What I learned in 2010

When I was out trying to get elected to public office several of Robert Fulghum’s book titles kept entering my mind: “What On Earth Have I Done,” “Maybe (Maybe Not),” “Uh-Oh,” and “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.”

This is what I learned in 2010

- Walking/biking/fresh air (blah, blah, blah) really are good for you.

- One barking dog may be safe to approach; two is less likely; five – you should stay in your vehicle with the windows rolled up (I didn’t); twelve dogs running down the driveway towards you – well that’s just ridiculous.

- “I’m sorry, they’re not my dogs,” is not something you want to hear after you were just told, “don’t worry these dogs are fine.”

- According to the emergency room physician, if I’m careful I will be able to play the piano after a dog bit my hand. Gee, I always wanted to play the piano.

- People tell me I look like my dad (they must mean the younger version when he was in his 30’s and 40’s).

- You can’t judge a person by their shelter.

- You can hear people swear when their windows are open, “Who the %#@& is at the door now?”

- There are people so lonely they will invite a stranger into their home just to have someone to talk to, someone who will listen. We didn’t talk politics.

- A good teacher is never forgotten. “Your mom was a lovely lady. She was my first grade teacher,” was a comment I heard from several people.

- A stuck doorbell can be unstuck with a pocket knife before it chimes five times.

- Life is all about relationships.

I could, and probably will, expand on some of these topics. But for now, let me tell you about the last one. I witnessed many interactions between family members as they encountered me. My favorite involved a father and son.

It was on a Saturday, and I was biking around one of the towns. When I rode up to one house I saw two men painting an old garage. As I approached them the younger one (about my age) asked if I was there to help. I told them that I wasn’t very good at that kind of thing, but that I could go get my wife, who is a skilled painter

I then introduced myself to them. The younger one explained that he didn’t live there.

“It’s my dad’s place,” he said as he nodded toward his father. “I’m just helping him paint the garage.”

“I’m helping you,” his dad said, as he shuffled past into the garage to get something.

“Well, you are a good son,” I told him.

“Well, he’s been a good father,” he said. “He’s kind of slow, but we have a good time.”

I wanted to stay with them a while longer and share their good time – but they had work to do and I had other people to bother; so I gave them my piece of political propaganda and walked back to my bike. I don’t remember every stop, or every conversation of the campaign, but I’ll never forgot that good father and good son.

What I want is to be known as a good son, a good father, a good husband, a good friend…

It’s not what you get (at Christmas or any other time) – it’s the giving through your living that matters. Keep Christmas with you all through the year; I learned this from Sesame Street when my kids were little.

God Bless Us, Every One!

Away in my barn

Merry Christmas! Last year, I used some of my Christmas-gift money and bought a snow blower for my tractor. I don’t have a cab on the tractor so I usually get a face-full. This year I got smart and now wear ski goggles and a face mask. I still get covered with snow but at least my eyes and face stay dry.

With all of the snow removal required by this old-fashioned winter we have been “enjoying,” I have been kept from some of my other duties: baking Christmas cookies, trimming the Christmas tree and addressing Christmas cards. I had to have Rhonda do those this year.

But I have found time to prepare the barn for some guests. It’s not that I don’t have room in our house and expect expectant mothers to find comfort in the barn and lay their newborn babies in a feed trough; no, nothing like that. Jennifer, our daughter, is getting married next spring and we are having the reception and dance in the 80-year old barn loft. So with that on the horizon the loft must be made ready to welcome friends and family.

Lest you think clearing an old loft out sounds easy, allow me to set you straight: It isn’t. The loft of a barn can accumulate many things over time. Some stuff came with the place when we bought it almost 20-years ago (dirt, dust, cobwebs, straw stubble, hay seeds, scraps of wood and old farm tools), some items were donated (grand-parents’ and parents’ furniture), and some things we just put up there because there was room (a VW Bug with assorted parts I had disassembled before I got distracted, ladders, ping-pong table, sleds, bikes, etc., etc., and etc.).

The furniture was divided into three groups, one collection for each of our children who promised to take it with them when they got their own place, and one bunch we gave to the thrift store. The nice thing about the thrift lot is that I was fairly confident that once it was unloaded I would not have to touch it again. For the other stuff, I knew we would meet again.

Amazingly, we were able to find space for everything in another building. Once it was empty it became obvious that parts of the loft floor needed repair. Fortunately, I keep a supply of lumber in the lower part of the barn for “just in case.” The problem with doing that is that it can get out of control. This is due to the possibility that you may actually use a hoarded piece, even if that’s only as often as when a census is decreed. This only leads to saving more pieces for a future unknown use. I once read about a man who was cleaning his deceased grandfather’s garage attic. The grandson came across a box marked “too small to save.” In the box were pieces of wood that were apparently too small to save for anything but to fill the box.

Once the loft was empty we started sweeping, dusting, and coughing. Even with both 44-foot doors open (I may be a exaggerating a little on the size) visibility was reduced to zero at times. In between dust storms I glanced towards my daughter as she swept the wood floor with her broom. It was a little hard to focus as I had something in my eye. Next spring, as she moves among her guests, the bottom of her white dress will brush against the clean loft floor. I don’t know if goggles will help keep my eyes and face dry.

Not My Favorite Song

I like things to make sense - to have some logic, some consistency. I get cross when confronted with something that defies my own limited sense of order. Since so much of what we experience this time of year has a Christmassy feel to it, (a blizzard is means we’re going to have “a white Christmas”; many conversations comment about getting your Christmas shopping done - I haven’t it). To be consistent I thought I would stay on task (seems logical) and talk about Christmas music.

Everyone has their favorites (mine includes anything from “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” by Vince Guaraldi), and most everyone has their least favorite (the list gets longer as Christmas approaches).

One song I hear with too much frequency is “My Favorite Things,” from the “Sound of Music.’ I like the move and I like the song, but I contend it is not a Christmas song. I have had this conversation with anyone who will not walk away from me when I bring it up (the list gets shorter as Christmas approaches).

Sometimes the conversation turns into an argument with me defending my position from those who haven’t thought about this enough.

“Charlie Brown? Are you serious?”

“Who made me you the Christmas song sheriff?

Well, first of all, the songs from “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” are different – the cartoon actually was a Christmas show. And secondly, remember this column is just about me sharing my opinion (you are welcome to share yours even if it’s wrong).

Now let’s examine the lyrics together and see if you don’t agree (my comments are added):

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens; (roses are covered with snow, kittens don’t make great gifts).
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens; (are we boiling water for a Christmas tea? Mittens are wintery – so maybe that verse works).
Brown paper packages tied up with strings; (Christmas gifts delivered to your door, or just a poor wrapping job?).
These are a few of my favorite things. (the song title).

Cream-colored ponies and crisp apple strudels; (ponies don’t make great gifts either, and is apple strudel, crisp or otherwise, a holiday traditon in your house?).
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles; (doorbells – now who’s here? Sleighbells are jingle bells so that works. Schnitzel is an Austrian fried meat dish which is sure to upset your holiday vegan guests).
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings; (the geese are flying south – you know what that means, Christmas is just around the corner).
These are a few of my favorite things. (So we heard).

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes; (are these girls going to a holiday party? If so, white is out of season and blue sashes,satin or otherwise, are so 1938).
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes; (OK, this and the next verse are certainly seasonal with the images they create).
Silver-white winters that melt into springs; (It sounds more like April than December).
These are a few of my favorite things. (Thank you, I get it).

When the dog bites, (I’ve been bitten by a dog, and although it hurt it did not put me in the Christmas spirit).
When the bee stings, (Who gets stung by a bee this time of year?).
When I'm feeling sad, (Many people get depressed at Christmas time, so this verse is timely).
I simply remember my favorite things, (Not getting what you want for Christmas – that can make anyone sad).
And then I don't feel so bad. (I do when I hear this song at Christmas).

Gift Idea

Every Christmas most of us struggle with the same problem: what to buy for the person who seems to have everything or they don’t want anything. The good news is I believe I have discovered the perfect gift (to give, but not necessarily to receive). lawn ornaments. Now before you throw the idea out like a cheap pink flamingo please allow me to regale you with the benefits.

This idea occurred to me as I traveled from town to town. Many yards and lawns had displays that could not be defined by any theme. Along side a purple dragonfly would be a plywood cut-out of a woman in a red polka-dot dress proudly displaying her back-side as she tended the flowers.

What makes lawn ornaments such a great gift is that it leaves everyone off the hook –the receiver can love it or not, it doesn’t matter; you tried, and you had fun making your selection. If the recipient doesn’t like it they can hide it under a bush or re-gift it and plead ignorance as to its whereabouts. Of course, they may really be fond of it and display it prominently. Again, it doesn’t matter.

This category can include anything to enhance the yard of those on your gift list. Obviously this is not for children, kids don’t want that junk, get them some toys, books, mittens; it’s for the adults – homeowners. The possibilities are vast and varied which means that it is entirely likely that your gift will be unique, if not despised.

I suggest you avoid purchasing birdfeeders or bird baths. These require maintenance (filling and cleaning), so if the recipient wasn’t mad at you initially they will be. I’m thinking more along the lines of something you can put outside and forget it.

I am sure you will find something that fits your taste and budget. I have seen yard gnomes, frogs, elves, dogs, fairies and heard enough wind chimes to have a pretty good idea what’s available. Of course for the real crafty you can make your own decorations, using everyday household junk and recyclable material. These seem to be highly collectable/collectible (either spelling is correct) as they can be found everywhere.

There are, of course, commercially available gifts in the outdoor category. I was at one home that had a park bench with a life-size bronze Mark Twain reading Huck Finn right there in their yard - very classy.

My favorite frog “sculpture,” was a grouping of three. One was reading a book (The Frog Prince?), another was enjoying a cup of tea, and the third one was daydreaming or merely reflecting on the day. I took a picture. I think frogs are better choices than toads – unless you are trying to send a different message with your gift.

If you’re lucky, you may even inspire someone to start a collection; because once you get a collection started you’re home free. From there on in anything remotely connected to the theme is acceptable. I tried to get my wife, Rhonda, to embrace the idea of collecting ornamental chickens. As she already had the real, live kind I thought it was the perfect coop compliment. Many of my chicken gifts have found homes among the shrubbery hidden from neighbors who may otherwise covet them.

Several years ago one of our friends gave us a large, metal sculpture shaped like a pineapple, the symbol of hospitality, as a gift. I didn’t want people to get the wrong idea so I hid it under a bush. However, I am sure it was a thoughtful and expensive gift.

Tort or Tart

Tort Reform is a subject not easily handled in a short newspaper column by a non-expert. So sue me.

Tort reform, among other things, may restrict the type of lawsuits filed, the amount of the award, and may require the accusing party to pay for the legal fees of the defending party if the accuser loses.

A tort is a wrongful act or an infringement of a non-contractual right leading to legal liability. A tort should not be confused with the word tart which has several different meanings: sharp in taste, a cutting or sarcastic remark, a pastry, or a promiscuous woman. If you called your waitress a tart because she served you a sour lemon dessert which caused you to pucker painfully, both of you may be guilty of a tort.

But this is neither a food nor a legal advice column. It’s more of a “what I think about that,” column.

I try and resist the temptation of the easy buck through litigation, but sometimes it’s hard to avoid. This summer while knocking on doors in vain (or was it vainly knocking on doors?), I walked up a flight of steps from the sidewalk to get to the front door of a house. On the top step was a skateboard just waiting to launch me, an unwary traveler, into space. I laughed out loud while I looked for the hidden camera.

Once I had finished my business with the front door I wisely avoided the skateboard/concrete stairs combination and cut through the yard to the next house. I normally try and “stay off the grass,” but I thought trespassing was a better choice than breaking my … tailbone.

Recently I have had several opportunities to join a class-action lawsuit club. This is where a group of people, who supposedly share a common grievance, get together and sue whoever they think is responsible for the perceived wrong they have received.

Sometimes it’s about an investment I don’t ever remember making, other times it’s an advertisement wanting me to consider whether asbestos may have impaired my health. I’m not sure if I have ever come in contact with asbestos. It’s best not to think about it, but I lay awake at night wondering about it. This lack of sleep is affecting my health. I may have to seek legal counsel and sue the TV network, the ad agency, and the law firm who are all making me paranoid.

Many times statements are made in commercials to entice people to buy a product, or at least provide some separation between similar products. Consider M&M’s for a moment. They claim that their candy “melts in your mouth, not in your hand.” Well that’s not true; I’ve tried it. If you hold them long enough in a tight fist they’ll melt. But really, is it something to sue the candy man over?

Are Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes “Great,” as Tony would have us believe? Those delicious corn flakes with the sugary layer on top are occasionally part of my balanced breakfast. But are they great? Hardly, they’re just pretty good. In fact, I can think of many other cereals I like much better, but that’s another column.

One ad informed me I may be entitled to benefits if I had purchased a certain brand of razor five or six years ago. It seems the guilty razor company stretched the truth as they stretched your whiskers when they claimed their razor could give you a shave so close that strange women would want to touch your face.

Maybe tart reform is the real issue here.

Pursuing Happiness

Hi there. It’s nice to be back in the paper as a writer instead of one running for office.

If you’re wondering where I’ve been then my 512 vote deficit makes more sense than ever.

In May I told you I was taking a break from writing to chase another dream. For some time I have wanted to throw my hat into the ring for elected office. The hat didn’t fit and I lost. But as my brother Dan reminded me, I gained a lot. One of those things is an almost endless supply of stories. So watch this space for complete details.

This desire to run for office is/was (I’m not sure yet) part of my pursuit of happiness. It’s not that I am unhappy, or that I haven’t found happiness. My wife, Rhonda, says it’s because I am not content. I disagree. For me being content means learning, growing and experiencing new things. Life offers so many opportunities, so many choices, that to find what you are looking for means you may have to take a road less traveled from time to time.

When I was in college I was involved in student government. I liked that experience so much that I wanted to do something similar after I graduated. But as timing is everything, I chose to wait. First came love, then came marriage, then came two babies in a baby carriage(s). It occurred to me sometime during this period that I had certain responsibilities that must be fulfilled: I was a young husband, Dad to two children and the provider. Plus, I was at peace, so I decided to wait. Thirty years can fly by pretty fast.

While I waited I discovered more pressing matters that needed my attention. I changed diapers (three times), gave baths, tucked my kids in at night, read bedtime stories, made up stories, played make-believe, went to the library, went to the zoo, played games, camped, went to plays, recitals, school sports, laughed, wrestled, watched kids shows, swam, had picnics and bonfires, celebrated twenty-seven years of marriage, tended to the needs of parents as they aged, and watched my kids grow up.
Some things are worth waiting around for.

So now I am faced with a dream that has been dashed. I have gone through the five stages of losing an election:

Denial. “Now let’s just wait until all the votes have been counted.”

Anger. “Fine, I didn’t want it anyway.”

Bargaining. “Perhaps there has been some mistake, maybe if I ask for a recount.”

Depression. “I’ll be in my room covered with heavy blankets.”

Acceptance. “Fine, I didn’t want it anyway.”

When I was out campaigning people would answer the door with a variety of greetings. “Dad, it’s a politician.” (politician? I hate that word.) “Tell him I also I like to write,” I would yell through the screen door. One time a young woman answered the door, “Make it quick. I’m giving my baby a bath.” “Run,” I said as I threw a brochure at her (like I need that on my conscience). And the one that always threw me off my game, “What do you need?” “Umm, I just wanted to introduce myself,” I said. “I really don’t need anything.”

Mick Jagger and Keith Richards wrote:

You can't always get what you want.
But if you try sometimes you might find
you get what you need.

In losing this election I may find that although I didn’t get what I want, I got what I need. I lost by 512 votes. But I’m happy writing 600 words.

Belle Plaine Rotary

This week I was invited (or maybe I invited myself and they were too polite to say no), to speak to the Rotary club in Belle Plaine. I had a lot of fun., and the food was fantastic. Some of the same people who were members when my Dad was a Rotarian are still there.

Thomas Wolfe wrote, "you can't go home again." Going back home is never the same, but many of the same faces and feelings are still there. I think you can go home again - you just have to be ready for some changes.

Speaking of which (how's that for a shameless transition?), people ask me what kind of changes I would implement if elected. I am not as interested in changing things as I am in improving them. Our roads could be better, we could strengthen our law enforcement with more officers and patrol cars, and we could be better stewards of the citizen's tax dollars.

I plan on picking up my yard signs in a day or two, please let me know if you would like one (it would be better if you lived in the district). Thanks for your help, Jerry