The In's are Ahead of the Out's.

I think of my Dad quite often. He grew up in an era two generations removed from me, he was 43 years of age when I was born. Children and people amused each other instead of being amused by things like TV and the radio. It seems to me that wit, and creative humor are slowly disappearing from our human scene. With the advent of indoor/outdoor thermometers the game of Ins vs Outs was born. Ins being the temperature of the dwelling, Outs being the ambient temperature outside. So, Dad would solemnly announce to those about that the Ins were ahead of the Outs during the winter, and of course in the summer the reverse was often true where the Outs were ahead of the Ins.

It was a simple play on words. I am sure to many today it would be "corny." I have decided that "corny" is also a definition for something silly, for a thought process that exists outside of the box. It seems to me we don't have enough silliness in our lives today. I like talking with my sisters, they have a sharp wit and a highly creative imagination. In the wake of yet another killing spree on a college campus it seems to me that perhaps we should take a little refuge from time to time in whether or not the Ins or the Outs are ahead.

Once upon a fishing trip!

Years ago, I don't know how many now, but many, perhaps 30+ years. My first wife, Bonnie, and I took a fishing trip with her Mother (Glady) and her Father (Tom) on the Forest Lake Reservoir south of Munising, MI. It was one of those beautiful summer days, we had two boats, Bonnie and I in one and Glady and Tom in the other.

We fished the weed beds, the shallow, the old river bed. We cast, we drift fished, we fished with worms, minnows, and artificial lures. I don't even remember if we caught many fish, but we must've caught some.

We saw numerous Sandhill Cranes. Sandhill Cranes were an endangered species at the time and it was magnificent to see so many. They are a huge bird with a six or eight foot wingspan. When excited they make some God awful noise. We saw them wading in the shallows as we fished the shore, we saw them take off and land flying with long slow wing strokes moving quietly on the summer air.

We had a shore lunch and walked the small sand island we landed on looking at empty clam shells gathered on the shoreline. We watched large long-range SAC bombers flying out of Sawyer Air Force Base near Gwinn, MI. The takeoff and landing routes often took these large aircraft over the dense woods of the central Upper Peninsula, much to the consternation of the wildlife.

It was a grand day to be alive in the native out doors of my home land. I was with people I cared deeply about, and found comfort and assurance in there presence. Nothing was wrong with the world, and everything was right. It was a glorious day.

Marching Through Time

For our family the end of an era occurred recently. My Uncle Hollis passed away. He died in a manner I guess we all wish for, he laid down to take a nap and slipped away. He was in his early 90's. He had lived an active work filled life. He owned and managed rental property around Traverse City, MI, ran paper routes, worked as a handyman, just about anything to provide for his family.

Hollis was my mother's brother-in-law, and as much a part of the larger family as anyone. He was quite a bit younger than my parents, but lived in there generation as a young boy. He knew both my parents when he was a little boy and could tell us stories of the early history of my parents.

Now, there are no more of that generation. My parents are dead, their brothers and sisters are dead, and their extended spouses are dead. There is no one left of the original generation. A new line of older family members take that senior place. Of that number, I believe there are 15 offspring from the first generation, about 11 are left. The oldest members are in my direct family, then the age drops off somewhat. But it seems to me it is like a line of soldiers marching through life, as we grow older we take our places in the front line and eventually are eliminated. Then the next group and so on. Kind of chilling, but that's life. Life is a terminal condition, we will not survive it. So, I resolve to make good use of the time I have left. I resolve to stay in contact with my family members, to share the joys of our time together, to listen to their fears, and to reassure that in the good graces of life we number well.

The end of 2007

Today an old twinge hit my tummy. I recall when I was a little kid that when the new year began I would get a little twinge in my stomach when I realized that Christmas and the holiday season were finally gone. It was a twinge of loss and sadness that the joy, the color, the music and of course the gifts were over. I have always gotten sentimental over the holidays, even when there was not much to get sappy over. A year ago at this time I was facing serious abdominal surgery that resulted in the removal of a cancerous polyp from my colon. Even then it was a good holiday. Today I was going back to work. The holiday was OK. Yet there it was, that old twinge that signifies the end of a oft repeated season. It was kind of like an old friend's brief visit regardless of the emotion. As a child I remember having to put my toys away and get ready for school. I never liked school. I thought no better job existed in the world than being a kid and exploring the neighborhood, the hills around our neighborhood, the lake shore, anything out doors was better than school. Oh well, I still kind of enjoy that twinge even though it tends to be a little melancholy. Welcome 2008.

Christmas 2007 Memories

Well, Christmas has passed. We are into the football bowl season, however I still have nuts in the nut bowls and cheese in the frig to work my way through before the holiday season officially closes. I end up reflecting each year on what has transpired in recent weeks. Presents have arrived via UPS, USPS, FedEx, or personal delivery. We have accumulated empty boxes that I always end up looking at thinking that perhaps I should save some so next year we don’t grow through the frustration we always do of not having the right size box to ship something in. I thought of that today as I burned the boxes in the burn barrel, too late.

Christmas is a time for children, thank goodness the difference between men and boys is the price of their toys. I had a nice Christmas, got some nice toys to play with. I have a digital stop watch so I can measure the elapsed time of my daily walks. I have some nice sports gloves to keep my hands warm on the cool morning constitutionals. I have a new pair of binoculars to examine our feathered friends at the feeders. I have a nice long sleeve red and black plaid shirt that brings back memories from my youth when I was so enamored with the look of the deer hunters that prowled Munising in the red and black plaid hunting outfits. Yes, that was before the advent of “hunter orange.”

This was the year I rediscovered our Christmas tree. Several years ago Terry talked me into an artificial tree. Seeing that we have a small cabin with a vaulted ceiling we found a tree that is ten feet tall but only three feet in diameter at the bottom. It doesn’t take up much room but extends upward. This is its fourth year and I vowed to be the last, it was just starting to look a little tawdry to me. However this year I put it up while Terry was at work and got piddling around with it. I found that a lot of the branches had been bent from repeated storage, so I worked my way around the tree slowly straightening the branches and rearranging them into the more traditional shape. It looked so good I decided that we shall continue the use of that tree for at least another season or two.

Christmas Day brought daughters Tracy and Jessi to our home for dinner. With them came their new boyfriends. Some grandchildren showed up, and even Geoff, our son came and enjoyed the festivities. The brisket turned out well, the scalloped potatoes were nice and cheesy and good. The conversation was filled with hunting stories, kids antics, discussion of clothes styles, trying on footwear, modeling new robes, and mugging it up for the camera. A success!

I have actually grown to enjoy the day after better than Christmas Day. Everyone is gone, the house is quiet, I can explore the gifts, clean up some dishes that had to soak, and still listen to some Christmas music with the tree lights on. There was even a bowl game on in the evening with Central Michigan playing Purdue. It made me think of the trip Carol, Phyl and I took several years ago through the Lower Peninsula. We stayed in Mt. Pleasant one night and ate at a nice restaurant. After dinner we drove around the campus of Central Michigan and enjoyed the college scene. That was the trip we stopped in Kalamazoo and saw Aunt Gertrude, and spent a night in Traverse City and went out to dinner with Aunt Ann and Uncle Hollis. The trip was four days and three nights, but we piled up some memories and are grateful for the opportunity to have seen Aunt Ann even though she passed away several weeks later. At least we got to laugh at some old memories and enjoy some time together. The same is true for Aunt Gertrude, we pushed her in a wheel chair to the local ice cream place and had a treat and talked of old times.

So this Christmas memories are a mixture of old and new. But isn’t that the way it is?

Nuts In a Bowl

My parents kept a bowl of nuts around at Christmas time. So do I. I enjoy Filberts or Hazel Nuts and Almonds. My folks used to keep mixed nuts around consisting of the two I just named plus Walnuts, Pecans, and Brazil Nuts. I enjoyed them all. I can remember times when during Christmas Day my Dad would sit by the bowl located in the living room in view of the Christmas Tree and crack some nuts and enjoy a quiet moment of contemplation. Me, I made a meal of the nuts. I tried to crack them as fast as I could eat them. I couldn't keep up. So I might sit and crack half a dozen then stuff them in my mouth to enjoy the crunchy flavor for as long as I could while I furiously crack some more. Holiday nuts are as big a part of my Christmas past as the Christmas Tree is. So I keep nuts around to this day. A big bowl, only now instead of mixed nuts I have just Filberts and Almonds. Every once and a while I will buy a bag of mixed nuts just to enjoy the challenge of cracking a Walnut and extracting that sweet meat.

Anyway, having nuts around still honors the tradition that my family had when I was a young boy. Isn't Christmas about remembering? Some recall with great joy the birth of Christ. We personalize it by honoring the traditions we participated in as a child that were meaningful to us. So I keep nuts around, I'm about the only one that eats them. Still it means a great deal to me.

My Folks Made Christmas Happy

When I was young my parents got into the Christmas spirit. It was a happy time of year for them, mother enjoyed cooking and boy could she bake and cook great seasonal foods. Dad worked hard in his insurance and reals estate business and the holidays meant a time of good will, the end of the year, convivial visits with customers and good friends. With the tree decorated, shopping in full swing, music being played on the radio it was hard not to get caught up in the spirit of the time.

Where we lived we always had a white Christmas. It is funny, but the small babe in whose name we celebrate the season was born in a dry arid country yet we associate Christmas with snow. Anyway Mom and Dad joined into the festivities with a gusto. There were close family friends who dropped in to visit and share a cup of Christmas cheer. There were parties, gatherings, church bazaars and the annual Smörgåsbord at the First United Methodist Church.

I was out of school, I had friends to play with, sledding that had to be done on the snow covered city streets, skating on the ice rinks flooded by the city employees in neighborhoods throughout the community. We had to shovel walks, dig snow forts, have snowball fights, and in general spend enormous amounts of time out of doors coming home with ice encrusted cuffs on our blue jeans and most of the time soaking wet . It felt so good to sit in front of the tree wrapped in a robe with a cup of hot chocolate provided my Mom.

Our holiday season didn't end at Christmas, in fact, if anything between Christmas and New Years it picked up steam. There were always several parties held. My father was partial to Currier & Ives calendars which he dutifully delivered to clients between Christmas and New Years. An old tradition at several of the gas stations was to provide an open bar in one of the repair bays for the friends and long time customers to stop in have a bit of Christmas cheer as you went about your day.

Church, friends, snow, lights, and above all the good will expressed by the community made growing up in the little City of Munising, MI magic. Thanks for the memories.