Fading Into History? Pt. II

11  rises 30.11  NW0  wchill11   Winter

Full Wolf Moon

My sister wrote to say that Dad was 82 when he had his stroke.  He worked until then as the circulation manager for the Times-Tribune.  He loved newspapers and he was a depression era guy, work work work.  He took newspapers to the racks in retailers where those who did not have the paper mailed to them could pick it up.

Therein lies the second phase of this story.

The great Canadian newspaper shortage, which I imagine none of you remember, drove the cost of newsprint beyond the reach of many small town dailies.  It happened to coincide, at least as I recall, with the rise of the offset printing process.  Offset printing eliminated the Linotype and the Heidelberg.

Photosensitive sheets became the print from medium.  These could be handled with no lead and the printer’s ink from before came in a less viscous form, less perfume, too.

Offset printing is the modern method of printing, but its dominance of the printing world spelled the death knell for many small town papers.  The capital costs of getting out of the letter press era and into offset was more than most could bear.   The result?  Printing became centralized with many small town newspapers printed in one location.  In the case of the Alexandria Times-Tribune this meant the paper came off the press in Elwood, some 8 miles away.

In most small towns the daily paper’s time had come an end.  In the best case the papers became weeklies with a small reporting and advertising staff–often the same people–working out of a storefront office.  In the worse case they became shoppers, thin to non-existence news surrounded by page after page of advertising.  The shopper made money, but it was not a newspaper.

The rest of the story will come later.  I have to get ready to preach.  Bye for now.

The Heart of Winter

7  falls 30.13  W0 wchill 7  Winter

Full Wolf Moon

The Full Wolf Moon hangs high in the sky, hidden behind cloud cover.  It casts a ring of ice crystals, giving it a gem in a circular setting look.  The moon light suffuses the sky giving a bluish cast to the snow as it filters through the clouds.

Another busy day.  Tomorrow I preach at Groveland.  Preaching may not convey quite what I do.  If you read any of the presentations/sermons on the Liberal Religion page, you’ll get a better sense of what happens.  I love the prep and the writing, the delivery adds a feedback dimension that I find valuable.

The winter sits with its full weight upon the land here.  Snow covers the garden.  The deciduous trees have no leaves.  The air freezes in the nostrils and makes layers necessary.  Growth stopped; but the plant world has not died.  It only waits, gathering strength, making itself ready.

Winter has a somber tone, the weather serious and sometimes unrelenting.  A Minnesota winter can kill you, so you have to pay attention.  That makes it worthwhile.  Like climbing a volcano.

A Source of Mutual Creativity and Emotional Support

15  steep rise 30.31  NNW2  windchill 14  Winter

Waxing Gibbous Wolf Moon

Kate has responded well to the injections.  She is pain free and giddy about it right now.  She bought me supper at Canyon Grille tonight.  A nice place and good to be out with her.   We reaffirmed our love for each other and the joy we have in our relationship, a source of mutual creativity and emotional support.   This pain has been constant since early November so it is difficult to overstate the relief she feels.

That was the high point of the day.

Finished The Given Day by Dennis Lehane yesterday and began White Tiger, a book recommended by Woollies Charlie Haislet and Paul Strickland.  A good read for those of you in Southeast Asia.  An Indian entrepreneur communicates his life story to the premier of China via e-mail.

Much to do tomorrow, then preaching on Sunday.  We’ll see how Homecomer goes over.

Beard Experiment Tells Tale

-3  steep rise 29.99  W0 wchill -3  Winter

Waxing Gibbous Wolf Moon

The wind last night drove our bedroom windown open wider and the chilly night air blew on us early this morning.  We always sleep with the window at least partway open, but this larger portal made even the down comforters inadequate.  So we both woke up about 30 minutes or so earlier than usual.

Kate said last night, “You must be happy with what  you’re doing.”   I said, “Yeah, the political stuff is work I know.  I understand it in some depth.  Besides, a guy needs some validation now and then.”   Later, I asked her why she made that remark, “Oh.  You shaved your beard.  Not so much that fact, but that you were experimenting with it.” I was and I made it so peculiar that the only remaining option was to cut it all off, all the way off.  “When you’re not happy,” she went on, “You’re more controlled.  When you’re happier, you’re looser, more willing to try things.  That’s how I knew.”  Oh.  The clues we leave behind.

Homecomer is now done, but I have to edit it.  That’s today. Seed database underway, but far from done.  Business meeting today, too.

Winter Happy

7  rises 29.48  WNW2  wchill 5  Winter light snow

Waxing Gibbous Wolf Moon

The seeds for the 2009 vegetable garden sit on my desk beside me in piles according to growth habit:  viny, climbing, bushy, root or leafy.  When I get the chance, they’ll go in my homemade database with pertinent data and places to record germination, first bloom, first fruit and eventual production.  I’ve gardened for years, but never taken this much care.  Why now?  Not sure.

Kate’s off to see the physiatrist in Elk River.  I hope he suggests some things that help her. She’s going to stop by Cottage Quilts on the way home.

I’m off to the cities this morning to count ballots for the ex-com and see Michelle.  Michelle liked my first draft of the legislative updates, so it will go out Sunday evening.   Many more to follow.

A light snow this morning, enough to make the outdoors beautiful and wintry.  This kind of winter makes me happy.

Blue Clouds

another quick note:  Back from Jasmine 26 with the Woollies.  A Vietnamese fusion restaurant.  Food was ok.  Not magical.  Warren, Frank, Bill, Scott, Tom, Paul, Stefan.

Now listening to a series of lectures on the early middle ages.  Pretty interesting.  No one know why Constantine converted.  Gee, could it have been an act of faith?

Dick Rice describes the monks of Blue Cloud Abbey (site of our retreat next month) as cowboys.

An Existential Cry?

-8  falls 30.32  SW0 wchill-8 Winter

First Quarter of the Wolf Moon

The Great Horned Owl who lives in our woods calls tonight, right now as I write.  Whether he, or she, speaks to a lost love or wayward children I do not know.  On a night this cold it could be the existential cry of the world, proclaiming the season at its depths.  I often imagine this owl whose wingspan extends longer than my body and whose talons can lift a small dog or a young child with ease; I imagine this owl perched on a top limb of our tallest poplar.  The gaze of this fierce predator, the apex predator of our woods, rakes the Wolf Moon, perhaps blinded by the light, but looking just the same.  Because, like us, the moon attracts the eye.

The Vikings lost to the Eagles.  I don’t feel as let down as I have when the Vikings have lost other playoff games.  Not sure why.  Maybe because they did not come into this game a prohibitive favorite, then give it away.  Perhaps because they played with heart and made some young team mistakes.  I don’t know.  But I’ll watch again.  Peculiar, eh?

Writing Homecomer took up the writing juice today.  Little left over for this blog.  I’ll let it sit a day or two, then read it with a red pen in hand. Go back to the computer and revise it.  Then let it be.

Now, back to The Given Day by Dennis Lehane.  If you have not read it, and enjoy period pieces with rich characters and real historical drama as I do, then you’ll find this a treat.

We Got Sizzle

24  rises 29.89  NNW0 wchill 24   Winter

Waxing Crescent of the Wolf Moon

The Internet is a strange phenomenon.  It functions as a time machine, bringing the future just a bit before it arrives and churning the past as old acquaintances find you again through one of the search functions or social networking sites.

It’s a good thing for me, because I was not such a good communicator before the web arrived.  I wrote a few letters, but I’ve never liked the phone much and the only reunions I ever attend are those of my high school.  Now though with Facebook,  Myspace and e-mail those old acquaintances are not forgot and often brought to mind.

Wrote about three pages of a new Homecomer.  Much better.  I needed to make it a continuation of the first two pieces in the Heresy Moves West series.  I had conceived of them as a set from the beginning, but I hadn’t begun the other one as if it fit with them.

We have some kind of frozen precipitation coming down right now, but I don’t what to call it.  Snert.  Sleeze.  Maybe sneeze?  Frozen drizzle is so uninteresting.  Fizzle?  Hey, I got it.  Sizzle.

I bought two new snow shovels.  I have an unfortunate adventuresome spirit in the purchase of snow shovels.  This time I bought one of a kind I saw used on the U.P.  You figure they have 3 to 4 times the amount of snow we have, they must know something.  The other one has a blade made of a tough (I hope) plastic that won’t snag on the nails on our deck–at least that was my conclusion.  I may find out as soon as tomorrow morning.

Just finished a lower body work out and aerobics. Tomorrow AM all morning I’ll write, then watch the vikings.  May Johnny Unitas have mercy on my soul.