In planning adventures for our family, we always tried to make the adventures age appropriate. I remember our first white water rafting experience. Our kids were probably between the ages of five and nine years old. We were on vacation in Idaho and the “white water” was more of a slow shallow river, as it was tailored to young families. But at their age it was exciting and the raft company did a great job of making it seem more wild and dangerous than it really was. They praised the kids for paddling hard over the “rapids” and let them hang in life jackets over the side of the raft, in the shallow area and take a little swim in the river. When the kids were teenagers, we were on vacation in Colorado and we actually went real white water rafting in the Royal Gorge. Now that was real excitement and because we started things like that when they were young, they were always game to go bigger. On vacations we always looked for new experiences and have done everything from snorkeling, skiing, scuba diving to train rides, hiking, camping, and kayaking, dancing and fossil hunting. When my son was a senior in High School and my daughter was a sophomore in High School and their older sister had just started college, we agreed to have a German foreign exchange student stay with us for the year. My Ben was 18, Lukas from Germany was 17 and my Jenny was 16. They got along great and the entire situation was perfect in hindsight. This was a fabulous 
experience for many reasons, but one of my fondest memories is when we took the three of them to the Florida Keys for Spring break. We rented a two bedroom condo on the beach at a resort. It had great sand beaches, nice pools and restaurants and a large pier for fishing. We brought the blender along for smoothies to save some cash and the condo had a kitchen so we could do some of the cooking for this crowd, because it seemed like they ate constantly. We had driven down so we had our vehicle and we had gone sailing, snorkeling and every evening we went to the Lorelei across the street to eat appetizers and have drinks at the sunset celebration. It was a good time. The kids always stayed up later than us sitting on the beach in front of the condo or playing games and talking. My husband and I were sound asleep one night in our beach condo, when all of a sudden the bedroom door burst open and almost went through the other wall. It was Ben, Jenny and Lukas all talking at the same time. They were loud and excited and their initial busting in almost caused us a heart attack. I finally realized in my sleepiness, which quickly went away with the adrenaline pumping through my veins that they were excited fun, not excited, call 911 because something bad happened. As we heard them talking all at once as excited as anyone should ever be allowed, they were all repeating “we caught a freaking shark.” Finally, it registered as they were shoving their cell phones at us showing pictures of the shark they had caught on the fishing pier at our resort. I grabbed my glasses and took Ben’s phone and sure enough there it was, 
Jenny holding up a small shark by the tail. As I looked at the picture closer I could see it was curling its head up towards her hands. I said, “Was it trying to bite you?” All of them answered almost in unison, “Yes, it was trying to bite us the whole time”. They said they caught it on a frozen shrimp from the freezer. I looked at the clock and it was after 2 a.m. Had they not learned anything from their favorite movie—Jaws? Who fishes from an Ocean pier at 2 in the morning? After looking at their pictures and hearing the whole story about the big scary catch and how they were using the Muskie fishing rod they had brought from Minnesota, tied to the top of the Yukon, I could not help but be proud of their craziness and a little scared about their good judgment. We heard how they each held the shark and took a picture for Facebook and to send to their friends, and how they had to hurry with the pictures so they could safely release it. None of my kids were ever in any serious trouble, but these kinds of shenanigans were commonplace and added to all of our fun and our family stories. I have never regretted the money and time we spent on doing fun things and vacations. 
Let Your Children Play with Matches
“Quality time” with our kids is overstated and overrated. Did anyone ever ask the kids how much time they want to spend with us? Who said that we as parents should play every game with our kids and take every nature walk with them? Now don’t get me wrong, we should spend time with our kids, but not all of their free time should be consumed by us. They need time on their own and time with their peers. Do you remember your parents hovering over your every move? I don’t and I wouldn’t have wanted them to.
I remember when I was young I’d be gone for hours and sometimes most of the day with neighbor kids or just my brothers and sister. We built forts and went exploring. Once we tried to build a raft and float it on the shallow creek that cut through our farm. We ran in and out occasionally to get tools or food, but no one’s parents ever interfered in what we were doing or even came to snoop. We really would have considered that an intrusion.
We knew they were there if we got into any trouble but they went about their business and we went about ours. We knew the big rules, such as no one could do anything to harm someone else or someone else’s property. We hung out with a group of neighbors and cousins with kids that varied in age. We were much better, back then, at being inclusive rather than exclusive. We never seemed to get into any real trouble. We occasionally got hurt, but nothing serious. We occasionally broke things, but nothing irreplaceable. We learned to make good decisions, to be self reliant and careful. It built our self esteem and prepared us for the bigger world.
Now it seems as if we don’t allow our kids enough time to explore the world without us. It occurred to me one day when my kids were planning a trek into the woods behind our house. They had water bottles, a flashlight (even though it was the middle of the day), some snacks and a bucket for nature finds. I said this looks good, what are we going to look for? They all looked at me as if I was speaking a foreign language and in the silence I could read their faces. They didn’t want to hurt my feelings, but they clearly had not planned on inviting me. Inviting an adult took away the adventure and the uncertainty. It took away the excitement. I gracefully backed out and said, “oh, I forgot I have to fold the socks,” and they all smiled and said, “yeah, maybe next time,” and ran off. Kids sometimes just need other kids. How else will they learn independence and self reliance? They need room to make small mistakes before they are allowed the big decisions.
I heard on the news a while ago about a house burning down because of children playing with matches. The children seemed to be too old to be setting a house on fire by playing with matches. I got to thinking. I know that a preoccupation with fire can be a sign of abuse in children. I also know from growing up and from being on enough camp outs that fire is a fascinating thing for anyone. We all poke and dig at the campfire and try to cook things over it. We all like starting the fire. Kids are no different. However, if they have never been allowed to touch matches or lighters, the fascination becomes even more intense. Back on the farm we used to be able to burn our paper trash. We were responsible for this at a fairly young age. Our parents had taught us that fire was hot and then trusted us to be careful with the matches and burning the trash. I decided one day that I didn’t want my children to be 16 years old and not know how to respect fire or worse yet, be 10 years old and be so fascinated with it that they had to secretly try matches and maybe end up burning something down. One day I told my 9-year- old son and 12-year-old daughter to get the box of matches and start a fire in our fire pit and burn the sticks that had fallen in the yard. They both stopped dead in their tracks and said, “We can?” I said “sure,” much to my husband’s dismay, but he could tell where I was going with this.
I told them to be careful. They spent hours at the fire pit and went through an entire box of matches. I never went to the fire pit during the burning but occasionally looked out to make sure the woods were not on fire. If anyone burned their fingers I didn’t hear about it and every stick in the yard was cleaned up. When they were done they hosed out the fire as they had seen us do. They reported back that they were done and had put out the fire. You could tell that they were proud of a job well done, but more proud that they were entrusted with the task.
I have come to the conclusion that we may sometimes be over protective with our kids, to their detriment. We are raising a generation of kids who may not have the confidence to be self-reliant and know how to make good decisions, despite all of our talking. We have been very successful adults in part because we were given experiences early on to gain independence, self reliance, leadership skills and responsibility. We were expected to make good choices, but not every little choice was scrutinized, criticized or even known about, much less discussed to death.
If we don’t let our kids make small mistakes and some bad choices growing up, how are we going to expect them to make good choices on the big issues. We cannot keep them totally protected and then all of a sudden release them and expect them to be able to handle all the choices, obstacles, dangers, and responsibilities of life. They learned to walk by starting to crawl and gained more and more independence. They need to do the same with responsibility and independence. Hug your kids tightly, but don’t suffocate their independence. We need to be there for them, but not insist on having them spend all of their free time with us. Love them, trust them and show confidence in them to complete difficult tasks, even if they are at a young age.
If you show a high level of confidence in them and their abilities, they will live up to your expectations. If you expect a lot you will get a lot and they will gain the skills necessary to have confidence in their own abilities and to make good choices.
Moonshine and the Law
I come from a long line of rule breakers, so of course I became a lawyer. Yes, my grandfather and his brothers and sisters, in Pierz, Minnesota, in the 1920’s were known for making some of the finest moonshine in the country. More than once we heard stories about them having to hide from the Feds during prohibition. Well, they were German so it was excusable. What good German could get along without some beer or moonshine on a regular basis?
They were a fun bunch even into their nineties and they actually did not hide the fact that they made moonshine during prohibition. They told their stories in an almost bragging fashion. There is only one sister left now, and she will be ninety nine soon. If you would use my great uncles and aunts as a study on longevity, you would have to conclude that rule breaking and drinking moonshine equals a long and FUN life.
Moonshine still from 1920s
They told one particular story where it is said that my grandpa and great uncles, who were all in their late teens and early twenties at the time, blew out all of the windows in the house while running the still in the basement. As the story goes, my great grandma was quite angry, because they had to go to different towns and just buy one window at a time so as not to raise suspicion at any one particular mercantile store. The story in hindsight is hard to believe because everyone in Pierz, it seemed, was of German heritage and many of them were related and probably bought the moonshine from my grandpa and his brothers, so exactly who would turn them in is not known.
They lived a couple of miles outside of town on the family farm running a dairy operation. The farm is still in the family and the original house is still there, but has been worked on and kept up nicely over the years. My grandpa also claimed that at one point during prohibition, two of his brothers had warrants out for their arrest and had to hide in the back woods of the family farm, until they received word from town that the Feds had left, not being able to find them.
They were a big happy family with a strong devotion to the Catholic faith. They would never miss church on a Sunday or eat before communion, but they made brew in the bathtub and risked Federal prison. It is a funny contrast when you think about it. It seems in hindsight that they chose which rules had to be followed. It could not be that they simply disagreed with prohibition. I am sure there were many rules in the church and elsewhere that they did not agree with, but yet followed them.
It had to be something specific about Prohibition. They clearly did not recognize the Federal Government’s ability to regulate liquor. They had to have a sense that the Federal Government had no right to make Alcohol illegal. This is an interesting concept in rural America in the 1920’s. They were farmers who raised their chickens and pigs and milked the cows, and planted and harvested their crops, and they made homemade bread and sausage and they raged against the man. I love it in hindsight. They were the original Rule breakers in the family and they passed down a sense of self confidence and the ability to question authority and question the main stream. Just because it was the law did not make it right.
Through their stories they passed down the ability to think for ourselves, and to enjoy life and the pursuit of happiness. It is these qualities that are embedded not only in our fond memories of them and their stories, but in our very genes that has helped us as their grandchildren and great grandchildren to be very successful in many ways. The descendants are doctors, accountants, successful business owners, nurses, a judge, teachers and one of my most fun cousins Don Millner, became a dentist, but now owns a successful winery in Kimball Minnesota. It is interestingly named after the moonshine making family and known as the Millner Heritage Winery. It is a really fun place to visit. We went with one of our BFC’s (Best Friend Couples) a couple of years ago and had an awesome Sunday afternoon drinking wine and exchanging stories with Donny. The wine is some of the best around and he has won many awards.
Family reunions on this side of the family are a full contact sport. You really have to train for it like a marathon and possibly wear ear plugs. They are loud, and in your face fun! You cannot go to this reunion without having a great time. This is a group that still drinks moonshine, just to be nostalgic and is proud of our rule breaking, outlaw heritage. The family is now spread all over the country, but we usually come back to our roots in Pierz, every few years to continue to hand down the stories that are a part of our very nature and heritage and raise glasses in honor of our grandparents and great uncles and aunts. They all taught us the simple, but important lesson of work hard and play hard and, of course the importance of family.
Clueless
Here is an article I wrote a couple of years ago when my kids were younger. Thought you would enjoy it.
Once in a while you start to think that you are as clueless as your preteen thinks you are. Now, I see myself as being very good at judging human character and being able to “know” someone in a very short time, but on this occasion I missed the mark. Last summer I was at a large family reunion in my hometown, Pierz, Minnesota. The reunion was set in a park which had the amenity of a nice swimming hole created by a small dam placed on the Skunk River back in the 40’s. Now I know at this point you think I am making this up, but it is all true and I’d swear to it. The Skunk River is about as clean as it sounds. I grew up in Dairy Farming County and I swam in the Skunk when I was growing up and I can tell you that when you swim in the Skunk you occasionally have to push a floating cow pie aside as the Skunk is lined with prosperous dairy farms for miles upstream. We did not mind. It was a great place to grow up.
After leaving the farm I went to college and then law school and I am now a city dweller. I have a whole new appreciation for rural Minnesota and the Skunk River, and I miss the lifestyle terribly. I miss the fresh air, the genuine people and the simpler lifestyle. (I have met some attorneys who could use a good swim in the Skunk).
I brought my husband and three children to the family reunion and my children were immediately drawn to the swimming hole. It wasn’t the cow pies that attracted them, but the four to five foot dam with a pool just deep enough for them to stand on their very tippy toes and still have their face above water. It looked and felt dangerous, so they thought it was great. I stood on the dam to watch my son jump repeatedly into the water and I would clap when he jumped off. My 12-year-old daughter thought the whole thing was beneath her and just stood by me while I cheered my son on. I clapped and mockingly gave a score of 1 to 10 to judge his jumps as if in an Olympic diving contest. Very shortly, another older boy started jumping in, in front of me and then looking when he emerged to see if I would cheer him on and give him a score. Now, because I hang out with kids a lot I know the look.
This is a kid whose parents are nowhere to be seen and kids love attention. So, recognizing the symptoms, I started to give him a cheer and a score when he jumped off too. He seemed to enjoy it and we carried on an exchange as he and my son took turns jumping, always starting with the “watch this” and “well, now watch this.” We all laughed and were totally enjoying the day when he popped up in the water and yelled, “Why don’t you come in with us?” I said “Oh, I don’t even have my suit along.” He looked at me a little put off and said, “not you – you,” pointing at my daughter, who now had that look on her face of, mom you are so clueless. While I thought I was entertaining some kids, the preteen boy and my preteen daughter were making a connection to which I was oblivious. I don’t think I am ready for this. No, I know I am not ready for this.
Lessons from a Puppy
Being in the work world, no matter what your profession, can be challenging and sometimes discouraging. It can be a roller coaster. Some days you are on top of the world and other days the naysayers and the negative energy gets to you. Some days I leave the office and I am dragging my tail.
After one particularly bad day I came to be reminded that I had to go to the humane society with my 11-year-old daughter. She had decided about a month before that she wanted to be a volunteer and my husband and I were quite pleased that she took the 
initiative and wanted to help out. Of course, after we praised her up and down and after much back slapping she informed us that because she was under 12, she needed a parent with her, each and every time she volunteered. Because of the initial fuss we had made about her wonderful decision to help out, we couldn’t gracefully decline going along without looking bad. Now, I grew up on a farm and I love animals, but my husband never had pets until he met me. So guess who was going to be the parent volunteer.
When I got home after my bad, bad day, I was reminded that tonight was our first night to be volunteers. My silent thoughts raced quickly. Could I lie and tell her we got a call and they are closed? Could I just say I’m too tired? Could I fake illness? None were options without teaching her the wrong lessons and she looked so excited about her first night. I said “O.K.” with as much enthusiasm as I could muster and we were off.
In the beginning we were doing pretty much what we expected. Walking unruly, untrained but sweet dogs who needed some love and a home. My daughter and I talked and laughed as the dogs would become tangled around our legs, and the larger ones would practically pull her around the outdoor path provided for exercise. After a while we were asked if we could bathe a puppy who wasn’t being adopted as quickly as they normally are, because it seems he was quite dirty and smelly. We went to get him and his condition was not exaggerated. He was dark brown with downy long hair. He had the face of a Collie with a long nose and beautiful eyes, but his fur was actually sticky and he stunk like urine. He had been abandoned but if we could get him cleaned up he would surely be adopted because he was the sweetest thing. My daughter and I went to work.
We were shown to the small bathing area in the back. It was only large enough for the raised dog washing station, a sink, my daughter and me. With the door closed, we had little room to maneuver. We lifted the big puppy into the sink and tried to reassure him that this was not going to be something bad, but of course he was shaking like a leaf. We carefully made sure the water was warm but the sprayer was still on the strong side which was scaring the puppy. As we were moving around and spraying down the puppy, we unknowingly knocked over a large bottle of shampoo. The puppy was trying to escape and we were trying to spray him down and shampoo him. We were becoming soaked ourselves in this Laurel and Hardy attempt to wash this puppy. All of the sudden we realized the gallon size shampoo had spilled on the tile floor. Since my hands were busy, my daughter Sara grabbed the bottle and I tried to find the cover. While watching her do this, I wasn’t watching where I was spraying because I was still holding the squirmy puppy and I realized I was spraying water on the ceiling. I grabbed it quickly, but now the water was dripping down onto the shampoo loaded floor and it was becoming very slippery for Sara and me to move around. Just as we were in full chaos, 
there was a knock at the door from the executive supervisor who said “Is everything okay?” We both busted out laughing. We looked like a bad Lucille Ball episode. Our hair was dripping and our clothes and shoes were wet and slimy with soap and water, but the puppy looked great. We dried him off and fluffed his hair. He was as cute as a bunny and was adopted the very next day.
I would go crazy but for my family. They really do bring you back to earth and help you to remember what’s really special and important, and what needs to be left at the office. Family and humor cannot be overrated. We need both to overcome those things that bring us down and to make our lives fun.
Simpler Things, Simpler Times
I am a middle-aged attorney/shareholder and division leader in my firm. I make good money. I have three wonderful children, a husband of 15 years and a big house in the Northern Suburbs of Minneapolis. So why do I miss the farm?
I grew up on a small beef cattle farm in Buckman, Minnesota. I picked rocks every spring as soon as I was strong enough to lift the small ones and I weeded the garden, baled hay and helped to care for the animals. We worked hard, but we also played hard. Animals were everywhere: cats and kittens, pigs and piglets, chickens, geese, dogs, a horse and of course lots of cows and calves. Life, death, and reproduction were a part of our every day life. My memories are filled with long summer days, running and playing in the creek by our house and building forts. I can still feel the sensation and exhilaration of taking a hot shower and dropping into bed totally exhausted after a hard day of baling hay. There is no bed that ever felt better and no sleep that was so restful.
My heart is in Buckman. The farm was sold many years ago and my parents retired to town. When we visit I always ask my husband to drive slowly past our farm. I have an overwhelming urge to jump from the vehicle and run home. I can’t explain it, but despite the fact that I have not lived there for over 25 years, it still looks and feels like home. How can one place on earth become so much a part of me that despite the years, the education, the job, husband, children and the good times in my current life that I long for it so.
When I graduated from high school, I couldn’t wait to leave for college and see what the world had in store for me. My parents encouraged higher education. To try to better ourselves is still a strong value in our family, probably a result of our immigrant heritage. It at least must have temporarily overpowered our connection with the land.
But, the old adage “You can take the girl off the farm, but never take the farm out of the girl,” is truly wise. Despite my success and happiness, at times I am a fish out of water. Something for me always seems to be missing. It is a grieving process with no closure. It is a fantasy for me to daydream about, leaving the city behind and moving back to the farm. Leaving the traffic jams, the stress, noise and life flying by at hyper speed. I fantasize about getting up in the morning, skipping the shower, hair and make up and instead of the suit, throwing on a pair of jeans and heading out to sit on the front steps to pet the dog with my morning coffee before setting out to feed the animals and weed the garden. Do our relatives and friends who had the guts to stay and preserve their way of life really live like that while we run on in the rat race of the city or is my perception a fantasy? Or, is it that age old problem that the grass always looks greener on the other side of the fence. Do we long for what we don’t have?
I have come to the realization, unfortunately, that my longing is a product of age and greener pastures. Yes, I am getting older. What I long for is an era gone by. An age when times and things were more simple. My relatives and friends on the farm work very hard and worry daily about the 
weather, the prices of the products, farm conglomerates and how to maintain a living in a business and a way of life that is slowly being choked out.
They run their kids to activities and worry about violence and how to encourage their children to become responsible and productive adults just like we do. I know my fantasy is probably just that, a fantasy. But, I will always envy those who stayed for being able to have coffee on the steps while petting the dog. It took a lot of guts for those who stayed. I will always miss my basic connection to the farm and the memories that attend it.
I miss the era gone by, but also the way of life that still exists. I have learned to attempt to fill my void by living on 2 ½ acres of woods in a busy city. I have dogs and feed the wild birds. I volunteer at the humane society and take my kids out into the woods as often as possible. I plant flowers and vegetables and dig in the dirt.
I will never have the farm back or that way of life, but it is a part of my very being and brings a smile to my face in stressful and busy times. Others from the city may have memories of growing up, but the farm is a part of the very essence of my being. If you see a lawyer with dirt under her nails, it’s me, and I am proud of it.
Mother of the Year Award
As parents we try to do our best with our kids and sometimes we get it right and sometimes not so much. Let’s face it, we try to build our careers and please our bosses and we try to build and keep a good marriage and in the process raise smart, happy, well behaved kids, keep up with our friends and aging parents and have some fun along the way. We have a long to do list and we try to fit in grocery shopping, birthday parties, soccer, hockey and dance. We run full speed and yet do our best to get in those all important family dinners. We are stretched thin in those younger child raising years. They are fun, but challenging. I remember running around tired for about 10 years straight. Coffee was my best friend.
I will never forget one particular fall morning after school had already started and the family was working off of a nice routine. My kids were in middle school and I had the morning responsibility to put them on the bus and then I was off to work. Mornings at our house were like many other families: crazy, disorganized and loud until it all came together just minutes before the bus came and like a miracle everyone was moving toward the car with shoes tied and backpacks ready. As we loaded into the car, my son Ben informed me that he had told his science teacher that we lived in the woods and he had volunteered to bring in salamanders for their amphibian unit. He had told his teacher how they hung out in our window wells on sunny days. Of course, I was dressed in my suit as I had a court hearing in the morning and a women’s business lunch, and even though we lawyers don ‘t always have to wear suits to the office, we do when going to court.
I was wearing a skirt, blouse, jacket and hose, and now I had the job of finding amphibians. I looked at his big smile as he explained his excitement with the amphibian unit, as he recited all of the amphibian facts he had already learned. My mind raced as I interrupted him and asked hopefully—can you bring them tomorrow? “No” he replied. They need them today. I tried to explain that it was early morning and with this chill in the air, the amphibians are probably dug down into the mud, trying to stay warm. He said he promised his teacher. So there I was short of time and a dirty job to complete, while in a full suit.
I was trying to meet his expectations of bringing the salamanders for the amphibian unit, but in my head I was thinking there was no way we were going to find them on this chilly morning. I told him to go to the garage and get a plastic ice cream bucket. I took a kneeling pad out to the window well and a glove from the garage. I hoped and prayed as I gently dug in the leaves and yes there they were. It was like winning the kid lottery. I really did not think I would find them, but there were three and they all went into the bucket with some old leaves, sticks and a little dirt. I quickly poked some irregular holes in the top cover of the ice cream bucket as my son was beaming, not realizing the multiple miracles that just took place. Actually finding a bucket, finding the salamanders, and still not late for the bus or Court were all part of the miracle. To top it off I took a quick look at my suit and I was not dirty either. An all around success.
I thought we were home free. I handed them to Ben and said there you go. Let’s go catch the bus. He looked at me with a big frown and innocently reminded me that they have a “no live animals rule” on the bus. My middle schoolers were rule followers. My head flexed onto my back as I sighed heavily and said some dirty words internally. I refused to admit defeat on this day when we already had so many miracles. No bus rule would stop us from our mission. I looked at him and said, you have to take them on the bus, the school needs them so we have to bend the rules for the good of the Amphibian unit. This morning there is no other way. I put the bucket into a grocery bag and concealed it as best as possible. I made him promise not to tell anyone what was in the bag, until he got to school and not to show anyone on the bus what he had.
I made it clear that failure to follow these instructions would ruin the entire mission and he would not be allowed to have the salamanders for the amphibian unit. He was serious and I could tell from his commitment to this project that the salamanders were in good hands. We went to the bus and I again reminded him of his duty and I waved as he took off on the bus, hoping he could keep his mouth shut and not reveal the contents of his paper bag. Salamanders would be a pretty interesting and tantalizing secret to reveal to his friends on the bus. A difficult secret to keep for a young boy, but he did it.
I made it to court on time and the 6th grade class had salamanders for their amphibian unit. When I got home after a busy day Ben presented me with the sweetest Thank you note signed by his teacher and all of the students in the class. It was a good day for a Mom!
There are so many times as parents that we think we maybe could do things better or do more and we beat ourselves up on the things we did not get quite right, but sometimes, just sometimes, everything works out on a particular fall day and we are an ordinary hero to our kids and a 6th grade class who wants to learn about amphibians by looking and touching them and not just reading about them on the internet. Some days we should get an award for what we can or have accomplish as parents.
Two Beards and a Bag of Cans
Most days I take the same route to work at my law office. My tunes are playing and I am engrossed in my mental list of things I want to make sure I get done. I have found I need to do this or the minute I hit the office the phone is ringing and the emails are coming in and if I am not careful, my day is gone on new matters and crisis and I have not accomplished the things I wanted to make sure to finish. If I am not careful the day is gone before I know it.
A number of years ago I noticed that on my daily drive I was passing the same two older, possibly retired guys walking on the sidewalk on the same side of the street. It was a slow driving street so I would see them up ahead coming towards me as I drove in the opposite direction.
The first maybe ten times or more they were there and even though I noticed them I did not really take note of them or think much of them. They were probably in their late sixties or early seventies, and either close friends or possibly brothers. One was slightly taller than the other and they walked at a lively clipped pace. They both had evidence of a few too many Friday night beers that now rested in their bellies. They both had a head of white hair and gray full beards that showed some attempt to stay trimmed but not quite evenly and the bottom crest of their beards landed on their middle chest reminding one of the nostalgic Santa pictures that Coke used in their ads for years. They were out, it seemed, no matter what the weather or the season.
They walked as if on a mission, arms swinging and talking as they made their way around the blocks or who knows where for fresh air, exercise or just to get out of the house. As I saw them more frequently I began to notice them more closely. Every day they carried an old Wal-Mart or target bag and you could see that it held crushed cans and some paper. It occurred to me on a day when I was not as self absorbed as usual that they were bending over occasionally and filling the bag with small garbage bits discarded by others and aluminum cans. The two made my mind wander and imagine and make up reasons why they were doing this.
They were keeping the streets clean as they walked along. Had they started their walking routine to stay in shape, get fresh air, and get out of the house? As they did this repeatedly walking along sharing stories and discussing retired old guy interests, they walked long enough and often enough that they started to be bothered by others’ discarded garbage on the streets they walked every day. Offended by others’ discarded garbage, and wanting to make sure their streets were up to their standards, they started to bring the bag and collect.
I suspect that they had little interest in the can collection fee but by the very amount of time they spent on those streets they now felt ownership of them and a certain responsibility that ones feels to keep their own home clean, so as they developed their feeling of ownership they collected and cleaned up, never breaking conversation but just proceeding with the understanding that after their walk the streets were better than when they started.
Their world is small and constant. A walk every morning around the neighborhood. But instead of walking and not taking in their environment they are improving it. Just two bearded guys and a bag of cans, making the world better in their own small way.
Whenever we think we cannot make a difference and the world problems are just too big to tackle. I think of the two bearded guys who are making a difference every day on University Avenue.
One Small Spot on the Planet
It occurred to me in my fifties that I had been coming to the same workplace for over 25 years. The same four story office building and the same small parking lot in Coon Rapids, Minnesota. Now don’t get me wrong, I have traveled a lot. More then most people I know. But the thought that I had wasted so many years in this very small area of the world bothered me. I had not thought about it before. I don’t dislike my job, but I don’t live for my job either. I have made good money at it, but we only have so many days, so many years to live and I have wasted a lot of them driving the five miles to work and spending five days a week in this one building in this one postage stamp – no, pinhead area of the world. There are so many places that I have not seen.
We only have a limited number of days to live in this world, why did I have to spend so many of my days in this office building? To make money? To have health insurance? Some say to be fulfilled, but that one I doubt because I think if I were independently wealthy, I could make good use of my time and money and be very fulfilled and even more fulfilled then going to my day job each work day. I feel like a hamster on a wheel.
So how do I justify the time “wasted” in this one small area?
I remind myself how I have made a good living for myself and my family. I could not have done so if I were not committed to a career and the time and energy that career takes, but make no mistake, I picked wrong.
I could have been a biologist on a ship in the ocean studying the seas. I could have been Jacques Cousteau. I could have been a park ranger and been a part of our country’s natural beauty instead of in a stuffy office building.
Yes, those would have been exciting, but I would not have had my children’s stable family life and all of the fun and excitement that came with having a big and happy family. We did our share of travel and we had a nice house and did fun things on a weekly basis, all made possible by the “stuffy” office work.
The choice of stability and routine reaped many benefits for our entire family, and it was a good choice in hindsight. The grass may look greener on the other side, but even those adventurous lives have their downsides. We just don’t see them on TV.
We know this in hindsight because with age comes the realization that for every choice there is both positive and negative. It is what you do with the time and your focus on the positive that makes for a happy life. Appreciate what you have accomplished for yourself and your family. There is nothing that steals your happiness like always wanting more and wanting what you don’t have. What you have and what you have accomplished is amazing!
Fishing and the Original Red Dawn
My husband and I had two daughters and one son. We always said each of our kids had their special place in our family. My daughter was the first and oldest child, which gave her that special space, and my son was in the middle but the only boy so that was special, and my youngest was a girl and the baby so that was her special place.
My husband is and was a great dad and with our son. He had an immediate connection because they were the only guys in the house. It was easy for me to develop a close relationship with my girls. We had a lot in common, not just because we were the same gender, but our personalities fit well together even though we were different in many ways. We had developed a bond easily choosing activities and flowing from activity to activity with ease. We had a connection that was effortless to maintain. I decided early on that as a mom I would need to make sure that I developed a good relationship with my son. I knew it would not be as effortless as with the girls, but I had had three brothers and I had grown up on a farm. We had gone hunting and fishing, and I was somewhat of a tomboy. So I decide to plan a couple of days together just him and me.
I took a couple of days off and told him to hitch up the fishing boat. I borrowed a friend’s cabin for the night. I told my son to pack for fishing, just him and me, and I was hoping that what I had planned would meet the clear excitement and anticipation I could see on his face. We got up early the next morning and drove up north to Crookneck Lake by Randall, Minnesota. We launched the boat after careful bait selection at the local shop and with our lunch cooler. We were lucky enough to have a really warm sunny day that allowed a comfortable full day in the boat. We discussed bait choices, depths to try for different fish and sometimes just sat in silence. As the day wore on the conversation became less superficial as we settled into a rhythm and the unwritten understanding in that no topic was off limits and there would be no judgment. We laughed together, we sometimes clumsily pulled in fish together, and we had the best day on the water anyone could hope for.
We caught a small Northern Pike and a crappie just enough for a little dinner. As a little chill started in the air, we made our way to the cabin and I handed my son the staking knife and even though he had seen fish cleaned before he had never actually done it himself. I gave him a few tips as he completed the task and the pride I could see in his eyes trumped the fact that the fillets looked like they had been through a meat grinder. We cooked up the fillets and washed them down with a beer that I brought to share even though he was not quite drinking age.
After dinner we built a fire and I put in the original Red Dawn movie and there alone in the cabin, warm cheeked from the days wind and sun, we watched high school boys save the United State of America with their guns and pickup truck. We shared one more beer and as the movie came to an end we could feel the tiredness, one only feels from all day outdoor activities, and we sunk into our beds. The next day we swam in the lake to cool off after a sunny day in the boat and headed back home. I knew it would be fun just to be together and do outdoor things, but I did not realize how really special it would be. Such a simple concept that did not require spending a lot of money created a lifelong memory for both of us. Teenage boys are not the best at expressing themselves, but he talked about our fishing trip for years. I would listen with pride when he would always start with, “My mom and I had the best bro weekend ever, we fished and watched Red Dawn up north at a cabin.” In all the things we do as parents that we question and wonder if we did them right, or could have done something better, this was a perfectly planned and executed bonding between mother and son.
Fun Living 