Monthly Archives: March 2016

Movies, News

R.I.P. Patty Duke

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The untimely and unfortunate  death of award-winning performer Patty Duke at the age of 69 will lead many baby boomers to remember her 1960’s TV series, “The Patty Duke Show”.

Or more exactly, it will lead many to remember the one of the most effectively earwormy theme songs ever to plague mid-century television.   I don’t remember anything specific from the  stories or the characters – just this opening ditty.

But Duke had  intelligence and determination, and those qualities earned her a level of respect far beyond what one might gain from starring in a simple TV comedy.    Only after reading her obituary did I get a sense for the many personal obstacles she faced, or glimpse what she did,  as a teenager, with the Oscar-winning role of Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker.

That’s an amazing performance, and an admirable life.

What milestone had you reached at age 16? 

 

Family, The Baboon Congress

A Parade of Names

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Today’s post comes from Renee in North Dakota 

I have been doing ancestor research on an on-line genealogical service preparatory to our May trip to Europe. We are travelling to Bremen, where my maternal grandparents were born, and then to Scotland, where husband’s mother’s family originated. I realize that the details of much of this research are purely conjectural , as following one thread may take you to Robert the Bruce, while another, equally possible thread just peters out into oblivion. You can never be sure if you have the right ancestor.

What has been most interesting is finding out where they generally were and  when they immigrated to the US, since that can fuel the imagination as to what their lives may have been like if you have some knowledge of the history of their times. Husband’s  family were solidly Scots-Irish Presbyterians, some of whom immigrated from Scotland to Northern Ireland in County Tryone and County Antrim very early, and then left there for the Colonies in 1690.  Others stayed in Northern Ireland as coal miners until 1870, when they went back to Scotland to work in the coal mines around Glasgow.  Husband’s great great grandfather Carson died in a mine cave-in in 1878. The Scottish Mine Disaster website was quite helpful identifying the very pit in which he died. We hope to visit the are on our trip. We don’t know if his body was ever recovered. His children immigrated to Ohio and West Virginia and worked in coal mines and steel mills. Some things don’t change that easily.

Family names have been fun to find. My father’s Friesland family has first names like Weert, Okke, and Freerk. The  Scots have names like Alexander, Robert, James, Margaret, Andrew, and Jennie. My mother’s Bremen family, all solidly Saxon, has common German names like Wilhelm, Herman, Christian, Metta, Greta, Johan, Anna, Sophie, and Otto.  My favorite family last name is Hellwinkel.

We aren’t travelling to Stuttgart to see where husband’s German family comes from (they raised sheep, so I guess you could call them German shepherds), but it was in that family tree I found another favorite name-that of poor Walburga Merkle. Oh, how fun it wold be to see her, to know if her name was considered beautiful or odd, to know what her life was like.

Husband said that, perhaps, in five hundred years people will be excited to find they are related to us. I don’t know about that, but doing this research really impressed me with the randomness of our very existence and how strange nature or chance or divine influence has led each of us to be who we are.

Your future relatives are listening, 500 years hence.  Why should they be excited to learn that they are linked to you?  

Uncategorized

Baboon Redux – Earth at Night

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Today’s post was first offered by Captain Billy of the Muskellunge in December of 2012.

Ahoy!

Me an me boys is mighty pleased t’ see that them scientists at NASA is finally startin’ t’ look at th’ planet Earth through pirate eyes! They has just released brand new detailed pictures of our world after dark, wi’ the sparlklin’ lights of th’ cities glowin’ fer all t’ see!

There’s lots of bright spots, an that gives us hope!

Dividin’ th’ light from th’ dark is th’ same method me an’ me boys uses t’ tell the th’ planet’s booty-rich zones from them what don’t have much booty at all. When we’s sailin’ down th’ coast, deliberatin’ about where t’ go scavengin’ next, we always heads t’ th’ light. Just like yer sposed to do in them dreams about dyin’.

An when we arrives at th’ next happy, well-lit place wi’ our daggers drawn, th’ people is always surprised on account of they didn’t notice us comin’ – they was blinded by their own glare. That there’s somethin’ t’ keep in mind on a planet-wide level.

Our Earth is mighty special-lookin’ from afar – quite attractive t’ interstellar swashbucklers.

I ain’t sayin’ there’s space pirates.

But I ain’t sayin’ there ain’t.

The twinklin’ lights is pretty at night. But if you wants t’ keep th’ peace, best t’ always draw yer blinds an’ sleep wi’ one eye open!

Yer seafarin’ pal,
Capt. Billy

I suppose the Captain has a point – when I go on a nigh time walk, I notice  some houses  carefully draw the blinds and others are less private, challenging passers by to be  polite and look away.

Are you polite?

The Baboon Congress

East Side, West Side

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Header Image: Forest of For Sale signs in Oughtibridge, England. Terry Robinson [CC BY-SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

Today’s post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale

The Winona saga continues. For any newer readers to the Trail, Husband and I are planning to move from suburban Mpls. to Winona, MN, this summer. For the past six weeks we have been in house hunting mode, and after seeing probably 18 houses, have narrowed our choices down to two.

I’ve found find that every day a different criteria floats to the top of my priority list. One day it is size (not necessarily large, but well laid out), another day it’s a good sized kitchen, and on a cold, rainy day last week it was an attached garage (good luck). When we first considered, we thought we were maybe done with gardening, but when we started attending open houses in February, what attracted Husband was a garden space out back; and I found that I need a good tree somewhere on the lot, preferably outside the kitchen window so as to enable birdwatching.

There are two houses in the running, one on the East end of Winona (very near a friend that is like family), that actually has more square footage than our current home; it was remodeled in the 1950s, so feels like a ‘50s rambler even though it was built in 1895.

The other is smaller than what we’re used to (not all the furniture would fit), but has received some wonderful remodeling touches by the present owner, has hardwood floors and a GAS STOVE (they’re apparently few and far between), and is on a rather busy street on the West end, a couple of blocks from an old friend of mine.

We’ve made an offer on the East end one, partly because we’re aware of a ready-made community of friends near there, but I’m still waffling between the two.

What criteria would be at the top of your list if you were house hunting?

Baboon Blog Redux

Baboon Redux – A Splash of Color

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While our early spring may not be this much advanced, I was warmed by the recollection of this post from May 2011.

While riding my bike yesterday morning on the way to retrieve a car that has been in storage all winter, I was stopped short by a splash of color on a corner lot.

A friendly fellow named Pete was out tending his tulips. He told me in lightly accented English that he was from the Netherlands, and that gardening is something he does as a gift to share with the community, including lucky passers-by like me.

He was examining the beds. Some late-blooming tulips were mixed in with a few of the earlies, which is not a fatal flaw, but it means with a little bit of shuffling bulbs around, things could work better next year. Pete likes everything to be timed properly, just like the producer of a fireworks show wants to create amazing crescendos.

Also, once the petals fall, it’s tough to remember exactly which color is planted where, so it’s smart to take notes and make adjustments.

He showed me his map of the layout. I admire anyone who is a careful planner.

I felt lucky to have the chance to stop for a look at Pete’s garden – now that I’ve got the car back I’m much less likely to happen down a random street. In this case, a random street with an appropriate name – NE Summer St.

What have you planned for the Spring of 2016?

The Baboon Congress

Occupational Hazards

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Today’s post comes from Renee in North Dakota

About twenty years ago I told my supervisor, also a psychologist, about the latest movie husband and I watched. We liked dramatic, offbeat films at the time. I remember feeling somewhat appalled and a little disdainful when my supervisor told me he could no longer watch heavily dramatic and/or suspenseful films any longer. He attributed it to his clinical work and the trauma and heartbreak he dealt with all day. I remember thinking  that nothing like that would ever happen to me.

Well, it has happened. For the past couple of years I have found that I can’t tolerate the least bit of suspense or uncertainty or drama in films. We usually watch films at home  (not having the greatest of movie theatres in town), and once things start getting worrisome or too suspenseful I excuse myself and leave the room until I deem it safe to go back. Then husband has to tell me what happened while I was gone.

I can only describe the sensation as major knots in my stomach accompanied by an overwhelming urge to flee. Guardians of the Galaxy just about did me in, since my clever but annoying son stopped the movie every time I left the room, and wouldn’t start it up again until I came back.. We had to take first two seasons of the recent BBC production of The Three Musketeers back to the library half watched. I particularly dislike plots involving people wrongly accused of crimes, and such plots are far too plentiful in this version of the Musketeers. I take some comfort that my supervisor also suffered with this, and it isn’t just my own neuroses to blame.

One of my friends is a former State inspector of butcher shops, meat markets, and meat-packing plants. Her experiences in this job left her quite sensitive to issues surrounding the handling of raw and processed meat. If she is coming over for supper, I know that I have only a few locations where I can buy the meat for our meal. Her husband says he always knows when they are having chicken for dinner, as he can smell the bleach she douses all the kitchen surfaces with during  meal preparation even before he gets in the house. She wasn’t always like this before she had her inspector job.

I wonder if hotel housekeepers get to the point that they can only sleep at home, knowing what they know about hotel rooms. Do fire fighters lie awake wondering if the smoke and carbon monoxide detectors are really  working? Do classical  musicians find that they can only listen to certain works performed by certain ensembles with certain conductors at just the right tempi?

Occupational hazards come in many forms. I hope that after I retire I can return to watching new and suspenseful  films. Until then, I am stuck with comforting reruns.

What are your occupational hazards? 

 

 

The Baboon Congress

A Man With Bandwidth

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Today’s post comes from tim

The blog community is an interesting phenomenon isn’t it. Wes showed up what?….. 6… 9 months ago or has it been a year…. Hes part of the flow now. Ljb popped in what 5 year ago and stuck… we all kinda came here and just started throwing it out there. Now Dale throws a redeaux out when the lull is too long and we muddle through without dales daily writing record stretching out the consecutive daily post record he established.

It is fitting that we slid into it without too much trouble. We havnt really found a strong following. Those people who post their names on the likes list… i dont get it. Are they lurkers? Do they just throw it out to x number of blogsites to build a following on theirs? Nothing wrong with that. I have other blogs i would like to get involved in. on being comes to mind… but what the heck. I barely have time to stick my head in here as often as id like to.

Bandwidth is the new term in my vocabulary these days

You only have so much bandwidth then you are all done.The term refers to the number of things you can put on a bandwidth before it gets full. Only so many telephone numbers can be pt out there then the airwaves are full. Airplanes have to have a bandwidth different from radio stations so they dont run into or over the taxi drivers, cell phone, radio station broadcast wise….In life and in blog land there are only so many hours in the day. To choose to do something is to choose not to do everything else at that moment.  The trail Baboon is a nice place to hang out but…. other stuff comes along doesnt it?

I am buried right now with new adventures and need to keep my nose to the grindstone. I love being able to stop in and visit the trail on my way to and from my day. Morning is best for me but i am apt to book my mornings up more often these days than in the past and so i find time when and if i can. Night after everyone is done is fun. To read over everyones take on the topic of the day and decide it there is two cent with throwing in is a question that comes up on occasion these days.

 

When life seems too full

And the 4 corners pull

And the schedule you have is too much

Just do what our dale does

It works out so well cuz

The trail has that hunker down touch

The vibe is low key

That appeals to me

I dont need bloggers who want to fight

Bir and vs

Clyde pj linda and yes

Renee jim ,ljb theyre alright

The trail feels like home

When the sing songy poem

Is the thing that you need it will be there

Or political discussion

you tube complete with percussion

And the voices of lots of gray hair

Yes here on the trail

Thanks to our alpha dale

Weve grown close as carrots and peas

Oregon to dakota

I dont care one eyota

baboons  can make home where they please

Chris chose owatonna

Me i dont wantta

And wes lives in the other direction

Clyde ben and soon jacque

Stick their heads in by cracky

from distance to share their reflection

But the blog is home base

A most comfortable place

Where loomis and billy reside

We all get together

In all types of weather

As a group we do food baked and fried

At book club or theater

Rock bend well see ya there

Weve become quitie a troop of baboons  

From the late morning show

We have all come to know

Each other through food words and tunes

So heres to the blog

Mans best friend is his dog

But the blog keeps your thought trains a flowing

Heres to my mates on the trail

Sharing lifes holy grail

Finding friends and a group thats worth knowing

If you were going to start a meetup group what theme would you build your group around?

The Baboon Congress

Of Fishes and Families

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Today’s post comes from Jim Tjepkema

I tell people that if they go fishing with me they will not catch any fish.

The main reason for my lack of success – fishing is low on my list of preferred activities. I had great time fishing with my Grandfather as a boy. The same was true for my father. He took part in outings organized by my Grandfather and had fun doing that, but he almost never when on any other fishing trips.

Dad spent a lot of time sitting in boats with his father, and he did not appreciate it when his father stayed out on the water for extended periods of time in bad weather trying catch a few more fish. Apparently these unpleasant hours caused him to develop a dislike for the activity.

But while Dad and I didn’t inherit Grandfather’s passion, my Granddaughter enjoyed fishing at summer camp and asked us to give her a chance to do more. We found a place where we could fish with her from a dock, and she managed to catch 3 or 4 “keepers”.

We ate them for dinner.

Actually my wife and I were the only ones who ate the fish, because Granddaughter is a vegetarian. She tried a small sample and didn’t like it. She will not be carrying on the family fishing tradition in the same way my Grandfather did because he loved eating fish as well as catching them.

Never the less, she does seem to have his love of catching fish.

How does your family feel about fish?

The Baboon Congress, Words

R. I. P. Pat Conroy

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Today’s post is by Barbara in Robbinsdale

Pat Conroy, author of The Prince of Tides, The Great Santini, et al., died last week on March 4, 2016. He wrote prolifically about a harrowing childhood in which his father played a huge role – his military style of parenting; the verbal and emotional abuse he visited on Conroy and his siblings; and the “military brat” lifestyle of moving around the South – 24 places by the time Conroy was 15. Conroy’s writing both “saved” him, and was the cause of more conflict – in the form of rifts with family members throughout his adult life.

Four of Pat Conroy’s books became movies:

  • The Water is Wide, 1972 (movie 1974, Conrack)   (also a Hallmark TV presentation, 2006)
  • The Great Santini, 1976 (movie 1979)
  • The Lords of Discipline, 1980 (movie 1983)
  • The Prince of Tides, 1986 (movie 1991)

In his final memoir, The Death of Santini (2013), he may have finally achieved a degree of closure and peace about his father. But as I listened last week to a “Talking Volumes” interview with MPR’s Kerry Miller, it was the stories he told about his mother that enchanted me, and shaped the rest of his life – how “she made reading the most important thing a person could do.” She took all the kids (ultimately seven) to the library every week, and they each checked out as many books as they were allowed (5 books in most libraries). They would then “read ‘em and trade ‘em,” so the kids might read as many as 25 books a week!

Literature became as real as anything else in the world, “and my mother made it that way.” She would read to him at bedtime each night, one of the first in his memory (at about age 5) being her favorite: Gone with the Wind.” He remembered it this way in the interview:

“Now Pa-at… when you hear me read about Scarlett O’hara, it is quite naturally for you to mistake Miss Scarlett for your own pretty mama. And when you read about that dastardly Rhett Butler, you can think about your fighter pilot father in Korea.” And she said, “When you think about Melanie Wilkes you can think about your tacky Aunt Helen… that girl don’t have a lick of sense and no personality whatsoever.”

When she read that way, with “every character in that book she could associate somebody we knew – it was the first time I knew there was a relationship between life and art.”

The more I read about Pat Conroy, i.e. from his website,   http://www.patconroy.com/about.php

the more of his books I want to read, especially The Death of Santini, and The Pat Conroy Cookbook: Recipes of my Life.

 

Is there a book in your “repertoire” in which you can insert people you know for some memorable character(s)?

Baboon Blog Redux, Poems

Revelers Beware!

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Today’s high temperature in the Twin Cities is expected to hit the mid-60’s.

A seasonal giddiness warning has been issued, effective all day and doubly so during happy hour.  We are on a 24 hour recklessness watch.

Gloomy realists will note that when Spring arrives, the dividing line is usually not drawn so sharply.  For every mid-March warm spell, there’s a St. Patrick’s Day blizzard on the way.

Sometimes it’s good to look in the record books for proof – thus today’s Baboon blog redux.

During what  passed for the Spring in the year 2013, America’s Singsong Poet Laureate, Schuyler Tyler Wyler, climbed into his drafty garret to produce a May Day Ditty that, this year, is more appropriate for March.

Embrace the May, but be a cynic.
Mother Nature’s schizophrenic.

She brings us air so sweet and mild,
and then a freezing zephyr wild.

She’ll green some grass, hey nonny nonny,
then kick your ass a little, honey.

Drape floral garlands ’round your feet,
then fill your face with freezing sleet.

Get out and do your May Pole dance,
but put some hot sauce in your pants.

Though May bringst bees and buds to flower
Conditions changeth by the hour.

What will you do to enthusiastically but realistically accept the gift of an early-season warm day?