I’m very, very involved with my whole extended family. Maybe too involved.
I’m the de facto leader. They call me “The Power”. Everyone looks to me for making key decisions and being a fair referee. It’s like I’m the government or something. Of my whole family, which is, you know. Weird.
And while it’s true I have a bit of a problem controlling my spending, every dollar I drop goes to pay for a good thing that’s really important (to me). I do like to be a key player in a lot of things all at once. When I see that my brother or sister is hungry, for example, I buy lunch. Is that so wrong?
When our whole family gets together it can get pretty intense.
There are cousins who really encourage me to keep stepping in and being generous and taking control whenever things look even a little bit bad – they see me as a “safety net” for everyone else. And there are the cousins who say I’m always “in the way” and if I would just step back, it would free them up to do all the things they want to do and be who they really want to be – J.C.
That means “Job Creators”.
But I don’t see what’s stopping them. I think they’re just using me as an excuse. They might have slight delusions of grandeur and could maybe be a little bit jealous. I don’t mind. I’ve got bigger problems.
I’m about to run out of money.
I can’t ask the family to chip in any more dollars to tide me over. The complaining gets so loud when I do that, and everybody is already irritated. The cousins who have the dough don’t want to hand over any more. The cousins who need stuff want to camp out on my front stoop until this is resolved. I’m afraid I’ll have to step over their starving bodies before long. Ish. And I did promise grandma I’d help pay for her teeth. Nobody wants to watch her gumming fried chicken at the next reunion picnic.
Dr. Babooner, we’re a family! I know we can agree with each other if we try! It’s just the money that poisons the atmosphere. Or is it the power?
I told Uncle S., that the money/power combination is usually at the heart of most arguments, and they are seldom separated. Some say the key to happiness is to give up both, but I say hang on and buy some earplugs.
But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?
Today is the birthday of Don Marquis (pronounced MAR-kwiss, I believe).
He was from Walnut, Illinois. Born there in 1878.
A newspaper man with an active imagination, Marquis wound up writing so much more than the usual police reports and obituaries. He was a playwright and a poet, and for a daily column he created some characters to carry the weight. Among them, a literary cockroach named Archy, who submitted his poems by hurling himself at the keys on Marquis’ typewriter, one letter at a time. Thus there are no capital letters, since it would require two simultaneous keystrokes, and a cockroach has only one body to sacrifice for his art.
In honor of Don Marquis on his birthday, (and for our leaders in Washington as they play a game of economic chicken), here’s archy on the irresistible lure of recklessness.
i was talking to a moth
the other evening
he was trying to break into
an electric light bulb
and fry himself on the wires
why do you fellows
pull this stunt i asked him
because it is the conventional
thing for moths or why
if that had been an uncovered
candle instead of an electric
light bulb you would
now be a small unsightly cinder
have you no sense
plenty of it he answered
but at times we get tired
of using it
we get bored with the routine
and crave beauty
fire is beautiful
and we know that if we get
too close it will kill us
but what does that matter
it is better to be happy
for a moment
and be burned up with beauty
than to live a long time
and be bored all the while
so we wad all our life up
into one little roll
and then we shoot the roll
that is what life is for
it is better to be a part of beauty
for one instant and then cease to
exist than to exist forever
and never be a part of beauty
our attitude toward life
is come easy go easy
we are like human beings
used to be before they became
too civilized to enjoy themselves
and before i could argue him
out of his philosophy
he went and immolated himself
on a patent cigar lighter
i do not agree with him
myself i would rather have
half the happiness and twice
but at the same time i wish
there was something i wanted
as badly as he wanted to fry himself
… it was the most miserable, relentless winter, ever! Remember that?
Our memories are amazingly short and I suppose it’s a human survival strategy to focus so intently on the conditions that are right in front of us that we assume it has always been, and will always be so. At least it feels that way, and that’s why I am always ready to complain.
Summer 2011 is an endless sauna. I have had it with heat and humidity. Really, it’s exhausting.
Last February, snowstorms were lined up from here to Montana, each waiting for its chance to fill my driveway with another three feet of snow. Just like now – exhausting. I thought I would never feel warm again.
Alas, it all changes and you can be sure that six months from today I’ll use the arrival of yet another cold front to wistfully recall how gorgeous it is to go for a walk on a summer night. At dusk a day in July feels perfectly suited to human habitation. This is how we were meant to live – in shorts and sandals, our hands and heads uncovered, our feet and toes exposed to the fragrant air.
Except on THIS particular July night, I’m closed up inside my air conditioned box, not at all inclined to go out. Instead I’m thinking about how cozy it would feel to be decorating the Christmas tree while alarmist weather-folk warn us to stay off the roads. I’d sip a hot toddy and gaze out the window, safe and warm while a holly jolly snow decorates the yard.
I guess conditions are never quite ideal, except in some far-off, half-recalled, make-believe time.
Perpetual Summer or Endless Winter – which would you choose?
The latest newsletter from my favorite Congressman.
Usually at this time of the year, we members of Congress are back in our districts thinking about the next election – touting our achievements, pressing the flesh and shaking the trees for more money. But this year is different! We’re stuck in Washington, thinking about the next election – defending our principles, stomping out of meetings, disparaging the inflexible opposition and shaking in our boots! We don’t want to wreck the economy but it might have to happen so we can be positioned with the best possible advantages for the Fall of 2012!
Yes, that’s really what it’s all about!
I know some of you are so mad you want to throw ALL the bums overboard, but I’m pretty sure that between now and then I can convince you that the other guys are much, much worse than I am.
I’m not the problem because I like compromise! I compromise all the time. I compromise with the opposition, with people in my own party, and I even compromise with myself!
Many mornings I wake up with this sure feeling that I know exactly what’s what and I will never yield an inch on the points that are most important to me.
Like yesterday, when I started out pretty certain that all this gay marriage that’s going on is just not right and we ought to make a clear statement that some things are simply not acceptable! C’mon! Who are our great couples? Adam and Eve! Tarzan and Jane! George and Gracie! Fundamental stuff, right?
I said something in our staff meeting about how we ought to make an issue out of this, and a couple of our summer interns looked disappointed in me, like I’d really bummed them out. That was too bad because I really like them! That’s the reason I have interns – to help me feel young and hip. It hurt to think that they thought I was even a little bit lame. But darn it, sometimes you have to be tough!
However, maintaining that steely resolve takes a lot of energy, and by early afternoon I was starting to think how great it is to be young and in love. Or even old and in love! Why would we want to ever get in the way of that? I mean, aren’t there enough real problems? Love is the least of our worries, regardless of who’s involved!
By evening I was so tired of hanging out at the Capitol just waiting for all these posturing yahoos in the leadership to get their acts together, I began thinking how nice it would be to make a festive weekend escape to New York City.
By midnight I was dreaming that a pair of my constituents would ask me to officiate their gay wedding at the top of the Empire State Building! What a hoot! Could I wear feathers?
See? That’s real compromise! Sometimes your mind changes of its own accord, and sometimes by the angle of the light! I’m so open to new ideas, I always agree with the last person I talked to – even if it was a radical version of me!
So if our ship of state goes crashing into the rocky shoreline of the Needlessly-Stubborn Islands just because the top people were wrestling for control the steering wheel, please remember that all the while I was on the promenade deck trying to organize a nice, happy party!
We are blessed with a world full of interesting places to go, but lately I’ve been eyeing the sky because there is something terribly frightening and totally irresistible about the notion of space travel. Scoffers say that like South Dakota, outer space is impossibly empty and it has no taxes. Two great qualities! And space is a lot closer than Sioux Falls – only 62 miles away!
Unfortunately, now that the Space Shuttle program’s orbiters are being dressed for museum duty, there is no American-made vehicle that’s suitable for off-planet expeditions. This is a problem if, like me, you prefer a domestic model for all your extraterrestrial trips. Call me fussy – I just don’t care for the fit and finish of those Soyuz capsules. True, I’ve never been in one, but I’ve never been in an Apollo capsule either and yet I have taken thousands of imaginary NASA voyages. Soyuz? Zero. Besides, I’ve made some assumptions about the places where Russian craftsmanship and too much vodka might intersect – probably in the construction of the airtight bulkhead and where the electrical systems meet explosive gasses. Unfair, I know, but on such small prejudices is brand loyalty built.
Still, I am forced to accept the reality of the situation – I am a baby boomer and my pioneer time has expired. My government is not going to send me into space unless it’s with a limited air supply as part of a larger plan to reduce the cost of Medicare. Meanwhile, our decision makers have been flip-flopping on the goal of the next mission. Is it the Moon? Is it Mars? Or should we compromise and aim for an empty spot halfway between the two? It would be hard to get excited about reaching an empty, airless state of suspension with no gravity to pull you in any direction. Job seekers know you can achieve that kind of limbo today, without leaving home.
But there’s good news too! There is new energy behind the commercial space industry, and there are fabulously wealthy wanna-be astronauts who are looking for ways to have a unique experience. These Moon-eyed potential customers will lead us into the next era of space travel! They’ve already accomplished a great deal on planet Earth, and in the process have accumulated sufficient resources to pack a 10-story tall rocket booster full of $1,000 bills. Now it’s a simple matter of lighting a small fire to generate the needed lift. And several private companies are racing to strike that match.
The firm Space Adventures has already sent 7 well financed people on journeys to the International Space Station at a price of 20 to 35 million a head. Sensing a limit to the appeal of near-Earth travel, the company is also selling trips around the moon and back inside a three-seat capsule. It’s basically the same route taken by Apollo 13, but without the unplanned explosions and near-death experience. The ticket cost? 150 million. One spot has already been taken and one seat is needed for a pilot to fly the thing (go figure). That still leaves one space open for travel into open space. Late seat assignment note: you might not get the window.
For potential cosmic voyagers with a thinner wallet, Space Adventures offers some bargain astronaut/cosmonaut-like experiences, including solely terrestrial trips to watch a launch in central Asia. The real attraction here is an opportunity to pay almost $16 thousand dollars to spend a few hours in a Soyuz flight simulator, which according to the Space Adventures website, “has been in use since the 1960’s.” Enticing! And if that price is too steep, I can arrange a domestic excursion where, for half that amount you’ll get to spend the whole day sitting in a Chevy Corvair which has also been in use since the 1960’s. Extra bonus – when the session is done you can take it home!
Elon Musk’s commercial venture, SpaceX, isn’t flying passenger missions right now, but the company is trumpeting last Spring’s receipt of a contract from NASA to figure out a quick way to get the 7 passengers in its Dragon capsule safely back to the ground in the event of a sudden launch emergency. That’s an exciting scenario, but only if you have the pleasure of watching other people deal with it!
And then there’s Richard Branson’s Virgin Galactic. The company is already building a spaceport (Spaceport America!) in New Mexico, and claims to have a list of at least 400 people who have signed up to take a sub orbital flight in a vehicle called SpaceShipTwo (you know a vehicle is tight inside when there’s no room for spaces in its name). The plan is for the craft to be released at 50 thousand feet from a large, two-fuselage carrier plane called Virgin MotherShip Eve. A rocket then propels the 8 passenger SpaceShipTwo high enough to see inky galactic black above and a thin line of Earthy blue below, with five minutes of recreational weightless time before you have to strap in for your glide back to the ground. In this sense, Virgin Galactic is expanding on the proven success of the Disney World scenario – high entry price/long wait/short ride. Sorry for the delay – there will be no flights until at least 2013. But a 20 thousand dollar down payment is due immediately against your final cost of 200 thousand. It does guarantee you a spot in our airtight teacup, though. So go have a hot dog and watch the fireworks – a Cast Member will call you when it’s time to strap in.
Realistically, these space travel options could only appeal to adventurous people who combine extravagant wealth with exceedingly deep reserves of patience and a suppressed fear of death. It would also help to have a good imagination. How many people do you know who combine all these qualities? If anyone comes to mind, salute them with a glass of Tang and a package of space food sticks, because they represent the next frontier in human flight!
All it took was a strong gust of wind on to split a tree that has stood on our property for about 20 years. It might have been up longer than that – the area was a freshly opened for development in 1993 and when we moved in, this tree was the only living thing standing on the site. It had somehow survived grading and construction, followed by years of utter neglect, which is the hallmark of my haphazard style of yard care.
Somewhere inside the trunk there was a fatal flaw that was finally exposed on Saturday morning.
I was sitting by a window when the storm kicked up. The first thing I noticed (after the wind and thunder) was a distinct change in the light. I glanced out the window and was struck by the thought that the tree seemed suddenly closer, somehow. But why would that be? It must be an optical illusion, I thought. The same thing probably occurred to Macbeth when he took a look at Burnham Wood. I went back to my work but ten minutes later the canopy of leaves was close. REALLY close. Monkey-on-an-airplane wing close! Shocking.
It turns out a portion of the damaged tree fell on a nearby birch, and the two tangled trunks were slowly settling in the direction of the house.
An expert will have to take a look at this – I suspect the rest of the tree is lost and will have to come down, along with its neighbor. But the immediate task was to clear the driveway so we could come and go. Being “trunked in” is an excuse that’s only good for a few hours, unless you have the misfortune of living in a tornado zone. And leaving this much wood oddly airborne in such a precarious fashion is not a good idea for homeowners, as any personal injury lawyer will tell you.
A guy with a chain saw could have handled this in about 30 minutes, but I’m not a guy with a chain saw and don’t want to become one. There are already too many tools in the garage that have been used only once. Besides, how hard could it be? I had a couple of handsaws and a lot of irrational exuberance about my lumberjacking abilities.
Trees look light and airy when you’re not chopping them up and dragging them around. Otherwise, beware! Wood is quite heavy and gravity was constantly on my mind while I walked under the angled branches. Each time I made a cut, I calculated what else that section of tree might be holding up and where it would fall. And because I was making these cuts by hand, I had a lot of time to imagine the gradual rise of sounds – the popping, ripping and tearing of the trunk followed by a loud crash, a shaking of leaves, and possibly the cries of a pinned-to-the-earth middle aged man, fortunate to have only a broken arm or leg.
In the end my imagination trumped reality and I escaped with nothing more than an entire upper body’s worth of sore muscles and a renewed appreciation for the dangers of working around wood that is poised to fall. If I’ve got to be a lumberjack, I’m probably not going to be OK. So it’s good that in my preferred line of work, falling out of my chair is the greatest possible physical hazard.
last month we spoke of june. it’s either a little late or a lot early to take up that discussion again but july ah july… it draws a picture immediately doesn’t it? And one of the best.
july is summer …
july in minnesota is vacations and fireworks and time at the lakes and camping and making sure you take time for you. you can do it any time I suppose but there is no time like minnesota in july. It still exists in november and i like that too but man july can’t be beat.
i think I have mentioned i used to have to go on my summer vacations with my kids almost the moment the school let out for the summer and we had june all to ourselves. The 4th of july marks the official beginning of summer for america, the campgrounds get full and the roads are full of travelers.
i hear this year things are down a bit because of the high gas prices and tough economy. all the better, let the nay sayers stay home and leave the back roads to those of us who need them for medicinal reasons. it dawned on me the other day that the 15th of july marks the halfway oint in the summer. the state fair is closer than the last day of school was and if you don’t have an x on your calander for yourself at this point you had better get busy. don’t miss the minnesota glory.
if you never leave the area around where you live and/or frequent, where would you recommend we go?
things like the concerts at the zoo, lake harriet bandshell and the recently past winnepeg folk festival are what i am thinking about. i feel like a point gets made to get to yelowstone but the boundary waters get overlooked. if you go off to florida you miss out on a beach in town. where are the special places that are local and easy access that we should all know about? this call goes out to our bloggers in north dakota south dakota canada and elsewhere too. what is so good you can tell us to be sure to do it with our remaining time this summer or our remaining time on the planet?
what does july make you think of , what are you doing about it and what do you recommend?
What do the following have in common?
Wisdom, justice, and moderation
Ua mau ke ea o ka ʻāina i ka pono
Ad astra per aspera
Oro y plata
It grows as it goes
These will make it easier.
Liberty and union, now and forever, one and inseparable
Under God the people rule
Our liberties we prize and our rights we will maintain
And then, the obvious:
L’étoile du Nord
State mottos, of course.
First group includes Alaska, Georgia, Hawaii, Kansas, Montana, and New Mexico. (“It grows as it goes.” What?)
Second group includes North Dakota, South Dakota, Iowa, and Wisconsin.
For the sake of those in Sudbury, here is Ontario’s: “As she began loyal, thus she remains”.
About 25 years ago the Sunday Minneapolis paper sponsored a contest to write a new Minnesota state motto because L’étoile du Nord is just dull and old-fashioned. I mean very few people have spoken French here for 200-300 years.
The paper got about 2000 entries, 400 or so of which they printed. It was a clever idea which got many clever responses. The answers came in several obvious groups, especially about the weather. As a matter of fact, what I think was the winner came from that group: “Minnesota: Have You Jump-Started Your Kids Today?” And there was “Minnesota: Land of Ten Thousand Potholes”.
Many were geographical/political, such as “Minnesota: Here to Keep Iowa Away from Canada.” The governors of Minnesota and South Dakota were in a petty feud at the time, which provoked many such as “Minnesota: Where South Dakota Is Afraid It’s Happening.”
I wish I could remember more. But isn’t it obvious 1) that Minnesota needs a new state motto and 2) who better to write it than Babooners.
So using any language you wish, English, French, Latin, Spanish, or tim, Write a new Minnesota state motto.
Or maybe for a neighboring state because theirs are no better.
My Dad admired his brother Carl. Carl was a big man with a broad chest and a round face. He had a buzz cut and red cheeks and a voice full of gravel. He was quick to grin and rub your head or grab your shoulders. An impressionable kid would naturally want to be like Carl, so when Carl said he had a broad chest was because he slept without a pillow– I immediately threw out my pillow and slept without one for several years. Maybe it helped.
But there was a confusing detail about Uncle Carl. He married his aunt. Here’s how it happened:
Uncle Carl’s best friend was his uncle Maurice (Morrie). Morrie and his wife Helen had two kids; Maurice Jr. and Maureen.
Morrie Sr. told Carl that if anything happen to him, Carl should take care of Helen. This was in the late 1940’s and people did that sort of thing. And then Morrie Sr. was killed in a freak accident. He worked in the city bus garage in Rochester, MN and when the brakes failed on a bus and rolled down a hill into the garage it pinned him against the wall and killed him.
So Carl took care of Helen and eventually they married.
Adding to the confusion – Carl’s mother (my grandmother), was also named Helen.
Carl Jr. and Helen the widow were married about ten years before Helen died. Then Carl Jr. married a woman named Mic and they had two girls, Kelly (Kathleen) and Theresa.
(When I married my wife Kelly this made two ‘Kelly Hain’s and no end of confusion including one phone call from some guy who wanted Kelly to know he was back in town and maybe they could get together. Kelly and I were married at this point and listed together in the phonebook. Dunce cap for that guy. And then later, a woman who had done daycare for our kids for years randomly says out of the blue “You know, I have a cousin named Kelly Hain…” WHAT?? And of course she’s talking about the other Kelly Hain.)
Anyway, Mic had been married before and had one child, Sue. So now Carl and Mic have three step kids between them from two different Dads and two different Moms. What I remember most is how my Uncle Carl took all these kids into the family. The first two; Maurice Jr. and Maureen were cousins in the first place and they’re still at the family reunions. Mic’s Sue is around but not quite as much. And I remember Uncle Carl taking me fishing with Sue’s two boys when we were all teenagers.
A while back we’re at a funeral for one of my Dad’s other brothers, Richard. Richard’s first wife was Ann, who died back in the ‘80’s. My brother works with someone who told him Ann Hain was her Grandmother. Was it our Ann Hain, or a different one? We’re still not sure. My mom tries to explain who was married to whom, but then she has to correct herself and she says ‘No, it wasn’t them it was ____ …’ and at that point we’re all lost.
Which of your relatives is the most ‘interesting’?
I am not going to research and write the book for which I’ve had the title since at least 1990. I wanted to visit all those little ethnic churches and record the foods served for funerals (with the recipes). The book would be titled “Food to Die For” and it would have been about funeral food in the Midwest. But it’s too late to do it now. Most church basement ladies have ascended to the great jello-kitchen in the sky. At a funeral in Minneapolis a couple years back, there was a veggie tray with dip, some cookies and sandwiches – all plainly bought at Cub Foods.
My Mother was part of the Ladies’ Aide Society in her Wisconsin Synod Lutheran Church (mostly German heritage) in Arlington, MN for probably close to 50 years. The geriatric LAS disbanded last year – they sent Mom a corsage and some pictures of the history. (“oh, oh – I thought – what now? Who will make the egg salad sandwiches that Mom ordered???” “Gosh, I hope I don’t have to spend the night in the church kitchen – boiling and peeling eggs and buttering the bread, because the bread MUST be buttered, even for salads that have mayonna— ooops, I almost said mayonnaise. I mean Miracle Whip”).
Well, the Mission Club (women) of the church has taken over that duty. For her funeral Mom had ordered egg salad sandwiches (on buttered white bread), ham sandwiches (on buttered rye), but she never specified what kind of salads or desserts. I wondered why? I communicated her wishes to the Mission Club Ladies and they didn’t ask about desserts either… hmmmm.
Then, about a week before Mom’s service, my crazy cousin “Ruby” sent me an email with the following message:
“Was wondering for Saturday if you need people to make jello or bars? This is a Lutheran service, I think it’s an 11th commandment or something like that. There will be jello. What does this mean? This means that when a Lutheran dies, jello will be brought by friends and relatives, but not immediate family. If someone is truly ambitious, and they have a good recipe, potato salad may be brought and set on the head table. Those that don’t bring jello will make a cake or bars, and have them cut. An overnight cake is to be admired and then set on the trays with the other bars. The church ladies will supply the name of the person who made the overnight cake to any who ask. This is most certainly true.”
If I had only known the 11th commandment (in perfect form, with the “What does this mean?” and the “This is most certainly true.”) I would not have worried. After Mom’s service, we all went downstairs to the basement where a huge table was laden with the sandwiches as well as about 15 jello salads, at least 10 kinds of “bars” and THREE overnight cakes. All cut and on platters.
After the luncheon and socializing was over, the church ladies brought out a huge box of bars and cakes (including some of the three overnight cakes) for the four of us to take home (enough for about 20) with a list of everyone who brought something: Person #1 – bars, Person #2 – cake, Person #3 – Overnight Cake, Person #4 – jello, Person #5 – etc.
In Superior, WI a friend says they have “Calico Beans” at funerals. My friend Sue said the “Range” funeral food used to be rye bread spread with Miracle Whip and layered with crushed potato chips.
For my non-funeral food, I want that oval shaped rye bread spread with Cheese Whiz and pimiento olives sliced and arranged carefully over the cheese.
Oh, and lots of EPA.
What do you want served at your funeral luncheon??