The Big 4-0!

At


age


20...










And


age


40!






There's

something

to

be

said






for

A
G
I
N
G
!









Happy Birthday
on
The Big 4-0!

Another Icy Morn

My

neighbors

think

I'm

crazy,





crouching

in

the

roadside

ditch,





peering

beside

culverts,







watching

the

water

flow







on

Another

Icy

Morn.


Here's to exercising with Dan's dog Along Life's Road.
Sorry, it's not easy to wave and keep a firm grip on the leash.

Grown Up

He's so calm.


You look handsome.


He so CUTE!


These are a few responses Noah received today from a cashier, his former kindergarten teacher and two seventh-grade girls as he donned his first pair of glasses after school and at tonight's school concert.

At last week's examination, the eye doctor had said, "(Noah) looked out the window at fuzzy tree branches. I held up a couple lenses for him to look through and he smiled: It's clear! His vision is 20/70 – a no brainer. He needs glasses."



What's
Noah's
response?




I

feel

Grown Up!

1, 2, 3, Slide

"I don't want your advice," Noah whined, head down as he slumped into a chair, frustrated with the gutter ball he'd thrown for the umpteenth time.

(Mom had insisted this eight-year-
old bowl without bumpers, offering stepping and hand-
positioning lessons with some success.)

"Can I have quarter?" Noah asked looking at the vending machines for consolation. Dad dug in his wallet and pulled out a dollar, saying: "See if you can get change."

Noah returned handing back one quarter and showing off his mouthful of gum balls.


Meanwhile Aaron aired his hands, lifted out his ball and chided us to watch his

(in a very screechy, high voice)

"SWEET skills." Translation: a few strikes, some spares and several gutter balls.

Dan bent his knees, hunched with his ball close to his mouth and focused on the pins before scampering up to release his tries at speeds of 20 mph... compared to the rest of ours at 9-15 mph.

Aah... how modern-day technology brings novice bowlers into the leagues of televised professionals.

Bing! Bang! Boom! Dan shot his fingers towards the floor – "Happy Gilmore" style as he "one up-ed" the boys with a strike.

During the
manly competition
of the third game,

Isaac came
off the bench
and into his own –

showing brother Aaron

hows its done

versus

talking it all up.


At the mention
of a "Game Four,"
Mom put
her foot down.

Time to

1,2,3 Slide

into the restaurant
for supper.

Too mushy to ski. Too risky to ice fish. Too wet to hike or picnic. That's why we bowled this Spring Break!

Spring Scenes

A young bald eagle takes flight after seeking its morning meal in the marshy meadow-
land.


Trumpeter swans
seek refuge
along the
flowing creek
while waiting
for their
nesting pond
to thaw.



Sharing scene's of Spring's First official day – here Along Life's Road.

March Morning amidst Minnesota's Moorlands

Clarity of Living

Deep within my flesh
lies an inner drivenness


to connect

to create

to share.





My husband complains about that need. His qualm? The concern that with "productivity," quantity impedes quality.

Each day my mind seeks a puzzle


to ponder

to resolve

to release.


My husband grumbles about that desire. His qualm? The concern that one's time should yield something to rub between one's fingers and thumb.



How my spirit
longs to be


satisfied

content

at peace.





My husband advises: Distractedness results from too much "creativity." Pare down and find Joy, Peace and Clarity of Living.

Spring's First Gem

When the warm wind blows

and water fills the lows

and the sun shines bright

and it's warm all night,


I seek Spring's first gem

bursting from a ruddy stem

in the marshland floods

come pussy willows buds.

Spring is sprung TODAY Along Life's Road.
Many happy returns to all fellows of St. Patrick!

End-O-Winter Reflection

I love the seasons, but I'll admit: I'm tired of winter!

Yet I wouldn't trade this morning's opportunity to capture its sunrise over the creek's thin ice.



What a blessing to GET OUT and taxi my brood to baseball and track practice during the school Spring Break.

Winter Waves Wander...

...across the field
over the creek bed
up the grade –


captured


by
the
distant
cornstalks

waiting
to be rolled
into the earth.

Spring Break Starts

and the boys are up to their tricks already. Check out Aaron's latest moves on the snow quickly melting at our place.














Woo-Hoo. Nine days to burn 'til school's back in session!

Ten Commandments

of Human Relations

Alas! I stumbled across this gem today while rummaging through boxes from my past.

1. Speak to People.
There is nothing so nice as a cheerful word of greeting.

2. Smile at People.
It takes 72 muscles to frown, only 14 to smile.

3. Call People by Name.
The sweetest music to anyone's ears is the sound of his/her name.

4. Be Friendly and Helpful.
If you would have friends, be a friend.

5. Be Cordial.
Speak and act as if everything you do is a genuine pleasure.

6. Be Genuinely Interested in People.
You can like almost everybody if you try.

7. Be Generous with Praise – Cautious with criticism.

8. Be Considerate with the Feelings of Others.
There is usually three sides to a controversy: yours, the other fellow's and the right side.

9. Be Alert to Give Service.
What counts most in life is what we do for others.

10. Add to this a Good Sense of Humor, a Big Dose of Patience and a Dash of Humility and you will be rewarded many fold.


Passing the Peace Along Life's Road.

Common Sense

"Well, I've got the most common sense," our 12-year-10-month-
and-21-day-old son snorted. "At school, we learned between the ages of 13 and 21 people lose their common sense. That means (14-year-old) Isaac's got none. And Noah – pppff! – He may be eight but..." Aaron rolled his eyes trying to "one up" his brothers.

"If that's the case, you've got a month before yours goes too," I countered. "Now keep it down. Dad's trying to drive."

For the past 15 minutes, our wily sons had been teasing and poking each other in the backseat of the truck. The behavior began weeks ago with rotten weather and sickness keeping us cooped up in the house.

Dan and I decided to combat this restlessness by packing up the family for a winter outing.

I stuffed a couple shopping bags with hot dogs, brats, buns, chips, apples, oranges, marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate chips, water bottles, paper plates and napkins.

Dan threw in the ax, a shovel, kindling, newspapers and matches. The idea was to hold an evening meal over a campfire at our pond place.

We pulled up to the property,
parked on the roadside,
carried our supplies
over the frozen snow
and set up camp
in an opening
overlooking the lake.



Dan split
a few logs
and started
the fire.



The
boys
followed
suit




putting
their

pent-up
energy



to

productive

use







before

wandering

off




to


e
x
p
l
o
r
e






the

t
r
a
i
l
s






and
other

icy
wonders.





Today
was

the
official
start

of

Daylight's
Saving's
Time.





Dusk



would
last



past
7 PM.




We
sought
signs

of

pond
life:




tracks

in
the

snow

and channels of thin ice around the beaver lodge.

Noah's curiosity drew him closer. I warned: "Stay back! Open water is NOT safe."

I explained how the beaver's swimming motion keeps the ice thin so they can surface. I pointed to the heavy foot-and-tail prints.

Isaac loped up to another channel closer to the shore. "Get back!" I warned wondering no more about his lack of common sense. He stomped his shoe (No boots!) to assure me that all was solid.

Then he inserted a long stick, measured the depth to the murky bottom and pointed to the level at chest height. I heard a crackling underfoot, moved back and said: "You hear that? Clear out."

"I didn't hear anything," Isaac said as we headed back to the campfire. We saw Aaron wandering along the far shore. I puttered through the wooded trail and cringed upon hearing Mr. Common Sense holler: "That's freaking cold Mr. Biglesworth!"



Back at the fire,

our avid fisherman

showed his

barehanded catch...


...and

bared his feet
to warm them
by the fire.

"You know when there's water, I HAVE to fish!" Aaron said. "I fell in, but it was WORTH it."

Imitating British adventurer Bear Grylls, Aaron explained,"I saw minnows in the open water, bent down and scooped them out onto the land."

"They're protein!" he said poking a stick into one and casting it over the fire to roast. Dan roasted the soaked socks – plunging sticks into the snow and hanging them near the flame along with Aaron's boots turned upside down to dry.

Meanwhile I attempted to roast supper – poking a couple brats onto the campfire fork. Dan did the buns.

Halfway through the meal, Aaron complained about his wet pants and sweatshirt. I asked, "You mean you fell all the way in?"

"Yeah. After I got the minnows, the ice cracked and I hit bottom right away," he said. "I tried jumping up on the other side, but it broke too. So I got out where I went through."

"How deep was it?" I asked. He said, "Chest deep."

I heaved, "Just like Isaac showed us with the stick."

To Isaac, I said, "You see! I did hear the ice crack."

"I saw it," Aaron said.

"Then where's your common sense?" I sighed.

"You know – your ability to resist impulsive-
ness?

I'd say: it's gone already!"

And so were we – on our way home – wondering about our parental Common Sense.

Suisse Cheese

(Ed. Note: What follows is a guest contribution by one of the longsuffering subjects of this blog. Enjoy.)

Mein Snowboard

We have a clear Nordic bias in our household, but there was a time when Noah was younger that I feared some of Wendy's German was creeping in under the door.

In particular, he had a penchant for using possessive pronouns incorrectly, such as exclaiming, "Mine blanket!"

Well, I found a billboard in Lucerne, Switzerland that confirmed what he was trying to communicate.

Midnight in Baar

We arrived in Zurich Sunday morning and took the train to Baar, which was homebase for the week. After decamping in our Ikea-furnished, ISO 9000 certified rooms at the Ibis hotel, we had a delightful lunch of butcher's offal fried in lard at the Gasthaus on the corner. Then our little party (I was traveling with a co-worker and her husband) took to the streets to view the Carnival parade - the Swiss Mardis Gras. Instead of passing out beads, they hand out shots of hard cider or schnapps. Otherwise, the insanity is pretty much the same. It was explained to us that each town has a different theme every year and that most of the costumes and decorations are hand-made and then sold the next year to another town who uses them.

This year's theme had something to do with a character named Rabedibum. (pictured)

There was a surprising (for me) amount of U.S. Politics on display in the parade, and I started to wonder if their "bum" didn't have something to do with President Bush. I never found out, as I stopped trying to communicate with the street people when I realized they spoke less English than I spoke Deutsch.

The Band Played On

The community bands who played were a stark change from America, where only high school or college kids march in parades. The ages of these hornblowers ran the gamut, which was probably a factor in what happened later that night.

After a long day of travel, I had managed to go to sleep around 10 p.m. I shouldn't have bothered. At midnight, the bands began staging again directly under my hotel window. They got warmed up with what sounded like the Minnesota Rouser, then slowly marched off down the street.

Jolson Finds Work

I mentioned the Swiss are more attuned to U.S. politics than even I am in these opening days of the Apocalypse. They had two floats in their parade themed around the recent presidential election. I was happy to see Al Jolson back on the stage playing the role of Barack Obama. Not sure who they found to play Michele. They do have black people in Switzerland, but apparently not in Baar. Anyway, the Swiss seemed happy with the election results. Misery does indeed love company.

YO DA LAY EEE WHOOO

The Swiss trip was mostly business. The corporate headquarters of the company I work for are located in Zug, which is a small village with a newer business park housing office buildings for some well-to-do global concerns. I saw a real estate ad while walking in the city and didn't see a house under 2 million Swiss Francs. Business is big in Switzerland because the corporate tax rates are comparatively low. I assume everything else is taxed pretty stiff, but if there's a restaurant tax, it isn't broken out on your bill.

All work and no play is really a foreign concept for me - more foreign, in fact, than paying to use the toilet. So I did find one day for skiing. On the recommendation of a co-worker, I went to Stoos, about an 1 1/2 hours by train and bus from Zug.

We went up to the mountain resort in a cable car that like all other forms of Swiss transportation, ran like a Swiss watch, even though it seemed to be going at a 90-degree pitch for most of the ride. It was a little hazzy out in the morning, but the view was still spectacular. (Spooktacular, I suppose, if you're afraid of heights)

Didn't know it at the time, but I rode up in the cable car with a woman who worked in the shop where I rented skis. She said some of the folks - and their livestock - live in Stoos year-round. In fact, I think I glimpsed Heidi cleaning out a cattle stall. The fresh scent of turned manure pile was evident, nonetheless.


Kalbsbratwurst Mit Pommes Frites

Considering I'm a hack on the slopes, I have nothing but praise for Stoos. After figuring out how to work the magnet-card-activated cues on the ski lift, I made it up to the top and discovered a lovely ski lodge and restaurant.

The view of Lake Lucerne was heart-
stopping, as was the view back down the mountain. But I took a break for some kalbsbratwurst. One does not appreciate being able to read a menu until one is not able to. I kept looking for Hansel and Gretel from that classic Bugs Bunny cartoon to pop up and explain it all to me, but they never did.

Fortunately, the Swiss are merciful in designing their ski runs.

There are ample crests built in so that it is easy to come to a stop every 400 yards or so, gaze at the mountains, and catch one's breath.

The snow was in excellent shape and my rental skis were sharp. Otherwise, I might still be up there.

Norm!

I'm all for absorbing local culture whenever I'm on the road, but after a week of trying unsuccess-
fully to read German (or listen to it on the TV...even the episodes of the Simpson's were overdubbed. "Die, Bart Die...indeed") I decided my last supper would break the rules. Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name and where you can read the menu. So I ended up at the California Cafe in Lucerne. But I did make a final nod to Swiss culture by ordering the Lucerne burger, which was as best as I could tell a fried pork chop. It fit my situation perfectly.

Paying It Ahead

"Paying It Ahead" is the new phrase my mother uses for "Thoughtfulness."

Early on, she taught my sisters and me to do small things for others to give them joy. Sometimes the recipient would let us know. Other times not. Either way, we learned to be content, knowing that we had gone out of our way to brighten someone's day. Later, we learned to hope: that the recipient might also go onto "pay ahead" kindness.

* * *

The phone rang tonight.
I checked the caller i.d. and gasped.
It showed my college professor of long ago.

I took the call.
His wife introduced herself.
Her husband, she informed me, had died two months ago.

She said the postcard I sent him last summer from Iceland had brought great joy.

"You don't know what it means for a teacher to have someone send a word - 'some 22 years later'," she said quoting my note. "I know it must have taken you some time to track him down; and so I took the time to do the same of you – 'the gal with the broken leg in his Wednesday night class'."

I smiled, "Well, he'd said 'If you ever make it to Iceland, send a postcard.' And while I was planning this trip leading five ladies to Norway via Iceland, I thought he just might appreciate my remembering his bonus-points promise."

"He did," she assured. "But how did you get his address?"

I explained how I'd googled his name and amazingly found his current address listed in a newspaper article I found online. I noted, "On the trip, we were so busy that I had time to write just five postcards – one to each of my three sons, one to my former landlady and the fifth to the professor. I hoped you two would enjoy the note. I just can't believe you took the time to track me down!"

We conversed at least 10 minutes.
The rest of this evening, I felt lifted with joy for Paying It Ahead.