Sunday, October 15, 2006
03:21 p.m.
"I hate reading old love letters,
For they always bring me tears,
I can't forgive the way they rob me,
Of my sweetheart's souvenirs."
-John Prine
Why do we save letters, notes, scribbles, drawings and gifts from the people we care about? The answer is
pretty simple. It reminds us that we were loved. Someone took the time to think enough about us, to write us something, or
sing a song to us, or take a picture and send it, saying, "I really like this picture of you, and I wanted you to have it."
From time to time, I look at some of these things I've saved, and hope that I can draw something from them
that might somehow give me strength in a new relationship. I draw on the experience and help from others who are close to
me, in hope that they can somehow give me what I need to avert disaster and the "downward spiral" I have fallen into so many times,
(usually about three months into the relationship, but sometimes sooner) and give me that one thing I've always missed
before. Maybe relationships aren't that simple; Maybe being with someone and making them happy isn't a matter of always
having the right combination of numbers. Yet maybe it's even simpler than that. Should the question simply be, "Do I make
you happy?" and "Do you make me happy?"
Falling in love is such a strange thing. You lose your appetite. You can't sleep. At times, it almost feels
like you're ill. And yet, physically, you feel like you could lift a bus or take on a grizzly bear. You walk on clouds of
air, and very little upsets you or gets you down. It's almost the feeling experienced by alcohol or other drugs, this
euphoric stupor that would certainly, under most circumstances, make your close friends and family try to do some type of
intervention if they didn't know that you had fallen in love (because anything other than this would probably be illegal).
I asked my older sister last week what she thought about the idea of "love at first sight." And she said
that when she walked into the room and met her future husband Jesse, immediately she "just knew" that he was the one. I've
heard others say that it doesn't take two minutes. And even more have said it took weeks, months, and even years. While
there is certainly no definitive time period, there is a point and a moment in time, where I think you can look into
someone's eyes and see all of your future generations. It's more than just a fleeting glance, it's a look that seeks out
mutual understanding, patience, kindness. This look and this moment come long before you've fallen madly or deeply in love,
it's at the point where waters are being tested and the "true" personality comes out.
I wrote at one point that blind dates, and setting people up is a lot like telling somebody, "You know, I
know this person you'd really like. She's five miles of bad road, and at the end is a big puddle where you are likely to
drown." Setting up somebody on a blind date is basically saying, "Look at the waters out there. They're really choppy, and
I know this really unsturdy craft you'd like. You're likely to drown out there."
Whether it's a land-based metaphor, or a sailor's metaphor, either way it's amazing at how insulted people
get when you just can't make it work. You've just had the crap beat out of you in the last relationship and now your sister
is trying to set you up with a prizefighter. Or you've just practically drown in the last river of sorrow, and your cousin
wants to set you up with Davy Jones's sister. And all you can really think at that moment is, "F#%@ THAT!"
At this point in my life, the only battle I have is with stress. I have literally watched stress kill people.
And while we all think that we have it under control, we don't, unless we have managed to get rid of the stress.
There comes a point in everyone's life when you just become sick of complications, half-truths, people who
either mess with other people's heads, or people who have become messed up. Life is tough enough. We now make more
decisions in one day than the caveman made his entire life. And somehow, so many people just seem to want to make it worse
by adding more stress to their life. If you are lucky, and I believe that I am, you finally meet someone who doesn't
do that. When you meet somebody who takes stress away by simply being there, you are indeed the luckiest person on
the planet.
It's at that point in my life, now, where I have met Nicole. She is more amazing than words could describe,
yet I want to spend the rest of my life telling everyone about her. She spends her career combing through little details,
yet she overlooks and forgives me for so many of my character flaws. Many people came together to make this relationship
happen, yet we ultimately met because we had the opportunity to find each other, rather than being "set up."
I could go on about her eyes, her hair, her laugh, and all of the kind things she has done for me in the
short time that we've known each other so far, but there just isn't enough time today to tell it all. What I can say is that
the moment I met Nicole, I wanted to get to know her. We were reckless, we were careless, time stood still and raced
forward, we got to know each other in a blizzard of fun and confusion, a time of very little reflection and no worries about
the future. To live in a moment like this is so pure in that when you are together, the past disappears, the future
opens up, and the only thing that matters is this time, this place, and that you are together and enjoying each other's
company.
When I think about Nicole, I see somebody who I'm not afraid to tell everything. She understands that my
career is very important to me, that I love my family and want to spend time with them. She sees that friends, male or
female are also very important and not only wants to spend time with them, but is welcoming to them, and much more
understanding than she needs to be. And what's amazing about all that, the complete openness of communication, the ability to simply
accept somebody for who they are and encourage that behavior is all truely empowering. Such an act brings a lot of color to a
black, white and grey world. And it, quite frankly, helps a man be a man. So lucky are we men that we have women to bring
this color to our world. If life were the garden of eden, the day Eve arrived must have been the day the flowers bloomed,
the day buds grew from the trees and the leaves turned green.
Since both of us travel for a living, it makes for an interesting schedule. But it really seems to be the
only thing we have to work at (and work together on), but it always leads to so much excitement. I'm coming through this city,
and so is Nicole. She'll be in Kansas City on this date, or I'll be in Minneapolis on that date, and in the meantime we
text messages back and forth... so many of them I'll never be able to share with ANYONE...
It's the text messages sent by cell phone that has really made everything so interesting. The whole idea of
it all; it's a short, sometimes abbreviated, 160-character message sent from cell phone to cell phone. Almost like a haiku,
it is a challange to convey a short but complete message. Sometimes it's something funny, or information based, and
sometimes it's largely inappropriate and something you definitely wouldn't want your grandmother to read (unless she writes
for Playboy or something).
And while I do wish that Nicole and I could spend more time together, it is amazing to have a technology
that allows us to send little "post-it note" sized reminders that are basically saying... "Hey! I'm thinking about you!"
Many days, together or apart, that reminder is often the best thing you can do for one another.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
02:28 p.m.
It may seem that I didn't get a lot accomplished in the past couple of weeks, and that wasn't the case. (I just forgot my cameras in my pickup, and had to make due without them.)
After a whole lot of travelling, I found myself in Minnesota and made a break for the north shore and my Uncle John's cabin. We got in some fishing, went in to town for July 4th festivities and pizza. And it was the first time in a year that I was able to see most of my family. The last time was over a year ago at my cousin Julie's wedding, this time we planned a get-together with everyone because the plan was to come up and see Joanne, Rob, Sarah and Katie who were coming out from Montana. They weren't able to make it, because Mick, a guy they run cattle with, was gored by a bull.
Picture of Mick, myself, and Katie branding cows and putting on ear tags last September.
Mick is a great guy, and I hope he has a speedy recovery. That's a tough life out there in Montana, and I can only guess that he will be trying to get back to work as soon as he can.
With a friend like my Uncle Rob (he's a physical therapist), Mick will be in good hands. And since Rob will be tending to the herd for a while, there's nobody else better suited to care for the cows than him. If I had known what happened, I would have offered to jump on a flight and go help out for a few days. But in my family, I have become the last to know. When they didn't show up at the cabin, nobody told me why until I asked (which was long after the fact). By then, I was too tired to move... That morning I was in Lutsen, Minnesota. The day before I was at Wrigley Stadium in Chicago. The day before that I was in Tonganoxie, Kansas. And the day before that I was in Omaha, Nebraska. I was not in shape to be travelling again. In fact, the next night I think I slept in for a total of about 10 hours.
My Uncle John sure has made up a nice place. In the back there are two bedrooms called the "bunk house" where he can sleep a couple dozen people. Snowmobilers, hunters, anglers, family all come up and fill the place a few times per year. His own kids are starting families of their own, and it seems that at no point does he ever run out of room. Even then, there are a lot of places to stay nearby, and often people will come up and bring their own RVs or tents.
I stayed an extra day, and went out golfing with John and his neighbor Dave Carlson. Then, that night, we went out with Dave and his wife Sandy to a restaurant called "My Sister's Place" in Grand Marais. It was exactly what I needed. It was a relaxing day, good conversation, a good dinner, and no rushing about to try to get things done.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
06:02 p.m.
Was she the first woman in baseball?
While doing some research for my friend Pete Gorton and his John Donaldson Website, which I had a little time to update last week, I came across an article from the Fremont, Nebraska Tri-Weekly Tribune about someone who could be the first woman to hold a position in organized baseball.
The article reads:
Superior can boast of the only lady who holds a position in organized baseball or any other baseball in Nebraska, for that matter. Miss E. Brodstone is the treasurer of the baseball association at that place and a great enthusiast in baseball. Mrs. Felt is another lady of that city greatly interested in the game and the two are planning on taking automobile trips to all the towns of the league this summer.
It was an interesting time, not only for baseball, but for the state of Nebraska and the state of the country. Roads were not very common, and most travel was done by train. That was usually done by leaving on one of three or four dozen trains per day on three different train companies, Union Pacific, Northwestern and Burlington. Trains were efficient and tracks were well kept. Roads were muddy, bridges were non-existent or scary. The "great Nebraska highway" is only a dream at this point, and sections will soon being built to only take people up to half way across the state.
There are no fast food restaurants in 1913. There are no grocery stores, electricity is available but expensive and rare. Everyone works hard. Winters are harsh. Food is starting to be preserved in jars, from summer and fall harvests. And the idea of trading jars from person-to-person and from household-to-household is gaining in popularity. Other ways that food is preserved usually include drying and heavily salting.
And one of the things I'd never thought of until now was that in that time you couldn't do anything on Sunday. That year, the legislature and the Governor of Nebraska had signed into law a bill that towns under 5,000 people, if they chose, would be allowed to play baseball on Sunday. And as was often the case, some towns would not allow baseball, and exercised their town's right. An article on March 29, 1913 says this about the subject:
Sunday baseball will not be played in Kearney the coming season the directors not wishing to antagonize the anti-Sunday baseball support which they have been promised for the season in the form of making up any deficit. Several business men's holidays will take the place of the Sunday games, and this will give the fans a chance to attend at one or more if they desire.
When I talk about this with people of even my parent's generation, they remind me of how much you couldn't do on a Sunday in the 1970s. You couldn't buy cars, or jackets, or mowers on a Sunday. You could buy food, or gasoline. You couldn't buy beer (it's still that way in many states) on a Sunday. You couldn't buy anything considered an "extravagence."
Now, it's 24-7, 365.
What was I talking about?
Monday, June 19, 2006
09:14 p.m.
Power Abhors a Vacuum
A college professor of mine, Dr. Russell used to drill into our heads to look at history and see that
"power abhors a vacuum." And I wish that before he passed (I'm not sure, but I believed he has passed.), I had asked him
where that quote came from. I'm getting close, but until then I will attribute the quote to Dr. Russell. And that's just
because that's where I heard it.
It got me thinking this last week that Bill Gates and Warren Buffet have power. I mention Bill Gates first
not because he is the world's richest man, but because he has reached a point in his life where he wanted to change.
Microsoft.com/billgates/ has a little of the latest from what
Microsoft has decided to hand out to the public.
My good friend Mike Kulstad said to me once that when you leave any place, whether it be work or a
community, it's like pulling your hand out of a bucket of sand. When you pull your hand out, other grains of sand fall in
to take your place. Sure, there's a dent until someone sticks their hand there. But the bucket won't be empty. I always
liked that, and I would like to think that Mr. Gates would like that, too.
When I think about what Mr. Gates has done to change the world, and what he's now capable of doing since
he's still so young to be leaving such a powerful company, I sincerely hope that he gets out of the fear business.
Bill Gates and Warren Buffet, two of the world's richest men
Though I respect Mr. Gates and Mr. Buffet, I sometimes want to know why they choose to live amongst the
common man, when so many other options are available. It could very well be they simply want to have their hands on the
pulse of society, to see every investing opportunity as it presents itself. Maybe they are only cheap, but I really don't
buy that argument either.
Perhaps they are simply comfortable in khakis and college sweatshirts. I could buy that.
And perhaps they are like every other person on earth and just want to jump in the Ford Explorer and drive
down to the Dairy Queen for a banana split. And who could blame them?
One rarely-heard, but often told story about Bill Gates is his method of travel. He usually flies coach,
types on a laptop, wears a blanket over his head while he types, takes the shuttle to the hotel, and often carries his own
bag. So we can gather that first of all, he doesn't mind and may even like cramped spaces, he likes to work and work
everywhere he goes, he likes to build forts, he finds hotel shuttles efficient, and doesn't want to bother anybody with
helping him with his things and seemingly doesn't like to be a burden. He seems quite the reneissance man.
Warren Buffet does a few of the same things. He eats out at little ma-and-pa diners. He orders simple foods,
and drives himself around.
And the romantic in me wanted so much to believe that both Mr. Gates and Mr. Buffet were two modern-day
Henry Vs. Shakespeare's Henry V was known to walk amongst his men, in disguise, to find out what they thought about him,
to try to bring any good words or comfort about the next day's battle, and to eventually say to his men, "Once more unto
the breach, dear friends..." and "...For he today who sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother..."
And I want so much to see either of these men as the hero, the so beloved King Henry. And right now, I
just can't. Because it's not enough to be here amongst us, the common man who knows like those men knew about Henry. And
that's that at any point, he could wish and be home, "up to his neck in Thames."
It is not only important to be amongst us, you must also fear our fears. Will we run out of resources and
energy? How safe is the world's clean water supply? Will urban sprawl continue to ruin our countryside? Will the world's
parks continue to be made harder and harder to enjoy? Will our sons and daughters continue to be sent to war?
They both have been and are a part of that fear machine. Will my hard drive crash? Will my job be outsourced?
Will I not be able to afford the necessities of life?
When it comes to living life, how much do we really need? Or, better yet, how much do we really have?
Someone close to me told me that, "Everything you need, you have." And it just tied my stomach in a knot.
It was cute, but it was just far too wrong, and wrong on so many levels. And I just couldn't say anything, until now.
If there's one thing I've learned about living in this world it's that even if you live completely
independent of everything and everyone, you are still dependent on everything and everyone.
Not to mention, by saying that people don't need anything outside of themselves discounts anyone who is
mentally challanged, mentally ill, blind, deaf, heck fill in any handicap or challenge that people face these days. Are
the people who fall under categories of handicap or challenge any less human? OF COURSE NOT! And I refuse to even listen
to such an argument, if there even could be one. To say so is short-sighted, to say the least.
That leads me to another point about Mr. Gates. And that's what seems to be his present focus of doing more
philanthropic work. I sure hope that he works on getting it right, rather than working on doing what his handlers
suggest to him. He's at an age where if he truely works and acts from the heart, he will change the world again.
Monday, June 19, 2006
01:14 p.m.
Downloading "free" music.
If you stop listening to all of the fear-mongers out there and pay attention to what's really going on with the music scene, you might be pleasantly suprised that there is a lot of free music out there, and there are a lot of artists out there who want you to download their music.
Why would they want to do this? Well, one reason is that they would like you to buy their album, and they're willing to give up a free song or two to convince you that the rest of the album is worth the money.
Another reason is that many musicians around the world get pleasure from playing and pleasure from having people listen to music. It's a symbiotic relationship that's as old as the hills.
Whatever the reason, the truth is there are a lot of people who want to give you their music. So get out there and start downloading!
Try some of these sites:
music.download.com
www.garageband.com
www.archive.org
Just make sure that when you find something that you really like, make some type of correspondence with the musician. Not doing this is like yelling "YOU SUCK" at one of their concerts, or not clapping or doing anything at all.
If you really love the artist's songs, then buy the CD or buy the song. It's only fair now, isn't it?
Friday, June 16, 2006
10:53 p.m.
Do not click on this video!
I told you not to click on it! Why didn't you listen to me!?
Friday, June 16, 2006
01:20 p.m.
Today's history lesson
While making a recent purchase, an older woman handed me my credit card receipt and said, "I'll just need your 'John Henry' here." And I stopped for a moment, then asked, "Do you want me to drive a railroad spike through this receipt?"
John Henry was a folk hero, a man who was most likely illiterate, born a slave and then born a legend when he challanged a steam drill to a contest. He died of exhaustion, apparently from the contest. And we may look at his size, six feet tall and 200 pounds and think that he's not that big a man, by today's standards. But in the late 1800s, that man was a giant.
What our dear friend who asked for my signature was most likely asking me for was my "John Hancock."
John Hancock was one of the founding fathers, known probably best for his signature. The big, bold signature on the Declaration of Independence was the first and the biggest. Hancock was chosen to represent Boston at the signing. He became the President of the Continental Congress, and had to flee his home in Boston on occasion to elude capture by the British.
Why did he sign it so big? Legend says Hancock wanted King George (III) to be able to read his name without his spectacles.
The story and legends of both men are equally amazing. The ringing words of "All men are created equal." are just as beautiful and powerful when you can mistake a man who swung a 9-pound hammer, driving steel through a mile of mountain rock and a man who drove a stake of freedom through an english king's forehead.
Friday, June 16, 2006
09:48 a.m.
Why do you do what you do?
Rediscovering Wesley Willis
For those of you who missed out on the internet when it was in it's infancy, I'll let you rediscover something that was passed around in those early days... the 1990s.
There was this street musician from Chicago named Wesley Willis (click on his name to go to his wikipedia description... it is very thorough). He wasn't the best musician, or the worst musician. He wasn't the best or the worst artist. But for who he was, people stopped to listen.
There are several places on the internet where you can download whole albums of his work. (TRY I would suggest "Rock and Roll McDonalds" and "Cut the Mullet." If you're daring, and don't mind a lot of swear words, download all of them, especially "My Mother Smokes Crack Rocks." And you can even try the Wesley Willis song generator.
Monday, June 12, 2006
08:40 p.m.
I made it to Tampa, FL and my head feels like shredded cabbage. I leave for the airport tomorrow at 6, so I'll have to leave here at 3:30 a.m. (At least that's when the taxi will pick me up.)
So my dear friend Donna Kleppe (my bosses hired hand at the ranch) helped me move all of my stuff from the old truck to the new truck. Then, over the past three days I drove it down here to Florida. Come to find out, about half way through the trip, she had removed everything from the cab, including truck registration, insurance information and IFTA fuel tax cards. That's basically every legal document you need to drive a 13+ ton projectile down the road and not have to spend any time in jail.
Yeah, so I made it here anyway. I guess I was lucky. I have a feeling her husband Tim will get a big kick out of that one. He's such a trooper. The guy actually brought my boots in for repair (there is a great shoe and boot repair place close to where he works in Hopkins). He gave me some grief about them being a little muddy, but what's a guy to do?
No word yet from Laura (the mystery woman from last Friday). I should have been a little more bold and a little less nerdy and simply asked her out. But my big problem was when? I didn't know when I'd be back to Minnesota, and right now I'm not sure how long I'll be there, because I will be taking off right away for a week in Omaha. I'll have plenty of time to get some website work done, and hopefully I can catch up with a lot of friends while I'm there.
I learned a lot about shutting the hell up last week. It turns out that some people would rather me not talk about them on my blog. But over the history of this blog, it appears that I haven't learned from my mistakes. Maybe I'm addicted to hate mail or something.
Now I need to find out if I'll get to fly out or if this Hurricane will shut down the flights. I guess I could use some comic relief right now.
Sunday, June 11
It's Sunday night, and I decided to "thumb" a message in with my cell phone. I drove all day yesterday and today, and will arrive in Tampa tomorrow. Then I will fly back bright and early on Tuesday.
Last Friday I met this gorgeous woman while doing this story on a guy who averted a crime while delivering pizzas. The restaurant, "GALACTIC PIZZA" has the delivery people wear costumes, so the guy who stole the purse had a superhero come down on him. Great story.
Anyway, I postponed my trip a day to see about this beautiful woman. There are only a few things I know about her, such as her name, that she's a nurse in St. Paul, she's from St. Charles, but then went to Blooming Prairie (where most of her friends I met that night were also from). She has a big heart, you can tell by the way she describes her career. And a friend told me recently that women show their emotions through the eyes.
I don't know if I'll get the chance to go out with her again, but I'd sure like to get lost in those eyes again!
Wednesday, June 7, 2006
08:10 a.m.
Pen and Ink
Off and on, I've been working on some pen and ink drawings. And while I wish that I could be as good as artists like Claudia Nice (she has written several books), or even be as recognizable as Charles Schultz, I've started to collect my own cast of characters.
Pen and Ink drawings are one of the most simple of arts, considering the cost and even lack of cost in materials. Making ink is very inexpensive, and there are a lot of recipes on the web. I found several collected by Evan Lindquist and his recipes call for things like Gallnuts, Ferrous Sulfate, Gum Arabic, Water, Tannic Acid, and even some scary things like Hydrocloric Acid and Carbolic Acid. But it's much simpler than these big words sound. Ink is basically water and carbon. And carbon can be gathered from just about anything, from soot, from rust scaped off of metal, or from oak, sumac and other woods from around the world (india and china are a couple of popular places and popular inks). Soy ink has become a popular ink in the U.S., in part because of the recycling efforts and the effort to use an ink that can be more easily bleached from the paper.
I am continually amazed at how much writing I do, and how often I wear out and empty ballpoint and fountain pens, and how often I go through an old fashioned bottle of india ink. I do some drawing, but do a heck of a lot of writing. And when I don't write, I go through withdrawal.
Picture I did of a college friend, Brett Single
Throughout the history of pen and ink drawing, artwork was used to describe plants and animals from faraway places, used to convert pictures and ideas to a more easily printed picture, and used in cartoons, doodles and ideas that couldn't be described by simply writing.
Something I drew on a flight to Montana last year
A while back I came up with a crazy idea when I was trying to figure out what to do with the creek running through the front lawn. On really dry years, the creek completely dries up. And should that happen again, I shall take the opportunity to dig the area out a little to create more of a pond. If it stays wet, the creek gives me a constant water supply for the garden, which is only a few feet away. But another idea I came up with was to build a big "lilly pad" where I could enjoy the swampy area by creating a personal space just above that area. Frogs and toads could continue to live below the area, because I've been looking at different steel grates that could be used as the lily pad's surface.
Sketch of the Lily Pad idea
Whether I ever finish, or even start to work on this idea wasn't the point of sketching it out. The idea just kept swimming around in my head until I got it down on paper, then it didn't bother me anymore. The idea is finished, and only the work is incomplete.
I've also come to find that sometimes it's not only important to try to convey an idea like that, it's just as important to try to convey a feeling.
Some of my older drawings captured moments, and related memories and feelings from the person I was with at the time. And one of the interesting things my dad taught me (to this day I still consider him the best artist I've known), is that if you work too hard to repeat the techniques of others, like Nice, or Schultz, or Larson, or Watterson (Calvin and Hobbes still rule my world!), you will lose your own original techniques. I think that there is something to the simplicity of the drawings I now create, versus the drawings I used to do.
Technically not a pen and ink, I used a really weird pencil for this one and it crapped black spots all over the page. I then went directly back to the standard pen and ink well.
And I guess that the other reason I like the classic pen and ink drawings are that you aren't distracted by the color, taking your attention away from where your eyes want to take you.
For the artist, there are unlimited ways to make a drawing, and even a poorly drawn coffee cup can be reason for inspiration. And you haven't seen anything until you've seen an artist push some spilled coffee around on a paper and make a drawing!
I've also come to find that I'm leaving far too many comments and stuff in the columns, and that I really shouldn't be all that afraid of wasting paper. Yet sometimes it's the stuff we write and doodle in those edges that are sometimes so important.
My friend Jeremy Karl told me one time about how his dad, Lou could write his name backwards and forwards, with both hands, reverse them, turn them upside down, even write twice with both hands, as if writing in mirror image of one another, in part from years of doodling during boring meetings. That's just plain intelligence beyond what I feel I could ever comprehend. Wow.
Part of searching for characters to pen and ink includes trying to research all of the different personality types. Schools of thought say there are at least two types, type "a" and type "b" but most people say there are a lot more than that. I've heard three, five, seven, sixteen (Myers-Briggs), then upwards of 50 or 60, or more. And they all have either catagories that are far too simplified, or they have far too specific examples. Either way, it makes for an interesting project.
