So, more officially, we know that my dad has the mysterious and insidious “Pulmonary Fibrosis.” Progressive, terminal, and no cure; with the average life expectancy after the onset being 2-4 years.
I've been more or less mentally preparing myself for the concept that my dad does not have a lot of time left here with us. But this kind of smacked me in the face, yesterday. Especially, the dredging up of my own past regrets of not being able to get to know my grandparents until they were very, very old (and a couple of them, much at all), and the knowledge that - in all likelihood - Rose will never remember the grandad with the twinkle in his eye. And Lucy is just going to remember this old man with chapped hands and tubes going into his nose that sat in a chair in the corner of the living room.
Tangentally...cause I don't want this to be nothing but a bummer of a post...
I just finished the documentary "49 Up," last night. And the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Checking in every seven years on about fifteen different lives, from the time they were seven until age 49. In the special features, the filmmaker (the same guy through all 42 years) spoke of these folks' collective transformations through the years, and how they all coalesced at a point when they were about 35 (me, being 37), when their parents (and lots of relatives and peers of their parents) started to die and they are first beginning to be faced with a sens of their own aging and mentality.
I'm looking forward to the peaceful acceptance they all got back to, by age 49.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
A Foreign Affair: Pass It Along
OK, so those few readers of The Oliopolis know that my preference is to use my posts more as a journal, or as a forum for my assorted musings and ruminations, as opposed to propogating media I may have come across elsewhere in this e-world.
However, an article I just read, by Jonathan Freeman from The Guardian, struck such a powerful chord with me, I feel compelled to pass it along in hopes it will inspire others to consider the sentiment, and pass it along as well.
It very eloquently lays out the heart of an issue I find to be of great important, but about which I have seen very little discussion: that of the profound impact the selection of our next president will have, not just within our borders, but from without. In these days where we Americans - and indeed all Global Citizens, find ourselves at the brink on so many fronts - from (as is becoming increasingly apparent) our entertwined world economy; to the "War on Terror;" to arguably the most ominous issue of all, climate change; this election is, indeed, a referendum on America's collective sanity, cause for an optimistic future, and grasp on reality. The world is watching.
So, with no further ado:
A FOREIGN AFFAIR
Jonathan Freedland, "The Guardian"
If Sarah Palin defies the conventional wisdom that says elections are determined by the top of the ticket, and somehow wins this for McCain, what will be the reaction? Yes, blue - state America will go into mourning once again, feeling estranged in its own country. A generation of young Americans - who back Obama in big numbers - will turn cynical, concluding that politics doesn't work after all. And, most depressing, many African - Americans will decide that if even Barack Obama - with all his conspicuous gifts - could not win, then no black man can ever be elected president.
But what of the rest of the world? This is the reaction I fear most. For Obama has stirred an excitement around the globe unmatched by any American politician in living memory. Polling in Germany , France, Britain and Russia shows that Obama would win by whopping majorities, with the pattern repeated in Africa, Asia, the Middle East and Latin America . If November 4 were a global ballot, Obama would win it handsomely. If the free world could choose its leader, it would be Barack Obama.
The crowd of 200,000 that rallied to hear him in Berlin in July did so not only because of his charisma, but also because they know he, like the majority of the world's population, opposed the Iraq war. McCain supported it, peddling the lie that Saddam was linked to 9/11. Non - Americans sense that Obama will not ride roughshod over the international system but will treat alliances and global institutions seriously: McCain wants to bypass the United Nations in favour of a US - friendly League of Democracies. McCain might talk a good game on climate change, but a repeated floor chant at the Republican convention was "Drill, baby, drill!", as if the solution to global warming were not a radical rethink of the US's entire energy system but more offshore oil rigs.
If Americans choose McCain, they will be turning their back on the rest of the world, choosing to show us four more years of the Bush - Cheney finger. And I predict a deeply unpleasant shift.
Until now, anti - Americanism has been exaggerated and much
misunderstood: outside a leftist hardcore, it has mostly been anti - Bushism, opposition to this specific administration. But if McCain wins in November, that might well change. Suddenly Europeans and others will conclude that their dispute is with not only one ruling clique, but Americans themselves. For it will have been the American people, not the politicians, who will have passed up a once - in - a - generation chance for a fresh start - a fresh start the world is yearning for.
And the manner of that decision will matter, too. If it is deemed to have been about race - that Obama was rejected because of his colour - the world's verdict will be harsh. In that circumstance, Slate's Jacob Weisberg wrote recently, international opinion would conclude that "the United States had its day, but in the end couldn't put its own self - interest ahead of its crazy irrationality over race.
Even if it's not ethnic prejudice, but some other aspect of the culture wars, that proves decisive, the point still holds. For America to make a decision as grave as this one - while the planet boils and with the US fighting two wars - on the trivial basis that a hockey mom is likable and seems down to earth, would be to convey a lack of seriousness, a fleeing from reality, that does indeed suggest a nation in, to quote Weisberg, "historical decline". Let's not forget,McCain's campaign manager boasts that this election is "not about the issues."
Of course I know that even to mention Obama's support around the world is to hurt him. Incredibly, that large Berlin crowd damaged Obama at home, branding him the "candidate of Europe " and making him seem less of a patriotic American. But what does that say about today's America , that the world's esteem is now unwanted? If Americans reject Obama, they will be sending the clearest possible message to the rest of us - and, make no mistake, we shall hear it."
However, an article I just read, by Jonathan Freeman from The Guardian, struck such a powerful chord with me, I feel compelled to pass it along in hopes it will inspire others to consider the sentiment, and pass it along as well.
It very eloquently lays out the heart of an issue I find to be of great important, but about which I have seen very little discussion: that of the profound impact the selection of our next president will have, not just within our borders, but from without. In these days where we Americans - and indeed all Global Citizens, find ourselves at the brink on so many fronts - from (as is becoming increasingly apparent) our entertwined world economy; to the "War on Terror;" to arguably the most ominous issue of all, climate change; this election is, indeed, a referendum on America's collective sanity, cause for an optimistic future, and grasp on reality. The world is watching.
So, with no further ado:
A FOREIGN AFFAIR
Jonathan Freedland, "The Guardian"
If Sarah Palin defies the conventional wisdom that says elections are determined by the top of the ticket, and somehow wins this for McCain, what will be the reaction? Yes, blue - state America will go into mourning once again, feeling estranged in its own country. A generation of young Americans - who back Obama in big numbers - will turn cynical, concluding that politics doesn't work after all. And, most depressing, many African - Americans will decide that if even Barack Obama - with all his conspicuous gifts - could not win, then no black man can ever be elected president.
But what of the rest of the world? This is the reaction I fear most. For Obama has stirred an excitement around the globe unmatched by any American politician in living memory. Polling in Germany , France, Britain and Russia shows that Obama would win by whopping majorities, with the pattern repeated in Africa, Asia, the Middle East and Latin America . If November 4 were a global ballot, Obama would win it handsomely. If the free world could choose its leader, it would be Barack Obama.
The crowd of 200,000 that rallied to hear him in Berlin in July did so not only because of his charisma, but also because they know he, like the majority of the world's population, opposed the Iraq war. McCain supported it, peddling the lie that Saddam was linked to 9/11. Non - Americans sense that Obama will not ride roughshod over the international system but will treat alliances and global institutions seriously: McCain wants to bypass the United Nations in favour of a US - friendly League of Democracies. McCain might talk a good game on climate change, but a repeated floor chant at the Republican convention was "Drill, baby, drill!", as if the solution to global warming were not a radical rethink of the US's entire energy system but more offshore oil rigs.
If Americans choose McCain, they will be turning their back on the rest of the world, choosing to show us four more years of the Bush - Cheney finger. And I predict a deeply unpleasant shift.
Until now, anti - Americanism has been exaggerated and much
misunderstood: outside a leftist hardcore, it has mostly been anti - Bushism, opposition to this specific administration. But if McCain wins in November, that might well change. Suddenly Europeans and others will conclude that their dispute is with not only one ruling clique, but Americans themselves. For it will have been the American people, not the politicians, who will have passed up a once - in - a - generation chance for a fresh start - a fresh start the world is yearning for.
And the manner of that decision will matter, too. If it is deemed to have been about race - that Obama was rejected because of his colour - the world's verdict will be harsh. In that circumstance, Slate's Jacob Weisberg wrote recently, international opinion would conclude that "the United States had its day, but in the end couldn't put its own self - interest ahead of its crazy irrationality over race.
Even if it's not ethnic prejudice, but some other aspect of the culture wars, that proves decisive, the point still holds. For America to make a decision as grave as this one - while the planet boils and with the US fighting two wars - on the trivial basis that a hockey mom is likable and seems down to earth, would be to convey a lack of seriousness, a fleeing from reality, that does indeed suggest a nation in, to quote Weisberg, "historical decline". Let's not forget,McCain's campaign manager boasts that this election is "not about the issues."
Of course I know that even to mention Obama's support around the world is to hurt him. Incredibly, that large Berlin crowd damaged Obama at home, branding him the "candidate of Europe " and making him seem less of a patriotic American. But what does that say about today's America , that the world's esteem is now unwanted? If Americans reject Obama, they will be sending the clearest possible message to the rest of us - and, make no mistake, we shall hear it."
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Saint Rocky
So, we thought getting a one-year-old cat would give us a number of years blissfully free of veterinarian bills.
Not so.
Over the course of the two months that we've had him, he's had fairly deep puncture wounds in each of his front two paws, costing (now) us upwards of $400 in assorted ver expenses (some of the expense came as a result of us having to board him during our vacation so they could administer daily meds). Two months - two wounds. Very similar. One in each paw.
Totally weird!
We were trying to figure out what's going on - weird, loose, sharp hardware or screws in the basement? Centipede bites? (we've got a doozy of a centipede living in the cracks of the foundation in the recording corner of the basement) What?
And then it hit me....STIGMATA.
Unfortunately, according to Sharon, the Catholic Church does not provide any sort of cash reward for manifesting the crucifixion wounds of Jesus. Something about the reward being "the edification of the spirit" or something.
Whatever.
Not so.
Over the course of the two months that we've had him, he's had fairly deep puncture wounds in each of his front two paws, costing (now) us upwards of $400 in assorted ver expenses (some of the expense came as a result of us having to board him during our vacation so they could administer daily meds). Two months - two wounds. Very similar. One in each paw.
Totally weird!
We were trying to figure out what's going on - weird, loose, sharp hardware or screws in the basement? Centipede bites? (we've got a doozy of a centipede living in the cracks of the foundation in the recording corner of the basement) What?
And then it hit me....STIGMATA.
Unfortunately, according to Sharon, the Catholic Church does not provide any sort of cash reward for manifesting the crucifixion wounds of Jesus. Something about the reward being "the edification of the spirit" or something.
Whatever.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Al Raton
Lucy lost her first tooth over the weekend. With it loose over the past couple of weeks, she’s been preparing for her first visit from a tooth fairy contemporary. We checked out a book about different losing-teeth traditions around the world, and she picked up one from Latin America where you put your tooth in a glass of water and a rat named El Ratón visits in the middle of the night, drinks the water, takes the tooth and leaves candy or money.
I’m pretty sure she thinks the rat’s name is Al Ratón, which makes him sound like a burly NYC sewer worker with plumber’s crack.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Bear Head, As I Recall It, Sitting Here Satisfied and Re-Charged: Part 5
Or, a Trip to Bear Head Lake State Park
Thursday, Oct. 1: Get Out of There!, Dan Gets His Walleye, and....My Friends....
Special "Webinar" Edition
Episode 2: Dan Gets His Walleye
Episode 3: ...My Friends...
Thursday, Oct. 1: Get Out of There!, Dan Gets His Walleye, and....My Friends....
Special "Webinar" Edition
Episode 1: Get Out of There!
Episode 2: Dan Gets His Walleye
Episode 3: ...My Friends...
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Bear Head, As I Recall It, Sitting Here, Satisfied and Re-Charged: Part 4
Or, A Trip to Bear Head Lake State Park
Wednesday, Oct. 1: Kick-Down Mode
One of the surest proofs that I simply do not belong in the workaday world is how seamlessly I slip into a comfort zone during extended times away from work. Not only am I disengaged from what is going on back in the office, I believe my brain would short-circuit, were I to try to listen in on messages from afar. So, on the third full day of the North Woods adventure, I was wholly and truly taking it all in and content in going with the flow.
Weather reports from the International Wolf Center had suggested a progressively drier forecast for the remainder of the week; and our loose plan was to have a leisurely breakfast at camp, then head out for a family hike & picnic around the piney hill-surrounded trout lake, Lake Norberg; around which Sharon had scouted during her trail run two days prior.
When we got out there, things had truly dried out enough that we were able to enjoy alternating 
skies of fast-moving stratocumulus clouds with with brilliant streaks of fall sun. A short, vertical hike brought us to, perhaps, the visual feast of the trip. It was simply spectacular, as this striking and ever-changing light display I described played amidst the tree color (which was hitting peak) and innumerable ripples on the pristine lake. We spent some time there while the kids (much more concerned with the world on a macro level) noticed minnows in the water and a young water spider trying in vain to make a lunch from them.
We then hiked around two directions of the lake from our starting point, getting mulitple perspectives almost all the while keeping within sight of Norberg; and at some point during which we ate a big ol' lunch.
Afternoon included another trail run by Sharon, I think, as well as another failed fishing attempt by me. My second solo foray to the lake was not so buffoonish, and a little more satisfying. Truly, my expectations for a catch were different (non-existent?); but I was there to appreciate the solitude which - of course - can be a bit hard to come by with the girls in tow. For the rest of the afternoon, it kept truly looking like the skies were going to clear out for good on this, the final day of our stay. The last remnants of clouds would disappear to the southeast, opening up a brilliant, completely blue sky...only to have a rolling mass of gray and white utterly obscuring the sky, not more than 20 minutes later. While I concede that I'm usually not in a position to follow such things as completely; I'm not sure I've ever seen such an odd, alternating (and, yes, tantalizing) display of rain-heavy cloud cover and blue skies as I did over the final two days of our stay. Most of the pictures we brought back were taken in sunlight. You'd never know.
Anyway - homemade pita pizza for supper (yum! though the portions could have been bigger for a hungry woodsman like myself) and Raspberry Crumble for desert. Yes. THAT raspberry crumble. The same package we bought for Escalante, three years ago; and that I was conned into paying for upon our return. Well, the laugh is on you, my friends: it was delicious.
By the very end of supper - of course - it was beginning to look like skies were clearing up, finally, for good. Sharon & I made a discreet plan to meet back out by the smouldering firepit after the girls were asleep for our first opportunity at stargazing in the entire vacation. I'd actually found a 70x telescope & tripod at a thrift store recently, and we'd brought it along with - thus far - absolutely no chance to use it.So...girls to bed and, after a little bit, they fell asleep. Sharon & I snuck outside and sat next to the fire, which we stoked with a couple of new logs. How nice! Looking up at the sky, we saw stars, but...curiously, they weren't as brilliant as we were expecting. Then less brilliant. Then hardly visible. Ah, cloud cover was obviously moving in. Final proof of this was when the first few drops of rain (you're effing kidding me!) began to come down on us. Moments later, it was a steady rain and we were back in the cabin, nestled snugly in our bunks.
This last photo is kind of as an addendum, and I actually took it with special permission from Lucy. She'd had a really rough little patch of time, and was still quite upset, but just beginning to calm down and come into herself again.
I noticed this really tender moment when her little sister was doing her best to offer her comfort, and I asked Lucy if she minded if I took a picture. Amazingly, she did not. And now I share it with you.
It's awesome - they really seem to have a pretty special relationship.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Bear Head, As I Recall It, Sitting Here, Satisfied and Re-Charged: Part 3
Or, A Trip to Bear Head Lake State Park
So, we woke up to another day of threatening, misty, cloudy skies (with odd, brief moments of tantalizing sun - a theme which would continue throughout our stay); and fixed some breakfast - which varied from tasty brown sugar & cinnamon oatmeal to homemade granola throughout the week. I will take this opportunity to mention that Sharon really outdid herself in the menu planning & cooking. We ate like royalty, with varied & hearty meals.
We wrapped things up at about 20 minutes till noon, and headed off for the IWC (which really must have purchased the rights to their URL early in the game. We had a great time at the exhibit, though it was another stark, stark difference between the notion of a trip just consisting of Sharon and me (we once spent two and a half hours just looking at and reading "history of Minnesota logging" exhibits in Grand Rapids - a luxury which would now be unimaginable). We did a lot of kid-friendly exhibits (can you mimic different wolf vocalizations, and climb into a plaster wolf den?), and kind of whizzed through the more text-based and substantive parts. Then, a picnic outside and a pose with the IWC's famous pack of bronze wolves out front, then back to Bear Head.
Tuesday, Sept. 30: Coffee, Wolves, and SSSSssss - bloomp
As I mentioned, Sept. 30 is sort of the end of "prime season" in Minnesota State Parks. So it is, also, with many of the other somewhat remote facilities and attractions in northern Minnesota. As such, Tuesday was to be the final day of weekday programming at the International Wolf Center in Ely, about a 25 minute drive from our campsite. I'd never been to the center before, so didn't want to miss this opporunity; and they were offering an informal "Family Pack-Tivities" program at noon.
So, we woke up to another day of threatening, misty, cloudy skies (with odd, brief moments of tantalizing sun - a theme which would continue throughout our stay); and fixed some breakfast - which varied from tasty brown sugar & cinnamon oatmeal to homemade granola throughout the week. I will take this opportunity to mention that Sharon really outdid herself in the menu planning & cooking. We ate like royalty, with varied & hearty meals.Anyway, on this morning, alone, we skipped coffee at camp, because our plan was to make it to Ely by midmorning and, it being a somewhat tourist-y town, find a coffee shop and have a nice sit-down cup while enjoying some of the local vibe. And we found just the place in The Front Porch Coffee and Tea Company. Just the sort of "home away from home" coffee shop we look for in our travels, everywhere. Unique & artsy, free wi-fi (not that we have a wireless device, but the idea), fair trade coffee and even with a little children's corner where Lucy & Rose could play around while we sipped at leisure. I resisted the (strong) urge to read the paper and check out the political horse race and just had a nice time sipping and listening in to conversations of the locals. Great coffee, and I saw some art for sale on the wall that I was truly moved to buy. I still regret that I did not, and I've half a mind to call the shop, see if they still have it available, and pay for the shipping. It was a watercolor painting/drawing of a little girl sleeping next to a watchful bear, based on a line from a poem called "I'll Go On Trusting." I'd love to hang it up in the girls' room.
We wrapped things up at about 20 minutes till noon, and headed off for the IWC (which really must have purchased the rights to their URL early in the game. We had a great time at the exhibit, though it was another stark, stark difference between the notion of a trip just consisting of Sharon and me (we once spent two and a half hours just looking at and reading "history of Minnesota logging" exhibits in Grand Rapids - a luxury which would now be unimaginable). We did a lot of kid-friendly exhibits (can you mimic different wolf vocalizations, and climb into a plaster wolf den?), and kind of whizzed through the more text-based and substantive parts. Then, a picnic outside and a pose with the IWC's famous pack of bronze wolves out front, then back to Bear Head.Still spitty, rainy. Sharon went off for another run (more cabin-oriented fun for the kids & me). Then when she came back, I was permitted to dispense with the 
Scooby pole and try my own hand at some Grown-Up Big Game Fishing. I trespsed down to the lake with two tackle boxes in tow, as well as my rod (heh heh); and it was very evident I had not fished in the past five years. A comedy of errors, in fact. With a strategy of "working the weeds," (and on only my second cast) I hooked my favorite silver "weedless" spoon on a log that was just a little far our for me to wade to, and lost it as a result. I took it as a sign from God that I should put an enormous honking lure on and cast out to middle of the lake. I was so unprepared. It occurred to me that, were I to have hooked a northern or a walleye, they could have bit right through my measly 6 lb test line - as I did not have a metal leader at the end. So, I tied right to the lure - a big, snakeskin-ey red & gold spoon that was at least four or five inches long. I didn't have a clue what I was doing. Was the lure the right type of lure for the fish in the lake? WHAT fish were in the lake? Was the color of the lure the right type for these weather conditions and at this time of day? It occurred to me I could have researched at least some of this in the days prior to the trip.
Scooby pole and try my own hand at some Grown-Up Big Game Fishing. I trespsed down to the lake with two tackle boxes in tow, as well as my rod (heh heh); and it was very evident I had not fished in the past five years. A comedy of errors, in fact. With a strategy of "working the weeds," (and on only my second cast) I hooked my favorite silver "weedless" spoon on a log that was just a little far our for me to wade to, and lost it as a result. I took it as a sign from God that I should put an enormous honking lure on and cast out to middle of the lake. I was so unprepared. It occurred to me that, were I to have hooked a northern or a walleye, they could have bit right through my measly 6 lb test line - as I did not have a metal leader at the end. So, I tied right to the lure - a big, snakeskin-ey red & gold spoon that was at least four or five inches long. I didn't have a clue what I was doing. Was the lure the right type of lure for the fish in the lake? WHAT fish were in the lake? Was the color of the lure the right type for these weather conditions and at this time of day? It occurred to me I could have researched at least some of this in the days prior to the trip.Oh well, fishing with no real expectation of catching anything and me go way, way back; to which Mixx, in particular, can attest. There was still that fleeting sun, and a clear, pervasive silence throughout the surrounding world. The little docks and lakeshore were down a bit and out of sight from the cabin; and I couldn't even hear the kids. I strained my eyes to the other side, hoping against hope to catch sight of a careless moose wandering in the shallows, then just closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh, damp wind that filled my senses with a relaxing electricity.
Then, the cast. The very next cast (the third since I'd been at the shore).
SSSssssssssssssssss - bloomp.
My line, upon being cast out, immediately slackened and went limp, about fifty feet out across the lake surface. The gigantic lure, thanks to my ridiculous "knot," kept sailing. On and on across the lake. It came a lot closer to catching a fish in Lake Vermillion, to the West; or perhaps a loon, in mid-flight; than it did to pulling any fish out of the North Bay, that day.
I then did a little exploring around the bank, finding an old, almost submerged series of logs from an ancient dock, that extended out into the lake a bit, just down the embankment from a beautiful, hilly stand of pines. I played around with trying to create a jig with squirmy, plastic lures, but all hope of catching A Fish That Matters had fled. I just played around like a kid on his first fishing trip ever for awhile more, then headed back to the cabin.
I think it was chili for supper that night, and more attempts at having s'mores with that ratty-ass mass of marshmallows. Then off to bed. To bed at 8:30-ish was getting to be the norm. Without a doubt, had the weather been nicer, Sharon & I, at least, would have been staying up a lot later, enjoying the night sounds and the starry skies (it was in new-moon phase), and maybe even going on night hikes.
But as it was - a bit chilly and somewhat wet, going to bed seemed to be the thing to do.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Bear Head, As I Recall It, Sitting Here, Satisfied and Re-Charged: Part 2
Or, A Trip to Bear Head Lake State Park
Duh. It didn't strike me (this is amazing, really), the difference between Sharon & me renting a canoe; and Sharon, Lucy, Rose, and me renting a canoe. Not until we were sitting there in the visitor's center, trying to decide whether we would rent for a four-hour half-day or a full day. Suddenly - duh - we'll be lucky if we can be out there fifteen minutes before we have a meltdown or - God forbid, a tipping of the canoe. Are we actually going to keep these two kids seated, and in one place (the middle of the canoe), while trying to maneuver around a 700-acre lake on a somewhat windy, misty day?
Monday, Sept. 29: Canoeing, the First Day of Rainy Skies, and Thok!
The end of September is a pretty hard and fast end to summer season, as far as Minnesota State Parks are concerned. A number of running water supplies are shut off, and a number of summer rentals (specifically, canoes and other boating options) are closed down.
So we had pretty much the first two full days in Bear Head in which to get in on this fun. Interesting, that as I thought about this trip in the weeks leading up to the trip, I was bummed about the canoe rentals shutting down midway through our trip; thinking that it would have been fun to be out with the family all day, each day, enjoying the water, exploring, and fishing.
Duh. It didn't strike me (this is amazing, really), the difference between Sharon & me renting a canoe; and Sharon, Lucy, Rose, and me renting a canoe. Not until we were sitting there in the visitor's center, trying to decide whether we would rent for a four-hour half-day or a full day. Suddenly - duh - we'll be lucky if we can be out there fifteen minutes before we have a meltdown or - God forbid, a tipping of the canoe. Are we actually going to keep these two kids seated, and in one place (the middle of the canoe), while trying to maneuver around a 700-acre lake on a somewhat windy, misty day? We decided on the half-day rental.
So, with an ambitious (and precious) cargo of fishing gear, digital camera, binoculars, rain coats, and lunch for the day, the four of us set off - with a goal of simply making it from the dock symbol with the little fish under it to the two islands in the channgel to the West. Those two islands, undeveloped, are home to some nesting pairs of loons (who, unfortunately, were pretty much at the close of their prime calling season).
We circled the smaller northern one and didn't find a place that was particularly inviting as a landing place; then headed down to the south island, actually making a successful landing and disembarking. Lucy was dead set on sitting in the aft seat - which was fine, except that it resulted in me having to sit with my arse on the bottom of the canoe - getting steadily more wet and chilly, as more an more water splashed into the craft. I was working hard to not only avoid splashing Lucy as I paddled from side to side, but also to avoid dripping any more water into the canoe. This was made all the more difficult as a result of me being low down in the canoe, with my back painfully braced against a thwart. Disembarking for an early lunch was allright for me.
The island was a little, isolated world of mystery and beauty (these remote, northern Minnesota lake islands always remind me of little sub-worlds in Myst). We didn't find loon nests, but we did find some amazing mosses, lichens, and fungi; as well as some possible moose droppings. I did a little panfish fishing with Lucy's Scooby Doo pole (with the idea that, were I to hook a fish, she could reel it in). A couple of bites, and a small adventure of me taking off shoes & socks & rolling up pants to wade out in the icy cold water to dislodge a snag; but no dice. We then sat down for a lunch of hummus on pita, at the end of which little Rose, decked out in her rain gear, looked like a grizzled veteran, back from the front lines on the Bean Wars (see right).
Back into the canoe, and with a continuing ambition; this time to head down south to the now-deserted beach, for another landing, a little exploring around the tall pines, and a good pee. Again, back into the caneo with the idea we might swing up into the North Bay to see our campsite from a different vantage point; but this time I demanded the opportunity to sit on the seat of the helmsman. Lucy & I had a major disagreement over the arrangement, and Rose got into the action. I came out on top with Lucy as a result of pure logic, but Rose became nearly apoplectic - as an exact result of what, I'm still not quite sure. But she simply did not want to get down low. She did not want to sit on a tackle box as a seat, and she did not understand the principles of What-It-Takes-To-Keep-A-Canoe-From-Flipping. A few touch-and-go moments, but when settled, we had both girls laying on the bottom of the canoe (having since dried out - mostly by being mopped up by the seat of my pants), and gazing skyward. We decided to head on back to the canoe landing.
Then back to the cabin, which - incidentally - is/was much superior to the cabins at Ingawanis. 
Smaller, to be sure, but clean and utterly mouse-proof. Thank God it was a cozy little enclave, since we retreated to it many times during our stay, as an escape from the near constant threatening or actively watery skies and somewhat chilly temps.
Smaller, to be sure, but clean and utterly mouse-proof. Thank God it was a cozy little enclave, since we retreated to it many times during our stay, as an escape from the near constant threatening or actively watery skies and somewhat chilly temps. Many games of daddy climbing up the bunk ladders to "get" two squealing girls, much reading of stories, and a majority of our meals eaten at the tidy little built-in table.
At this particular time, Sharon, who is training for a 10k this next weekend, headed out for a trail run. Much daddy & daughter fun, till she returned. Then, I headed off on a trail run I'd been looking forward to for about two months.
Thok!
Extremely rocky terrain - should have been no surprised, except that I was actively watching out for the danger. Anyway - it was a kind of bad ankle turn (there would be no trail runs for me the remainder of the week), and - with heart extremely heavy, I limped on home and - as a consolation of sorts - was granted the opportunity to enjoy some kid-free meditation.
We wrapped up the afternoon with a little play around in the cabin, since it was spitting rain; and Sharon prepared the food.
The 
weather let us enough for us to get a fire going outside for s'mores, and we opened the fixins to find that we were dealing with The Worst Bag of Marshmallows in the History of Mankind. They had somehow become discombobulated and glued to one another and the interior of the bag. The only way to get at them was to slice the bag down the side, and the only way to get marshmallow out was to tear a piece away from the main hulk. And even then, they were so gooey and sticky, your fingers hands would later require excessive scrubbing to get the 'mallow off. More of it remained on your hands than you could actually mold and form around the end of your toasting stick. Unbelievable, really.
weather let us enough for us to get a fire going outside for s'mores, and we opened the fixins to find that we were dealing with The Worst Bag of Marshmallows in the History of Mankind. They had somehow become discombobulated and glued to one another and the interior of the bag. The only way to get at them was to slice the bag down the side, and the only way to get marshmallow out was to tear a piece away from the main hulk. And even then, they were so gooey and sticky, your fingers hands would later require excessive scrubbing to get the 'mallow off. More of it remained on your hands than you could actually mold and form around the end of your toasting stick. Unbelievable, really.Cub Foods brand marshmallows, if you're interested.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Bear Head, As I Recall It, Sitting Here, Satisfied and Re-Charged: Part 1
Or, a Trip to Bear Head Lake State Park
It should be noted that iron mining is not "your father's open pit mining." While digging gigantic holes in the ground where there used to be forests can never be considered, how do you say, "good for nature," you can see, in the years after a mining operation closes up shop in a particular area, that the result appears almost more like "terraforming" than "doing a Borg." Iron mining is a relatively clean operation, as the iron - in it's pre-milling state is a relatively soft metal, and close to the surface. And it is not poisonous. Case in point: there are actually game fish stocked in the Mineview in the Sky former pit. Dare I say, the I found the site rather breathtaking.
Sunday, Sept. 28: Getting There, and Mineview in the Sky:
The previous week, with the opening of the new play fast approaching and trying to work ahead, as possible, at my job, we were really under the gun in trying to get packed and prepared. Nevertheless, we were pretty much ready to go by leaving-day; having actually even packed the car the night before with the exception of a few bare essentials.
We were ambitious in the packing with me throwing in my fishing gear (I'd not fished in about three years), as well as my daily yoga practice book and my knee brace for much-anticipated trail running. With Rose at a robust 23 months of age, we were hoping for our smoothest road trip in quite some time (even considering our expected total of four and a half hours on the road), as well as the opportunity to pursue assorted personal pleasures, free from the need to hover over kids constantly, and in a team effort.
We were able to get out of Dodge by about 9:00 am (not too shabby), and it was, indeed, a joy of a car ride, as both kids got involved in assorted freestyle art and imaginative play, all the way up I-35 past Hinckley (home of a fascinating, historic great fire, as well as the possible site of a future great fire, at Grand Casino Hinckley), past Banning State Park (where I precariously-led Sharon's 9-month pregnant belly up and down rocky, icy trails in February of '03), past Duluth (a few miles West), and up for a stop by Virginia, which lies in the heart of the Mesabi Iron Range.
Funny, but a number of years back, when I was in the process of becoming a Minnesotan and had a keen interest in geography, but pre-internet, I was a little confused by the "Mesabi Iron Range," thinking it referred to a group of large hills - possibly akin to the Ozarks of southern Missouri, but probably somehow connected to the Sawtooth "Mountain" range along the North Shore of Lake Superior. Now, I realize that the term simply refers to "range" as it relates to a geographic extent. This particular "range" is the area in which there were and still are vast deposits of iron ore, which has influenced Minnesotan political history and culture far beyond what one might expect at first glance. A majority of the historical and famous shipping trade out of the Twin Ports of Duluth (including the fateful journey of one Edmund Fitzgerald) has involved the transport of taconite pellets (iron-rich rocks) from Minnesota's iron range, the mining unions has produced an impressive rural Democratic voting block that has helped contribute Minnesota being the state that has gone longer than any other without lending its electoral votes to a Republican Presidential candidate, and the worlds biggest open pit mine is actually located right outside Hibbing. It's apparently quite a spectacle and I would loved to have seen it on this trip, but I wasn't quite that willing to trust my kids' temperment to that kind of roundabout excursion. As it was, we decided to stop by a similar, but slightly smaller, open pit mine & exhibit right outside Virginia, called Mineview in the Sky.
It should be noted that iron mining is not "your father's open pit mining." While digging gigantic holes in the ground where there used to be forests can never be considered, how do you say, "good for nature," you can see, in the years after a mining operation closes up shop in a particular area, that the result appears almost more like "terraforming" than "doing a Borg." Iron mining is a relatively clean operation, as the iron - in it's pre-milling state is a relatively soft metal, and close to the surface. And it is not poisonous. Case in point: there are actually game fish stocked in the Mineview in the Sky former pit. Dare I say, the I found the site rather breathtaking.
At that location, also, was a retired old son of a bitch who hauled over 17 million tons of taconite out of the mines for 80,000 working hours for 10 years. We paid our respects and my girls posed in front of 300,000 pound "King of the Lode."
Incidentally, this area and its industry was featured a fairly recent movie about a 70's-era sexual harassment trial, called North Country. Haven't seen it, but my impression is that it paints a very low-income impression of this blue-collar region. And there may be a history of this but - I can say only what I saw, but Viriginia was clean and friggin' well-off. Brand new big box stores (but even no-vacancy and spanking shiny strip malls), clean & fancy parks, and a well-maintained Mineview in the Sky exhibit, for crying out loud. In the midst of this shithole economy. My theory (rather uninformed, but a wild guess): rampant development in China = good to be in the steel industry.
Anyway - we'd considered stopping by the town of Tower either on the "there" or the "back again" portion of the journey, for a visit to the Soudan Mine (Minnesota's oldest, deepest underground iron mine - and now a state park); but elected on this day to continue on to our destination to try and make it before dark. About smack dab between Tower and Ely, but a few miles to the south of either, is the remote Bear Head Lake State Park, home of the lake by that name, as well as resident populations of wolves, bear, moose, and loons. A few months back, as the four night blocks of available state park camper cabins were dwindling, I'd managed to eke out this spate of time from Sept. 29 - Oct. 2. And here we were, at about 3 pm, rolling into the fruits of that forethought. Sunday night in a state park. Hardly the time when a park is buzzing - even a popular park in prime camping season. Bear Head Lake was nearly deserted. Maybe two to four other sites in use at any given time during our stay. Wonderfully quiet and remote, and our cabin was just up the hill from a beautiful little inlet from the larger lake. Colors were just getting to about 100%. The timing was excellent, except for the forecast of clouds & rain. This afternoon, anyway, there was some spotty sun, and in a little foray down to the lake, I was able to break out the fishing gear and help Lucy catch her first fish ever: two little bluegills, right near the tiny fishing dock. Note: these would be the last two fish this party would pull out of the lake.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Ivey!!!!!
This is not going to mean a lot to much of anyone, except those in local theatre circles but...my theatre company just won an "Ivey Award;" the Minneapolis equivalent of the Tony Award.
The rest of my company went to the award ceremony last night whilst I stayed home with my kids. Apparently, they announced our name and our show and it was an utter surprise to everyone. The award was for our most recent show, last spring, "'night, Mother;" and it was one of only two awards for "overall excellence" (out of one hundred and some odd theatres producing hundreds and hundreds of plays).
Apparently, Workhouse's name was read off, and our artistic director went up & gave a worldbeater speech - like, in front of the folks at the Guthrie, and Ordway Center, and de la Jeune, and Jungle Theatre, and Mixed Blood, and Brave New Workshop, and Penumbra, and Children's Theatre, etc. etc. etc. The rest of the company were holding the award in their hands backstage as they gave me a call.
This is seriously friggin' huge.
article in Star Tribune, here. (Particularly funny, since they mention 4 of the 5 companies winning awards have performance budgets under $150,000. Yeah, like about $6,000.)
article in Pioneer Press, here.
Wow.
The rest of my company went to the award ceremony last night whilst I stayed home with my kids. Apparently, they announced our name and our show and it was an utter surprise to everyone. The award was for our most recent show, last spring, "'night, Mother;" and it was one of only two awards for "overall excellence" (out of one hundred and some odd theatres producing hundreds and hundreds of plays).
Apparently, Workhouse's name was read off, and our artistic director went up & gave a worldbeater speech - like, in front of the folks at the Guthrie, and Ordway Center, and de la Jeune, and Jungle Theatre, and Mixed Blood, and Brave New Workshop, and Penumbra, and Children's Theatre, etc. etc. etc. The rest of the company were holding the award in their hands backstage as they gave me a call.
This is seriously friggin' huge.
article in Star Tribune, here. (Particularly funny, since they mention 4 of the 5 companies winning awards have performance budgets under $150,000. Yeah, like about $6,000.)
article in Pioneer Press, here.
Wow.
Ruminating on the So-Called "Career"
(and not my own)
I've sometimes wondered about the job security of some of those weird pseudo-careers, the kind which are rampant at my place of work. They're constantly developing new, specialized teams to work on new initiatives - you'll get an email that such-and-such was just "promoted to the position of "SVP Customer Creation" or "Executive Director of 'Sharing Memories'" WTF?
What happens when that initiative dries up and your job no longer exists? What's out there for you with a silly resume like that? I suppose, folks in that sort of world just have an instinctual ability glom on to whatever the next hot thing is. But I couldn't live like that.
And I wonder how much longer it is for the world.
In these times where, suddenly, so much in Wall Street and the financial world is beginning to become exposed for the charade it actually is; and we may be facing a world where we return to the nuts and bolts of what it actually takes to make the world go round - I wonder what the future holds for those folks whose expertise is in - really - nothing?
I've sometimes wondered about the job security of some of those weird pseudo-careers, the kind which are rampant at my place of work. They're constantly developing new, specialized teams to work on new initiatives - you'll get an email that such-and-such was just "promoted to the position of "SVP Customer Creation" or "Executive Director of 'Sharing Memories'" WTF?
What happens when that initiative dries up and your job no longer exists? What's out there for you with a silly resume like that? I suppose, folks in that sort of world just have an instinctual ability glom on to whatever the next hot thing is. But I couldn't live like that.
And I wonder how much longer it is for the world.
In these times where, suddenly, so much in Wall Street and the financial world is beginning to become exposed for the charade it actually is; and we may be facing a world where we return to the nuts and bolts of what it actually takes to make the world go round - I wonder what the future holds for those folks whose expertise is in - really - nothing?
Friday, September 19, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
And There You Go...
Wonkerific Election Polling Blog FiveThiryEight.com (thanks Mixx), just posted a validation of my Palin post from the beginning of the week; albeit with a little more science behind it.
Here we go, boys. Contribute just a little more - do some kind of volunteering, something. Let's help Obama put his foot down on the McCain campaign's throat and finish this thing off.
Here we go, boys. Contribute just a little more - do some kind of volunteering, something. Let's help Obama put his foot down on the McCain campaign's throat and finish this thing off.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Suddenly, Feeling Better About the Whole Thing
The Palin "bounce" (so to speak) appears to have crested. Everybody who would or could ever support her did, for a couple of days.
The magic is wearing off.
People (enough people) are coming to their senses, as reality sets in.
She's beginning to embarass herself, and the McCain candidacy.
Even those who question Barack Obama's experience take him seriously; and in that regard, there is no comparison between the two of them.
McCain bet the house. Much like Kirk in The Galileo 7, he burned the rest of his rocket fuel to create a solar flare in hopes of getting noticed. He did, but now the orbit is beginning to decay.
Until the Palin selection and the Republican National Convention, I could still defend him somewhat, on some level. But no more. Oh, no more.
(McCain tangent)
Running an ad accusing Obama of teaching sex ed to Kindergarteners because he supported a bill to teach kindergarteners about inappropriate touching? You fuck. You fucking fuck. So - to be clear - the Republican Party is now the pro-molesting kids party. I mean, officially.
He has, in fact, NO HONOR. It has gone the way of his shame.
(back to Palin)
She scared the hell out of me; I'll admit it. But no more. Seven more weeks is a long time for her to avoid interviews and for not one of these percolating scandals and/or beyond-the-pales to catch fire.
Bill Clinton was right. Obama is about to take this fucker to the house.
Then, she will be a supremely confident, yet intellectually incurious, evangelical supermodel footnote in history.
Good fucking riddance, you awful, awful thing.
The magic is wearing off.
People (enough people) are coming to their senses, as reality sets in.
She's beginning to embarass herself, and the McCain candidacy.
Even those who question Barack Obama's experience take him seriously; and in that regard, there is no comparison between the two of them.
McCain bet the house. Much like Kirk in The Galileo 7, he burned the rest of his rocket fuel to create a solar flare in hopes of getting noticed. He did, but now the orbit is beginning to decay.
Until the Palin selection and the Republican National Convention, I could still defend him somewhat, on some level. But no more. Oh, no more.
(McCain tangent)
Running an ad accusing Obama of teaching sex ed to Kindergarteners because he supported a bill to teach kindergarteners about inappropriate touching? You fuck. You fucking fuck. So - to be clear - the Republican Party is now the pro-molesting kids party. I mean, officially.
He has, in fact, NO HONOR. It has gone the way of his shame.
(back to Palin)
She scared the hell out of me; I'll admit it. But no more. Seven more weeks is a long time for her to avoid interviews and for not one of these percolating scandals and/or beyond-the-pales to catch fire.
Bill Clinton was right. Obama is about to take this fucker to the house.
Then, she will be a supremely confident, yet intellectually incurious, evangelical supermodel footnote in history.
Good fucking riddance, you awful, awful thing.
Friday, September 12, 2008
100
From your whole life, from all you've ever done, felt or thought...what is the one thing you treasure most? Imagine that you must choose one single memory from your life - everything else will be erased forever. That choosing this memory is your only way of passing through to eternity. That you have one hour to choose. Choose now. October 3-18
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
I Shit You Not
One of Rose's first three-word combinations. She unveiled it last night, when being served tempe stir fry for supper:
Want...Pizza...Much
That's my girl!!!!
Want...Pizza...Much
That's my girl!!!!
Thursday, September 04, 2008
I Don't Get It
I’ve tried – REALLY TRIED – to be congnizant of those moments in which I am trending towards demagogary (sp?) or “hearing what I want to hear.” I try to think of the freest, most pure “Republican” there might conceivably be. One who is not evil, but truly believes in economic theory behind smaller government. Maybe even one who - for reasons beyond their own control - has views on some social issues that are different than mine. But when I get to that place, I don’t see how this mythical person can buy into all the anti-intellectualism and mean-spirited, chest-thumping jingoisnm.
The hipocrisy of the last two nights of the Republican National Convention has been incredible. Running on a message of "shaking up Washington" not one speaker has offered up anything that strays from the Bush administration's policies of the past eight years. Surely, any swing voters watching would see this, right? I'm not sure I can trust in much of anything, with respect to how "the average American sees things." Strange days, indeed.
The hipocrisy of the last two nights of the Republican National Convention has been incredible. Running on a message of "shaking up Washington" not one speaker has offered up anything that strays from the Bush administration's policies of the past eight years. Surely, any swing voters watching would see this, right? I'm not sure I can trust in much of anything, with respect to how "the average American sees things." Strange days, indeed.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Big Girl
Today is Lucy's first day of Kindergarten. It's not as monumental an occasion for her (from her perspective) as is probably is for most kids in her shoes, as she will be returning to the same school, in the same classroom, and with a lot of her old friends. In Montessori, children 3-6 (e.g. through their Kindergarten year) attend "Children's House" classes in the same classroom. The main difference for Lucy will be that she is attending all-day; and in a new building, since her private preschool achieved charter school status this year and relocated to a new, bigger building.
Nevertheless, she will be forging ahead into more advanced skillsets and subjects of interest, and entering that world in which she is held accountable by the educational system.
It will be a little hard for Sharon, who has spent the last number of years with a certain portion of each day, or each week, with a little creature in whom the bright flame of childhood imagination, industry, and inquisitiveness burns hot. Their times together were usually good, sometimes bad, but ultimately precious and irretrievable.
And hard, too, for little Rose, who is losing a constant companion she worships. She has a big, loving sister sister and follows her lead in almost all instances. At the risk of sounding melodramatic while paraphrasing Sam from Lord of the Rings, Lucy is going where she can't follow. For another year, anyway.
As for me, I am celebrating the 15th annual "I Don't Have to Go to School" Day.
Nevertheless, she will be forging ahead into more advanced skillsets and subjects of interest, and entering that world in which she is held accountable by the educational system.
It will be a little hard for Sharon, who has spent the last number of years with a certain portion of each day, or each week, with a little creature in whom the bright flame of childhood imagination, industry, and inquisitiveness burns hot. Their times together were usually good, sometimes bad, but ultimately precious and irretrievable.
And hard, too, for little Rose, who is losing a constant companion she worships. She has a big, loving sister sister and follows her lead in almost all instances. At the risk of sounding melodramatic while paraphrasing Sam from Lord of the Rings, Lucy is going where she can't follow. For another year, anyway.
As for me, I am celebrating the 15th annual "I Don't Have to Go to School" Day.
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