Today’s post comes from NorthShorer
What comment do I need to make about these guests beside my 
patio? Better than any fashion runway, huh? Oops. That was a comment.
I was going to suggest a moment of silence for the beauty lost in all the ugliness. But then that would make for a dull day on a blog.
What wonder–human or in nature–lost in ugliness, busyness, or confusion do you want to commend today?
Today’s post is from tim
i had to fill out an application on line with what appeared to be a program that wasn’t quite right. it asked for my date of birth and when i went to type in my month date and year, it was obvious the only way to get there was to click the little arrow on the top of the calendar back a month then another until i got back to the correct date. it was frustrating and after i had clicked back i discovered it called for another calendar for my wife so i tried to backdoor the form and lost the first one with all the typewritten name and details required in addition to the many, many many clicks on the birthday response.
this time a funny thing happened on my way to the finish line, i started being aware of where i was in my life as i did a reverse recount of my life, then again when i did my wife’s bd, and by the time i was done with my kids i had clicked past dates i hadn’t thought about multiple times. i didn’t stop and think but i slowed a little each time and as i went by the last time i had added enough memory each time that it was a deep dive in total
when was you last surprise positive experience
I come from a family of readers. My paternal grandfather was a farmer who read voraciously, and had shelves of books in his house. He had an entire set of Dickens, all of Shakespeare’s plays, and many, many history books and novels, which he picked up at farm sales during the Depression. When he died, I took the books, and my librarian cousin took the shelves, which were the kind used by lawyers that had glass fronts that opened up from the bottom. I think they are called Barrister’s bookcases
Grandpa’s grandfather was a reader, too. He was named Martin Cornelius Freerks, and was born in Rysum, Ostfriesland Germany in 1827. He was a laborer there, and immigrated to the US in about 1851. He lived first in Pekin, Illinois, and worked as a drayman, which meant he was responsible for meeting passengers at the train station to haul them and their goods where they needed to go. Family history indicates that he was often absorbed in a book when the train came in and would arrive late or not at all. “Ganz in boeken besiet” (completely lost in books) friends and family would say. He eventually moved to Iowa and lived the last part of his life with my grandpa and his family. Grandpa said that Martin had “a whole roomful’ of books accumulated over the years.
I used to read all the time, but for some reason, perhaps due to life stress with my parents’ deaths, children’s transitions, work issues, etc., I stopped reading for pleasure about five years ago and filled my spare time with crossword puzzles. I am trying to start reading again. Husband visits our local libraries regularly, and we have scores of books in our house. I just have to pick up something and start and apply myself. I typically like traditional murder mysteries, but I find them hard to appreciate now. I am impatient waiting for the plots to resolve. I don’t like suspense these days. Perhaps I need to start with non-fiction and work my way back to previously unread novels. I think it will be good self care if I do.
Daughter says she is going to join a book club when she graduates from college, and admits she has a book addiction problem. Great Great Grandpa Martin would be pleased.
What are the pleasures and pains of reading for you? What is hard/easy for you to read? What do you want done with your books when you die?
I have had an intermittent buildup of fluid behind my left ear drum for a couple of months, and tried using decongestants get rid of it, as well as having one of my colleagues box my ears in a special way that somehow is supposed to realign the eustachian tubes so they drain. It didn’t work. I couldn’t hear much out of my left ear, and couldn’t even listen to the phone with the receiver to my left ear. I finally went to the doctor this week when both ears were water logged, since I couldn’t hear much out of either ear. Why did I wait to get medical attention for this? I knew how it would be treated, and the treatment would render me goofy.
Prednisone it the treatment of choice for this condition, and I get giddy when I take it. I start telling jokes. I get expansive. It is embarrassing. I warned my coworkers about it. They were less than supportive and just laughed and said they probably wouldn’t notice much since they found me goofy most of the time anyway. Rat finks!
On Thursday night at the Maundy Thursday service, we have a tradition of people washing one another’s hands. The two women serving as assisting ministers went back and forth with large white china pitchers of clean water for the hand washing ewers. They wore their typical white assisting minister robes. That they reminded me of Grecian nymphs bearing water pitchers was probably not such a strange thought, but did I really have to mention it to one of them (my attorney, in fact ) when she came over to me in the choir to share the Peace? Probably not. She told me, after she said “Peace be with you ” that I must be psychotic.
I only have a seven days worth of pills. I hope I don’t get goofier. I also hope the water drains.
Tell about times you were goofy.
Today’s post is from NorthShorer
His name was Lucky. My father acquired him when we lived north of Isabella where my father was lumberjacking after WWII. A man in the lumber camp was leaving and did not want to take the dog. My father took him before the man shot him. It was that kind of age. My father was not objecting; he simply wanted a dog. We then moved down to our farm near Two Harbors. I suppose my father had in mind to have a farm dog.
I remember him but have no visual image of him, except for these pictures. Every time I see these and other photos I am surprised by two things. First, how big and rough looking a dog he was. Second, that the only images of him are with me. Apparently we were buddies, which makes sense because of all the time I spent playing in the woods. He lasted with us for a couple years. I can guess what happened to him. He certainly does not look like a cattle dog. I used Lucky as the image for a short story about a half wild dog living on the edge of northern town in 1908.
He was replaced by a collie, who was beautiful, an image of Lassie. She played with the deer in our garden in the snow in the winter time. She was not around very long. Next we briefly had a female mixed breed, mostly border collie. Then we acquired a full breed border collie from a neighbor who did not want the dog anymore. He was THE DOG of my childhood.
What breeds do you see in Lucky?
My only companions of my pre-school years were two older nasty cousins up in the forest, my sister, and various animals.
What do you remember of your companions of your pre-school years?
Today’s post come from Steve Grooms
I was listening recently to the funny, evocative song “High School” by Pat Donohue. Readers probably know it. The song played often on the Late Great Morning Show. Here are a few lines:
Full of wise guys and zeros and basketball heroes
Who taunt me
That was my school
Full of cheerleader cuties and homecoming beauties
Who haunt me
With tough guys who fright me and girls who don’t like me
Just that I’m not their sort
Back in high school
I’m glad I’m not there any more
The song was a reminder of how high school was nightmarish for me. I was shy. In my eyes, I didn’t fit in with my classmates. I loved outdoor recreation partly because it didn’t involve the social interactions I found so troubling at school.
I have worked out a story to describe my high school years, a story that I share with friends and family members. In short form, my story has been that only two kinds of kids at school scared me: the boys and the girls. I feared the boys because I wasn’t an athlete and some of the kids were pretty scary. I feared the girls because I was so unsure of myself with them. Given the choice of trying to talk to a girl or going fishing, I strongly preferred fishing. My story goes on to say I was too shy to date anyone. My experience of high school was a lot like the story Pat Donohue told in his song.
Recently, however, I’ve experienced an uncomfortable clash between my story and evidence that I wasn’t such a misfit after all. When I attended the 50th reunion of my class, a lot of people remembered me and acted as if they had liked me. Before I lost my box of old family photos, several of them showed me dressed up for dates. I must not have been as shy as I have been claiming, for I was photographed dating on several different occasions.
Now I struggle to resolve these clashing images. I considered my high school years a botch, a time when I hid from other kids and lived almost entirely inside my head. Evidence now says I was actually fairly popular and could have been more so if I hadn’t spent so much time fishing. Now I feel about high school the way I feel about most of my life: it sure could have been better, and I’d like a second chance at it to do it better, but on the whole it wasn’t so bad.
How do you remember your experience of high school?
Today’s post comes to us from Barbara in Rivertown
This week, April 9 through 15, is National Library Week. Because Husband and I will be on the road, I have already celebrated our wonderful Winona Public Library by returning three books and renewing two others, and writing this piece. We have here in Winona a beautiful old 1890s vintage library built by a donation from William H. Laird and furnished by the library association; it is now listed on the National Register of Historic Places. (For more info: https://www.facebook.com/pg/WinonaPublicLibrary/about/?ref=page_internal )
I have been impressed for months at all the many programs this small town library offers. And now, in the spirit of National Library Week, there is even more:
– Food for Fines – you can have $1 removed from your library fine for every food shelf item you bring in.
– Library Resource class will be held on Thursday at 6 p.m.
– Staff will be dressed to the nines or, on some days, in crazy outfits (Wacky Wednesday) as part of various games.
– The first movie of The Librarian Trilogy featuring “everyone’s favorite librarian, Noah Wyle” will be shown on Friday.
– Monthly Book Bingo will yield prizes of books about libraries, librarians, or books: “The Shadow of the Wind” by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, “The Time Traveler’s Wife” by Audrey Niffenegger, “The World’s Strongest Librarian: A book Lover’s Adventures” by Josh Hanagarne, “The Ice Queen” by Alice Hoffman, and “This Book is Overdue: How Librarians and Cybararians Can Save Us All” by Marilyn Johnson.
How will you celebrate National Library Week?
Today’s post comes from Reneeinnd
Oh where oh where is Mt. Ranier? We’ve looked in front. We’ve looked in the rear. Maybe it is obscured by clouds, or hills, or enormous ships on Tacoma’s piers. Our time here is ending with nary a glimpse of the very large mountain that would give us chills.
What have you been missing lately?
vs is a book person
i am a movie person
last night west side story was on during my card game
i said that was one of the best movies ever made’
my son tells me i have said that once before
what movies rank for you?
Things get a little frantic at a flower shop in mid-February. If you work in one, it’s wise to keep a sense of humor about it.
One of my co-workers drew up some Valentine Bingo scorecards to determine who gets all the most predictable and/or oddball questions and requests first.
Among the predictable ones:
“Roses cost how much?” (Yes, wholesale and retail prices go up this time of year.)
“And delivery is on top of that?” (Uh-huh. Wanna come pick them up?)
“Make it pretty…” (Well, we don’t typically try for ugly.)
“What time will that be delivered?” (It’s anybody’s guess. Wish I had a crystal ball.)
And that old favorite, “Are you busy?” (Ha ha ha ha! No! We’re not busy at all! You’re the very first person to ask me that! How very droll!)
And the less common, but still strangely inevitable ones:
“Do you have any peonies?” (Sorry, no. Too early for peonies.)
“Do you have blue roses?” (Only if you want a coat of paint on them.)
“I don’t know her last name…” (But she works at 3M and her first name is Jennifer.)
The wedding inquiry. (Um…your timing leaves something to be desired.)
When you feel as if you’re about to lose all control, you just remind yourself that it’ll all be over soon. And there’s pizza in the break room.
What’s on your bingo scorecard?
Trail Baboon 