I am speaking to some students at St. Olaf next week. I wanted to show part of a newsreport from 1972 that Geraldo Rivera did on the horrors that people with developmental disabilities experienced when they lived at Willowbrook School in New York. While looking for a clip, I found this blog, written by a daughter of a former resident of Willowbrook. This may just be the saddest thing I've ever read.
http://www.willowbrookstateschool.blogspot.com/p/voice-behind-wall-look-at-life-inside.html
Monday, March 25, 2013
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
My dad
On January 8th, 2012 I spent the day with my dad in the hospital. The entire weekend was difficult as my mom and I were coming to grips with the fact that he may be dying. When I first arrived at the hospital two days before, as soon as I saw him, tears began to well up in my eyes. On this day, we met with the doctor and he had talked to us about comfort care. This meant they would stop all of the anti-biotics and steroid treatments. They would continue for the time being with the oxygen mask. I waited for a few hours and said a heartfelt goodbye to dad. I won’t go into details here as this was a moment for my dad, mom, and I. What I will say was that dad was trying to get out of bed and I layed him back down, held his head in my arms and thanked him for being my dad.
I arrive home in Northfield about 7 pm and it was nice to see my wife and children. It felt like many weeks had passed since I saw them. The next morning my mom calls me at 6 am and says that dad had a rough night and asked me if we should turn the oxygen machine off (he was breathing on his own but the oxygen machine was making it easier). I asked her what dad would want. Mom said she was going to turn the machine off. Jody decides to drive to Fargo to say good bye to dad. She leaves by 630 am or so. Word on the street she drove 90 mph the whole way.
About 915 that morning I get a call from my mom saying dad had passed away. I debated if I should call Jody or not. I didn’t want her to end up crashing the vehicle but I wanted her to know. I decide to call her and inform her. Jody arrived at the hospital and held grandpa’s hand for an hour. She said he had sweat on the palms of his hands. I decide we will leave for Valley City the next morning and I call my son’s mother and ask her to bring him to Northfield. My other son rode with Jody to Fargo to keep her company. I leave work a little early and went home and tried to get some rest before I pick up my youngest daughter from day care. I hadn’t been sleeping much the last few nights. As I’m getting ready to leave, my son’s mother pulls into the drive way. Ethan unloads his things and rides along with me to get Ivy. Shortly after returning, my other daughters arrive home from school. I tell the four of them that grandpa had passed away this morning. As with most people, things were pretty much normal around the house until things had a chance to sink in. The next few hours were pretty much a blur. Jody arrives home and we discuss final plans for leaving. We need to get the oil changed on the van and Ivy has been running a fever since Saturday. I make appointments for those items to be done at 8 am the following morning. I lay awake most of the night remembering how dad’s fuzzy haired head felt when I held him in the hospital just one day before.
The next morning I take the van to get the oil changed and they tell me the brake pads need to be replaced. I don’t remember exactly how much but I think it was 360 total. I said I didn’t have time and left. The doctor tells Jody that Ivy’s fever should run its course but might be around for a week.
We leave for Valley City at approximately 10 am. The drive was uneventful and I find myself fighting back tears several times. My wife and I talk about dad and varying details about what’s going to happen.
We arrive at Valley City and before we go into my mom’s house I tell the kids to go give grandma a big hug. As I go through the motions, I find myself having a hard time believing dad is gone. Mom has a household full of people, and people come and drop off food throughout the day. I cannot believe the amount of food that people leave for us. My mom’s friend Jeanne is at the house, she always brightens a person’s day.
When we arrive, my uncle and aunt are on their way back from Fargo picking up my sister from the airport. I don’t have much of an extended family and my Uncle Bruce and Auntie Janet have always been like a set of second parents to me and it has been six years since I had seen them. Their four boys were the closest thing I ever had to brothers. Throughout the week we would say to one another how horrible it is that it had been six years since we had seen each other and that it shouldn’t take the death of a family member to bring us all together. My Auntie Janet was a tremendous support to me all week and my family became close with her and Bruce in such a short period of time. I find myself missing them also.
I kept expecting dad to walk through the door, thinking he had to get a gallon of milk at the store or something. Then I remember, dad is gone and I feel sadness.
As I said people would stop by, people I haven’t seen in many years. Some were families of people my sister and I graduated from high school with. Mostly, they were friends of my parents. One of my dad’s friends, Mary, told the story about how she was pregnant and golfing with dad and was due on that exact day. Dad told her that if she goes into labor that he has a band aid in his golf bag. We joked that had Mary gone into labor, dad would have driven off on his golf cart leaving Mary on the number 9 green, waving as he speeds off, yelling that he will send help.
On Wednesday my mom, wife, sister, and I go to the funeral home and meet with the funeral home director and the pastor to get the details of the service ironed out. I hate talking about all of the details involved but I say nothing to mom as this is a tough time for her. We pick out the announcements and the prayer that goes on the back. The funeral director reads us the obituary that dad wrote himself some time ago. Dad always had a way of being very funny when he wrote. I feel tears well up in my eyes as I hear it. The funeral home director talks about the military rights at a funeral. He tells us, as he gets choked up, that he has a difficult time talking about this. I find out later he was a marine.
We leave and go to the flower shop. I pace around the inside of the shop as flowers aren’t my thing and I want to get the hell out of there. We pick out the flowers and have a caption attached to them titled, “I’ve been sociable long enough.”
My sister, when she was in college, had a friend over for dinner at my folk’s house. Upon finishing eating, after about ten seconds of visiting dad says, “Well, I’ve been sociable long enough.” He proceeds to get up and go into the living room and watch t.v.
We spend the rest of the next two days eating, taking care of sick little Ivy, crying, laughing, and being a family.
There is a toy that Ivy plays with, but only grandpa. She brought the toy out to the living room and set it on his chair. Another time she pointed to his chair and said “Boppa”, which is her word for grandpa.
Thursday night a group called Relay for Life, a cancer awareness group that both my parents are a part of, cooked for all of us, about 30 people or so, a roast beef dinner at my mom and dad’s church.
At the dinner I visit with relatives, friends, and people I haven’t seen in a while. Auntie Janet’s sister says to me, “Mitch you look good.” I tell her if I was my father’s son I’d say, “Your Damn right I do.” Marie laughs at my remark. One big difference between my dad and me is that when I say something like that, I wonder if the person knows I’m joking. Dad wouldn’t care if the person thought he was serious or not.
We sort of loitered in the lobby of the church for a few hours greeting people who would come to pay their respects. Me and my sister’s former band teacher stopped by. A classmate of mine’s mother was was telling my kids how her son wore number 33 and I wore number 88 on the football team.
During the prayer service, people were encouraged to get up and tell funny stories about dad. My cousin Chris said that the three things he learned from Uncle Bob were that the greens at the golf course in Valley City always slope towards the river, to always eat your desert first, and that someone always has to guard the presents on Christmas Eve (so you could stay home from church). Dad’s friend Lynn from the bank talked about how dad would create chaos when he would stop into the bank, a fun sort of chaos. She also talked about how dad would ride with her and her husband Steve to basketball games and how dad would make them laugh the whole way.
People would tell me how unbelievable of a person my dad was. I was surprised by this, not because he wasn’t unbelievable but I always thought of him as just my dad. Dad had a positive impact on many people’s lives that I didn’t realize.
When we met with the pastor and the funeral director, I asked if I could speak at either the prayer service or the funeral. The pastor said the funeral will probably be more appropriate. I told him I wasn’t sure if I will be able to get through it. At the funeral I spoke about how dad was a man of high integrity and honesty. He would speak his mind sometimes without taking into consideration how he might be say things.
I ended my speech with about how dad was now probably golfing with Jesus and that dad freely gave told Jesus that if he has better follow through on his swing he will add about 30 yards to his drive. Having the best intentions but not realizing he is talking to the Son of God. It would only be funny if you knew my dad. I think I must have done a good job talking about my dad as several people told me so. I felt almost uncomfortable hearing their praise as I didn’t want to be taking away from why we were there. However, when you are as good a speaker as I am, praise and adoration comes naturally (that’s my dad talking I think). I thought dad would be proud to have his son speak about him.
Dad hadn’t drunk alcohol in over 20 years. A buddy of his owned a bar and often dad would drink diet coke and watch sporting events 'downtown'. This friend was at the funeral and I ask him if my sister, cousins and I can watch the Sioux Gopher hockey game at his bar that night. It seems a little strange that we went to a bar but honest to goodness, dad would have wanted that, that his kids and nephews spend time together, in fact, dad would have wanted to be there. The owner of the bar had a secluded area with a big screen tv and several couches and chairs for all of us to sit on. After the first period, I stand up and make a toast to my dad. Dad always told my cousins he was famous uncle Bob. So he became known to them as F U Bob. After my toast, my cousin Chris says, “F U Bob” I then say, “F U Dad” and my mom ends with “F U husband.” It was nice to laugh together.
It has been almost a month since his funeral and I have found that life does continue to go on. We have to return to work, we have to return to school. Just because I am feeling sad doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have to change diapers or make supper. I avoid looking at dad’s picture at home. The kids, Jody, and I talk about grandpa a little less but he is on my mind almost constantly. Do I wish he was still with us? Yes and no. I feel sad because he is gone but understand that he is in a better place. My two year old daughter still points at his picture and says, “Boppa”.
I arrive home in Northfield about 7 pm and it was nice to see my wife and children. It felt like many weeks had passed since I saw them. The next morning my mom calls me at 6 am and says that dad had a rough night and asked me if we should turn the oxygen machine off (he was breathing on his own but the oxygen machine was making it easier). I asked her what dad would want. Mom said she was going to turn the machine off. Jody decides to drive to Fargo to say good bye to dad. She leaves by 630 am or so. Word on the street she drove 90 mph the whole way.
About 915 that morning I get a call from my mom saying dad had passed away. I debated if I should call Jody or not. I didn’t want her to end up crashing the vehicle but I wanted her to know. I decide to call her and inform her. Jody arrived at the hospital and held grandpa’s hand for an hour. She said he had sweat on the palms of his hands. I decide we will leave for Valley City the next morning and I call my son’s mother and ask her to bring him to Northfield. My other son rode with Jody to Fargo to keep her company. I leave work a little early and went home and tried to get some rest before I pick up my youngest daughter from day care. I hadn’t been sleeping much the last few nights. As I’m getting ready to leave, my son’s mother pulls into the drive way. Ethan unloads his things and rides along with me to get Ivy. Shortly after returning, my other daughters arrive home from school. I tell the four of them that grandpa had passed away this morning. As with most people, things were pretty much normal around the house until things had a chance to sink in. The next few hours were pretty much a blur. Jody arrives home and we discuss final plans for leaving. We need to get the oil changed on the van and Ivy has been running a fever since Saturday. I make appointments for those items to be done at 8 am the following morning. I lay awake most of the night remembering how dad’s fuzzy haired head felt when I held him in the hospital just one day before.
The next morning I take the van to get the oil changed and they tell me the brake pads need to be replaced. I don’t remember exactly how much but I think it was 360 total. I said I didn’t have time and left. The doctor tells Jody that Ivy’s fever should run its course but might be around for a week.
We leave for Valley City at approximately 10 am. The drive was uneventful and I find myself fighting back tears several times. My wife and I talk about dad and varying details about what’s going to happen.
We arrive at Valley City and before we go into my mom’s house I tell the kids to go give grandma a big hug. As I go through the motions, I find myself having a hard time believing dad is gone. Mom has a household full of people, and people come and drop off food throughout the day. I cannot believe the amount of food that people leave for us. My mom’s friend Jeanne is at the house, she always brightens a person’s day.
When we arrive, my uncle and aunt are on their way back from Fargo picking up my sister from the airport. I don’t have much of an extended family and my Uncle Bruce and Auntie Janet have always been like a set of second parents to me and it has been six years since I had seen them. Their four boys were the closest thing I ever had to brothers. Throughout the week we would say to one another how horrible it is that it had been six years since we had seen each other and that it shouldn’t take the death of a family member to bring us all together. My Auntie Janet was a tremendous support to me all week and my family became close with her and Bruce in such a short period of time. I find myself missing them also.
I kept expecting dad to walk through the door, thinking he had to get a gallon of milk at the store or something. Then I remember, dad is gone and I feel sadness.
As I said people would stop by, people I haven’t seen in many years. Some were families of people my sister and I graduated from high school with. Mostly, they were friends of my parents. One of my dad’s friends, Mary, told the story about how she was pregnant and golfing with dad and was due on that exact day. Dad told her that if she goes into labor that he has a band aid in his golf bag. We joked that had Mary gone into labor, dad would have driven off on his golf cart leaving Mary on the number 9 green, waving as he speeds off, yelling that he will send help.
On Wednesday my mom, wife, sister, and I go to the funeral home and meet with the funeral home director and the pastor to get the details of the service ironed out. I hate talking about all of the details involved but I say nothing to mom as this is a tough time for her. We pick out the announcements and the prayer that goes on the back. The funeral director reads us the obituary that dad wrote himself some time ago. Dad always had a way of being very funny when he wrote. I feel tears well up in my eyes as I hear it. The funeral home director talks about the military rights at a funeral. He tells us, as he gets choked up, that he has a difficult time talking about this. I find out later he was a marine.
We leave and go to the flower shop. I pace around the inside of the shop as flowers aren’t my thing and I want to get the hell out of there. We pick out the flowers and have a caption attached to them titled, “I’ve been sociable long enough.”
My sister, when she was in college, had a friend over for dinner at my folk’s house. Upon finishing eating, after about ten seconds of visiting dad says, “Well, I’ve been sociable long enough.” He proceeds to get up and go into the living room and watch t.v.
We spend the rest of the next two days eating, taking care of sick little Ivy, crying, laughing, and being a family.
There is a toy that Ivy plays with, but only grandpa. She brought the toy out to the living room and set it on his chair. Another time she pointed to his chair and said “Boppa”, which is her word for grandpa.
Thursday night a group called Relay for Life, a cancer awareness group that both my parents are a part of, cooked for all of us, about 30 people or so, a roast beef dinner at my mom and dad’s church.
At the dinner I visit with relatives, friends, and people I haven’t seen in a while. Auntie Janet’s sister says to me, “Mitch you look good.” I tell her if I was my father’s son I’d say, “Your Damn right I do.” Marie laughs at my remark. One big difference between my dad and me is that when I say something like that, I wonder if the person knows I’m joking. Dad wouldn’t care if the person thought he was serious or not.
We sort of loitered in the lobby of the church for a few hours greeting people who would come to pay their respects. Me and my sister’s former band teacher stopped by. A classmate of mine’s mother was was telling my kids how her son wore number 33 and I wore number 88 on the football team.
During the prayer service, people were encouraged to get up and tell funny stories about dad. My cousin Chris said that the three things he learned from Uncle Bob were that the greens at the golf course in Valley City always slope towards the river, to always eat your desert first, and that someone always has to guard the presents on Christmas Eve (so you could stay home from church). Dad’s friend Lynn from the bank talked about how dad would create chaos when he would stop into the bank, a fun sort of chaos. She also talked about how dad would ride with her and her husband Steve to basketball games and how dad would make them laugh the whole way.
People would tell me how unbelievable of a person my dad was. I was surprised by this, not because he wasn’t unbelievable but I always thought of him as just my dad. Dad had a positive impact on many people’s lives that I didn’t realize.
When we met with the pastor and the funeral director, I asked if I could speak at either the prayer service or the funeral. The pastor said the funeral will probably be more appropriate. I told him I wasn’t sure if I will be able to get through it. At the funeral I spoke about how dad was a man of high integrity and honesty. He would speak his mind sometimes without taking into consideration how he might be say things.
I ended my speech with about how dad was now probably golfing with Jesus and that dad freely gave told Jesus that if he has better follow through on his swing he will add about 30 yards to his drive. Having the best intentions but not realizing he is talking to the Son of God. It would only be funny if you knew my dad. I think I must have done a good job talking about my dad as several people told me so. I felt almost uncomfortable hearing their praise as I didn’t want to be taking away from why we were there. However, when you are as good a speaker as I am, praise and adoration comes naturally (that’s my dad talking I think). I thought dad would be proud to have his son speak about him.
Dad hadn’t drunk alcohol in over 20 years. A buddy of his owned a bar and often dad would drink diet coke and watch sporting events 'downtown'. This friend was at the funeral and I ask him if my sister, cousins and I can watch the Sioux Gopher hockey game at his bar that night. It seems a little strange that we went to a bar but honest to goodness, dad would have wanted that, that his kids and nephews spend time together, in fact, dad would have wanted to be there. The owner of the bar had a secluded area with a big screen tv and several couches and chairs for all of us to sit on. After the first period, I stand up and make a toast to my dad. Dad always told my cousins he was famous uncle Bob. So he became known to them as F U Bob. After my toast, my cousin Chris says, “F U Bob” I then say, “F U Dad” and my mom ends with “F U husband.” It was nice to laugh together.
It has been almost a month since his funeral and I have found that life does continue to go on. We have to return to work, we have to return to school. Just because I am feeling sad doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have to change diapers or make supper. I avoid looking at dad’s picture at home. The kids, Jody, and I talk about grandpa a little less but he is on my mind almost constantly. Do I wish he was still with us? Yes and no. I feel sad because he is gone but understand that he is in a better place. My two year old daughter still points at his picture and says, “Boppa”.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
One Ring To Rule Them All....
This phrase has been made famous by the Lord of the Rings books and more recently the movies. I thought of this phrase as I was driving back from my mom’s house on Labor Day.
My dad sold insurance for several years when I was a kid. His boss was an incredible person and always went the extra mile for his ‘guys’. Probably ten years ago, long after my dad stopped selling insurance, my folks and Duane were going out for dinner, I told my mom to tell Duane how I admired how he treated his agents and this certainly influenced how I supervise people.
One of the things Duane did was give gold rings, paid for out of his own pocket, to agents who sold a certain amount of insurance. As a child, once I learned this, I thought my dad should get one of those rings as I thought it would be pretty cool. So for the next year I would check in with dad, pester him is probably a better word, about his progress on getting the ring. I think I started to really annoy him and he wanted to get his ring just so I would shut up.
That year, dad not only sold enough insurance to get his ring, but also sold enough to get a free trip to Tucson Arizona.
At the annual awards banquet, dad gave a speech where he talked about his quest to get the ring and that his son had turned into a ‘ring monster’, (just like Gollum). When dad was to receive his ring, Duane gave it to me and I presented it to dad. I can remember feeling very strange as everyone was standing and clapping. A kid doesn’t always realize the significance of what’s happening around him.
Not that it mattered to me when I received it but it was always understood that since I was the ring monster, the ring should eventually be worn on my finger. I was never in any kind of a rush to wear it as rings have a tendency to fall off my hand.
My dad has lung cancer, I wrote about it in a previous blog. One lung is cancer free but the other one is not. He will begin a regime of 10 straight days of radiation and then will probably have chemotherapy. He found this out this last Friday (I got to mom and dads on Saturday). While I was there I noticed his energy level was so low.
On Sunday, dad asked me to go for a drive. When dad says something like this, it is usually to try to give me $20 so the kids can get a ‘treat’ on the drive home. We drove in his convertible to the golf course, a place where we spent a lot of time when I was a child. He parked the car overlooking the first hole. We sit there for a minute talking about nothing really significant and out of no where he sets the ring on my leg and says, “Here, I want to give this to you now, before I die.” I immediately feel tears welling up in my eyes and I told him that, “I didn’t want the ring now as it seems like…”
He interrupts me and says, “That I’m going to die? Of course I’m going to die Mitchell (he always says Mitchell when he is serious) but not for a few years.” After a few minutes of and wiping away several tears, I slip the ring in my pocket. “You wear it if you want to but don’t lose it,” he says to me. I always planned on wearing it but thought it kind of strange if I put the ring on right there.
As we drive through the gravel parking lot of the golf course, heading home, dad says, “I can still kick your ass you know,”
Without missing a beat I say “Fat g%#damn chance of that happening.” I hear my dad laugh out loud and I know that we will all be ok.
My dad sold insurance for several years when I was a kid. His boss was an incredible person and always went the extra mile for his ‘guys’. Probably ten years ago, long after my dad stopped selling insurance, my folks and Duane were going out for dinner, I told my mom to tell Duane how I admired how he treated his agents and this certainly influenced how I supervise people.
One of the things Duane did was give gold rings, paid for out of his own pocket, to agents who sold a certain amount of insurance. As a child, once I learned this, I thought my dad should get one of those rings as I thought it would be pretty cool. So for the next year I would check in with dad, pester him is probably a better word, about his progress on getting the ring. I think I started to really annoy him and he wanted to get his ring just so I would shut up.
That year, dad not only sold enough insurance to get his ring, but also sold enough to get a free trip to Tucson Arizona.
At the annual awards banquet, dad gave a speech where he talked about his quest to get the ring and that his son had turned into a ‘ring monster’, (just like Gollum). When dad was to receive his ring, Duane gave it to me and I presented it to dad. I can remember feeling very strange as everyone was standing and clapping. A kid doesn’t always realize the significance of what’s happening around him.
Not that it mattered to me when I received it but it was always understood that since I was the ring monster, the ring should eventually be worn on my finger. I was never in any kind of a rush to wear it as rings have a tendency to fall off my hand.
My dad has lung cancer, I wrote about it in a previous blog. One lung is cancer free but the other one is not. He will begin a regime of 10 straight days of radiation and then will probably have chemotherapy. He found this out this last Friday (I got to mom and dads on Saturday). While I was there I noticed his energy level was so low.
On Sunday, dad asked me to go for a drive. When dad says something like this, it is usually to try to give me $20 so the kids can get a ‘treat’ on the drive home. We drove in his convertible to the golf course, a place where we spent a lot of time when I was a child. He parked the car overlooking the first hole. We sit there for a minute talking about nothing really significant and out of no where he sets the ring on my leg and says, “Here, I want to give this to you now, before I die.” I immediately feel tears welling up in my eyes and I told him that, “I didn’t want the ring now as it seems like…”
He interrupts me and says, “That I’m going to die? Of course I’m going to die Mitchell (he always says Mitchell when he is serious) but not for a few years.” After a few minutes of and wiping away several tears, I slip the ring in my pocket. “You wear it if you want to but don’t lose it,” he says to me. I always planned on wearing it but thought it kind of strange if I put the ring on right there.
As we drive through the gravel parking lot of the golf course, heading home, dad says, “I can still kick your ass you know,”
Without missing a beat I say “Fat g%#damn chance of that happening.” I hear my dad laugh out loud and I know that we will all be ok.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Grilling Baby!
I find acts of kindness moving, the things when someone does something just because they want to with no expectations of anything in return. They help to formulate my thoughts on humanity, to give a different perspective on the human spirit.
As many of you know, my family has been living in an apartment for almost a year. Because we are on the second floor, we are unable to grill, which is something I love to do, on a side note, most men love grilling. I wonder if it has something to do with our primordial roots.
My neighbor directly below me grills at least four days a week, all year long. But it was shortly after I moved there that really impacted me. Each Sunday morning, my screen door to my balcony open, the smell of a fall morning filling my apartment, anticipating a Vikings game and Ron would already be out there grilling. The first few times I would call out to him, “Whatcha grilling today Ron?” You see, Ron is THE master griller. He would answer back “oh today I have a few porterhouse steaks” or “I’m smoking some beef ribs.” Dammit!
After about the first month of Ron grilling all the time, I stopped asking what he was cooking as I was jealous. I was jealous of Ron’s awesome looking charcoal grill with the smoker attachment, I was jealous that I couldn’t grill. It felt like a carrot was being dangled in front of a donkey (yes I am that jack ass). I came to hate that grill for making me the fool, for teasing me, taunting me with the sweet aroma of wood chips. When I looked down at the grill, it almost smiles and winks at me, sitting there all prim and proper like an antique train locomotive.
I had visions of dressing up as a spy and sneaking outside at night with my tools and manually taking it apart, “ha-ha grill take that” I would say as I scaled the wall back to my second floor balcony apartment. But I never did as Ron and his wife Lori have always been nice to my family.
I was talking with Lori one afternoon and informed her that we had purchased a house and that when we move I plan on buying a grill just like Ron’s. I was asking her about how to smoke food as I’ve never done anything like that.
Fast forward a few weeks to Father’s day weekend. My wife is talking to Ron and Lori and they inform Jody that Lori purchased another grill for Ron and was wondering if I might like his old one (and this grill is far from old). I of course say a million thank you’s as I wheeled it into our garage. Funny thing, I don’t hate that grill anymore and even though I won’t be able to use it until August, it is my new best friend. After everyone goes to bed, I sneak down to the garage to tuck it in, make sure it is happy give it a nice hug (hugs are an easy way to show those who are important to us how much we love them). If my grill has been extra good, I might even read it a story. Where the Wild Things Are is his favorite…”And now”, cried Max, “Let the Wild Rumpus Start.”
So a million thank you’s to Ron and Lori, for their extreme act of kindness, for recharging my belief in the kindness of people.
As many of you know, my family has been living in an apartment for almost a year. Because we are on the second floor, we are unable to grill, which is something I love to do, on a side note, most men love grilling. I wonder if it has something to do with our primordial roots.
My neighbor directly below me grills at least four days a week, all year long. But it was shortly after I moved there that really impacted me. Each Sunday morning, my screen door to my balcony open, the smell of a fall morning filling my apartment, anticipating a Vikings game and Ron would already be out there grilling. The first few times I would call out to him, “Whatcha grilling today Ron?” You see, Ron is THE master griller. He would answer back “oh today I have a few porterhouse steaks” or “I’m smoking some beef ribs.” Dammit!
After about the first month of Ron grilling all the time, I stopped asking what he was cooking as I was jealous. I was jealous of Ron’s awesome looking charcoal grill with the smoker attachment, I was jealous that I couldn’t grill. It felt like a carrot was being dangled in front of a donkey (yes I am that jack ass). I came to hate that grill for making me the fool, for teasing me, taunting me with the sweet aroma of wood chips. When I looked down at the grill, it almost smiles and winks at me, sitting there all prim and proper like an antique train locomotive.
I had visions of dressing up as a spy and sneaking outside at night with my tools and manually taking it apart, “ha-ha grill take that” I would say as I scaled the wall back to my second floor balcony apartment. But I never did as Ron and his wife Lori have always been nice to my family.
I was talking with Lori one afternoon and informed her that we had purchased a house and that when we move I plan on buying a grill just like Ron’s. I was asking her about how to smoke food as I’ve never done anything like that.
Fast forward a few weeks to Father’s day weekend. My wife is talking to Ron and Lori and they inform Jody that Lori purchased another grill for Ron and was wondering if I might like his old one (and this grill is far from old). I of course say a million thank you’s as I wheeled it into our garage. Funny thing, I don’t hate that grill anymore and even though I won’t be able to use it until August, it is my new best friend. After everyone goes to bed, I sneak down to the garage to tuck it in, make sure it is happy give it a nice hug (hugs are an easy way to show those who are important to us how much we love them). If my grill has been extra good, I might even read it a story. Where the Wild Things Are is his favorite…”And now”, cried Max, “Let the Wild Rumpus Start.”
So a million thank you’s to Ron and Lori, for their extreme act of kindness, for recharging my belief in the kindness of people.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Father's Day
My six year old daughter has been talking about the Father's Day present she made me since she finished school for the year (she was sad when she was done with school as she wants to go every day this summer). She even asked me several times if she could give me my gift early. Most of the time I would have said, "yes, yes, present early, gimme gimme gimme, I need I need." Each time though I could hear the echo of my boss' voice when she has said, "Use this situation as a learning opportunity."
She presented me with a top ten reasons why she loves her dad, here they are:
10. I love my dad because he reads me stories.
9. I love my dad because he helps me ride my bike.
8. I love my dad when he makes me laugh by squeezing my guts!
7. I love my dad because he taught me how to ride my bike.
6. I love to hear my dad sing in the car.
5. I love my dad because he finds time to play.
4. I know my dad cares because he loves me.
3. I know my dad is smart because he works a lot.
2. I love my dad because he works so hard at Laura Baker.
1. I love my dad because he's the best dad ever.
To Kendra I say thank you. Thank you for helping me see that I have been a positive influence in your life.
She presented me with a top ten reasons why she loves her dad, here they are:
10. I love my dad because he reads me stories.
9. I love my dad because he helps me ride my bike.
8. I love my dad when he makes me laugh by squeezing my guts!
7. I love my dad because he taught me how to ride my bike.
6. I love to hear my dad sing in the car.
5. I love my dad because he finds time to play.
4. I know my dad cares because he loves me.
3. I know my dad is smart because he works a lot.
2. I love my dad because he works so hard at Laura Baker.
1. I love my dad because he's the best dad ever.
To Kendra I say thank you. Thank you for helping me see that I have been a positive influence in your life.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Stats...
I was looking at the stats of my blog and much to my suprise, at times there have been people from Russia, Germany, South Korea reading my blog. This blows my mind. I am not sure how this happens...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)