It’s a Monday, and I didn’t have to go to work, or drive anywhere, or do anything! That felt very good. For us, it felt a little wasteful perhaps, but overall very relaxing.

The holiday weekend started out with an early out at work, so we took in an early dinner at P.F. Changs which was excellent. We followed dinner with The Killers, a movie starring Katherine Heigl (very easy on the eyes), Tom Selleck, Ashton Kutcher, and Catherine O’Hara, who was always in the sauce. We went in with low expectations, but found it to be highly entertaining with good character chemistry. We got home early enough to take the boys for a walk to Elwood’s on our river walk. Rain began to fall on our way home, and the boys spent a great deal of energy shaking off their wetness.  

We figured we would do our big walk on Saturday morning, which we did, but again the rain began to fall before we got home. After breakfast and reading the paper, we went to visit Will and Wendy at CarFX, and then stopped at the Flea Market at the fairgrounds. There were no treasures discovered so no purchases were made.  The rain was really falling now….which made for a perfect nap day. We had suite tickets for the WNBA Tulsa Shock basketball game at the BOK Center in the evening, and had invited Joe and Jill to go along. The Shock lost their tenth in a row, but because Joe and Jill had yet to attend any event at the BOK, it was a win as an evening out.

Sunday was church, breakfast at IHOP, and watching golf on TV. In the evening we walked to the ONEOK family picnic at the Harweldon Mansion. The hot dog and hamburger were tasty, as was getting to meet some children of employees. It started sprinkling about 8 pm, and since fireworks were not scheduled for another hour and a half, we walked home….getting wet from sweat and raindrops. Thousands of spectators lined the park along the river. We finished the evening watching Independence Day specials on TV and real fireworks above the tree line over the river. I conducted the Boston Pops version of Stars and Stripes Forever (just as I had for the Symphony at Sunset a couple of years ago).

And we come again to Monday. Lazy morning, but we decided to go for a long walk to see what kinds of mess “our” river trails were in after the estimated 80000 people left. It had been cleaned once for sure, but Barb and I picked up and dumped several trash bags full of litter. I suppose you could call this a trash detail a random act of kindness, but it was amazing just how much junk was left within a short distance of a trash barrel. It was very humid and we were soaked by the time we returned home. We cleaned up, brought a poster from Siverston Gallery to Michaels to be framed, and then went to our church for a funeral for a friend who died at the rather young age of 72. Barb had made my favorite chicken and grape salad for the luncheon after the service. It was a very nice service, with some heartfelt tributes, and we found a couple of Minnesota connections before we left.

A long weekend spent relaxing without purpose. Not a bad way to go.

Our week in a post: 

Tuesday – We walked to the Michael Buble’ concert at the BOK in 97 degree heat, but if you asked most women at the concert, Michael was hotter than that. The event was better than expected. Besides a voice that is unbelievable, he is an excellent entertainer and really connected with the crowd of 14000. It was still 88 when we walked home at 11 pm.

Wednesday – Michael Buble’ said he knew he wanted to be an entertainer after watching the parade scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and so we watched the movie. Who wouldn’t want to be as cool as Ferris?  

Thursday - Barb worked at, and I attended the Home Run for the Homeless charity softball game at ONEOK Field that benefitted one of Barb’s volunteer passions. It was a fun game on a hot night.

Friday – Took in the Tom Cruise – Cameron Diaz Knight and Day movie. Was it unbelievable? Yes. Was it entertaining and action packed? Yes. Did you have to think? No.

Saturday – The morning was filled with the Flea Market and an Antique Show. The Flea Market was better. After lunch at home, we took in the Timeless Treasures exhibition at the Philbrook Museum of Art showcasing dead people…actually mummies and other Egyptian artifacts – the wealthy even mummified their pet dogs! The museum gift shop did some damage. We took in a new gallery opening at the Philtower building downtown – what an art deco architecture treasure this building is. Waite Phillips, an oil millionaire from the early 1900’s is responsible for both the Philbrook Museum of Art and the Philtower Building. He is also responsible for giving the Philmont ranch to the Boy Scouts and later the Philtower.  The evening was spent with a pizza and Barrett – Jackson Auto Auction. No, we did NOT watch any soccer games.

Sunday – We were greeters at church and I read the lessons. We skipped the congregational meeting for another movie at The Circle Cinema titled The Secret in Their Eyes. It was Spanish with English sub-titles and won the best foreign film Academy Award in 2009, and it was a fabulous film. We rounded out our day with a WNBA Tulsa Shock game (in the ONEOK Suite). The Shock led until 5 minutes left and then Seattle threw everything in the hoop and we lost. Boo. We walked home in mid-90 degree heat and Barb cooked dinner. We will spend the rest of the weekend relaxing on the couch.

Time flies.

After concluding business in Amarillo, Barb and I headed west for Santa Fe, the blue sky seemingly bigger than anything in Oklahoma by a factor of 10. We had passed The Cadillac Ranch and were surprised at how many people had stopped to walk out and look at the buried cars up close and personal. Maybe Stanley Marsh is not as weird as we thought he was. We were both hungry and wanted to experience someplace unique, so pulled off at Vega, a still surviving Route 66 town almost within eyesight of Amarillo. We were not disappointed.

The parking lot of the Hickory Inn Café was populated with heavy duty pick-ups pulling horse trailers, with the horses already saddled. These were not the luxury pickups pulling silver air conditioned trailers we often see in Tulsa; these were working trailers that had obviously spent some time on trails or dirt roads. We opened the café door and walked in, and even though we were in blue jeans, we were strangers in these parts and obvious visitors. Many of the boys and men that took up the tables were wearing high leather cowboy boots with working spurs, some with their blue jeans tucked into the tops. Their hats were not decorative; their sweat rings branded each as a favorite working hat that could be counted on to shade their faces, ears, and necks. Long sleeve heavy cotton shirts were a concession to the sun. They were not going to town.

The cook, a massive gray haired man, was working hard to keep up. A waitress, who may have been part owner, took our order. Barb’s keen eyes had already scanned the menu, and she quickly selected hamburger gravy over biscuits with home fries. I ordered the special introduced by the waitress – pork chops and home fries with applesauce as a side. Both were mighty good, and more than we could muster after a fresh salad. I wanted to ask where the cowboys of 2010 were going, but didn’t. 

Barb’s lunch began to put her to sleep after a short distance, so we pulled off at an information stop just past the New Mexico border to switch drivers and get a new map. After hearing Amarillo by Morning when pulling into the hotel in Amarillo last evening, Barb felt it was only appropriate to listen to some more country music, so tuned the Sirius radio to Prime Country. I set the cruise on about 78 and continued west on I40, the interstate highway that took the place of The Mother Road, the iconic Route 66, all the way to California. The highest outdoor temperature I saw was 94 degrees, but after driving through a brief rain, it dropped to 73 degrees.

We got off the Interstate at Clines Corner and headed north to Santa Fe on State Highway 285. Our destination was the Old Santa Fe Inn; originally built as The Thunderbird Inn back in the 1930’s when Route 66 was populated with motor-courts. Route 66 actually went north at Santa Rosa to Santa Fe (and right by our room) from 1926 until 1937, when a lame duck New Mexico Governor spitefully realigned the route straight west from Santa Rosa. The Thunderbird welcomed the artists and writers and wealthy travelers who discovered what made Santa Fe special, or just different. We had a nice two room suite with a fireplace that was historically charming and modern comfortable without being the cookie cutter room that we usually select when traveling.

We were about three blocks from the town square, and walked to the Ore House for margaritas where we celebrated Santa Fe’s 400^th Anniversary of Culture. We were lucky enough to get the same outdoor balcony table that should be commemorated to a very happy Connie Dilland back at Thanksgiving in 1998. Larry and Sherrill Pohl, Marge Jordahl, and Barb and I were very willing margarita mates back then. Connie was operating a bit slower the next day and failed to show for the walking tour.                 

We walked back to the Inn after some minor shopping; well I guess I can’t say how minor it was – I don’t know how much the Tommy Singer Navajo silver bear earrings actually cost. Barb took a nap while I did some writing. I am getting hungry – it is 8:15 pm Tulsa time. She awakes.

We walked back to the Ore House; it was cool and trying to rain as we made our way up the narrow cobble stone and brick streets. The balcony had an opening, and we decided to risk the cool weather for the view of action on city square. The beautiful and historic Saint Francis of Assisi Basilica was just up the street, and we listened to the bells ringing. The sun made an appearance while we were sitting there, and lit up the brown and gold stucco of the pueblo style architecture that dominates the area. Barb ordered a trio of steak, shrimp, and scallops while I had crusted halibut. We shared a vegetable entre that was boiling in brown butter that was simply fabulous. A rainbow appeared to the east and south. How nice was that?!

We slowly window shopped our way to the La Fonda Hotel, and enjoyed the cool and quiet of the night. We eventually found our way back to our room at The Old Santa Fe Inn where Barb lit the fireplace and began studying which galleries and museums to pack into Friday.  

Our eyes were tired from driving, the sun, and the dry air, and it didn’t take long to fall asleep. In the morning Barb said she listened to me snore; I said that was impossible because I was listening to her. Whatever; we had managed to sleep later than normal and didn’t rise until 7:30 am so it was a good sleep. After cleaning up, we walked across the courtyard and had breakfast. It was a beautiful blue sky low humidity morning, and several were dining outdoors. We chose a table by a window and enjoyed a peaceful (not a lot of mindless chattering) breakfast.   

We were going to relax a bit before walking to the main square, but the power went out and it became dark in our room. We walked over the Santa Fe River, actually more of a fast paced stream, and stopped to admire a rug. Barb and I are NOT shoppers, but when in Santa Fe, we fall victim to the art and Native American jewelry. We didn’t buy a rug, but it wasn’t because they didn’t show us every size and design possible. The lights were off downtown as well, but when we saw a door open on a jewelry store, we walked in and soon left with our first purchase of the day.

Apparently the State of New Mexico is in the same condition that Oklahoma and Tulsa are in. We found this out when attempting to go to the New Mexico History Museum and found a sign on the door that this was a furlough day and this museum (and several other state run museums in Santa Fe) was closed! The Georgia O’Keefe Museum was not closed, and today was the first day of a new exhibition “Georgia O’Keefe:  Abstraction”. The line to get in was moderately long, but it was sunny and bright and waiting in line should not be a problem….unless of course you get in line with a guy from New York who has been on vacation by himself and needs to tell his story to someone. Yup.

The exhibition was good and we ended up in the gift shop making round two of purchases. The large heavy duty bag that held our purchases would eventually come in handy. We took in a photo gallery that was filled with historical black and white images – for sale and marked with some five figure price tags.

We were almost out of the next gallery without a purchase when Barb spotted a small Allan Houser sculpture titled “Evening Lullaby”. Since The Gilcrease had recently had a Houser exhibition, we were very familiar with, and really liked, his work. In fact, we were taking a private tour of the Houser Sculpture Gardens on Saturday.  This gallery was really a brokerage house for those who may have bought the art for investment purposes and now were ready to sell. The piece was marked at $2200; we left an offer that was substantially less.

It wasn’t long in our morning’s journey that we happened on the Houser Gallery. We soon became proud owners of a Philip Haozous limited edition piece titled “Spirit of Machu Picchu I” and another piece titled “The Owl” by Allan Houser. We asked about the market value of the piece we had looked at in the brokerage gallery and were told the production run had been over for at least ten years and it was valued in the $2500 range. On our way from that gallery to lunch Barb’s cell phone rang, and the owner had accepted our offer on the piece titled “Evening Lullaby”. Yes, the bag was getting heavier.

Lunch was a bowl of corn chowder at The Plaza Restaurant, a diner that had been in business since 1905. One wall was made up of broken plates and cups. The chowder was excellent, with good consistency and seasoned with cilantro and chipotle that added a surprise kick. We walked back to our room with our loot.

I was relaxing on the bed, almost thinking I had earned a nap. Silly me; it was time to head out again.

After a while, the jewelry shops and goods all started to look the same. Beautiful stuff made by talented artists but how does one look different than the next? A stop at a pastry shop provided a late afternoon boost, and we were able to proceed. We didn’t make any additional purchases until we found the poster shop, and helped make the shopkeepers day a bit more profitable. Because one of the pieces was framed, we hauled it back to the Inn, and called it a day in terms of shopping.

I walked over to the reception area hoping for a fresh cookie, and there was one. I took it for myself. Our timing was good as a late afternoon shower wouldn’t have made for good outdoor walking.

We had planned to eat at the Coyote Café before seeing a movie tonight, so we headed out a little before 6:00 pm. When we reached the top of the stairs, the host (dressed in a suit) made it semi obvious that we were more suited to their casual dining establishment next door. We were simply concerned with getting something to eat, so we checked in there. It was obviously a popular spot but the noise was so deafening we left for Café Pasqual. This is a very small but very popular (reservations recommended) corner café that serves organic foods. The only reason we were able to get in was because someone else had cancelled. One unique feature is the common table – a large family sized table in the middle of the café that will seat the ones and twos as long as they are not full. The food was terrific (terrifically expensive as well) and we were done in time to get to our next planned event – a movie at the restored Lensic Performing Arts Center in downtown Santa Fe.

The movie was The Birds, the 1963 Alfred Hitchcock suspense movie starring Rod Taylor, Tippi Hedron, Suzanne Pleshette, Jessica Tandy and a whole bunch of gulls and crows. By today’s special effects standards it was more laughable than not, but still unsettling and masterful in keeping the audience wondering. The theatre, which was very ornate, even boasted a balcony where people could sit for a movie (and plays). The theatre wasn’t packed, but it had a very good crowd. It was cool and breezy when we walked home.

Saturday morning dawned bright blue and sunny. We showered, did some packing and organizing for travel, and walked across the parking lot to enjoy a complimentary outdoor breakfast. I will say the bacon was as thinly sliced as I have ever seen, and not as crisp as I would like. But we had alternatives like waffles, and cereal, and eggs, and sliced melon, so there was no shortage of food. We finished packing and turned in our “keys”.

Our only focus today was a VIP Tour of the Allan Houser Compound and Sculpture Gardens southeast of Santa Fe.  Allan Houser’s parents were part of the Chiricahua Apache tribe who were held as prisoners of war for 27 years, and Allan was the first tribal member born (1914) after the tribe was declared free in Oklahoma. He went on to become one of the 20^th Century’s most important artists. Allan’s interest and skill in art was obvious early in his life. He enrolled in the Painting School at the Santa Fe Indian School in 1934 and become its most famous student when he had work exhibited in San Francisco, Washington DC, and Chicago. By 1940 he had had two commissions to paint murals in the Department of the Interior building.  His work and teaching continued in Lawrence, Kansas and Brigham City, Utah until 1962, when he was asked to join the faculty of the newly created Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe, where he created the sculpture department.  He retired from teaching in 1975 so he could devote his energy to his own work, and would eventually produce nearly 1000 sculptures in stone, wood, and bronze. His work has been shown in 50 solo exhibitions around the world, and he worked until his death in 1994.

Barb has been aware of Allan’s work because of her ties to the Joslyn Art Museum in Omaha and The Gilcrease Museum in Tulsa. Allan’s work, as well as the art of his son’s, was recently exhibited in Tulsa, and it was there we had the good fortune to meet Mrs. Allan Hauser (Anna, who at 98 got up on stage at The Gilcrease and spoke), Philip Haozous (son), Bob Haozous (son) and Anna Montoya, the energetic Public Relations Director for Allan Houser, Inc.  Anna had made an open offer to the Tulsa audience to come visit them in Santa Fe, and we took them up on that invitation.

We reached the compound about 9:45 am, and the Director opened the gate and warmly welcomed us. Philip soon arrived and moved a couple of chairs to the shade and began to tell the story of his family. The Haozous blood lines are intertwined with those of Geronimo and Cochise. It was obvious that Philip felt a great deal of pride from his heritage, but also a level of regret that his heritage was suppressed in terms of language and culture in favor of becoming more American. (I think you could say the same thing about almost any heritage of that time) We heard stories told by Philip’s grandfather of the discipline it took to become an Apache warrior. Philip spent 17 years building the wonderful working compound and very inspirational sculpture garden. Today he is focused solely on his own art as well as preserving and promoting the works art of his father.

We were with Anna Montoya and Philip Haozous for nearly five hours as we heard the stories of Allan’s sculptures and then went to Philip’s home where we saw his work and listened to what inspired his art, whether it was jewelry, flutes, sculpture, and even clothing. He played a number of his flutes for us to show us how the different woods can create a different sound or tone. Philip keeps the wax molds he uses for his sculptures, and keeps the number one bronze edition for himself and gives number two to Anna Montoya. We were asked to join them for a taco lunch at their favorite café, El Parasol, where we continued to learn more about the insights and dreams of the Houser (Haozous) family. They invited us to Allan’s wife Anna’s 99^th birthday party on August 7. Barb and I felt very honored and blessed by this opportunity, and this was certainly a highlight.  Whether we are or not, we felt like we had been taken in as part of the family. It was a very warm and moving experience.           

We backtracked the route we drove on Thursday, NM 285 to Interstate 40 east to Amarillo. We did see a healthy looking coyote run off with what appeared to be a snake dangling from its mouth on NM 285, but other than barely missing a truck tire in the road, and hitting the brakes when another vehicle swerved almost out of control when doing the same thing on I40, our drive was uneventful. The scenery remained unique and the sky went on forever. Big rigs greatly outnumbered passenger cars. Garrison Keillor was on the radio with Prairie Home Companion, and it was good to listen to the stories of what happens on Memorial Day in Lake Wobegon. We hit The Outback for coconut shrimp and a salad when we made Amarillo, and then checked into the Holiday Inn Express where I wrote and watched the Lakers win their series with the Suns. 

We slept well, and the time to get up so we could make it to early church seemed to come a little quick. We were warmly welcomed by our old friends at Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church, and the service had not changed since we left town back in 1999. We enjoyed coffee and conversation in the fellowship hall after church, and the memories of Bill wanting to bet on just about anything came flooding back. Tanya Rosenthal, who Miranda carried around when she was in Amarillo for a summer, had just graduated from high school, and had turned out to be an attractive young lady. The gang (Bob & Evelyn, Bill, Larry & Sherrill, Johnny & Diane, Fred & Marion, David & Paula, and a couple of others that currently escape my memory) left for Henry D’s (part of the United Grocery on Bell) for breakfast; the men dined at one end of the table and the ladies at the other. The stories, lies, and laughs continued. What a joy to have friends in many places.  

We checked out of our hotel about 11:50 am and then drove by our Amarillo home on Tascosa Country Club. We were told that Tascosa and La Paloma were merging. It was even nicer than I remembered, and the golf course looked to be in superb shape.

We headed east on I40 after filling up with gas. My eyes were wandering when I hit a tread that had been thrown off a large truck tire; thanks to little ground clearance no damage except ego was detected. The Texas roads were in superb shape with no construction zones; I cannot say the same for Oklahoma highways. Thanks to Sirius radio, we were able to re-listen to Garrison Keillor and then the PGA tournament at The Colonial in Fort Worth that Zach Johnson eventually won. Lunch-supper was Pizza Hut in El Reno. The high temperature in SW Oklahoma reached 99. The boys were happy to see us when we arrived home at 6:15 pm.

It is going to be very nice to have Monday off, but I will remember why we call it Memorial Day, and all the memories I have of honoring the soldiers who have served this country so well!           

Is Sunday the first day of the week, or the last? For me, it is the last day of the week, and last day of the weekend, despite the calendars showing it as the first day. Monday has always been the start of the work week, and Sunday the last chance to relax or do what I would like to do before heading back to work.

This week has been full of Oklahoma spring storms, some very severe. We didn’t experience anything worse than 3.5 inches of rain in one day, and one day where we were the only thing on TV was weather.  The weather was so bad I parked one of our cars at the ONEOK parking garage overnight so nothing would have to be subjected to potential hail.

The rain and storms of Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday gave way to nice weather starting Thursday afternoon and we enjoyed a beautiful evening walk to Elwoods (the outdoor café on our river trail system formerly known as The Rivers Edge) to listen to David Shine, who can live up to his claim of being a human jukebox. We noticed two trees along the trail that had been hit by lightning - a line of bark and wood had been blown off the tree from top to bottom. Friday was another beautiful day and we couldn’t even find a spot to sit and listen to a different band and have a sandwich, so we all came home and had weight watchers spaghetti.  

It was also a week where work just seemed like work. While I like the routine of work, and like when work is proactive, I don’t like those weeks that seem almost totally reactive. Those weeks wear an old man out.

I took the boys for a three miles walk early Saturday while Barb started weeding. I wanted to get this done early because it was going to be a 90 plus degree and humid day. The Arkansas River was way up and moving fast, an obvious sign the Corps was letting a lot of water go through the dam at Keystone Lake, which is simply a reservoir. We dodged a few dogs, a few runners, and a few bikes, but there were no close calls with the usual list of suspects. However, Curly was attacked by a bird when he “struck a bathroom pose” too close to a birds nest! That threw Curly into a bit of a temporary hyperventilating tailspin, but he was able to overcome the new fear target and complete his transaction, which I picked up.

After returning to the house, I picked weeds for a while and then took the Mustang to CarFX for a little grill trim work. It was getting hot! It was time to get flowers, so I fired up the F-150 for a light workout. We headed for Home Depot first where I picked up a Ridgid brand shovel to dig out a couple of dead shrubs that were supposed to be hiding one of ONG’s ugly regulator settings. We then headed across town through a maze of construction zones to pick up the begonias that would help decorate the corner and front of our house – 240 to be exact, or enough flower flats to fill up the bed of the pickup. Do you know how long it takes to place and plant 240 flowers!? The flowers looked good when done and we were tired. The boys, on the other hand, were in their glory rolling in smelly areas in the yard and laying in the shade guarding the property.  

We felt refreshed after cleaning up and made plans to eat Mexican at El Rancho Grande on Route 66 and then catch a movie premier at the Circle Cinema called Pearl. The food and cold drinks tasted great! Pearl was the story of Pearl Carter, a Chickasaw Indian girl in the late 1920’s who lived rural Oklahoma. She gets the bug to fly when she takes a flight with the famous aviator Wiley Post, and then goes on to become the youngest female licensed pilot in aviation history – at age 13. Pearl went on to perform in many air shows of the era, but quit stunt and barnstorming flying after having a family and rethinking her priorities. The real Pearl died in 2005. Several of the key actors were present and the audience thoroughly enjoyed the Q&A after the showing.  

Of course, it can’t be Sunday without going to church and reading the Sunday newspaper. We forgot it was Pentacost Sunday and didn’t wear red, but were welcomed anyway. The Pastor was in good form and told a couple of jokes during his sermon that kept the congregation on their toes, and no sleeping was possible with soon to be baptized Clayton fussing throughout the service. I was very impressed with Clayton’s young mother, who displayed supreme patience.  I found out later that Claytons father was there with his girlfriend and sitting in the same row with the family – not sure how that works but let me remind myself I do not need to judge that arrangement or outcome.

Barb stayed between services to help Dr Jane Purser with the Guyana Medical Mission slide show while I took the Explorer (with newly installed Michelins) to the car wash for a bath. I think I could do wonders with just one day of car wash training with the car wash clan. The boys look like they are working hard but just miss so many critical details…

I am an hour away from my first ballet – opera – symphony. I said no but have relented to be a last minute fill-in as Barb’s friend Jill was required to help husband Joe with fence repair. We have hamburger out for grilling later.  

I think the coming work week will be very good as I have employee meetings in Midland, Lubbock, and Amarillo, and then Barb and I will drive to Santa Fe for Memorial Weekend.

Hope you have a great week!                       

It has been months since I have written – just haven’t had the urge to record what we’ve been doing. I will give it a shot this morning.

Last weekend was a blur – a two day management team meeting for my group with a ballgame in the evening, and then a two day officers meeting with another ballgame (16 innings). Good meetings and fun events but just plain busy keeping up on business on the side. Barb picked me up early in the afternoon on Friday so we could catch the movie The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo at The Circle Cinema. This story is by a Swedish author and the movie was also Swedish with English subtitles; we had both read the book and found it to be captivating. The movie, which was two and half hours long, captured the story and essence of the book perfectly; it did not disappoint. We completed the evening at a Volunteers of America charity dinner.

On Saturday I led our last Men in Mission program and breakfast until next September. It was well attended with 24 in attendance. I drove home and we headed to the airport for our Southwest Airlines trip to Dallas – St Louis – and then Chicago. We rented a car (actually a Jeep SUV as we had golf clubs), plugged in our Magellan, and headed into traffic in a light rain. Barb said “we can look for a place to eat along the way”; I knew we were not getting out of traffic until we reached our destination, which was a very historic Deer Path Inn in Lake Forest, IL. We were situated relatively close to Lake Michigan north of the windy city. After checking into our suite, we walked around the area, which appeared to be an area obviously reserved for the well-to-do. (I was told later that Michael Jordan lived in this area when he played basketball for the Chicago Bulls) We walked to an Italian restaurant in the neighborhood where, after an hour wait, we had a glass of wine and a fabulous dinner (worth the wait).

Barb had mapped out St James Lutheran Church as the closest ELCA church to our hotel, so we attended it Sunday morning. It was relatively small (about 450 members according to the last remaining male charter member we visited with) but we enjoyed the lively contemporary service.  Next on the agenda was breakfast – we had scoped out a place called The Lantern on our walk around Lake Forest that looked good – and it was. It was a bar – restaurant that had been in business since the 30’s and was located across from the train station that ran into Chicago. We changed into our golf clothes despite the fact that it still looked like rain and was cold, and headed for Chevy Chase Country Club, where I was scheduled to golf on Tuesday as part of our customer meeting we were having on Monday and Tuesday. We found it without too much difficulty and got on early due to the inclement weather (maybe mid 50’s) and perhaps because it was Mothers Day. This was my second round this year (the first being in Georgia) and I found the rough deep and plush. I shot in the mid 80’s with Barb right at 100 – a fairly tough layout. Since we got around in well less than 4 hours, we still had time to catch a movie, so we took the Ironman 2 with Robert Downy Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, Scarlett Johansson and Mickey Rourke, which was a great follow-up to the original Ironman – full of action and laughs. We had dinner, at what appeared to be the end of a very busy Mothers Day dining experience for many, at The Grill on Laurel, also in Lake Forest, and also an excellent dining experience for us. I think we had scheduled and done as much as possible for one day.

We had a late breakfast on Monday and I played another round of golf with a couple of co-workers that had flown in that morning. Barb spent her time writing notes, stitching, and wandering around the town. We had our customer reception in the evening. On Tuesday, we had a half day meeting (I had a short piece of the program) that included a guest speaker and then golf scheduled. Due to the fact that it was raining and in the mid to upper 40’s, we made a quick change to bowling for those that were not going to ‘spa’! I was surprised that so many went along with the change but it turned out to be a good time – I bowled a 146-112-172. We had a good group dinner back at the Deer Path Inn afterwards.

We headed to the airport early Wednesday because we didn’t know what the traffic would be like, but it was smoother than Saturday’s traffic, and were at the Midway Airport early enough to catch a hearty breakfast at Harry Carry’s before our St Louis – Dallas – Tulsa flight. We were home about 5 pm. Two days in the office went fast, and Barb had two days to get her usual five days of good works (Homeless Shelter, Gilcrease Museum, and Assistance League, plus baking cookies for the Habitat crew) in before hitting the weekend again!

Guess what – we started it the same way as last weekend by seeing The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo again! It was just as good a week earlier – maybe even better as we caught a few more details. We have read the second book (The Girl who Played with Fire) in the series of three (the author died before any of them were translated to English) and are waiting for book three to ship.

I was scheduled to work on Habitat for Humanity on Saturday morning but was rained out, so we had to come up with a list of things to do so we wouldn’t go crazy. We started the day with breakfast at the Dilly Deli in the Blue Dome district, checked in with Will and Wendy at CarFX, shopped and scheduled new tires to be installed on Barb’s Explorer, and then did a quick view of the new displays at the Historical Society.  After a visit to my well tattooed barber where I found myself in the midst of a wedding party getting their hair done (I didn’t see the final transformation but didn’t really see one coming), we took in Tulsa’s downtown Mayfest event where we did a superb job of supporting the artisans. Because Curly and Midnight had been in their kennels most of the day, we took them for a walk along the river, and then enjoyed a dinner of salad and thick homemade chicken wild rice soup.

Since it wasn’t raining and the streets were dry, we took the F-150 and the Mustang for drives to charge the batteries. With the travel and rain we have had, they had not left the garage in a while.  We settled in for a little TV and computer time. I researched Dad’s Winchester Model 94-30 on the internet, and based on the serial number, it was manufactured between 1940 and 1943.

The drive to church this morning was through thick fog, and we stayed after to hear the last installment of our youth minister’s trip to the Holy Lands.  I had heard the first installment, and it was very interesting. This is a place where both Barb and I would like to visit at some point.

After picking up dog treats and then shampoo and green bananas (they will be edible about Friday) we read the newspaper and had a light lunch. Garrison Keillor’s memorial to his father-in-law may have been the best reading in the Sunday paper, but I also read that the WNBA’s Tulsa Shock lost to the Minnesota Lynx and the Twins lost to the Yankees.  This rainy afternoon we will be going to Letters to Juliet and then out for an early dinner with Joe and Jill to help them celebrate their anniversary celebration.  With luck and better weather, the boys will get another walk in and I may do a little polishing on the Mustang. The work week will be here quickly, but no travel this week!     

 

 

This will have to be an incomplete blog – a weak attempt to catch-up before Christmas in here. Sometimes life goes by too fast to blog, and isn’t that a good thing!

November started out with a trip north for nearly equal doses of deer hunting and house cleaning, even though the main purpose was my annual deer hunting trip to Lutsen. Barb transported me to the Tulsa airport for the 7:10 flight to Minneapolis on November 5, one month after the day that Dad died. After driving my rental to North Branch, I spent the day cleaning out the garage and filling up dumpster #1, something that sister Cathy and brother Doug had already started.

As has been customary, cousin John and his wife Karen hosted Mac McGillivray and me for a chili supper. Because cousin Tom was coming in late from Seattle, Mac stayed with me in Dad’s house overnight. Neither of us slept particularly well, but we were up before Dennis Peterson knocked on the door about 5:30 am to wish us well and see us off. Dennis used to be a regular on the trip and was our master chef.  Our deer camp crew was completed before 6 am when John, Tom, Randy, Howard and Tom Anderson arrived, and we were off.

We had three pick-ups and two four-wheelers for our hunt this year, mainly because the camp road has continued to deteriorate to the point where there is a pretty good chance that even a high clearance four wheel drive vehicle will get stuck. Deer hunting results were one deer for six licenses; not a great percentage but always a great time. I saw a nice buck on Saturday, but it was nearly gone before I saw it. No shot. It was just Sam (Howard’s dog) and me in the lower bunk.  Howard had to get back to work on Tuesday, so he left Monday; I went with so I could do additional cleaning, and start filling up dumpster number 2.  

If you wish to read a moving account of our 2009 hunt, I invite you to go to Tom Anderson’s blog (aligningwithnature.com) and read his entry titled Passing of the Shack Patriarch.  Tom has been a close friend of the family for a long time, is a great storyteller, and is someone you want in deer camp.  

We drove to Minnesota for Thanksgiving and more cleaning, and had a great turkey dinner at Doug’s. Jenny cooked a big turkey with all the trimmings, and a long after meal walk in some rather cold temperatures was in order to keep breathing!  Barb and I hauled some big furniture pieces out and filled up dumpster number 2, headed home Saturday, and arrived home Sunday.  

Work has been busy with year-end performance discussions, finishing up 2009 projects, numerous strategy meetings for 2010, a few fund raising charity galas, and other volunteer activities.  We head north again on Christmas Eve day for Christmas with family and Doug and Jenny’s wedding in Minnesota.  

 

How can it be November when I am still running the air conditioner?  I just walked back from the office, and it is 79 degrees and very sunny outside; it was equally as nice yesterday! I bet it won’t be as warm next week when I am still standing in a tree in northeastern Minnesota.

This past week was the first in a very long time that I was in the office all five days. It felt good as I had a lot of catching up to do – but that is not new. I always feel that I am catching up. I will work three days next week, and then two the following, so I am confident that I will feel differently in two weeks.  

Barb made some tasty and thick wild rice soup with a salad Friday after work. We took a trip to Bass Pro Shop to see what I might need for deer hunting, but ended up with just a flannel shirt. Nothing high-tech. We finished the evening with Jay Leno…actually I am not sure we made it through Jay before going to bed.

Saturday’s agenda wasn’t firm, which usually means we wander around and then complain because we wasted part of the weekend, but we got focused rather quickly. Breakfast was at a new place downtown called Dilly – Deli; another old industrial building converted to a nice café - where we used to toil and make things, we now gather and eat. It turned out to be a great breakfast spot to finish the morning newspaper.

Because the Tulsa Run starting point and parts of the course were downtown, we had to take a few detours to get to Jones Airport. We were not in the 5k or 15K foot race, but over 10,000 were! Barb has done enough driving around to get us anywhere we need to go. We wanted to go to Jones Airport because we had read that the EAA was offering rides in a WWII B-17G Flying Fortress, and I thought that might be something I could add to the experience I had in a Ford Tri-motor.

I signed up, paid my fare, and signed the liability release. There were 12,732 B-17’s built during WWII; today about a dozen still are capable of flying. The one I rode in was built on May 18, 1945…just a little older than me…..and powered by four 1200 horsepower 9 cylinder radial engines. It was interesting to watch the engines being started – someone on the ground with a fire extinguisher stood ready while each engine turned over and spewing great clouds of smoke (oil in the cylinders) when it started. It is what I would call “bare bones” – aluminum and motors and propellers, and hard seats and guns and bombs. Somebody said “10000 rivets flying in loose formation”. For takeoff and landing I sat in the radio mans seat, with the radios literally a nose length in front of me. Right ahead of where I sat was the bomb bay – there were 15 bomb cases ready to drop. To get to the pilots, you had to carefully walk on a very narrow walkway and step over a threshold onto a floor to the navigator’s space. Going forward to the front gunner area required crawling on hands and knees and then sliding onto the swivel seat with the gun ready to aim and fire. This seemed a little precarious as the plane bounced around; I can only imagine what it was like in a storm. Great view from this seat, but probably not if you were looking an enemy fighter.  When the pilot took off and hit the throttles to the four engines, the plane was very LOUD – what would it be like flying for its full 1850 mile range?! These planes flew to 20,000 or even 30,000 feet – it was 70 below zero at that altitude! Mine was a great ride and certainly adds to the appreciation I have for WWI veterans, as a lot of folks who flew this plane into combat didn’t come back. We had a passenger who had flown one of these in WWII – I can only wonder what he was thinking.

We did a little shopping at Kohl’s and then headed to an art / craft sale in the Brady District where we enjoyed a light late lunch and then home to the dogs. No purchases were made.  I took the dogs for a walk while Barb “waited for the hordes of Trick or Treaters” who never materialized.

For dinner we decided to go to a small Italian spot in the Brookside area on Peoria – I am not sure where everyone was (watching OU and OSU perhaps) but we nearly had the service staff to ourselves. The food was fabulous and we had some good laughs.

Today we tried to have breakfast after church at the newly reopened 1924 built Mayo Hotel, but they had quit serving breakfast by the time we got there. Barb made the rest of the left over wild rice soup – it was still excellent. Because I wanted to work, she agreed to do some volunteering at the Gilcrease. So that is where she is at while I wrote this.

I am hopeful the Vikings – Packers game will have a positive outcome, but my confidence is not overwhelming. I will watch anyway and hope for the best.  

Hope your weekend was a good one.  

                            

For about as long as I can remember, the Nelson boys (and later the whole family) have headed to the north shore of Lake Superior during the October MEA break from school. MEA stands for Minnesota Education Association, and the school break was intended for a teacher’s conference. The boys used to make it a grouse hunt and prepare the deer shack for its intended purpose, but it has since changed to more of a hiking trip with luxurious accommodations. No complaints here.  

We had been home from Dad’s funeral since Sunday at noon, and now it was Wednesday, and here we were heading north again. Barb and the boys had slipped into a downstairs bedroom during the night so I couldn’t complain about snoring. The radio came on at 5:00 a.m. I made the bed and hollered down that it was time to get up. 

We got ourselves ready and the boys went to their kennels, knowing full well that we were headed out again – they had watched us pack our bags. They had no joy in their faces the previous evening when they were home alone with me. Barb had been out with Jill for the second night in a row, Tuesday night was a Gilcrease feature called Made in America Cuisine that featured Native American chefs from Santa Fe, New Mexico. I heard all about the 5 course meal that included roasted zucchini squash, organic baby mixed greens, baked stuffed quail, and flourless chocolate pinon torte with hand gathered prickly pear syrup. My meal, which consisted of a self prepared frozen weight watchers spaghetti dinner, seemed pretty mundane by comparison. 

We pulled out of the driveway at 5:43 a.m. with me behind the wheel; the weather was grim – rain and drizzle that added to the blackness of the road. We did not take the Naomi Anderson shortcut on this trip north, and cut an immediate 40 minutes of our trip time. The morning light took forever to get to us, and even when it did, it was not what you’d call bright.

Our first stop was the Blue Top Café in Lamar, MO. The last time we stopped here the county fair was on, and the world famous cinnamon rolls were gone. Not this time. They were huge enough to cover a platter, with abundant warm frosting that immediately found its way to my sleeve as I reached for a napkin.

When not driving, I either monitored my work e-mail, or read Garrison Keillor’s book Wobegon Boy, and Barb was reading Life among the Lutherans by the same author. We both found passages that made us laugh out loud, and we couldn’t help sharing the words that made us laugh. NPR and CNN news had begun to sound familiar, so I decided to put a new Tony Bennett CD into the CD player. This required a trip to the instruction book. This was a great CD that we received for a substantial public TV donation, and it was followed by Tulsa’s own Janet Rutland and finally The Eagles Long Road out of Eden CD. 

We continued on through Missouri, through Kansas City, and finally crossed into Iowa. The temperature outside was still 43 degrees with drizzle, and absolutely no color in the trees. It was lunch time, and a Maid Rite sign seemed like an appropriate meal when in Iowa. However, Barb missed Exit 90, forcing me to admit that it was time to ‘take a break’, and we pulled into the Lamoni Rest Area. It wasn’t until we were almost to Des Moines that we saw a splash of tree color.  We finally had lunch at a Burger King in Ankeny, Iowa; the Whopper Juniors and fries were actually very fresh, but certainly not as unique as a Maid Rite. The car needed gas, and a Phillips 66 was handy. Even though we had just had lunch, Barb picked up a pumpkin spice latte “in honor of the fall weather”.  

The temp was hovering at 42 degrees with wet roads as we approached Minnesota, and we celebrated a 24000 mile kiss just after the Iowa – Minnesota border. A stop north of Owatonna at Cabela’s yielded a new sleeping bag, lightweight long underwear, and some fish seasoning. 35W became 35E and although we were slowed slightly in St Paul, we hit North Branch at 6:15 p.m.; just over 12 hours total time. We had a meat and potatoes style supper with Miranda and Joe at the Kaffe Stuga, with Stuga meaning shop or house.

Greg, Jordan, and Taylor had made it to North Branch, and we all gathered in our room for conversation and laughs. Some sampled wine. It was time to call it a night. We will meet at the bakery at 8:00 a.m.

Early sleep came easily. Late sleep was more elusive. But we were up early enough to get the mailbox key and check Box 102 at the new North Branch Post Office. Large snowflakes and 34 degrees heartily greeted us today, so yesterdays 43 degrees almost seems balmy. We picked up the rest of the groceries from the house, and made it to the bakery before 8:00 a.m. Jerry and Ron were in their respective chairs; Ellis was soon to join the group and sat in his chair. All eleven of the Nelson clan soon filled up the chairs; Dad would have really enjoyed having them all here with him. Charlie joined Ron at his table. Retired schoolteacher Ron Proulx came through the bakery door; I don’t know if I had ever seen him in here. Mr. Proulx was my high school English teacher, and is the primary reason I like to write. He was at Dad’s funeral. I notice that nobody is doing refills today; on Friday the gang apparently must wait for a lady that always comes in for an order because she fills the cups. What a classic routine.

We head back to the house to drop off Greg’s car and throw the rest of the gear into whatever car has room. We head north at 8:30 a.m., get out first view of Lake Superior about 10:00 am. Lake Superior is big by any standard, and is ranked as the largest freshwater lake in the world by area and holds 10% of the world’s surface fresh water.  Can anyone relate to 3 quadrillion gallons?  We stop at Duluth’s Canal Park and check out the Maritime Museum, and notice that this is the 50^th anniversary of the St. Lawrence Seaway. We check out the Duluth Pack Store. I would love to have a reason to buy more gear in here but don’t. After a few additional stores we are off to Two Harbors and then Betty’s Pies for lunch.      

Barb and I stop at the Superior Hiking Trail office and store in Two Harbors to drop off some memorials for Dad. Somehow Glove Overlook comes up, and I tell the story of how this rock outcropping on the Superior Hiking Trail came to be named that. Greg and Mark were in their very early teens, and Dad and I were determined to create some sort of marker on this overlook of the Poplar River valley. We had discovered this spot on one of our alder brush episodes, and had named it Old Baldy. We ended up putting a bright orange glove on top of a tall pole. When the Superior Hiking Trail came through, local hikers had already dubbed it Glove Overlook.                    

We joined the others at Betty’s Pies. This is a very popular diner a few miles north of Two Harbors, and as the name implies, is famous for their pies. Greg, Mark, Joe, and I tried one of their Beef Pasties and it was delicious. Barb bought two pies for later – a rhubarb raspberry crunch and an apple crunch.

Next on the agenda was Gooseberry Falls and I took a number of fun family pictures. It was drizzling so Joe didn’t take his camera out of the car. We were off again, and a roadside pull off gave us our first glimpse of nearly 100 year old Split Rock Lighthouse, certainly one that has been in a lot of camera viewfinders. We drove on to the Split Rock Lighthouse Visitors Center, and after paying for eleven admissions, enjoyed the additional photo opportunities, especially after descending 171 stairs to the bottom of the 100 foot cliff the lighthouse sits on. We took a long trail back.

It was time to head to the Lutsen Lodge and get checked in. We encountered some significantly muddy and extremely rough road construction, and I was not impressed. The car went from white to brown in a heartbeat. Will the Lutsen Lodge provide car wash tokens? I doubt it. We check in, and have four units in the 540 condo overlooking Lake Superior. We unload the cars and get situated for a few days.

Dinner is meatballs over noodles with corn, jellied cranberries, and Della’s homemade bread and grape jelly. We will have pie later. The kids went swimming and it gets very quiet in our main condo.

We awoke Friday to more rain and drizzle, and snow in the hills away from the lake. Barb made a good egg dish and cinnamon rolls with frosting. We got our respective hiking and deer shack overnight gear ready and headed out. We turned left off highway 61 on the Caribou Trail, and then another left on the Honeymoon Trail, then another left on the Barker Lake Road, and then a right down the power line right of way to Wild Country Maple Syrup. We had an opportunity to view the barn where the sugar maple is boiled down – it takes 40 gallons of raw maple sap to make 1 gallon of maple syrup. The season lasts 4 or 5 weeks, and during that time it is 24/7 in terms of keeping the sap running. We purchased a fine mix of goods for ourselves and the kids.

Barker Lake is a traditional group photo opportunity, and this year would be no different. The snow was thick on the roads and trails and I think will make this year stand out. This is always fun, and I have so many good memories of fishing and camping with Dad on this lake, plus numerous hikes grouse hunting with the boys.

We drove to the township road that will lead us to the deer shack, parked the cars, and loaded up. I think everyone except Jacob and Rebecca had a pack, and we all had hiking sticks. Mark was using the hiking stick that he had given Dad, so his walking spirit was with us. We knew cousin Randy Nelson was planning to be at the shack this weekend hunting grouse, and when we reached the shack is a little less than an hour, we were greeted by three hunters and their very excited dogs. After some introductory and get acquainted conversation, we ate the sandwiches that the boys had made after breakfast. They sure tasted good!

We took some group photos and the girls headed back to the car (and then to Moose Madness in Grand Marias), and the boys, who would be staying overnight, headed the opposite direction down the Superior Hiking Trail toward Agnes Lake. We followed the Poplar River and then turned into the ‘black forest’. The trail out was slippery and wet and muddy but Jacob, Mark, Greg, Joe and I managed to keep going.  It was all uphill. We entered the mature maple forest, white with snow, but bright green in foliage. I have never seen it this way.

We climbed to the first of three lookout vantage point where we could look over the Poplar River valley. The white roof of the deer shack seemed to line up directly with Glove Overlook. I like to see a little smoke coming out of the chimney when I am deer hunting and make this hike; it makes me warm just thinking about it, and I imagine Howard cooking something special for dinner. Joe is impressed. A lone hiker and camper catches up with us, and we chat a while. He lives in the Twin Cities, but was originally from England, and plans to camp at Agnes or beyond. We continue on to Lake Agnes. A light rainfall is evident on the water, and Greg cannot resist interrupting the otherwise stillness of the lake by skipping rocks. The chances of seeing a beaver emerge from its dam are greatly diminished. We head back toward the shack, and after hiking uphill to the vistas, we have nothing but downhill left. We meet and talk to a couple who are obviously camping along the trail as well, and I am glad we have a warm shack to use in this cold rain.

The walk is (or seems) much quicker back to the shack. I decide I better make the “manwich” mix we had planned for dinner before the hunters want to use the kitchen, and clean up a cast iron fry pan to brown the hamburger. It turns out pretty good, and Jake has two sandwiches with chips.

The hunters show the finer points of cleaning grouse to Joe. They had had a pretty successful day by getting eight grouse, mostly on the east side of the river. Rod is the cook and after cleaning out the fry pan that I had used, breads and browns the birds, plus makes some rice and fresh squash. When you have a three wheeler to bring your gear in, you can obviously plan a little more for dinner!

We did get to enjoy some of their “surplus” grouse, and Joe was impressed with the taste and texture, despite the fact that his last piece had a couple of steel or lead shot in it. I pulled out the National Air and Space Museum surprise of freeze dried ice cream treats, and have to admit they were pretty weak. Space cuisine apparently is less that stellar.

Jake defeats everyone through the rounds of the card game War, and takes on Joe. Joe proves to be a “worthy opponent” and holds his own against the shack War champion Jake. A truce was called a little after 9:00 p.m., and we readied ourselves for bed. Ruby, Randy’s dog, was already curled up in my new sleeping bag, and I happily allowed her to be my warm bed partner. All lights were out at 9:20 p.m.

Although one might assume that eight men in four double bunks could get noisy, in many ways it was quiet. Yes, while there may have been an occasional and unintentional sleep fart and sharing of muted snores, the most noise was Greg talking in his sleep. Jacob did a little too much squirming and lost his sleeping bag sometime in the night, but it was recovered. A couple of people got up during the night to check the stars. I got up at 6:15 a.m. to make a fire (it was 45 degrees inside – quite mild), but nobody really got up until about 7:15 a.m. after the light came through the two small windows. 

I let Rod have the kitchen first; his bacon and pancakes looked very good. I followed by frying spam and eggs – over medium for most but specially scrambled for Jake. Everyone seemed pleased! After heating up water, Mark and I washed all the dishes. We lined up the hunters for a group photo, and then the boys headed for Glove Overlook, an uphill hike that took us a little less than 30 minutes. The snow was slippery on top, and after a couple of photos, we headed back. The campers at Poplar West were just getting ready to leave camp, and even their little wolf dog was carrying a pack. We loaded up at the shack and headed down the trail and township road toward  the car, an uphill trip that should take us right at an hour.  It was far more uphill than we could remember coming in; it was if the earth had tilted on our account. The car came into view, and we gladly threw our packs into the back. Jake got out of his shredded rain pants with a little help.

I stopped at John Lyght’s house and Mrs. Lyght answered the door. John was one of Dad’s special north country friends, and had been the County Sherriff for many years. He was a black man, and his family was one of the hard working pioneer families of this area. John had helped the deer gang on a number of occasions, and Dad and Clifford had helped him. His house was always immaculate. Mrs. Lyght said she had the flu when she answered the door, and advised me not to come in. John was not doing well these days, and was spending a lot of time in bed on oxygen. I told her who I was and that Dad has always thought of John as a good friend, and that Dad had died on October 5. She thanked me for letting her know, and she would pass the news to John.

We were back to the condo, and they were obviously bored without us. Barb was frying fresh crappies, and all windows were open. Some of the campers had immediately taken showers and were looking and feeling better. The fish was excellent.

Now that the men were home, we had to head out and do something fun! The Lutsen gondolas were calling us, and we took the trip to the top. Thankfully, the Alpine Slide had just opened, and the line was forever long, and nobody felt like waiting. We headed for the Cascade River for a hike. The river was certainly lower than it was two years ago, but years of running water had indeed carved some nice pools and falls. Miranda and Joe wanted to continue further up the trail, and I was beat, so we agreed to take Jake and Rebecca back to the condo. Mark, Stacy, Greg, Jordan, and Taylor would catch up to Joe and Miranda and then bring them back. That idea didn’t work too well when Joe and Miranda took a side trail and the rest never caught up to them. It all ended okay.

Dinner was potato sausage and venison and jellied cranberries and mashed potatoes and gravy and corn. Barb had outdone herself again, and the Danish Dessert (or optional remaining Betty’s Pies) topped it off. I retreated to the bedroom to write and relax; just one room removed from the family noise and activity.     

After dinner the children were sent to the arcade with a bag of quarters, and silence settled in. I guess we are getting so used to the empty nest syndrome we have perhaps forgotten what it is like to have everyone talking over each other. I don’t recall the one room shack at 12 feet by 16 feet with eight people ever being noisy. Perhaps that is why we were sent “to the basement” as kids! We headed to the beach bonfire for s’mores. The kids had a good time burning the marshmallows, and Stacy showed off with her high-tech marshmallow roaster. It was a black no moon sky with the white waves building and then crashing on the shoreline. I think I heard someone say that there were 191 stairs to the condo from the beach.  

Apparently Miranda wanted Barb’s world famous bean dip, and Barb was happy to oblige. Do we really need more food? Apparently we did!

Everyone went to bed while the Yankees – LA game was still on, and since the game didn’t finish until the 13^th inning, I doubt anyone stayed up to the end. We were up about 7:00 a.m. and began loading the vehicles right after a light breakfast of cereal and juice. We were on the road about 8:30 a.m., and in North Branch about 4.5 hours later.

Doug showed up just after we arrived, and the whole family pitched in to put on Dad’s / Grandpa’s storm windows. The clan left and Doug and Barb and I did a house search – not sure for what – perhaps forgotten but treasured memories, perhaps just treasures….who knows. Cathy had done a good job of cleaning out most of Dad’s clothes. We talked to Dave Ambers, locked things up, and headed south.

The Vikings won because the other team missed a last second field goal, but a win is a win and that makes it 6 straight. We stopped for the night at a Holiday Inn Express just north of Des Moines, IA, and shared a dinner of a salad, filet and coconut shrimp at The Outback, finishing of a gift card the kids had gotten us for Christmas. I figured Tulsa would be a strong seven hours on Monday, but with an early start I bet I can even get to the office for an hour or two!

We were up about 6:20 a.m., and on the road less than hour later. Driving was uneventful except for the extreme headwind that was blowing warm temperatures in. Sometime on this day we celebrated a 25000 mile kiss, celebrating another 1000 miles of car travel together. Lunch was a buffet at Sharon’s Restaurant in Jasper, MO, very much not a chain. We made Tulsa about 3:30 p.m., greeted the boys, and unpacked. Our trip had been right at 2000 miles.

Time marches on, and if we are not careful, we will march without making memories. This has been quite an October.                  

                                                               

I don’t know if anyone looks forward to the visitation and funeral, except perhaps someone who feels ready to die. Dad was certainly ready to live, but was not afraid of dying either. He knew it wasn’t his call. The family wasn’t ready, that’s for sure, but in the end it was just what we needed.

There is something very final about seeing someone in a coffin, no matter how good they are made up. Dad looked good, perhaps because he lived and died peacefully, but he was still dead. I had wondered if he would look like he did when he slept quietly on his back in the deer shack. He did, but his color was slightly different. His white hair appeared to be combed wrong, but efforts to smooth it the right way were fruitless. He wouldn’t have cared.      

Pastor Mike Jacobson and Pastor Rebecca Thurman started the private part of the visitation with a lovely prayer, one that offered comfort and reminded us of the faith that got Dad to this point. It is amazing how powerful and personal the scriptures can be at a time like this.

People began streaming in before 5:00 p.m., and their words and stories were very comforting. Dad obviously touched more people and had more caring friends than we were even aware of. When one gets to be 96 years old, you really don’t know how far your life activity still reaches out. The visitation was good for us.

The funeral was scheduled for 11:00 am on Friday October 9. The family was asked to be present by 10:00 am, as were the casket bearers. We had asked Ellis, Jerry, and Ron to represent his coffee shop gang, and Dave, Dan, and Bob to represent his golfing friends. All of them were honored to serve their friend in such a way.

It was reassuring to see so many people stream into the church for a final viewing and funeral service. Again, their words were comforting and memorable, and stories both treasured and consistent with the man we knew as Dad.

I said my good bye to Dad and thanked him for being the man he was. The immediate and extended family gathered in the chapel area, where both Pastor Mike and Pastor Rebecca again quoted appropriate and powerful scripture. Despite the fact that their relationship with Dad was different because of the time they knew him, they both found a way to connect in their own way. We lined up to follow the closed casket into the church, and sat on Dad’s side.

The gathering hymn was “Faith of Our Fathers” followed by a greeting to the nearly full church. This was to be a celebration of a life well lived. Pastor Mike Jacobson, who was not yet ordained, was wonderful in his eulogy. He had been the assistant pastor (while still in seminary) during the last year, and had the opportunity to develop a relationship with Dad during that time, plus had played golf with him. One can only hope that there is a bond established between parishioner and pastor when it is necessary to do a eulogy or homily, and he was definitely connected.

Readings of the familiar 23^rd Psalm and Chapter 4 of 1 Thessalonians (We are comforted because we will all be together in Christ) were followed by trumpet trio doing “Count Your Blessings” that lifted us and kept in the spirit of celebration.  Pastor Rebecca read John 14 (Jesus said “I am the way and the truth and the life”) and delivered a homily that was certainly more intuitive because of her short time at Dad’s church, yet still very much on the mark. Dad had told her on her first day that he would “let her know how things were going”. “In the Garden”, a song that Dad enjoyed and we believe would have selected, was sung. The service ended with The Lord’s Prayer, and we filed out to trumpets playing “Onward Christian Soldiers”.  

The final step to this journey was the trip to the cemetery where Dad was buried next to his wife and our Mother, who died on July 24, 2000.  A rifle salute and taps by the American Legion, the presentation of the American Flag, and the final words were said. A lunch prepared by the ladies, with cookies from the bakery, waited for us back at Trinity in the Fellowship Hall, where we could appropriately greet and thank those who felt both our sorrow and joy of faith because they, too, were connected to Dad.

Although we may never really know, I believe Dad would have been pleased with the visitation and service, and especially with the conversations and stories that followed. It was a good day, for a good man, who led a good life.                               

Everett A. Nelson / September 13, 1913 – October 5, 2009

Dad was part of what Tom Brokaw called The Greatest Generation, a description that fits a great many in his age group, and a great many that came from this area. He enlisted in the Army in April 1941, before Pearl Harbor, and went overseas a year later. After training in England, Scotland, and Ireland, he served in some very difficult European and Africa campaigns, and came home in 1945. Like most of those who served, he seldom talked about his experiences. It wasn’t until recently that we were even aware of a WWII journal he kept. What is perhaps most revealing about his journal entries is that he appears to have been the same man then as we have known for our time with him, giving blood to the Red Cross, making a point of going to church, working hard, expecting the most from the crew he was in charge of, doing what was necessary for the good of the cause, and seldom complaining. He was married to our Mother after the war, and then called to Korea in 1950-1951 serving in the same way. What he did delight in and discuss were the friendships that bonded these men together, and he was a faithful attendee to reunions of his fellow soldiers, and was simply a respectful friend to those who served at the same time he did.

His work ethic, no doubt established long ago on the farm he grew up west and south of North Branch, was evident in whatever he did. He was a respected auto and tractor mechanic for well over thirty years for Clayton Anderson Ford, and when he retired from that role in 1978 at age 65, he immediately went to work as the volunteer greens keeper for the North Branch Golf Club, a job that kept him busy mowing in the summer and cutting down oak trees and splitting wood in the winter. He loved this outdoor job, and was devoted to the work of improving the golf course as much as he knew how over the next fifteen or more years. He simply was not one that could or would relax indoors very long.

In terms of doing whatever was necessary for the good of the cause, he quietly volunteered his time for the Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, North Branch Volunteer Fire Department, and his church. In recent years, he volunteered at Green Acres Country Care Center and The Villages, walking and/or wheeling residents, almost always younger than he, to Sunday chapel services. Perhaps he did this because he was so grateful for his good health, but no matter why, he made this a part of his Sunday routine until the very last day of his life.  Dad was honored to be the Grand Marshall of the 2007 Midsummer Parade, and humbly credited that honor to just living as long as he did. Despite that humility, he heard the greetings along the parade route, and did a pretty fair job of waving!

You could often see Dad with his daughter Cathy at area festivals and dinners, events such as the Almelund Apple Festival, Harris Turkey Dinner, Rock Creek Threshing Party, Kost Lutefisk Dinner, Fire Department Smelt Fry, and others. I would often hear the details of these events, and while the food and details were discussed, the real treat was almost always about what old acquaintance he had a chance to visit with. He always seemed surprised that they remembered him. The true highlights were always about the people of this area who have so much in common, who have lives that are intermixed by more than the geography.         

The family did a lot of weekend camping, and St Croix State Park and Jay Cooke State Park were two places we camped a lot. We always camped in tents, and without question these tents were far better than the tents used during WWII.  I am not so sure if the sleeping bags we used were. When the family took their summer vacations of a week or more, it was with a tent, and we lashed everything under a tarp in the home made top carrier. Doug and I were responsible for lashing the tarp tightly, using what seemed like several hundred feet of rope, and I am confident that there was no canvas flapping in the wind as we drove the highways. Meals were always made on the side of the road at some wayside rest, and picture stops were frequent. Those times on the road remain ripe fodder for stories that made the family laugh over the years, and are directly linked to family vacations taken today.        

Dad loved the North Shore of Lake Superior, and was very much at home in the area he loved to hunt and fish near Lutsen, Minnesota. Dad certainly isn’t the only person in Minnesota who loves to hunt deer, but his enthusiasm and joy of camp camaraderie is contagious. The Nelson “boys” used the annual October MEA school vacation to hunt grouse, and make sure things were ready for deer camp. Dad was the chief mechanic and driver for the modified Model A truck chassis that was affectionately called “the grasshopper”, a machine that carried a weeks worth of gear and supplies through a river and the mud and swamp to The Deer Shack, which he helped build in 1940. While this shack is primitive in every respect, it is a castle after a day shivering in a tree waiting for the buck to come by. Dad always found a way to crawl up a slippery birch tree and stand in an uncomfortable position for hours. He never owned a tree stand. Dad had great eyes for deer, and he liked to remind us that “if the 30-30 barks, there is meat on the table”. While he hadn’t hunted deer because of poor eyesight for a while now, I don’t think he ever missed a deer camp if there was a season and he was in Minnesota, and he started hunting in this area in 1932! The 2009 deer camp will have a very different feel to it, but I am confident that he would derive great joy in the fact that something he enjoyed so much and helped establish will continue to be enjoyed by family and friends.  

While Dad couldn’t be called an aging athlete, he was a real sports fan, and an avid follower of the Minnesota Twins baseball and Minnesota Gophers basketball teams. He talked about the Twins, and had comments about some of their relief pitchers, but was always ready for another game. He was looking forward to the extra game the Twins would play this year, but probably wouldn’t have stayed with it to the end as it ended well past his bedtime! He would have walked into the bakery and asked how it ended.                 

Dad was the last one in the family to take up golf, but I believe he enjoys it more than any of us. He has a few trophies scattered in the basement and on the porch, including one for a hole in one, and one for the Minnesota Senior Amateur Championship Low Net Champion Flight – Age 70 & Over, which still impresses me. He loved the quiet competition, a good shot made, and the sound of a putt dropping in the hole, especially in the last year or so when he claimed his vision was poor. He played in one or two competitive golf leagues into his nineties, and he was especially happy if he was able to get a few points off the better players, but never upset if he was “rim-racked” by one. There was always a little joy derived when he would get points from someone taller and younger, and well, that was just about everyone. Again, it was really the simple joy of competitive camaraderie, of being with people who enjoyed what he enjoyed. Our regular Sunday phone calls often centered on a birdie or a par made, and who he had been able to play with during the week. Pastor Tom was finally able to schedule a round with Dad. That experience became part of Toms “top five” experiences he spoke about during his last Sunday as Trinity’s interim Pastor. What a feeling that must have been for Dad! In recent years his daily golf started at noon with a very special group of golfing partners, and they have been the real treasures discovered because of golf, and another great joy in his life. They were an extension of family.            

Dad was a creature of habit and routine, and his neighbors knew he was always up around 5:30 am doing his chores and making his oatmeal. Wouldn’t it be nice if all neighborhoods knew your habits and would watch out for you? If it was 7:40 am, you could see him hiking up the hill a block, turning right for a block, cutting through the parking lot behind the barber shop (where he delighted in getting another free birthday haircut), crossing highway 95, and ending up at Koeps Village Bakery to have coffee and a cookie with friends new and old. Those friendships were a very special part of his life and day, and the daily stops at the bakery weren’t about having his coffee and cookie, it was about the social aspects of life. While I know he liked the attention, Dad was genuinely interested in other people, and cared about them. After coffee, he would check his mail, perhaps get a few groceries, and head home via a different route. Many people knew him only by those habits and routines. Isn’t it interesting that a man walking could become so interesting and unique? 

Walking was a simple joy, and if he could get there by foot, that was the preferred way. The car simply didn’t leave the garage if walking would get you there. Doug and I once walked with him from his boyhood home cross country to his country school in the dead of winter, and it provided a glimpse of what it was like for him to get to school. No wonder he was so proud of his perfect attendance certificate that hangs quietly in the basement. When his wife (and our Mother) was at Green Acres Country Care Center, he would faithfully walk cross country the two plus miles to have lunch with her every day – summer and winter. He would use snowshoes or skis if the snow was adequate. He knew he felt better and slept better with physical exercise.  

If you knew his wife, you would know that she has been gone for over nine years, and before that was at Green Acres for about four years, the result of long term Parkinson’s disease. We knew Dad as a loving husband, and I remember Mom and Dad kissing every day when he left for work and when he came home. His love and commitment never wavered, and when Mother required a wheelchair, he was never challenged by helping her get around. I can’t say I ever saw Dad in the kitchen growing up, but when Mother could no longer cook because of Parkinson’s, he learned to cook from her, and he became an excellent cook – and made pies equal of hers. He was up to the challenge of creating the traditional meal courses of a Thanksgiving or Christmas; being able to have the family together was a wonderful event for Dad. These actions reinforced the positive attitude of simply doing what needed to be done.         

If you know Dad from church, you know where he sat. I don’t think it’s a uniquely Lutheran trait, but all of us get comfortable in a certain pew if we go to church regularly. Dad has had a number of pew partners over the years, and whenever I have been able to visit Dad and attend church with him, I have witnessed them becoming friends. Having the congregation sing Happy Birthday to him on his 96^th birthday was very special, and wouldn’t it be nice if we all felt so loved. It is so nice to sit among friends in church, in Gods house. His pew will be lonely for a time, but will fill in with someone who will be very comfortable in that special spot.     

We never had a pet growing up. I don’t know why, and can’t even remember thinking we talked about wanting one. Dad has been surrounded by our pets in recent years, and we have all seen our pets switch allegiance just by pulling into his driveway. He has been the favored one for departed pets Buster, Lexington, and Patches, and Simon and Casey are his best friends today. Casey stayed faithfully by his side when Dad didn’t get up Monday morning. I think this switching of allegiance goes well beyond having a treat in your pocket; dogs can sense the love someone has for them, and that love is returned.        

We all understand the importance that family plays in having a quality of life. But we also know that while Dad cherished his family, he cherished his friends just as much. When the family disperses, and lives their own life, friends can become new family. While we don’t get to decide how long we get to live, I believe having a circle of caring friends can help create a purpose to move forward. The family is certainly grateful for all those who touched him and were a part of his life.    

When his oldest Grandson Greg was about 10 or 11, he had experienced a bit of a growth spurt, and playfully measured himself up to Grandpa. “Grandpa, he said, you are kind of short”. Greg has always been one to say whatever he is thinking, and he immediately added “But you’ll always be a big man to me Grandpa”. That statement hit me in a strange and powerful way, and I have kept it with me for over thirty years. 

If you measure big in heart, in the way one loves his wife and family, in the way you demonstrate a positive attitude, in the way you treasure a friend, in doing more than simply your share, in being content with who we are and generous with what we have, in doing good works quietly, and in having an unquestionable and unwavering faith in God, I’d like to think his family and friends will always think of Dad as just that, a big man.