Day 2 of “Off the Leash” Happy 55th birthday Lisa…..

The Mighty Thomas Shows

If you live in Duluth, MN, one of the staples of our summertime (with the exception that it always falls on a single Wednesday in July) is the Mighty Thomas Show. The DECC parking lot fills with brightly lit carnival rides and attractions that delight both the young and the old.

The “Carnival Atmosphere” seems to bring out the kid in us. Rides, mini-donuts, games of chance, and the opportunity to visit a world that may be polar opposite to our everyday lives, draw us to loosen our purse strings and have some fun.

We step out of our daily routines and into the bright lights, bull horns and loud music. Throw three tennis balls, knock over a pyramid of cans, and win your girlfriend a huge stuffed bear. It’s all good. Listen to the man. It’s so easy. And it only costs a single dollar to try. Shoot the floating ducks. Any man worth his salt can shoot the floating ducks. It only costs a single dollar to try. Where else can you prove your manhood and win a stuffed bear for your girlfriend at the very same time. Toss a ping pong ball and make it land in a glass with a goldfish in it. Win a goldfish. It only costs a single dollar to try.

Like our Duluth summers, The Mighty Thomas Shows are only here for a few days. The bright lights draw us in. Have you ever ridden on a Ferris wheel that didn’t have lights on it? We will walk toward the light every time.

Mini-donuts, funnel cakes, floats, shakes, and a dozen other nutritious delicacies just waiting to satisfy your cravings. Then you climb onto the “Scrambler” or the “Tilt a Whirl”. I don’t do “Tilt a Whirls” any more. For me, “Tilt A Whirls” and funnel cakes belong in alternate dimensions, unless you have a bucket and a mop.

My Uncle Enoch tells a story about his very first trip to the fair with his dad, (My grandfather Ruggles who died when I was very young). The best part of the fair that my uncle remembered, was when his dad bought him a banana. He’d never had a banana before that day in his whole life. Can you imagine thinking of a banana as the greatest thing you’d ever eaten? It’s amazing how a very simple memory can bring happiness to us for the rest of our lives.

Well, here it is. A simple memory captured on a 4″ X 5″ piece of film. My view camera rendition of “The Mighty Thomas Shows”
Capture the memory and walk toward the lights…….

I’m off to the doghouse now…….

Star Trails

So……yesterday, one of my good friends, Lisa Blade, invited/challenged me to post a picture a day for a week taken from the “Doghouse”

And, seeing as how her 55th birthday party is this weekend, and seeing as how this will serve as a “cost effective” gift, here we go.

Lisa has never been to my “Doghouse” though. If she had visited there, she would have noticed that the only view I have from the “Doghouse” is of our septic system mound.

But……in order to fulfill the challenge, I’ve determined that it would be better to post some of my “favorite views”. So, here we go. Instead of a “View From the Doghouse”, these posts will be titled, “Off The Leash” Or…..Draggin’ Around a 4X5 View Camera.

All the pics you will see in the next seven days were taken with my 4X5 view camera.

Enjoy!

Happy 55th Lisa!

Star Trails……

This photo was taken a few years ago on a Boundary Waters trip. The camera was set up to point at the North Star. If you think about the rotation of the earth, which causes the stars to appear to rotate, I think, and you think of the rotation in terms of the face of a clock with 24 hours on it, you can calculate the approximate exposure time by measuring the star trails.

Every year, we travel to the Boundary Waters during the fall. It’s been the same group of men, give or take, for over fifteen years. We’ve lost a few of our companions to moves, old age, and yes, even death.

As we age, the trips have become less strenuous. It used to be nothing to think of carrying a canoe and gear over a 186 rod portage which is approx 3/5’s of a mile, to get to the next lake. Add a camera box that weighs over 50lbs and you’d better prepare to take some heat from you companions.

On this evening, we were sitting by the campfire listening to wolves howling, very close to our camp. The site was on a point of land with water on three sides.

Boundary Waters campfires are generally small. They are limited in size by the amount of wood you can cut, split and haul by hand.

That small fire leaves you surrounded by stars. The darkness and the crisp air make the stars seem to dance as you look at them through the rising smoke of a campfire. And star’s appearance in the Boundary Waters have a different dimension than those you see through the city lights.

They take on a personality. Some have different colors. There are large stars, small stars, stars that flicker, and stars that beam. Some of the stars that cannot be distinguished by themselves glow in unison with other smaller stars and we call that, the Milky Way.

Just knowing that the star light that we saw that night had probably been travelling towards our campsite for around 27,000 light years leaves you with a sense of awe.

Imagine the solitude of a beam of light that has travelled for 27,000 light years. Imagine the worlds it has seen and passed by in order that we might have been blessed by it on a fall night in the Boundary Waters. On that night, for that moment, a bit of star light arrived and blessed us with its presence.

We travelled for two days and that star light had travelled for 27,000 light years in order that we might meet at a campsite on a point of rocks near the water’s edge.

For just a few minutes, we welcomed it, got to know it, and soaked in its blessing. It passed though us and into our hearts. For those who travelled on that trip, it is still there in our hearts and we are better for having been there.

That small group of men still pack canoes and take trips into the wild. And we all bring that star light from 27,000 light years away with us each and every time.

Until we paddle together again…..

I’m off to the doghouse now….

Nobody wants to get that call. That call that says, “We’ve got water in the basement! You need to come home right now!” And it was the right call to make. Janet noticed before great damage was done.

When I got home, there was about 1 ½ inches of clean, drain tile water in the laundry room and the incoming tide had just reached the basement carpet.

The sump pump had failed.

Run a garden hose out the door. Hook it up to a backup pump I keep for emergencies. Start pumping….. Set the second backup emergency pump in the sump as well. Start pumping with that. Now we’re making progress.
Why do I have two backup pumps? It’s just who I am.

The water is receding. OK, it’s safe to leave the pumps and run to Menards for a new sump pump to replace the failed one.

When I got to the checkout lane with my new pump, the clerk asked if I wanted an extended warranty for an extra eleven dollars. “It’s got a lifetime warranty already.” I said. “How much longer will the extended warranty get me?” I asked.

He must have sensed the “urgency” in my voice and realized that I wouldn’t be spending the extra eleven bucks and quickly finished the transaction. With pump in hand, I made a beeline for the car and hurried home.

Set the pump in the sump. Start to hook it up. Realize that the new hook up is different than the old pump. Why does it always work that way? It’s like there’s a plumbing troll that issues a curse and closes the store by the time you get back there to get the additional parts. And they were……closed.

Back home and inspired by my friend “John MacGyver Nygaard”, I started looking for suitable parts to cobble a connection that would get us by until real parts were available. The caulking tube you see is exactly the same outside dimension as the 1 ½” schedule 40 pipe that I needed. That was easy…..

The makeshift “Ferncocoupling”? Well………..if you run the Gates part number on that hose, you’ll find that it is a section of a new old stock, lower radiator hose. A lower radiator hose for my 69 Cyclone CCJ. I bought it years ago just to have as a spare. But? If your choice is making Janet stay up all night to manually run the backup pumps or sacrificing the Holy Grail of lower radiator hoses, common sense prevails.

It was hard to work on the new pump with all of the tears running down my face, but after setting the pump back in the sump, it worked perfectly. And, if Janet hadn’t seen the cobble job, I might have left it as a finished job.

And the way I see it…It will be far, far easier to find another NOS lower radiator hose for a 69 Mercury Cyclone CJ 428, that it would be to find another NOS Janet. Maybe…..

I’m off to the doghouse now.

What a word. It foretells a story. The premonition… The label… Shorten it to “chemo” and it becomes even worse. At least the “therapy” has a palatable tone to it.

And I know… I know that it’s a much more precise treatment than it used to be. Anti nausea drugs, ports, rooms that are supposed to make you feel “at home”, and music. You can wear headphones, read, or bide your time in a host of ways.

But it’s still…chemotherapy. Who hasn’t already thought of a dear friend, or a mother, or a father that has endured chemo?

It’s really a gift. It can be a cure for a demon that has invaded our bodies. Chemo can push back an evil villain. It can force a retreat. It can restore health.

To be sure… To be sure, you’ll probably never find the gift of chemo in a finely wrapped package under the Christmas tree. Chemo would never be one of those fiftieth birthday gag gifts. Nobody ever wished for chemo instead of a new bike when they were kids. Nobody ever opened a box with chemo in it, held it close to their heart, and said “It’s perfect. It’s the best gift ever. It’s just what I wanted’” But, it is a gift.

Today, my sister Pat starts her first round of chemo. Three days before Christmas, Pat starts chemo. And who would ever think of getting chemo at Christmas was the “best gift ever”? But cancer takes no holidays and some battles have no truces. You cannot negotiate with cancer. There are no “peace talks”.

It should come with a bow. That bag of chemo should have a bow on it while it hangs there. Maybe when they push the button on the infusion machine, it will play a Christmas song. Just maybe. But certainly…nothing less than a bow.
And the gift…isn’t just for Pat. The gift is ours. We get to receive it as well. Pat gets the gift of chemo, but we get the gift of Pat.

And as you all know…my sister Pat has provided more than one story for these pages.

So Pat…three days before Christmas…we hold you close to our hearts and say “Thank you. It’s the best gift ever.”
Somebody had better hang a bow on that bag. And…send me a pic.

I’m off to the doghouse now…and I’ll be praying.

“Your work is not done here. God’s got something more he wants you to do.”

This upcoming Monday, December 7th, will mark the 2nd anniversary of my “Widow Maker” heart attack. And since my heart attack, every morning, I get up at 3:15AM, make coffee, get dressed, and go to the gym.

I’m out the door at 3:40AM. My exercise spreadsheet tells me that over the course of the last year, I have lifted, pushed, pulled or moved 3,508,440 lbs. of weights over a variety of machines, reps and sets.

Lunges….I hate those damned things but I’ve done nearly 3800 steps of lunges carrying 60 lbs. this year.

Treadmill??? Nearly 300 miles at 18 degrees of elevation on that machine.

Stair machine…….137,800 steps. That’s over 150 trips to the top of the Washington Monument.

It’s become a habit. How else could anyone get up at that ungodly hour and go to the gym five days a week? And there are some days when I’d just as soon, roll over and go back to sleep. But I crawl out and go.

“Pretty lucky” he said…… The cardiologist told me that I was pretty lucky to have been in the right place at the right time, with the right care when my heart attack happened. “Somebody was looking over you. You work must not be quite done down here. There’s something else he wants you to do before your time is up.”

It’s not all that clear to me what I need to do. I’m not sure what unfinished work is left for me. If you asked Janet though, she’d say, “Build a new deck, remodel the bathroom, and get some more firewood cut. Then, you can go.” And in the back of my mind, I do keep putting off building that new deck. Just in case…….well……just in case that’s the work that God wants me to do. I mean really, why push it?

I kinda like it here. But I digress.

So, yesterday morning was one of those mornings. The wood stove had that glow. That glow with a few curls of orange flames drifted upward from the red hot coals on the bottom. The heat is radiating off of the door and soaking into your skin while you drink that first cup of morning coffee. The other side of me said, “You don’t need to go to the gym today. It’s Friday. Take the day off.”

And I almost did…………………..but habit got the best of me and I closed the door behind me and started for the gym. As it turns out, it was a pretty eventful trip.

It’s seven miles to the gym from our house. I can drive it with my eyes closed and sometimes do. But yesterday morning, about halfway there, I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. So, I backed up the car and sure enough, there’s flames curling out of both ends of a garage.

I called 911, gave them the address, climbed the steps to the deck and pounded on the door. (That new deck that Janet wants? It won’t be built out of that composition decking either. When I stepped onto it, the decking was so soft from the heat that it sagged about 6 inches between the joists from my weight) That was a bit discomforting………..The flames seemed to have a bad temper, unlike the comfort from our woodstove just a few minutes and miles ago.

Anyway………………..the owner comes to the door. He’s a bit upset about the pounding on his door in the middle of the night but just as soon as he saw the flames, he came around. We gathered his two sons and I grabbed his dog by the collar and we all exited through another door.

By the time we walked to the end of his driveway where my car was parked, the deck was on fire. It couldn’t have been more than six or seven minutes from first seeing the flames from my car. We were standing in the drive when the first Sheriff arrived. Just as the fire department got there, the garage roof collapsed.

The Sheriff’s Deputy took my name and my birth date…….. I’m thinkin’ maybe they’ll send me a birthday card? And he said, “You can go now.” And I did.

I got back in my car and travelled on to the gym. When I got there, I took the “You’re late. Oversleep? We started without you.” banter and climbed up on the treadmill for yet another 20 minutes.

And I’m thinking about what the cardiologist said just two years ago.

“Pretty lucky” he said…… The cardiologist told me that I was pretty lucky to have been in the right place at the right time. “Somebody was looking over you. You work must not be quite done down here. There’s something else he wants you to do.”

Again, yesterday morning, I was pretty lucky. Pretty lucky to be in the right place at the right time. And I’m just hoping. Just hoping, that waking up those folks and getting them out of that house wasn’t quite what God had in mind for me.

I’m hoping that my work on this earth is still not quite done. ‘Cause I kinda like it here……
I’m off to the doghouse now…..

On Wednesday night around 9:30 I was abruptly awakened from a wonderful dream where there were no political ads or war or pestilence, 30 point bucks are everywhere, and because your car will run on beer, gas is $.29 a gallon.

But, it would seem, if the washer won’t spin, it’s appropriate to wake up the Maytag Repairman. (In the case the Kenmore repairman, Buick repairman, Woodcutter, Cabinet Maker, Green bean canner, Snow plow guy and………..” Keeper of the Calm”)

It would also seem that the best alternative to waking me up when a load of towels won’t spin at 9:30 PM, is getting a new washing machine. And…..I understand that our washer is nearly 20 years old. And……if you don’t want to spend part of our emergency fund on a new washer at 9:30PM, you’d better get up and figure it out, lest the towels don’t make it into the dryer. (We only have 2 towels and it’s critical that they are fresh for the morning showers……..)

Nothing makes you feel quite so old as 20 minutes on the stair machine and 1100 steps, and then 40 minutes on the treadmill. At least I get it over with early in the morning……. Then it’s back to my boyish self……….

Well…………….if you’re tired of the shootings, poverty, war and pestilence, we leave for the Boundary Waters this evening. No guns, newspapers, phones, radios or political ads.

Just good food, good friends, good scotch and canoes.

See you there?