Category Archives: Memories

Bananas!

Imbolc                                                                           Valentine Moon

Going to sleep. Staying asleep. The first is easier than the second for me. Kate, a survivor of medical school residency, has some ideas that she’s shared with me. Paying attention to my breathing was one. This meshes, of course, with meditation and a gestalt psychology approach, experiencing all the sensations of your body. I’d never applied it trying to sleep and it does help.

The monkey mind is strong though. After a while my mind grabs onto the words I’m using to pay attention to my breathing, begins to run somewhere with them. Look. A banana! Even so, breathing helps even if not all the time.

A second idea involves counting. You know, sheep. Backwards from a thousand. That sort of thing. My own take on this is to repeat 1,2,3,4 and 5,6,7,8 over and over. Now, by the time I get to 4, I get a yawn. But the monkey is still active, still hunting for the banana that sneaks around this dulling.

So, the third idea. Go to your happy place. Oddly, this was harder than I imagined it would be. Where was my happy place? As I’ve written before, happiness is not my goal, rather flourishing (eudaimonia). So that idyllic spot where trees and sunlight and grass come together to create a place of rest and contentment? Doesn’t work for me.

Took a while but eventually I hit on the Minneapolis Institute of Art (not Mia). At the MIA there was a sweet spot of intellectual and emotional and social stimulation. I felt good there. Stimulated and stimulating. Giving and receiving. So during my counting I now go on regular journeys to the MIA. I was there so long as a volunteer, 12 years, that I remember the building and its contents, as they were four years ago anyhow, very well.

It’s taken me a while to get the monkey to let go of art history-lots of bananas!-and allow me to just be in the presence of the art qua art. That’s not to say that art history doesn’t inform me even in this attempt to go to sleep; it does, but I don’t follow those thoughts anymore, at least not while trying to sleep. Next post: a tour from these trips.

 

 

Oh, Lord

Imbolc                                                                                  Valentine Moon

Went down the hill last night to Grow Your Own, a hydroponics shop and wine bar that features local musicians. It’s just at the base of Conifer and Shadow Mountains so very close to our house. Tom McNeill sang. “I’m an old guy,” he said, “and I know old songs.”

He sang the songs of our youth: Oh, Lord Won’t You Buy Me a Mercedes Benz, Little Red Riding Hood, Something’s Happenin’ Here, Mamas and Papas, John Denver, Pete Seeger those kind of songs. A reminder of the person who inhabited those days, the me who was out there “singing songs and carryin’ signs.”

Latin today. The Myrmidons from Book VII of the Metamorphoses

Seafood Paella and Spanish Music

Yule                                                                      Stock Show Moon

Kate and I went to the Aspen Peak Winery in Bailey last night for seafood paella and Spanish music. I love local events and this one had a good combination of homemade ambiance and terrific food.

On the drive to Bailey, about 20 minutes under normal circumstances, we experienced rush hour on Highway 285. The event was at 6 pm and Bailey is west of us in Park County. Rush hour is rush hour, even in the mountains, and I would not want to make this commute every day, especially after a big snow storm.

Saw a pick-up with a funny, but biting bumper sticker: Save an elk, shoot a land developer. Sort of the flip-side to a 1970’s bumper sticker that has remained in my memory: Sierra Club, kiss my axe. That was in Ely, Minnesota during the debate over the creation of the Boundary Waters Wilderness Area.

Kate’s had a good, but long week organizing the kitchen. She’s ready to get back to sewing. Golden Solar is coming to finish the critter guards on our micro-inverters today. Tai Chi later this morning. Probably chainsaw work later today. The weekend.

Super Dogs

Yule                                                                             Stock Show Moon

Took Gabe and Ruth to Superdogs at the National Western Stock Show yesterday. We started attending back in 2010. That year I took Ruth on the shuttle. We got about two miles from home. She turned to me with a slightly scared, sad look, she was 3 I think, and said, “I miss my mommy.” I called Jen, she talked to Ruth and we went on.

Since then we’ve seen rodeos, dancing horses, many superdogs, lots of cattle, some pigs, sheep, alpaca. The exhibit halls are full of large metal pincers to hold cattle and other large animals while branding and medicating, fencing, horse stalls, lots of pick-ups and other motorized things like Bobcats, Kubota tractors and John Deere machinery. Trailers of all kinds and lengths. Rope. The big Cinch booth with all things denim and boot.

That first year Jen and Ruth were watching a sheep competition and a reporter from the Denver Post caught them in a picture that went on the front page. It’s become a family tradition although this year it was just Grandma, Grandpop and the kids.

We ate lunch at the Cattleman’s Grill, a large open air restaurant with oilcloth covered 8 foot tables put together in long rows. Like a big family reunion. Lots of cowboy hats and boots, kids.

After that we wandered the exhibit halls. Gabe and Grandma went to the petting zoo where they got their hands on sheep, goats, pigs while Ruth and I examined the Western Art Show and Sale. Ruth and I liked the show. It had some wonderful sculpture, especially a small stone owl, landscapes done in non-traditional (that is not sentimental) manners, and some excellent paintings of animals, in particular one Brahman bull. He was a distinct individual in this full head portrait.

The Superdogs show either has gotten better since we first saw it or I’ve lowered my standards. This year was fun. These canine athletes, most of them rescue dogs, catch frisbees, do the high jump, run through plastic tunnels at speed, race along raised platforms and have a helluva good time. They are high energy, eager animals.

We’ll be back next year. Who knows what wonders we’ll see?

A Snowman Will Want to Be Inside

Yule                                                                                      Stock Show Moon

You wanna find Stock Show weather? Go to Minnesota this weekend. Friend Tom Crane sent me a link to the Updraft blog of MPRNews. “Thought you might want to know what you’re missing,” he said.

Weather January 16, 17 2016

Paul Huttner, the meteorologist for the Updraft blog, repeated a Minnesota weather nostrum often used at times like these: “The only thing between Minnesota and the North Pole is a barbed wire fence.”

In Minnesota, not often, but often enough, you realized the weather could kill you. No winds necessary. This will be one of this times.

Colorado, at least for us so far, doesn’t produce weather like this. If you go higher in altitude, then yes, you can find extreme winter cold, but even at 8,800 feet nothing like this. Can’t say I miss that bitter cold. though looking out the window from a warm house, over a snowy frozen landscape has its charms.

Coming Together. Thinking Back.

Mabon                                                                    Moon of the First Snow

getting ready for the picture

The 50th high school reunion. Friend Tom Crane sent me an article by a historian who graduated from Hopkins High School in 1964. Tom’s sister was in that class and he was in the class of 1966 which has its 50th next year.

John H. Johnson, a U.S. historian who teaches a class every year at Northern Iowa University on recent American history, saw several themes of the recent past reflected in his class. Overwhelmingly white. So was mine, just look at the picture. Located in a well-to-do suburb of Minneapolis. Mine, a small town of 5,000, mostly factory workers, about 60 miles east of Indianapolis.

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Like Tom and Johnson’s classes, my class of 1965 had little direct experience with the politics of the early 1960’s with the exception of the strong UAW presence in town. The latter meant that fundamental economic/political issues like fair wages, good benefits and retirement packages got attention.

Alexandria, Indiana’s class of 1965 came before the rise of Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem feminism and unlike Johnson’s classmates its women did not go on to break glass ceilings. Most married, had children. Some worked, of course. A few, a handful, went on to college and developed careers, but they were the exceptions. Alexandria was a town where many parents had not graduated from high school; or, if they had, the high school diploma was a terminal degree. Also unlike the Hopkins experience.

the edge of town, Alexandria

There was, as Johnson described, a historical rift between male classmates who had served in Vietnam and those who fought against the war, but unlike the Hopkins instance the vast majority of military age men went into the service and most saw active duty in Vietnam. As far as I know, I was the only visible anti-Vietnam war protester in my class. We did not, as Johnson talks about happening at his reunion, discuss the war and its stateside opponents.

There was, though, the exchange of concern among myself and many of my Vietnam Vet classmates over my recent bout with prostate cancer. And, I did say at the reunion that I believed our presence there together showed the futility and stupidity of America’s currently polarized politics. We cared about each other because we knew each other from childhood, our politics did not interfere with that sense of community.

I imagine there’s a good book to be written about early baby boomer’s 50th reunions. They represent the coming together of people who were both together before the 1960’s turned U.S. history on its head and who left high school to become agents of that very change.

 

Not Even Gone

Mabon                                                                     Moon of the First Snow

It is so beautiful here around 5 a.m. when the sky is clear, which is most mornings. The stars leap out of the sky, reminders of the power they had when the only light pollution was an evening’s campfire. Orion stands high in the south, moving toward Black Mountain. The Big Dipper disappears behind the roof of the garage in the east, but the pointer stars are visible, showing the way to true north. Cassiopeia, that unhappy queen, extends her jagged W, a slash of stars.

Time travel has been with us since the first human looked up in wonder at the stars. What we see unaided and what we can see with telescopes comes to us from the distant, distant past. So distant that the miles come in units of time. Perhaps, in a way, our lives are like the heavens, still shining after long years, even after death, radiating out from our small sector of space-time to the far away future.

So you might go out and look at the stars and consider the bright lights in your life, still strong and beautiful, wonderful. And remember that someday, you too will shine for others. Not gone, not even absent.

Antiques

Lughnasa                                                                   Elk Rut Moon

Orion continues to greet me as I go to the garage to let the dogs out in the early morning, usually around 5:15 am. While in Indiana, I drove past what I think was the factory where I worked as a security guard and first became on intimate terms with him. It was 45+ years ago and the corporation for which I worked has gone bankrupt. They made cookware. Those long nights in the guard shack, 11-7, punctuated by hourly walks with the leather clock which recorded visits to each station with a key, gave me plenty of time to look at the night sky in wonder.

(Just to make me feel even older, I found this picture under the heading antique security guard timeclocks.)

Sure, I studied some, but reading philosophy while sleep deprived was not easy. The weekend stirred a lot of memories, not least seeing the factory where Orion and I quietly kept watch.

 

Ghost Town

Lughnasa                                                                    Elk Rut Moon

Well...
Well…
Worked here two summers
Worked here two summers
where dad and I worked, former Times Tribune Building
where dad and I worked, former Times Tribune Building
site of former high school, junior high
site of former high school, junior high
mom and dad
mom and dad
I worked here several years
I worked here several years. (empty)
Conroy's Barber Shop, Stern Tailors and Greyhound Bus Station Late 1950's
Conroy’s Barber Shop, Stern Tailors and Greyhound Bus Station Late 1950’s
A few brick streets remain
A few brick streets remain
the edge of town, Alexandria
the edge of town, Alexandria

The Reunion

Lughnasa                                                                     Elk Rut Moon

A few pictures from the reunion weekend. Actually, quite a few.

Tomlinson

1st Grade. I’m second in from the left on the front row.

Junior YearJunior Year, 1964. Second from right, 5th row

getting ready for the picture
getting ready for the picture, 62 years after Tomlinson and 51 years after our junior year

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On the Float
On the Float
at the banquet
at the banquet
the pig roast
the pig roast