The holiday shopping season is here. I read that Sears, K-mart and Toys “R” Us are having Christmas sales this month. It used to be that retailers would wait until after Thanksgiving to start the madness. Not long ago the season hopped to Halloween, leaped over Labor Day and jumped into July.
Now that the Christmas season is upon us (with only 160 shopping days left) I need to check my local listings to see when “It’s A Wonderful Life” will be on. I consider it to be one of the great Christmas movies, right up there with “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” If you have wisely spent a couple hours of your life watching the 1946 movie starring Jimmy Stewart, read on. But if you haven’t seen it, then put it on the list and read this column later as it may ruin any surprises the movie may hold.
Because the story revolves around one pivotal Christmas Eve, the movie is considered seasonal, which is why it is suitable for viewing during the newly expanded Christmas shopping season. Although 63 years old, the movie has a message that still applies today.
The hero of the movie is George Bailey, played by Jimmy Stewart. Due to events beyond his control, George shelves his dream of going to college to become an architect. Sacrificing his own goals, he stays home to run the family business - the Bailey Building and Loan Association. Later on in the movie it becomes clear that George saves the town and its people from financial ruin. George expects no hand-outs, requests no government aid, and accepts no bail-outs.
We could use more of that kind of thinking now. Our government is turning us into a nation of takers. Most of us would agree that we should not expect something for nothing. The more “benefits” that are given to the many, the more taxes will be taken from the few. It is simple mathematics. Real freedom is economic freedom: the freedom to save and spend your own money as you see fit.
George’s adversary is Old Man Potter, played by Lionel Barrymore. Potter is mean, ruthless and friendless, and in the words of George Bailey “a warped, frustrated old man.” Potter has his own agenda: Control of the finances and lives of the town’s residents. In his quest for power Potter takes advantage of every crisis.
During a visit to Potter’s office, George’s Uncle Billy mislays $8,000 from the building and loan association. Unable to find the money, and unwilling to face the shame, George decides to take his own life. Although no amount of money is justification for suicide, $8,000 is a lot of money, even today.
Our elected officials in Washington do not understand the value of a dollar. They have failed in their fiduciary responsibility to spend our money wisely. Whether it is regarding another stimulus package, government controlled health care or the federal budget, the amount of $1 trillion is mentioned too casually and too frequently.
Allow me to illustrate the shamefully obscene amount of money they are talking about. You would have to watch “It’s A Wonderful Life,” 125 million times to see Uncle Billy misplace the equivalent of $1 trillion dollars in $8,000 increments. That’s a lot of popcorn and bathroom breaks.
For life to remain wonderful, our government needs to stop spending like it’s Christmas time. For someday we may hear this public service announcement: “Attention shoppers: Uncle Sam’s store is now closed. We have run out of your money.”
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Fifty Years
I am now middle-aged and plan to live “happily ever after.” By the time you read this I will have celebrated my 50th birthday. In the last couple months it has become clear to me that I should have bought stock in Hallmark and American Greetings. During that time my two sisters have rubbed this half century milestone in my face by sending me birthday cards (the mean kind) almost every day. One of them even signed me up for AARP.
I have learned a thing or two over the last five decades. So, in this week’s column I will do something rather presumptuous – I will share some of my observations.
No matter what anyone tells you, pasta should not be baked on a cookie sheet. It works for cookies however. But before you bake the cookies in the oven, have a generous helping of cookie dough; because raw cookie dough often tastes better than the finished product (I ignore the salmonella risk). My personal favorite is chocolate-chip oatmeal.
Dessert should be eaten first. Don’t listen to any of that “you’ll ruin your appetite,” business. You are more likely to have enough “room” at the beginning of the meal (unless you filled up on cookie dough) so take advantage of it. As age becomes more of an issue it’s wise not to put off the best part of the meal until later – because you just never know.
I like traveling light, but the amount of clothing needed for a long trip can make that difficult - so I have developed a system. It takes a little planning but the result can be rather liberating.
The next time you find a hole in your socks or underwear – don’t discard them: Put them in your suitcase, or if soiled throw them in the laundry to be cleaned for your next trip. If given enough time you can stockpile a nice supply of vacation clothing.
Now comes the fun part. At the end of each travel day you simply throw the condemned article in the garbage (be sure to remove any name tags to guard against identity theft of an embarrassing nature). By the end of your trip you will have plenty of room for souvenirs, or your traveling companion’s clothes. They may have ridiculed you previously, but they will be seeking your favor by the end of the trip.
Go to your class reunions; this may be the last chance you have to talk with people who shared your childhood. Stay in touch with family and friends - someday you won’t be able to.
Church is the best place to be on Sunday mornings. The second best place to be is the buffet line at a restaurant serving brunch.
Tip generously. A little extra will not be missed by you, but it will mean a lot to your server. When possible, spend money to save time, rather than the other way around. Money can be made again, but time can never be replaced. Children spell love T-I-M-E.
Read to children and spend time with the elderly. Pay close attention to what your mother and father say, for someday you will repeat the same words to your children. Hear your children out, even when you disagree with them. It will give you an opportunity to understand them.
If you have a rock in your shoe, get rid of it. Why go through life annoyed and irritated? The world has enough cranky people walking around.
“Once upon a time,” can start today. Live your life in a way that will count for something meaningful.
I have learned a thing or two over the last five decades. So, in this week’s column I will do something rather presumptuous – I will share some of my observations.
No matter what anyone tells you, pasta should not be baked on a cookie sheet. It works for cookies however. But before you bake the cookies in the oven, have a generous helping of cookie dough; because raw cookie dough often tastes better than the finished product (I ignore the salmonella risk). My personal favorite is chocolate-chip oatmeal.
Dessert should be eaten first. Don’t listen to any of that “you’ll ruin your appetite,” business. You are more likely to have enough “room” at the beginning of the meal (unless you filled up on cookie dough) so take advantage of it. As age becomes more of an issue it’s wise not to put off the best part of the meal until later – because you just never know.
I like traveling light, but the amount of clothing needed for a long trip can make that difficult - so I have developed a system. It takes a little planning but the result can be rather liberating.
The next time you find a hole in your socks or underwear – don’t discard them: Put them in your suitcase, or if soiled throw them in the laundry to be cleaned for your next trip. If given enough time you can stockpile a nice supply of vacation clothing.
Now comes the fun part. At the end of each travel day you simply throw the condemned article in the garbage (be sure to remove any name tags to guard against identity theft of an embarrassing nature). By the end of your trip you will have plenty of room for souvenirs, or your traveling companion’s clothes. They may have ridiculed you previously, but they will be seeking your favor by the end of the trip.
Go to your class reunions; this may be the last chance you have to talk with people who shared your childhood. Stay in touch with family and friends - someday you won’t be able to.
Church is the best place to be on Sunday mornings. The second best place to be is the buffet line at a restaurant serving brunch.
Tip generously. A little extra will not be missed by you, but it will mean a lot to your server. When possible, spend money to save time, rather than the other way around. Money can be made again, but time can never be replaced. Children spell love T-I-M-E.
Read to children and spend time with the elderly. Pay close attention to what your mother and father say, for someday you will repeat the same words to your children. Hear your children out, even when you disagree with them. It will give you an opportunity to understand them.
If you have a rock in your shoe, get rid of it. Why go through life annoyed and irritated? The world has enough cranky people walking around.
“Once upon a time,” can start today. Live your life in a way that will count for something meaningful.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
The Fourth of July
There is an old riddle that asks – “Do they have a 4th of July in England?” Well of course the answer is yes – they just don’t celebrate it like we do. The 4th of July in America is the big day – the day we celebrate our independence. For without our liberty every other day would be very different.
I am not going to speculate about the ways this country would be different without individual freedom and liberty – I don’t have to. It’s happening before our eyes. But for now, let’s pretend everything is O.K. and let me regale you with a list of the Presidents who were born and died on July 4th. What they had to say concerning how government works and its relation to the people it serves is fit for application today.
John Adams, the 2nd President of The United States died on July 4th, 1826. His last words were “Thomas Jefferson still surv (ives).” But what he didn’t know was that Thomas Jefferson, the 3rd President of our country, would also die the very same day. Jefferson’s last words: “This is the fourth?” Adams had wrote previously that “The happiness of society is the end of government,” meaning the goal of government is the happiness of society.
Perhaps this is what Thomas Jefferson was alluding to when he wrote in The Declaration of Independence: “We hold these to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
In 1809 Thomas Jefferson wrote to a group of citizen’s in Maryland that “The care of human life and happiness, and not their destruction, is the first and only legitimate object of good government.” Is it these words that President Obama is using to fuel his fervor for national health insurance, or do these same words give us pause when we debate the subject of how we care for the unborn?
President Jefferson was a prolific letter writer. In a letter to James Madison he said “…a little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing, and as necessary in the political worlds as storms in the physical.”
James Madison, the 4th President, broke tradition when he died just 6 days shy of July 4th on June 28th, 1836. In a speech given in 1788 he said that “I believe there are more instances of the abridgement of the freedom of the people by gradual and silent encroachments of those in power than by violent and sudden usurpations.” President Madison forgot to tell us about the encroachments that are neither violent, nor gradual, and where the usurpations are both sudden and seen.
James Monroe, our 5th President, perhaps trying to reestablish a tradition, also died on the 4th of July (1831). In his inaugural address of 1817 he said “National honor is national property of the highest value.” Recently we have lost much of our national honor which has given our enemies the impression that we are weak and vulnerable.
Calvin Coolidge, the 30th President, is the only President who was born on the 4th of July (1872). In a speech given to a group of newspaper editors in 1925 he declared “The chief business of America is business.” With government taking over banks, insurance companies, and auto maufacturers it should be restated as “The chief business of the government is taking over American business.”
Do we have the 4th of July in The United States of America? Of course, but are we losing our freedom and liberty?
I am not going to speculate about the ways this country would be different without individual freedom and liberty – I don’t have to. It’s happening before our eyes. But for now, let’s pretend everything is O.K. and let me regale you with a list of the Presidents who were born and died on July 4th. What they had to say concerning how government works and its relation to the people it serves is fit for application today.
John Adams, the 2nd President of The United States died on July 4th, 1826. His last words were “Thomas Jefferson still surv (ives).” But what he didn’t know was that Thomas Jefferson, the 3rd President of our country, would also die the very same day. Jefferson’s last words: “This is the fourth?” Adams had wrote previously that “The happiness of society is the end of government,” meaning the goal of government is the happiness of society.
Perhaps this is what Thomas Jefferson was alluding to when he wrote in The Declaration of Independence: “We hold these to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
In 1809 Thomas Jefferson wrote to a group of citizen’s in Maryland that “The care of human life and happiness, and not their destruction, is the first and only legitimate object of good government.” Is it these words that President Obama is using to fuel his fervor for national health insurance, or do these same words give us pause when we debate the subject of how we care for the unborn?
President Jefferson was a prolific letter writer. In a letter to James Madison he said “…a little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing, and as necessary in the political worlds as storms in the physical.”
James Madison, the 4th President, broke tradition when he died just 6 days shy of July 4th on June 28th, 1836. In a speech given in 1788 he said that “I believe there are more instances of the abridgement of the freedom of the people by gradual and silent encroachments of those in power than by violent and sudden usurpations.” President Madison forgot to tell us about the encroachments that are neither violent, nor gradual, and where the usurpations are both sudden and seen.
James Monroe, our 5th President, perhaps trying to reestablish a tradition, also died on the 4th of July (1831). In his inaugural address of 1817 he said “National honor is national property of the highest value.” Recently we have lost much of our national honor which has given our enemies the impression that we are weak and vulnerable.
Calvin Coolidge, the 30th President, is the only President who was born on the 4th of July (1872). In a speech given to a group of newspaper editors in 1925 he declared “The chief business of America is business.” With government taking over banks, insurance companies, and auto maufacturers it should be restated as “The chief business of the government is taking over American business.”
Do we have the 4th of July in The United States of America? Of course, but are we losing our freedom and liberty?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
I heard my Dad laugh today
Today, the first day of summer, I heard my Dad laugh, which is odd as he has been gone for over five years. Well, maybe “heard” is not the right word. But I could feel his laugh and then I imagined him asking me with that big broad smile of his, “What’s the matter Jer?”
I was going through my parent’s music collection and after listening to Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops, The Statler Brothers and Mitch Miller, I put in Nat King Cole. This was a CD I purchased for my parents in an attempt to right a wrong committed decades ago. As Nat started to sing, the CD skipped, and skipped and skipped again until I took it out to examine it. There was nothing wrong with it. Just like there had been nothing wrong with a record by the same artist.
My Dad loved to have music playing in the house. We grew up listening to Floyd Cramer, Percy Faith, The Ray Conniff singers, Fats Domino and many others. Dad even bought the Simon and Garfunkel Album “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” in 1970. He would put the record on the Hi-Fi (long before there was Wi-Fi) and crank up the volume on “Bye Bye Love”.
Back in the late ’60’s he had bought a record cleaner which promised to clean and preserve records for many years of listening pleasure, while at the same time restoring the record’s sound to its original quality.
The first record he chose to experiment on was one by Nat King Cole. Dad liberally sprayed the cloth with the cleaning solution and began to vigorously wipe both sides of the record. He had large hands and was able to get the job done rather quickly. After he was satisfied that the record had been properly cleansed of any impurities he placed it on the turntable.
The sound that came from the speakers was a sour, mournful moan. It was obvious: the record was ruined. It had been chemically altered and would never sound the same again. I, being a young vandal, recognized the opportunity.
“Can I have it?” I asked.
Without questioning my intentions Dad handed it over to me. I took the record and did something that I was forbidden to do, both by my parents and commonly recognized rules of decency. I grabbed a sharp tool and I scratched it. I scratched it deeply, numerously and insanely.
Then Dad read the directions which advised the user to let the record air dry before playing. I said I was sorry, but the damage was done. He threw the record in the garbage.
Now clearly, if Dad had read the directions, and if I had been less impulsive things would have been different. Because of that, and numerous other life lessons, I have learned to take things slower, more methodically; because some times – things get better when left alone.
One of my favorite quotes is “the serenity prayer.” As written by the author Reinhold Niebuhr in 1943: “God, give us grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, courage to change the things that should be changed, and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.”
I gave the CD a little cleaning for old time’s sake and tried it again. Nat King Cole sounded perfect. I could almost hear my Dad sing along.
“Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Those days of soda and pretzels and beer
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
You’ll wish that summer could always be here.”
I was going through my parent’s music collection and after listening to Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops, The Statler Brothers and Mitch Miller, I put in Nat King Cole. This was a CD I purchased for my parents in an attempt to right a wrong committed decades ago. As Nat started to sing, the CD skipped, and skipped and skipped again until I took it out to examine it. There was nothing wrong with it. Just like there had been nothing wrong with a record by the same artist.
My Dad loved to have music playing in the house. We grew up listening to Floyd Cramer, Percy Faith, The Ray Conniff singers, Fats Domino and many others. Dad even bought the Simon and Garfunkel Album “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” in 1970. He would put the record on the Hi-Fi (long before there was Wi-Fi) and crank up the volume on “Bye Bye Love”.
Back in the late ’60’s he had bought a record cleaner which promised to clean and preserve records for many years of listening pleasure, while at the same time restoring the record’s sound to its original quality.
The first record he chose to experiment on was one by Nat King Cole. Dad liberally sprayed the cloth with the cleaning solution and began to vigorously wipe both sides of the record. He had large hands and was able to get the job done rather quickly. After he was satisfied that the record had been properly cleansed of any impurities he placed it on the turntable.
The sound that came from the speakers was a sour, mournful moan. It was obvious: the record was ruined. It had been chemically altered and would never sound the same again. I, being a young vandal, recognized the opportunity.
“Can I have it?” I asked.
Without questioning my intentions Dad handed it over to me. I took the record and did something that I was forbidden to do, both by my parents and commonly recognized rules of decency. I grabbed a sharp tool and I scratched it. I scratched it deeply, numerously and insanely.
Then Dad read the directions which advised the user to let the record air dry before playing. I said I was sorry, but the damage was done. He threw the record in the garbage.
Now clearly, if Dad had read the directions, and if I had been less impulsive things would have been different. Because of that, and numerous other life lessons, I have learned to take things slower, more methodically; because some times – things get better when left alone.
One of my favorite quotes is “the serenity prayer.” As written by the author Reinhold Niebuhr in 1943: “God, give us grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, courage to change the things that should be changed, and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.”
I gave the CD a little cleaning for old time’s sake and tried it again. Nat King Cole sounded perfect. I could almost hear my Dad sing along.
“Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Those days of soda and pretzels and beer
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
You’ll wish that summer could always be here.”
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Father's Day
We used to get my Dad a tie every year for Father’s Day. One tie from five kids – that was it. Looking back that seems kind of cheap.
If my kids got me just a tie for Father’s Day, I would think I had done something wrong - kind of like the lump of coal that naughty boys get at Christmas. You see I am a bit flawed - I like stuff. I think I may be too materialistic. Although as I get older things means less and less to me as I have witnessed enough damage from moths and rust to know these treasures do not last.
We didn’t have an excessive amount of resources at our house when I was young. We ate butter sandwiches for lunch, and we rarely threw leftovers away. But, we were happy. Going to out to eat, even to McDonald’s, was a treat. We didn’t have pop in the house to grab on a whim, and Kool-Aid was a special drink.
My parents, like most of my friend’s folks, had grown up during the great depression. Mom had memories of eating beans three times a day and Dad talked about his mother feeding the men who walked the country side looking for something to eat and willing to trade work to get it. Dad told us that these men would be invited in to sit at his father and mother’s table, but the men – either too proud or too ashamed – chose to sit outside and sleep in the barn until they moved on in the morning.
We have come along way in a generation. I remember the day I saw my first color TV. It was at the home of a prosperous family in Belle Plaine; “Bonanza” was playing. I was so taken by the color of the Cartwright clothing that for years I compared all TVs to that experience. My family had a black and white console at home for many years. It was an Admiral brand. There were only five channels available, if you counted Channel 2 (the educational channel). I grew up watching “Star Trek,” “Lassie,” “The Wonderful World of Disney,” “Lawrence Welk,” and “The Wizard of Oz” (including the “color” part) all in black and white.
B&W television sets probably became obsolete with the change from analog to digital broadcasting. They surely were manufactured without a thought of digital signals, and I can’t imagine that many would upgrade a TV that is worth less than the converter box.
There is one scene involving a B&W TV set that will forever haunt me. Twenty-five years ago or so Rhonda, my girlfriend (now my wife), bought a TV for me as a gift through the newspaper want-ads. We got directions to a house in the country. The father let us in without much conversation. “There it is,” he said pointing to the small TV. I noticed that it was the only TV in the sparsely decorated room. It was kind of hard to get a good look at it because of the four small sad children standing around it trying to keep it from running away. Rhonda gave the man the $50.00 and I reluctantly picked up the TV and carried it to the car.
On the ride back to town and for the next 25 years, we have wondered whether he was getting rid of the TV to protect his children from moral decay, or if he just desperately needed the money.
You know, I think one tie is really all I need after all.
If my kids got me just a tie for Father’s Day, I would think I had done something wrong - kind of like the lump of coal that naughty boys get at Christmas. You see I am a bit flawed - I like stuff. I think I may be too materialistic. Although as I get older things means less and less to me as I have witnessed enough damage from moths and rust to know these treasures do not last.
We didn’t have an excessive amount of resources at our house when I was young. We ate butter sandwiches for lunch, and we rarely threw leftovers away. But, we were happy. Going to out to eat, even to McDonald’s, was a treat. We didn’t have pop in the house to grab on a whim, and Kool-Aid was a special drink.
My parents, like most of my friend’s folks, had grown up during the great depression. Mom had memories of eating beans three times a day and Dad talked about his mother feeding the men who walked the country side looking for something to eat and willing to trade work to get it. Dad told us that these men would be invited in to sit at his father and mother’s table, but the men – either too proud or too ashamed – chose to sit outside and sleep in the barn until they moved on in the morning.
We have come along way in a generation. I remember the day I saw my first color TV. It was at the home of a prosperous family in Belle Plaine; “Bonanza” was playing. I was so taken by the color of the Cartwright clothing that for years I compared all TVs to that experience. My family had a black and white console at home for many years. It was an Admiral brand. There were only five channels available, if you counted Channel 2 (the educational channel). I grew up watching “Star Trek,” “Lassie,” “The Wonderful World of Disney,” “Lawrence Welk,” and “The Wizard of Oz” (including the “color” part) all in black and white.
B&W television sets probably became obsolete with the change from analog to digital broadcasting. They surely were manufactured without a thought of digital signals, and I can’t imagine that many would upgrade a TV that is worth less than the converter box.
There is one scene involving a B&W TV set that will forever haunt me. Twenty-five years ago or so Rhonda, my girlfriend (now my wife), bought a TV for me as a gift through the newspaper want-ads. We got directions to a house in the country. The father let us in without much conversation. “There it is,” he said pointing to the small TV. I noticed that it was the only TV in the sparsely decorated room. It was kind of hard to get a good look at it because of the four small sad children standing around it trying to keep it from running away. Rhonda gave the man the $50.00 and I reluctantly picked up the TV and carried it to the car.
On the ride back to town and for the next 25 years, we have wondered whether he was getting rid of the TV to protect his children from moral decay, or if he just desperately needed the money.
You know, I think one tie is really all I need after all.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Landmarks
When I was young I used to wonder how my Dad was able to climb behind the wheel of the family station wagon and drive almost anywhere without ever looking at a map. He never stopped to ask for directions, and of course he did not have a GPS to guide him.
When I asked him how he managed to find his way from here to there and back he told me about landmarks. This of course was the subtle trick of looking for the familiar; the recognizable. He had driven all over the state for fifteen years as a Greyhound bus driver and later on as truck driver for Red Owl; so naturally he had the experience of driving to guide him. After a while I started to look for landmarks myself.
The ones that stuck out were the softball fields of Union Hill or St. Thomas (depending on which set of grandparents we were visiting), the house in New Prague (on the corner of 19 and 21) with the front porch that seemed to hang over a bottomless canyon leading to certain death for careless kids, the hand-painted sign in Shieldsville warning of the Lake Mazaska Monster.
Coming back from Southdale the landmarks were Brambilla’s, Winnie’s Dress Shop in downtown Shakopee (where my Mom liked to point to the dress on display in the window), and the Rahr tower. These landmarks let me know we were close to home and on the right track.
My favorite ones still are the rotating beacons from the Fairbault municipal and the Flying Cloud airports. They can be seen for miles and give me a nostalgic calming feeling. After a long day at Grandma’s house in Fairbault my Dad would take the back roads home (this was before 35W was built).
Listening to WCCO in the dark with Dad driving and Mom at his side, my brothers and sisters and I would watch for the flashing airport beacon for miles until we would go over the last hill and it would disappear from sight. We knew it was still there, we just couldn’t see it. Now with that light behind us we turned our attention to the front to see what the car’s headlights would show us.
Lately, I have been wondering where our nation is headed. I don’t recognize any of the landmarks, and we seem to be driving with the lights off. We have a new driver who, like my father doesn’t ask for directions either, but he, unlike my father, can not rely on his experiences to guide him because he doesn’t have them. He is taking us down a road that this nation had not been before: Insurmountable debt, government ownership of private industry, and alliances with those who are intent on our destruction.
President Obama does have a Global Positioning System. But his system of global positioning is not designed to take us over the river and through the woods, but rather it is to position himself, and consequently this country, to be loved and accepted by all across the globe – to become one. Bin Laden, Kim Jong-Il, Ahmadinejad may be on the same road as our President – but they are driving in the opposite direction without regard to who may get in their way.
I like technology but have resisted getting a GPS. I don’t often stop and ask for directions either, and my sense of direction is not to be trusted. But, when I am entering an area where I have no experience I am not too proud to admit that I may be lost.
When I asked him how he managed to find his way from here to there and back he told me about landmarks. This of course was the subtle trick of looking for the familiar; the recognizable. He had driven all over the state for fifteen years as a Greyhound bus driver and later on as truck driver for Red Owl; so naturally he had the experience of driving to guide him. After a while I started to look for landmarks myself.
The ones that stuck out were the softball fields of Union Hill or St. Thomas (depending on which set of grandparents we were visiting), the house in New Prague (on the corner of 19 and 21) with the front porch that seemed to hang over a bottomless canyon leading to certain death for careless kids, the hand-painted sign in Shieldsville warning of the Lake Mazaska Monster.
Coming back from Southdale the landmarks were Brambilla’s, Winnie’s Dress Shop in downtown Shakopee (where my Mom liked to point to the dress on display in the window), and the Rahr tower. These landmarks let me know we were close to home and on the right track.
My favorite ones still are the rotating beacons from the Fairbault municipal and the Flying Cloud airports. They can be seen for miles and give me a nostalgic calming feeling. After a long day at Grandma’s house in Fairbault my Dad would take the back roads home (this was before 35W was built).
Listening to WCCO in the dark with Dad driving and Mom at his side, my brothers and sisters and I would watch for the flashing airport beacon for miles until we would go over the last hill and it would disappear from sight. We knew it was still there, we just couldn’t see it. Now with that light behind us we turned our attention to the front to see what the car’s headlights would show us.
Lately, I have been wondering where our nation is headed. I don’t recognize any of the landmarks, and we seem to be driving with the lights off. We have a new driver who, like my father doesn’t ask for directions either, but he, unlike my father, can not rely on his experiences to guide him because he doesn’t have them. He is taking us down a road that this nation had not been before: Insurmountable debt, government ownership of private industry, and alliances with those who are intent on our destruction.
President Obama does have a Global Positioning System. But his system of global positioning is not designed to take us over the river and through the woods, but rather it is to position himself, and consequently this country, to be loved and accepted by all across the globe – to become one. Bin Laden, Kim Jong-Il, Ahmadinejad may be on the same road as our President – but they are driving in the opposite direction without regard to who may get in their way.
I like technology but have resisted getting a GPS. I don’t often stop and ask for directions either, and my sense of direction is not to be trusted. But, when I am entering an area where I have no experience I am not too proud to admit that I may be lost.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Weekend in Ada
There are at least two ways to go through life: Hurry up so you see everything, or slow down so you don’t miss anything. The big cities get all the attention, which is fine. But if you want to slow the clock down spend some time in a small town. When I say small - I mean smaller than Shakopee, even smaller than Belle Plaine – something in the neighborhood of 1,500 living in the city limits.
This is not one of those travel column where I tell you where to go, what to see, what to eat, and how to dress (I have trouble with those areas myself on a daily basis), it’s more of a reflection of a perception. Recently I loaded up the family (and my daughter’s boyfriend) and drove four hours northwest to Ada.
Ada is a community that frequently gets attention either with its championship sports teams or it’s propensity for flooding. Ada, which is North of Fargo near the North Dakota border, graduated 39 seniors from its high school this year. It did this in partnership with neighboring Borup (population 100 or so). My sister’s daughter was one of them.
The graduation ceremony was, from my perspective, almost perfect. “Pomp and Circumstance,” the traditional tune for these ceremonies only had to be played once. The National Anthem was sung by three of the seniors, a local minister led the audience in prayer (without the ACLU whining in the corner), the speeches were of the proper length (short) and interesting – complete with the tearful good-byes. Plus, my niece lost her shoe under the stage during the processional. But, as she said during her speech – “I lost my shoe but I got my diploma.”
This town, although small, is not without its modern conveniences. At the Norman Motel – with its 15 units you have access to a Wi-Fi connection and cable TV. (Call ahead for reservations.) The Orpheum Theater shows first-run movies, there is KRJB (106.5 FM), the local radio station that pushes 100,000 watts across town and the surrounding area. The town boasts three banks, several professional offices, a bowling alley, hospital, restaurants, stores, parks, and churches. In short, Ada, like most small towns, has all of the charm without the fuss.
You can safely walk around town, as my kids did with their cousins. The local priest, who marked 25 years in the ministry, was honored with a beautiful stainless steel gas grill by the congregation. I am sure he had plenty of help wheeling the grill from in front of the church to the back of his pick-up truck.
Soon, one or two of these 39 kids may pack their own truck looking for something better. Hal Ketchum’s song “Small Town Saturday Night” hints at this. “Bobby told Lucy ‘The world ain’t round, drops off sharp at the edge of town. Lucy you know the world must be flat, ‘cause when people leave town they never come back.’”
Ada reminded me of those days forty years ago in Belle Plaine. You could leave the house in the morning, come back for lunch, go again, and then back for supper. No worries, no cares, and the summers lasted forever.
Bigger is not always better. I like New York City – but it would not be my first choice to raise a family. A New York minute is a phrase used to describe a frenzied hurried moment, but a small town weekend suggests a slower serene pace. I am convinced now more than ever that small town values are concepts not to be taken for granted.
This is not one of those travel column where I tell you where to go, what to see, what to eat, and how to dress (I have trouble with those areas myself on a daily basis), it’s more of a reflection of a perception. Recently I loaded up the family (and my daughter’s boyfriend) and drove four hours northwest to Ada.
Ada is a community that frequently gets attention either with its championship sports teams or it’s propensity for flooding. Ada, which is North of Fargo near the North Dakota border, graduated 39 seniors from its high school this year. It did this in partnership with neighboring Borup (population 100 or so). My sister’s daughter was one of them.
The graduation ceremony was, from my perspective, almost perfect. “Pomp and Circumstance,” the traditional tune for these ceremonies only had to be played once. The National Anthem was sung by three of the seniors, a local minister led the audience in prayer (without the ACLU whining in the corner), the speeches were of the proper length (short) and interesting – complete with the tearful good-byes. Plus, my niece lost her shoe under the stage during the processional. But, as she said during her speech – “I lost my shoe but I got my diploma.”
This town, although small, is not without its modern conveniences. At the Norman Motel – with its 15 units you have access to a Wi-Fi connection and cable TV. (Call ahead for reservations.) The Orpheum Theater shows first-run movies, there is KRJB (106.5 FM), the local radio station that pushes 100,000 watts across town and the surrounding area. The town boasts three banks, several professional offices, a bowling alley, hospital, restaurants, stores, parks, and churches. In short, Ada, like most small towns, has all of the charm without the fuss.
You can safely walk around town, as my kids did with their cousins. The local priest, who marked 25 years in the ministry, was honored with a beautiful stainless steel gas grill by the congregation. I am sure he had plenty of help wheeling the grill from in front of the church to the back of his pick-up truck.
Soon, one or two of these 39 kids may pack their own truck looking for something better. Hal Ketchum’s song “Small Town Saturday Night” hints at this. “Bobby told Lucy ‘The world ain’t round, drops off sharp at the edge of town. Lucy you know the world must be flat, ‘cause when people leave town they never come back.’”
Ada reminded me of those days forty years ago in Belle Plaine. You could leave the house in the morning, come back for lunch, go again, and then back for supper. No worries, no cares, and the summers lasted forever.
Bigger is not always better. I like New York City – but it would not be my first choice to raise a family. A New York minute is a phrase used to describe a frenzied hurried moment, but a small town weekend suggests a slower serene pace. I am convinced now more than ever that small town values are concepts not to be taken for granted.
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