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Built To Not Last

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Lots of attention has been given to yesterday’s final game at the Metrodome, with the consensus that the highlights of its three decade life span were the Twins’ World Series victories in ’87 and ’91, and the Vikings loss in the NFL’s National League championship game in ’99.

Metrodome_Aerial_2006

All the recent references I’ve seen to the Metrodome’s cost (55 million dollars) have had to do with what a bargain that was, considering the history that happened there and the new stadium’s price tag of around one billion dollars.

I’m old enough to tell you that the many, many public discussions leading up to the building of the Metrodome did not often include the word “bargain”. Many people found it amazing that any community resources at all would be used to help pay for a sports palace. And “palace” is the right word – though the building is portrayed as being rather utilitarian in the modern press, at the time it was considered to be a remarkable advance. But there was strong opposition. And if anyone leading the effort to build the Metrodome had said that the thing would be used for only thirty years and then abandoned, it would have scotched the deal, I’m certain.

What I haven’t seen mentioned lately is how much of the Metrodome struggle was about strengthening downtown Minneapolis – returning excitement and activity to the city’s center at a time when everything seemed to be moving to the suburbs. Though literally none of the promised surrounding development materialized, to the extent the building kept downtown as a regional destination point, it was a success. But the sports arena longevity prize will have to go to some other structure. Williams Arena, perhaps?

What torn down building would you like to have back?

The Baboon Congress

A Quiet Family Christmas

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Today’s guest post comes from Steve Grooms, and was first offered on Trail Baboon as a comment at the end of the December 25th entry. I thought it was worth re-posting for everyone to enjoy. Steve writes:

The topic of “family” brings up the fact that I’ve been anxious for my daughter. Molly and Liam visited me a year and a half ago, and the trip was stressful. Liam was terrified by the plane and then unable to relax in his new surroundings. Molly got tense about that, and the two of them fed off each other’s fears.That trip was saved by all the toys I borrowed from kind Baboon ladies, and it did end up being a good trip.

Molly and her husband John recently made a difficult decision to fly from Portland to upper Michigan for Christmas with John’s parents. Jack, John’s father, is in perilous health. He has advanced diabetes, and he has recently fallen seven times hard enough to break bones. His most recent fall was last week. Liam and his grandfather have never met. The feeling was it would have to happen this year, or it might never be possible. After the most recent fall, Jack has been confined to a nursing home. Jack would be allowed a brief trip home to meet Liam and open presents.

John’s parents live in an interesting place, in a 100 year old home that overlooks the St. Clair River. Canada is across the river. Huge freighters are always moving through.

Molly wrote to say that Liam was an angel on the flight. And then she described Christmas: What follows is Molly’s letter:

We had a truly magical day. Ice floating down the river, one flow carrying a great big snowy owl, my first ever to see in the wild and absolutely breathtaking. The Kelleys have never seen one either so I feel so lucky.

Freighters ran up and down the river and Liam slept til 11, waking just as Jack arrived home with Nancy and the boys. Jack confided to Jamie yesterday that he feared Liam would be afraid of him. He doesn’t look good these days. I coached Liam to give him a warm welcome and tell him about the freighters he’d seen. Liam immediately did so and it was so wonderful to see him eagerly and sweetly engage Jack all day. He also went out of his way to tell Nancy how nice his air mattress bed is and thank her for all sorts of cookies and kindnesses throughout the day.

Overall, Liam was an absolute delight – opening presents and relishing them, playing on his own quietly for an hour at a time, chasing or being chased by his favorite and much adored uncle around the house, delighting in the two inches of snow that fell throughout the day and shoveling with feverish industry. John, Liam and I walked up to the Port Huron lightship and back in time to watch the Coast Guard cutter, the Hollyhock, undock just feet North of the house and head up into the lake to bring in more buoys.

I went upstairs to rest for an hour, at which point the tree fell over, narrowly missing Liam and John who were putting together a train set. After that excitement things settled down again. Dinner was delicious – Swiss steak followed by cookies and a session of Lego building and listening to KSJN carols.

The whole day was unplanned, unstructured, nothing monumental and no single “Oooohhh Ahhhh” gift. And none needed. It was perfect and so special to experience it with my wonderful child. I am so impressed with his good nature, his delight in others and his flexibility. Taking a page from his book today, I went with the flow, like the ice down the river.

Describe your most memorable Christmas.

Uncategorized

Bart’s Christmas Letter

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Today’s post comes from Bart the Bear – the bear who found a cell phone in the woods.

H’lo Friends,

One of those tiny little mail trucks turned over in a stiff northwesterly wind the other day, and all the Christmas cards poured out. A few of them blew into the trees and I opened about twenty, all with chatty holiday letters inside. I didn’t know people did this!

Of course I like the idea so I decided to write one of my own.

Greetings Friends!

I hope this Christmas finds you fat and happy. I am both! I gained a bunch of pounds this fall storing up calories for the winter – just like last year and every year before it. It’s what we bears do, and I’m good at it.

Bart_Santahat

In the early part of 2013 I had a swell den in a low spot where a tree fell and a dry creek made a hollow that was out of the wind and very cozy for most of January and February. But when things started to melt, it got a bit damp and I had to get up early to scout around for more food. I was lucky because somebody up here put a whole bunch of money into buying up the last of the Twinkies and the Hostess cupcakes when it looked like they wouldn’t be manufactured anymore. And later when somebody else bought the equipment and flooded the stores with “new” Twinkies and Hostess Cupcakes they took their investment and dumped it in the woods. I guess they were disgusted with their unsuccessful attempt to corner a market that was coming back around again. Thirty five cases of factory-made pastry! I ate for a month.

As far as travels go, this year I went up north to where that big highway crosses in front of the lake. Then I went as far east as the river, over west to the place where the trees thin out, and down south to the place with the campgrounds where I’m not supposed to be. Tranquilizer dart territory.

I wanted to make it to London and Rome and Shanghai this year just like some of the people in those Christmas letters I found, but I’m only able to get as far as the place in online reservations where they ask you for a credit card number. Of course I find credit cards in the woods all the time. It’s surprising how careless people can be! But when the name on the card doesn’t match the address I make up, airlines kick me off their website. My dream is that someday I’ll be able to book a flight at least. Actually getting through security and getting on a plane would be a tougher problem. I’m big, I smell bad, I don’t have a legal ID and I don’t wear clothes – all things that would make those Homeland Security people suspicious. But at least I wouldn’t have to worry about taking off my shoes or my belt.

Throughout most of the spring and the summer my time was completely filled up scavenging for food, hanging out around a couple of trails I know, and posing for pictures taken by hikers who can’t seem hold the camera still. Half the time they take the shot, then drop the camera (or phone) and run. I’m guessing there wasn’t a single photo of me that didn’t come out blurry. Some days I think I know how Bigfoot feels.

Speaking of other animals, there was a female in the area last Spring and I got a pretty clear idea that she was ready to connect with somebody and produce some cubs, but we could never seem to get on the same page about that. Our paths crossed a couple of times but I didn’t get the sense that she was interested in me at all. Personally, I mean, as a bear.  Not a lot to talk about between us, and the woods are full of bears who are only interested in casual encounters.

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t have a problem with being alone. But if you’ve got a family to be with at Christmas time, you should be grateful even if you don’t like them all that much. Families aren’t there to make you happy, they’re there to make you aware of the world and your place in it, and to remind you of where you come from.

I have no idea about that – if I have any relatives in these woods it’s a mystery to me. I argue with almost every bear I see – that’s my nature. But if I knew for sure that some of them shared my DNA, I’d really give them a piece of my mind.

That’s what family is for!

Your pal,
Bart

What are relatives for?

Uncategorized

Fire or Ice?

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Today’s post comes from Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty.


At ease, civilians!

But when I say ‘at ease’ of course I mean you should remain extremely watchful. A healthy amount of trepidation is better for you than multivitamins, as we just discovered, though that’s mostly because everything is better for you than multivitamins.

And do not worry that you will ever run out of things to fear because there is always another catastrophe looming on the horizon.

Case in point: I have spent many hours worrying that a major asteroid will crash into our planet, causing an enormous explosion that will eject massive amounts of dirt and gas into the atmosphere, obliterating the sun and making life as we know it unsustainable.

But last week I discovered that maybe I should be looking down instead.

Yellowstone_caldera

New research suggests the supervolcano under Yellowstone National Park is much bigger than previously thought.. Now they’re saying it could be 55 miles across, which makes it big enough to cause an enormous explosion that will eject massive amounts of dirt and gas into the atmosphere, obliterating the sun and making life as we know it unsustainable.

Of course scientists say they are monitoring Yellowstone closely and there is no indication that it is in any way about to blow. Should changes occur that suggest an eruption is at hand, we would have time to prepare.

Somehow I’m not comforted.

And what if an asteroid crashed into the Yellowstone caldera? Wouldn’t that set it off immediately? This is the sort of thing that keeps me awake on long winter nights, which is, by the way, the season we’re in. It is a time of despair, which suits me just fine. I may be the only person who has seasonal affective disorder all year round. Stepping outside, I pause to wonder if the prevailing northwest wind will freeze us in our tracks before we can be incinerated by speeding rocks from above or molten rock from below.

It reminds me of my favorite poem about armaggeddon, Fire and Ice by Robert Frost.

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Yours in Safety, B.S.O.R.

Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty is at his usual life-of-the-party best here. He suggested this post should run on Christmas Day because it might give families a chance to talk about their Volcano Evasion Plan over dinner, but I hinted to him it was a bit of a downer and we might go with it a day or so early. He said the prospect of things happening before he expects them to is another scenario that keeps him up at night.

Fire or Ice – what’s your preference?

The Baboon Congress

Darkness, Darkness

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Today’s guest post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale.

A couple of times a year, the sun comes in my south facing bedroom window at just the right angle to warm my face while waking me up.

Sunlight!

This morning being a “day off” in the midst of the merry-go-round that is December, I let myself stay in bed – watch the designs on the insides of my eyelids, and let my mind drift. This kind of quiet time happens so rarely, and I encountered this perception: Here I am, one of billions of humans who, at some point today, will get up while my side of earth is facing the sun, basking in its light and warmth. We will run around and do stuff for roughly two-thirds of this rotation. Then, while our side of the earth slips into darkness, we’ll lie down for roughly the remaining one-third of it, to “re-charge the batteries” while asleep. We will all get up tomorrow and do it again, for probably thousands of more times.

But ironically, right now we get sunlight for only one-thirdof the spin, which means we spend about eight of our waking hours in (relative) darkness, too. (This would have been much more noticeable before all the electric lights.)

Fireplace, sort of

This year I decided to do something about all this dark in my environment – I asked for, and have received, one of those cute little heaters disguised as a fireplace. I usually don’t like fake things, but this is close enough to a real-looking fireplace, that it’s helping me with winter’s cold and the dark. I’ll find myself edging closer to as I’m reading. (Now I just need a fireplace sound-track.)

Luckily, this being the end of December, we’re at the turn-around point. But it will be a while till we’re out of the long, dark nights.

How do you cope with the shortest days of the year?

Uncategorized

Fido, Speak!

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Today’s post comes from the dealmaker and marketing genius Spin Williams, who is always in residence at The Meeting That Never Ends.

We’re always on the lookout for sparkling new ideas that have great potential but seem so ridiculous at first blush that most venture capital firms decline to get involved as a matter of image preservation – they simply don’t want to look silly.

No_more_woof

Well at the Meeting That Never Ends, we don’t have that problem. We know that the people who make BIG money must be willing to appear foolish sometimes – and maybe all the time. That’s why we love this Scandinavian dog communication project, called No More Woof.

Not only is it a creative and technologically feasible idea – it’s totally charming and completely fund-able. And if you don’t believe me, watch the video. It’s worth it just to hear the beguiling way those Swedes say the name of the product. If only my dog barked like that!

We think this product has great potential, especially since making the connection between your dog’s thought patterns as measured by the EEG and actual sentences using words and complete ideas is an act of translation that is wide open to artistic license, and what’s more, commercial influence!

For instance, we all know that when friends come to visit you at your home, Fido will greet them with excitement and his thought patterns would likely translate into something like “Do you have anything to eat?” and “I’d like to sniff your butt!”

But who could prove that he didn’t also want to say “Forty Per Cent off selected Lady’s Shoes this weekend at Famous Footwear” or “Degree™ antiperspirant and deodorant is engineered for superior long-lasting protection!”

It’s possible, especially if Famous Footwear and Degree Antiperspirant decide to sponsor some time on your dog’s Stream of Consciousness. After all, who could resist a product when it’s pitched by your best friend?

Mark my words – Ad Mutts will someday completely take the place of TV. Recognizing that obvious truth before everyone else does is the thing that separates great entrepreneurs like me from always penniless consumers like, well … you!

That’s a free glimpse of your future. Don’t say I didn’t tell you so!

Your farsighted friend, Spin

Spin may have a point here, though it’s a horrifying one. But corporations would likely demand some kind of advertising override feature so Fido isn’t yammering on about getting low insurance rates through Geico while he’s shredding your new down pillows and chewing up your iPhone.

And although the name of the product is charming, what if it turns out that the word your dog is REALLY thinking of happens to be … “Woof”?

Given the power of speech, what would your pet talk about?

The Baboon Congress

The Long and (Very) Winding Road

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Today’s guest post comes from Clyde, who actually wrote this as a comment on Trail Baboon on Monday, December 16, 2013.  But I thought it deserved more of a spotlight.  

This exquisite puzzle is a piece of twisty writing that really challenges the reader to follow.
If you think you’re up to it, try reading it aloud and see how far you get. Like an Escher print, you may find yourself doubling back on the trail in a way that seems physically impossible, and yet it is happening.

Here’s Clyde:

Escher's_Relativity

I am often confused with myself, which I find confusing. I think I am who I am and then I find out I am someone else. Then next time I think I am someone else but find I’m me. It’s me I like best, but often I would like to be someone else, but not the someone else I am, but want to be a different someone else, someone bold and exotic with hands that work. But the someone else I am am, sometimes, does not have working hands either. The am I am I am sometimes ashamed of. What I do like is that the me who I am when I am the someone else that I am doesn’t look much like the am I am, so if I chose the right day, I can go out as the me who I am and no one knows who I am. But it may be a day when no one recognizes me as the someone else that I am, sometimes people do know me. Sometimes not.
When I was younger, people in all places from Two Harbors to Chicago wanted to call me Chuck. But the Chuck me moved to Oregon and went on to great success, so maybe I should have been Chuck. Then I do not think I would be on the Trail, or maybe I always was on the trail, a deviant synapse of Fearless Leader’s frontal cortex off in the woods somewhere, which, Fearless Leader, does not look at all like a jungle. So are we really who we think we are? Baboons. Or just two-dimensional reflections of the grayer, more insecure part of Dale? Are people really who they seem in radio? Is anything real in public radio? I mean, that “public” part probably makes people very private or perhaps too public. But I digress. I did one day off in the woods in the back left there run into a Holden Caufield, but was it HOLDEN CAUFIELD, or just holden caufield?
Today I am the me who is on the woods. Lost perhaps. Maybe not. Maybe . . .

Where do you go to find yourself?

Poems

‘Twas the Night …

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God bless Clement Clark Moore, who gave parodists a simple rhyme to corrupt each year at this time. I have made a life’s work out of repeatedly ruining “A Visit From St. Nicholas“, Moore’s 1823 verse credited with creating many of our popular notions of Santa Claus.

I do this because it’s easy, because I’ve been invited to a Solstice party where people are encouraged to bring seasonal poetry, and because “Twas the night before Christmas …” is so ingrained in our holiday tradition it cannot be damaged by any assault.

And it’s endlessly updatable:

‘Twas night of the solstice, a dark one throughout.
I was under surveillance – there wasn’t a doubt.

My cell phone activity had been compiled
and parsed and examined and noted and filed.

My Internet searches were hacked and collected.
My GPS data was tracked, as expected.

So as I settled down, warm and snug and alone
there was nothing about me that couldn’t be known.

When out on the lawn arose a great cry.
There were copters and fighter jets up in the sky.

The harsh glare of searchlights swept down through the trees.
The whole street was soon filled up with black SUVs.

There were Seals from the Navy attacking my door.
They were backed up by SWAT teams. I knew not what for.

So I did then what people do when they’re confused.
I turned on the TV and went straight for FOX News.

And there to my wondering eyes did appear,
Geraldo Rivera – bare-chested, sincere.

He had jumped out of bed and run straight to my place
Because word was the N.S.A. was on the case

of a fugitive miscreant – here at my home.
Who would be apprehended, just like Al Capone.

And I realized as I heard door jambs implodin’
They’d mixed me up once again with Edward Snowden!

Because stalking technology’s easily conned
When you buy the same stuff at Bed, Bath and Beyond.

So as laser sight pinpricks danced jigs on my chest
I said “there goes my dream of a long winter’s rest”.

While I waited for Seal Team Six, soon to arrive
For my interrogation, (that’s if I survive)

I considered the peace of the season we’re in.
How our Mother, the Earth, will reliably spin

and we’ll turn toward the light that will banish our fear
On the longest and darkest night of the whole year.

Have you ever suffered a case of mistaken identity?

Uncategorized

Illegal Use of Hands

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Today’s post comes from Congressman Loomis Beechly, representing all water surface area in the state of Minnesota.

Beechly Ice shark copy

Greetings Constituents,

I am alarmed to see the tussle that has emerged from President Obama’s brief handshake with Cuban strongman Raul Castro. How our president could be so careless is beyond a mystery to me. I have been in politics for a relatively short while but I learned early on that it is very bad policy to shake hands with people.

That’s why I don’t do it! Not only is it unsanitary, it’s bad politics.

Those of you who have met me at campaign rallies know that I’m a back slapper. I will enthusiastically slap the back of anyone who is willing to stand near me, but I won’t hug you or leave my arm lying across your shoulders and I won’t shake hands because I could pick up germs or worse, political cooties!

Here’s the honest truth – when I’m introduced to people, I have no idea who they are or what they have done. Or what they WILL do. Unfortunately, a photograph of me with any person found later to have committed a heinous act could spell the end of my political career. And if that happens, we ALL lose!

So in self defense, I will slap you on your back. Why? Because in the moment it feels chummy, but in photographs it looks like I could be pushing you away. If it turns out later that you abuse kittens or run a meth lab, that’s the spin I’ll put on our encounter. I say this to be completely transparent and honest with you. While some constituents have complained about this habit of mine, most who have heard the explanation come to understand it is simply good common sense.

And it works both ways – as protection for you, too! I don’t have to tell you Congress is highly unpopular right now. And you never know what I’ll do! But I think we can all agree, I’m probably smarter than the president! On this issue, anyway.

So look for me in the district this winter. I won’t make you take your gloves off to greet me – it’s far too cold for that. We’ll just share a mutual pounding between the shoulder blades. It’s just one of the many ways I continue to look out for your interests, and mine.

Your Congressman,
Loomis Beechly

I told Congressman Beechly there’s another good reason not to shake hands at 9th district political events – so many of the participants have just had their fingers in a cup of worms! Of course whenever I think of handshakes, this song comes to mind!

Are you a glad hander or a back slapper?

Travel

Off-Planet Paradise

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I feel I’ve arrived late to the party because I just discovered plans are well along to recruit people to settle the planet Mars starting in the year 2022.

Your Garden Spot Awaits!
Your Garden Spot Awaits!

The plan is to send a small group of people every few years until a community is built. Costs will be defrayed through TV broadcast of the proceedings as a reality show, and in addition to being famous the Mars pioneers will have the opportunity to live out their days in the dim light of a dry, cold, airless world!

Did I say “live out your days?”

Yes, there’s a spoiler alert – you don’t get to come back! But that makes sense, because adapting to the Martian gravity will weaken your muscles and we already know that living in space reduces your bone density, so a return to Earth in your later years would just be an oppressive, painful ordeal.

Which, of course, your later years are bound to be anyway.

Clearly this creates a wonderful opportunity for people who truly hate the lives they currently have on Earth. You might as well die on Mars. This is so much better than hospice!

You’re the first Earthling to die on Mars. What does your tombstone say?