The Fall

I do not have many regrets in my life. I have some embarrassing moments I regret, but I have to live with those. Much of my life has been fine, wonderful, and even colorful. I think of the fall and hunting Grouse in Michigan's U.P. I think of fall and I think about hunting Pheasant in southern Wisconsin with my friend Andre and his son Dom who recently retired as a Brigadier General in the Wisconsin National Guard. He also did two tours I believe in the mid-East. Afghanistan for sure.

Years ago we used to go out to Bong Airbase that had been turned back to the state by the Air Force when the SAC mission ended. The Wisconsin DNR started a "put & take" Pheasant program that offered Andre, Dom and I good hunting and a viable outdoor experience. I have wonderful memories of that. On Thanksgiving morning we go on a hunt, after it was over and the dogs lay fatigued by the side of the road as we enjoyed some sausage,  cheese and wine. We would discuss the hunt, the actions of the dogs, and the day to come.

Now I wish I had spent more time with my daughters in the out doors. Neither of them particularly like it. Kristi and Jenny enjoy the environment but I wish I had helped them learn to enjoy fishing and hunting. They do not enjoy the prospect of fishing or hunting now and that is OK, I view it as their choice. However, if I had made the opportunity available to them, not pushed it, nor made it an exercise in boredom maybe they would've adopted the hunting and fishing way of life. What a wonderful experience for all of us, especially the Papa. I have dearly enjoyed throwing a shotgun over my arm and walking through the fall woods, to do that with my daughters would be so neat. It creates a wonderful image in my mind, my daughters and I slowly walking through the golden fall woods hunting the elusive Ruffed Grouse. Oh I wish I had been more of a teacher than I was. I wish they had the opportunity to enjoy the woods and the field as I do. Maybe they still wouldn't enjoy the experience but at least we would've tried.

No regrets, they both are wonderful people living wonderful lives. I know they love me and I love them with all my heart. I just can't help but think what might've been.

Egg Coffee

My Aunt Rebecca, Becky or Beck depending on the day, the situation, or who was around, made the best coffee in the world. She was English, my Uncle Earl, as it turns out was primarily French. They were married for more than 50 years and were social kingpins in Marquette, MI. From time to time through the years my family, then when I married, my wife and kids would visit Aunt Beck and Uncle Earl. They were good folks.

Their lifestyle was very structured. My Uncle Earl owned Pendall's Drug Store in Marquette, he was a pharmacist. Aunt Becky ran the household. She played golf, she played bridge, and she and Uncle Earl enjoyed a full rich social life in Marquette. But oh could Becky make egg coffee.

When we ate dinner at their home Aunt Becky would ask as dinner was ending how many cups of coffee would each person enjoy after dinner. Then she would  disappear into the kitchen. When I was older I invited myself back to the kitchen to watch the preparation. The best I recall she mixed one tablespoon of coffee per cup into a well beaten egg mixture. Then she set it in a pot and it steeped. She used a fine tea strainer to keep the grounds out of the coffee and poured a deep amber liquid that made coffee an art form in her home.

I have been unable to repeat it. However, we have a French press coffee brewer and it looks like it would work in there. So, we shall see. In the meantime, whenever I have a good cup of coffee I think of my Aunt Becky, but it is never as good as her's was.

An Embarrassment

I was maybe 13. There was a girl in our class named Sue T. She was a good looking girl, long dark hair, flashing eyes and all those things that go along with youth. It was easy to like her, she was easy on the eye and popular. However she was quiet and reserved, at least she seemed so. The way that boys and girls advertised they liked someone and were in a relationship was they put their initials on the paper notebooks we carried our homework in.

One day my initials showed up on her notebook. TF Wow, I could not believe my good fortune. One of the best looking girls in the class likes me. Whoa Nellie!!! I waited, I watched, more initials appeared. There was a Sue + Tom. I mean how much more evidence did I need. I did not know what to do. Should I talk with her, I was too shy. Should I ask one of her friends, I was too shy. Maybe the way to communicate was to respond in kind. So I wrote TF + ST on my notebook. Soon I had covered my notebook and fantasized about the blossoming love. Imagine kissing her, imagine holding hands with her, imagine walking together. That is about all we imagine at 13. I waited to see what would happen not knowing if I should approach her or what.

This lasted a few days, eventually a friend of hers who happened to be a friend of mine, Judy R. came to me and said, Tom, Sue doesn't like you, those initials are Ted. F. In embarrassment I blurted out those aren't her initials anyway, but there was no one in our class with those same initials. I could have crawled in a hole and stayed there. I have never felt so embarrassed in my life not even since.

I went back to school the next day with new notebooks. I tried not to look at her, and tried to make myself as small as possible, unfortunately I was already over six feet tall and stuck out like a sore thumb. One thing to my classmate's credit is I do not recall anyone making fun of me. You know at that age kids can be cruel. I don't recall any catcalls or teasing. My embarrassment was absolute though, I was crushed that I could assume such a thing and had nothing to fall back on.

That event still evokes a wry smile from me. Sue T. now F., did not come to our 40th reunion. I have not seen her since high school. I have no idea what she looks like, I believe she and Ted F got married but divorced.

I have never had an easy time around women. My lady experience is very small. I have a hard time talking to a women unless we talk about weather, some work aspect if we are familiar with it. It is easier for me to talk to a woman than a man but I have had very few female confidants. In fact, one. It seems like I am meant to muddle through our lives seeking my own answers and trying not to to embarrass myself or make a fool of myself. That is why I maintain a level of suspicion of others and distance from them..

That event so many years ago had an effect on me. Was it a game changer? No, I don't think so. I have had a few very good relationships with a few women, my first wife, my second wife, and a lady I worked with. I find comfort in sharing with a person, but you cannot share all things with just one person, you need a number of friends and while I talk very well with my two daughters, that is not the same. I'm there Dad after all.

So that's my ultimate embarrassing moment. I am 67, I hope I never have another.

Liquid Gold

Years ago Tom Dolaskie and I spent a lot of time fishing, hunting and just being outdoors together. One particular event has stayed with me for all these years. I can't recall the year, probably the early 70's the Michigan DNR stocked Clear Lake with Grayling and Rainbow trout. Clear Lake is a beautiful lake that was glaciated and is therefore very deep. It is clear water and supports a nice fishery.

Tom and I had fished Clear Lake several times over the years and had a measure of success. It was at this lake that I had scared myself while night fishing for Rainbow when I reached my hand out over the mirror like lake to check my bait and startled myself when a reflection of my arm appeared to come out from under the boat reaching toward me. I've told that story someplace.

Tom and I had noticed on a previous trip that just dusk brought hungry fish to the surface feeding on insects. The surface of the lake had come alive with circles where fish sucked in an insect and turn tail back to the depths leaving a tell tale swirl on the surface. The lake was just covered with feeding fish. We had no lures with us, and neither of us were fly fishermen. But as we discussed later on we thought perhaps if we slowly trolled a surface lure we might happen into a fish. So this day I had brought my tackle box containing some surface lures. I chose a Rapala that looked a lot like a small minnow. as we set out from shore I eased the lure in the water and Tom had his electric trolling motor that we used on the small inland lakes of Michigan.

We began a slow but steady pace, not too fast because if a Rapala loses it flutter it tends to surface of just plow across the surface losing all appearance of a minnow. We moved silently enjoying the peace of the lake and the sun setting in the west. As the sun sank low to the horizon the surface of the lake took on the surreal red, orange and violet color that reflecting water can create. It was captivating, both Tom and I just sat and watched the magnificent color unfold about us. Then it happened. A strike! We were both looking back when a large 19 inch rainbow took the lure on the surface. The water exploded with all the colors flung to the sides. Droplets arched over the water from the force of the strike and made for a small rain effect. The fish dove with its prize only to be slammed back to the surface when I set the hook.

The rest was barely describable. The fish fought on the surface, time and again he broke water flailing about and made the colors even more vivid and amazing. It was fighting in liquid gold. I almost did not want the fight to give up. But a pole, a strong line, and patience over came the fish and he came to the net. We took him and appreciated the amazing visual effect the fight had created. It was a fish we talked about for a long time and an experience that is as vivid in my mind today as then those long years ago.

A new blog

I have started a new blog. It is titled Bowel Resection Home Recovery. I have decided not to mess up this blog with medical issues that can become kind of disgusting and may have more relevance to folks going through bowel resection. I have received a number of comments ranging from Scotland to Australia concerning my Goggle of Bowel Resection Home Recovery and obviously it has meant something to somebody. So I thought I just have a dedicated blog and see if that picks up some folks how may need some help.

A Thowback Game

Packers vs. Bears, Bears vs. Packers. I cannot help but think of my Dad this time. He was a devoted Packer fan and held season tickets for years until his financial situation in the 60's forced him to give them up. I first started going to Packer games in the mid-50's when they played at old City Stadium, a wooden bleacher stadium that held about 30,000 souls. When Lambeau opened in 1958 it was like another world. Dad went to the inaugural game and ended up riding down the elevator at the Northland Hotel with Miss America who was part of the pageant.

Today the Packer's play the Bears at Soldier Field in downtown Chicago, not far from Lake Michigan. The temperature at game time is supposed to be 9 above. It is old time football at its finest. On the line is the NFC championship with a shot at the Super Bowl to the winner. Obviously I want Green Bay to win. Some experts are picking the Pack to win, however I've seen the Bears play and their defense is powerful. Green Bay is also playing stout defense and Green Bay's offense is probably one of the best in the league. Aaron Rogers is certainly playing superb ball. So my hopes are riding on the Green and Gold, but my heart will also be thinking of my Dad and how much he would've enjoyed the game today. So, c'mon Pack, win one for Vern.

Christmas 2010

It was a different Christmas. With two dogs in the house Terry did not want to put the packages under the tree for fear they might tear into them. So the packages were in a pile up in our sleeping loft bedroom. When we woke up at 5 AM as is our wont, I went down and made coffee, let the dogs out for their morning pee and checked out what had happened on face book the night before. I took the insulated carafe of coffee with two cups upstairs and Terry suggested she and I open our gifts up there instead of carting them downstairs and then back up again. I like that woman's sense of economy. So we did. It was really rather nice, intimate, cozy and a fun experience sitting near the bed watching each other open our gifts to one another.

The rest of the day was fairly normal. Jessi and her friend (ex-husband) were here and in and out. Terry spent a lot of hours in the kitchen preparing the Christmas feast. We had baked ham, beef brisket and a hearty gumbo that seems to delight our guests as it goes in a hurry. Chips, dips, barbecue baby sausages, along with assorted condiments made for a festive meal.

We served 10 for Christmas dinner. Gift opening when the family is together is a mishmash of paper flying, ohs and ahs, and laughter.

We had very light snow flakes stirring the air throughout the day making the spirit of the season a little more meaningful for me as I grew up with white Christmases. So my 66th Christmas passed on into history. Another day of being with loved ones, sharing some food, drink and gifts. We are not a religious bunch so there is no church going or thoughts of Jesus. But the season is celebrated and the fun of talking with loved ones on the phone, the joy of being with family are probably more what Christmas is about than religion.

I especially enjoyed Terry's new found freedom from work a source of pleasure. There was no great fatigue from having worked Christmas Eve, there was no race to make the meal and clean up afterward because she had to go to work on the 26th. Her time is her's and it is nice to see the pressure and worry of having to go to work removed. This was a good Christmas.