre, and I helped move their few belongings into a big beautiful new (to them) house on Egan Avenue, one certainly over a century old. It went pretty smoothly except for a box spring that didn't want to go up the stairs into the bedroom, but a little minor carpentry, furniture repair work on the box spring, it squeezed up the stairs and we put it back together in the bedroom. <div><span> </span> I got good news on the Toyota Tacoma that I bought from Tammy after Steve died and left it sitting in the driveway. It had a very bad miss, and Travis at Roger's Service was not hopeful about what it might be, but it turned out to be a failed injector, which they were able to replace yesterday. So I'll sell the Ranger and the Jeep and we'll be back to having just two vehicles here over the winter. That's the way we like it. </div><div><span> </span>The Tacoma comes with a nice topper, and I still have to put tires on it, since the ones that are on it are virtually bald. People say that not not knowing how bald we used to be willing to drive on tires, but these are bald bald. </div><div><span> Yesterday also included a walk to Tammy's to pick up the Tacoma, driving the rig to Roger's, walking home. Then moving assistance. Then a trip to Sioux Falls and grocery shopping for us and Mom at Costco and HyVee. Then picking up chicken tikki masala for us and the JordanBerry's at Shahi Palace, and a drive home. Then supper, and then a visit to Mom and my brother Jim, visiting on his way to St. Louis. </span><br /></div><div><span> So it continues with the COVID-19 situation. Trying to find balance between life as we once knew it and staying safe, especially from those who call the whole thing a hoax, a way to sell a lot of masks and destroy the planet by throwing masks on the ground, where they stay because nobody wants to pick them up. </span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-3510316949880005912020-11-22T16:43:00.000-06:002020-11-22T16:43:23.571-06:00NegativeI got my notice today that my results were in, and it's good to see that COVID-19 test came back negative. The wife (who hasn't been notified yet) and I have been careful, masking and keeping distance, holing up in the house and avoiding traveling and unnecessary contact with other people. We have a few friends who also keep a tight leash on their activities, and it's good to have them to share and meet with, helping to keep us all sane.
Yesterday Dale and I planted 10 trees at four different houses, trees I got from the Arbor Day Foundation. Here's our list:
<b>At our house, a white pine and a white flowering dogwood.
At Dale's house, a pin oak and river birch.
At Angela's house, a silver maple, a redbud, and a sugar maple.
At my rental house, a red oak and a red maple.</b>
In 20 years, we'll be rocking some cool trees! Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-21149435698797772342020-11-18T07:08:00.004-06:002020-11-18T07:08:38.923-06:00Virus TestingWe've stayed at home and avoided crowds for months now, but today we'll get in the car and drive across the street to the Baughman Park parking lot where vans are waiting to offer coronavirus testing. The wife and I are signed up, but we are assuming that our diligence will have paid off and we will get clean bills of health. Then, this afternoon, I'll pick my mother up at Bethel Lutheran Home and take her to an appointment at the clinic. Such a small world we live in today. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-40478528029740372962020-06-01T07:55:00.001-05:002020-06-01T07:55:56.834-05:00A Week for the History BooksThis week gave us a lot to think about and worry over as all across the United States protests against the blatant killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis by police erupted and often turned violent, not only in Minneapolis, but Sioux Falls and Duluth too saw violence and destruction. <br />
It's frustrating to see the legitimate protests against racial profiling and systemic racism become sidelined by violence and destruction and looting. Opportunists see the disruption and extend it for their own gain, whether it be to subvert the nonviolent message of the protests or simply to get material gain from looting businesses. <br />
Deana and I were happy in Sioux Falls yesterday to see a huge crowd moving north along Minnesota Avenue, so many that they were disrupting traffic and extending their planned march through downtown. Starting at 5:00 Sunday afternoon, by 6:00 the crowd, mostly of young people, were chanting the name of George Floyd and calling for justice and the end of racist practices. <br />
But when we returned to our home in Madison later that evening and saw the news that violence had erupted at the Empire Mall, and that the city was under curfew and the guard had been called out, the story was then a different one. Teargas and rock-throwing youths and troops with their weapons drawn and lights flashing while drivers honked or zoomed past. It's not the thing we imagine for South Dakota. <br />
And to see our Governor, Kristi Noem, appear last night to send a message to the people of Sioux Falls and South Dakota, and the first thing I see is her with her baseball cap pulled low over her eyes, I can't even look, and I turn off the television. That cap is a signal of the disregard she has for the job she holds, to appear on camera at a microphone with her face half shrouded. It is as though she's a football coach who has to face the media after her much vaunted team has just lost a big game, and she's out on the field with the glare of cameras on her. I can't stand it. So I don't know what she said except that violence has no place in South Dakota.<br />
But one thing she can claim is that unlike the elected Democratic leaders who Donald Trump was railing against as he hid away in the bunker at the White House, she had called out the National Guard at the first sign of violence. So some of this, at least, is fodder for the President as he campaigns for re-election. <br />
Meanwhile, what comfort can he give to a country that has seen violence escalate from coast to coast? There won't be any. He'll rail against his enemies and point the fingers at anyone he can think of to take the blame. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-63727808429150113172020-05-22T08:33:00.002-05:002020-05-22T08:33:42.622-05:00BloomingToday the apple trees are dropping their petals and the lilacs are coming in to their full bloom, filling our back yard with their fragrance. We have such an abundance that we've delivered a bouquet of lilacs to two homes--Kristina Adams and Jack Walters and his wife Sirje Kiin. We could do more, but today it rains, helping to give a good start to the vegetables we planted and the flowers and bushes we moved yesterday in anticipation of a good soaking from the sky. <br />
Last night we watched an episode of Hoarders, where a couple in Washington state had filled their back yard and their home with so much trash it rose to the ceiling and all the floors were covered so that they were walking and sleeping on trash. <br />
It's not a program I plan to return to--the vivid images of that trash, and the reluctance to part with it by the man and woman will be hard to forget, and there's no reason to remember it, only keep in mind for myself that the accumulation of bicycles or books or records or pens does nothing but tie you to objects. And the objects give little, if not nothing, in return. <br />
Let us be like the lilacs, offering our gifts freely and preparing for the fade. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-73808448270348101912020-05-21T07:40:00.000-05:002020-05-21T07:40:02.463-05:00Last DayMay 21, 2020, today, is the last day of my contract with DSU, where I have been working since 1996. My teaching career goes back to 1984, when that spring I finished my M.A. in English at the University of Wyoming in Laramie and took a one-year temporary job at Rocky Mountain College in Billings, Montana. <br />
I discovered when I was there that my grandfather, Sidney Clifford Nelson, had gone there when it was still Billings Polytechnic Institute, but I couldn't find evidence beyond a single mention in a yearbook. <br />
From there I took a job at St. Mary of the Plains College in Dodge City, Kansas, a Catholic school with liberal leanings operated by the Sisters of St. Joseph in Wichita. Many of the faculty there were women, sisters with the PhD's and masters degrees who, given the choice between marriage and motherhood and an independent, educated religious life, chose education and good works and chastity. <br />
That school ran afoul of the law, wracking up unpaid student loans in a mistaken alliance with a truck-driving school that scammed its students. <br />
When it closed in 1992, I took a year to try and finish my PhD at the University of Kansas, but I was undisciplined and depressed and when I was offered a job at Sisseton Wahpeton Community College in South Dakota, I took it. <br />
There the tiny faculty team struggled to bring our courses to a poverty-stricken Native population and others in that far north region, and the politics finally consumed it, and in 1996, our college president, a wildly unpredictable and petty man from a tribe in Minnesota, called me a racist and let me and other white people go. <br />
That brought me to DSU, a phone call I remember taking, standing in my kitchen at the phone and moving to the porch where it was more quiet and I could hear a lifeline being thrown to me that would carry me the next 25 years. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-60676400263126048792020-05-17T08:15:00.001-05:002020-05-17T08:15:39.330-05:00Tentatively, Beginning AgainI'm retired. I hope that means I will turn more to writing as an outlet, that I'll finally tell a story about growing up in the way that I did, not that it's all that dramatic or angst-ridden, but that it was unusual, that it was western. Not what many people face today or even remember. Even then, in the 60s, it was a little strange. Even in Fort Pierre, our experiences were different: while my classmates might be playing baseball and riding bikes around town or working at a drive-in ice cream shop, my brothers and I disappeared on to ranches to be ranch hands. To be cowboys. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-1242189913662476952019-04-09T07:19:00.000-05:002019-04-09T07:19:31.088-05:00Beautiful Tuesday MorningIt's a beautiful spring morning in South Dakota, but over our heads hangs the threat of a winter storm that could dump more than a foot of snow on our area in the next couple of days. Meanwhile, the water table beneath our house has risen so high that it's no longer fully beneath our house, but leaking in. <br />
While the sump pump purges much of the water, there's a lingering pool that needs its own special attention. <br />
And there's the pile of wood that still needs to be split and stacked. And someone needs to fire up the lawn mowers to make sure that once the expected snow or rain arrives, we've got a way to mow the grass. <br />
At the same time, our new travel van, our little RV, what they call a class B, is waiting in the driveway for us to escape. We need less water, less work, and less bad news. I'm ready to hit the road.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMkpOrzWDaF7BJWGd3qhXXvQhCbShBKCd0HAuh8uVp2lKT32mBn4c2RBR9W7V9ZvB97nxPRGBeuLqYLKsyemgHg2iRItbJU0oaU1cxI_PxgIEoId0vRawP28mJfwKLvT2BLjIo9Q/s1600/2019-03-16+12.42.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMkpOrzWDaF7BJWGd3qhXXvQhCbShBKCd0HAuh8uVp2lKT32mBn4c2RBR9W7V9ZvB97nxPRGBeuLqYLKsyemgHg2iRItbJU0oaU1cxI_PxgIEoId0vRawP28mJfwKLvT2BLjIo9Q/s320/2019-03-16+12.42.21.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our new travel van awaits us. </td></tr>
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Meanwhile, every day there comes a new sign that the head of our government is an addled, angry head whose strategy is to do more than enough to keep his name at the top of the news feed, sometimes by figuratively lopping off the heads of the people around him. <br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-49896220839018296242019-02-03T22:40:00.001-06:002019-02-03T22:40:39.915-06:00DeniedStrange how events fall into place sometimes in a string of misfortunes, leaving us wondering why what we wanted is being denied to us. Denial makes us feel smaller, less important, more trapped by circumstance and fate, and less able to move and enact the things we want for ourselves. <br />
<br />
It was a string of things, nothing very important, that piled on this weekend to make a person feel small. We had plans--dinner and a concert, Fleetwood Mac, for crying out loud. I watched a documentary on the group as I spent some time on the treadmill, and got a little work done before heading off to Sioux Falls to enjoy dinner before the concert. We had reservations, which we knew was important because we'd been to the packed Crooked Pint once before another concert, and there was no way we'd get in early enough to eat and get to the concert. <br />
<br />
But the reservation was a bust. We got there before our reservation time, but they told us they'd given our table away. "We just got busy," she said. Yup, just like before every other big concert. So we stood for half an hour or more waiting for a table. Their offer? A free appetizer. Poutine is good, but not that good. <br />
<br />
Fine, plenty of time. So then we head over to the Sanford Arena and got in with 20 minutes to spare. Except we had to stand in line for 45 minutes, and by the time we got to security the concert had already been going on for 20 minutes. We could hear it, muffled through the walls and the floor, "Rhiannon," for one. Finally, through security and on to the scans, where our tickets from StubHub would finally get us in, even though, by that time, we were getting a little annoyed. <br />
<br />
But the scanner bleeped a big red X, and the worker told us to go to the ticket office. Another denial! <br />
<br />
At the box office, the woman there told me the same ticket had been scanned two hours before. So there was that, a ripoff ticket from StubHub. The woman offered me a ticket--there were tickets available--but the prospect of dropping another hundred bucks per ticket when the hundreds I'd already spent had just gone up in smoke, that didn't appeal to me. <br />
<br />
So we paused, had a seat, listened to another muffled song from that great band, and decided to mitigate our disappointment by having a beer. It seemed only fitting that as we pulled up at Castaway's, across the street, the last few letters were dim, so we walked in under the Castaw and tried to spin ourselves back up from our denials. <br />
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Today I reminded myself, as I cheered for the Rams to prevail over the Patriots in Super Bowl LIII (53 for you non-Romans), that disappointment is often self-inflicted. It didn't really matter who won the game. It didn't kill us to stand and chat while the folks at Crooked Pint tried to find us a table. We've got the Fleetwood Mac albums at home. <br />
<br />
And StubHub is refunding what we spent on the tickets, with a discount on our next purchase. <br />
<br />
We had a fun drive down to Sioux Falls chatting with our friend, a nice meal, a chance to see some great music, and a safe drive home again.<br />
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And that Super Bowl? We got to watch, cheer, chat, eat, and share the night with some good people. Life is good. <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-24676755988306480582018-06-07T08:11:00.001-05:002018-06-07T08:11:30.278-05:00Fortune Tells<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sometimes the fortune that appears in a cookie is the right one--a message from the random beyond that rings true to a thing occurring in the center of your self or your choices. Such it was a while back as the wife and I were at a Chinese restaurant and I found the message above. Sure, the message might fit a wide number of people, but don't we see ourselves in the things that happen around us? So there I am, being messaged by fortune that the course of my life is true. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-45073367618946374172018-06-06T06:47:00.001-05:002018-06-06T06:47:16.217-05:00Some Kind of Journey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Somehow the wife and I got it in our heads that we needed a big van/little RV to head across the country, although we have traveled well in our little BMW convertible. The above unit has, as I have told friends, everything that can go wrong with a house and everything that can go wrong with a car all wrapped up in the same package. But I think we may have an adventure trying it out. <br />
<br />
We have cleaned it up and repaired some of the things that weren't quite right, and the wife is working hard to make sure we are comfy in it. She has discovered many sources online that tell about improvements made to such vans--Roadtrek vans made in Canada. Ours is a 1999 Dodge 3500 Ram (one ton) van with a 318 motor. It's got a lot of miles on it, but Roger's Service here in Madison gives it a thumbs up for traveling. It seems ready to go. <br />
Among the things we've done to improve it:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>installed a new cd/radio with bluetooth so we can plug in a phone to listen to all kinds of stuff. </li>
<li>removed the old monitor hanging over the back bed</li>
<li>installed new carpeting up front</li>
<li>installed new vinyl in the back end</li>
<li>washed and repaired all the curtains so they function properly</li>
<li>mounted new tires in the front</li>
<li>mounted the rear-view mirror (found in a drawer)</li>
<li>cleaned all the seats and fabric and surfaces inside</li>
<li>changed the oil and air and oil filters</li>
</ul>
So far we've taken one short trip to Yankton's Lewis and Clarke Recreation Area, and the two nights there in the van were perfectly fine. We were the smallest RV in the park! (Ours is a 19 foot machine; Roadtrek made 17 and 21 foot versions.) We also have plans for some other work before we hit the road. But once we do, it will be without need for any more work around the house! All our concerns will be contained within the walls of the van. <br />
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As we go, we'll see what it's like to live the RV life, with the option of heading into the boondocks and setting up camp with our own power and water supplies. It might drive us crazy, but it might be a whole lot of fun. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-16481627779682584252018-01-18T10:52:00.001-06:002018-01-18T10:52:40.107-06:00Dolphins in the Mirror<iframe frameborder="0" height="373" id="nyt_video_player" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="https://static01.nyt.com/video/players/offsite/index.html?videoId=100000005638233" title="New York Times Video - Embed Player" width="480"></iframe><br />
I love this story about dolphins demonstrating self-cognition, the ability to recognize themselves as themselves in a mirror. Not many animals (besides humans) can do this, and watching them makes it clear that these young dolphins seem to enjoy seeing their own reflections in the mirror! Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20078750.post-15336208639782184922018-01-15T22:37:00.000-06:002018-01-15T22:37:47.299-06:00Riding the RollercoasterThere's the story of the cave, Plato's version of reality in which we're chained to the cave wall, watching the shadows of chairs, or, in some cases, the digital recreation of football players vying to gain points over opposing football players. In the digital recreation of other people's lives, it's possible to view the digital recreation of the elevated heartbeat of a real human being.<br />
<br />
Our hearts beat wildly for the players. We breathe deep and should loudly in response to those remote views. I like that our Vikings have won another game and get to play again next weekend, but we cheer for the men who wear the purple uniforms. We get to know them, put our hopes in them and wish for the best. But we know very little about them or what they stand for, what they represent. They carry the flag of Minnesota, but most are not Minnesotans. And I'm not a Minnesotan. Most of the Minnesotans I know don't care all that much whether their football team wins or loses.<br />
<br />
Still, it was a momentary joy to see the improbable come-from-behind win from a team that has taught us to watch in disappointment. But not this weekend! Skol!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0