Hard to believe the funeral was a week ago. I miss you, dad.
Nygaard, Vernon age 83. Preceded in death by beloved wife, Eileen. Passed away peacefully on their 60th wedding anniversary Sept. 15, 2009. He will be greatly missed by children, Karen (Dale) Portz, Cheryl Dockter, LaVern (Chelsea) Nygaard, Danny (Narissa) Nygaard, Julie (Ron) Jaeger, and Terry (Jeane) Nygaard; grandchildren, Jennifer Lundborg, Dawn Dockter, Cindy Mohs, Diane, Lisa, Jessica, Rose, Joshua and Julia Nygaard, Shelly Muri, Kelly Walker, Nick Vernon Nygaard; great-grandchildren, Janessa, Faith, Ariel, Gracie, Allison, Brooke, Gregory, Derek, Rachel, Destiny, Kelsie and Candice; and brother, Robert (Marilyn) Nygaard. "Love you Dad" "Love you back" Interment Hillside Cemetery. Funeral service Friday, 9/18/09 at 11 AM with visitation Thursday (TODAY) 5-8 PM and 1 hour prior to service, all at: Washburn-McReavy Hillside Chapel 612-781-1999 2610 19th Ave. N.E., Mpls
One evening before dinner the boy and I took a walk around the block.
Here is what we saw:
Then I turned the flash on:
Something that I remember from childhood is that these small outings are way more valuable to kids than adults probably realize. It did my heart good to watch the boy prance around in the snow while we took that leisurely walk, with no agendas or deadlines pressing down on us.
The world is still big enough to him that walking around the block really is an adventure. To think otherwise is the accompanying curse that comes with ownership of an adult mind.
I try not to use the names of my family here in case you didn't notice. If you're someone I know go ahead and email me and I'll tell you what her name is.
The neonatal unit sent us home last night to wait it out - I'm a little frustrated to have spent the weekend this way, it's like having Christmas day pushed back over and over. But it did give us a chance to visit a little with the wife's sister (She is flying back to LA this afternoon) and to go out and get a new camera. The times sure do change - we found a 10MP Kodak on sale for $130 (The 4MP Hewlett Packard we bought when the boy was born in 2003 was like $250!)
Anyway we are going back in again on Monday morning bright and early.
Thanks for your thoughts and prayers - I'll send another email when I have more news, and hopefully pictures of the baby from our new camera!
We have reached that critical mass point in the summer where fellow bloggers are apologizing for not posting more often due to busyness or 'unblogworthy' content. Surmounted by work, too busy with play, 57 channels (& nothing on), etc.
I'm guilty of all of those things but won't apologize here. Instead I will try to distract you with photos from my little excursion to Coon Lake with the boy a couple of weeks (already) ago.
The shakedown went well. The motor ran, the depth finder worked, the boat didn't leak, and everyone made it back to shore safely. Sunfish were caught and the fishing bug is now coursing through the boy's veins.
Of course so rarely are things perfect. The lake itself was a haven for jet skiers, tubers and drunken party bargers. These guys actually were some of the tame ones... I just took their photo because I thought their pontooon modification was impressive. In the second photo they are very close to a fishing boat though in all fairness I don't know who approached who.
Ultimately the boy needed to be dragged kicking and screaming off the lake, which secretly pleased me to no end. On the way home we stopped for a dilly bar, which seemed to go a good ways toward smoothing things over. As a man, I have the inexplicable need to take photos of my vehicle and my rig. I believe it is the Y-chromosome equivalent to females needing to take pictures of the food whenever there is a party.
On July 4 during the day I did a little yard work, which included hosing off the cobwebs & dust from around our entry way and the patio area out back. I rinsed everything down to ground level and then used the hose to wash it all away.
Well apparently this activity rubbed somebody the wrong way:
I have never been afraid of the local ants found in Minnesota, but I am not ashamed to admit that bugs in general creep me out, and bugs around my home mortify me. If you listen to the audio closely you can hear my Darth Vader-like breathing. Not so much like an ominous tough guy, more like Woody Allen, having a panic attack.
Needless to say, shortly after the video was shot I went inside and got my WMD and nuked those suckers. I beat my fist on my chest in a territorial display and bellowed, "This is MY House! MY House!"
I don't know what the ants thought of it, but my neighbors got the idea.
One of the things that always bothered me about Darth Vader was that clearly the guy was intubated, yet he was able to speak clearly. Based on what was shown at the end of Return of the Jedi, Darth Vader was apparently the recipient of a tracheotomy, since obviously no tubes were running into his mouth. Still the guy could not only talk, but enunciate like nobody's business.
I get it that the deep voice was an amplified projection with special effects to sound scary, OK? What I mean is that the amplified projection should have sounded like a scary amplified person who was trying to talk with a hole in his larynx. But I guess that wouldn't have sounded so scary. Weird that a civilization capable of greater than light speed travel and genetic cloning would have to rely on bionics to put people back together.
That night at the local fireworks display retribution was exacted upon me and my family. Later the boy and I slept out in the tent in the back yard as an intermediate step in the slow transition to a lifetime of camping. We lay together, safe inside the netting and fell asleep as father and son, looking at the stars and dreaming of galaxies far far away.
Today was supposed to be the day that we had the ultrasound to find out the sex of the baby. The same doctor who looked us in the eye and told us that a month ago blinked at us through his glasses today and said "What...? I said that? No, it's not for another two to four weeks."
I was away from the office for two and a half hours all said and done, which means that minus my lunch hour I am sitting in the office until 6:30 tonight because of that stupid rinky dink.
My brother-in-law Dale is having a quadruple bypass surgery today. Please add him to your prayers.
My sister is selling me my dad's old Lund S-16 fishing boat
My lawn came up approx. 33% dandelions this year
Oh yeah, and there is this matter of the wife's tight-fitting clothes and her inexplicable craving for bizarre foods including pickles (Honestly thought that one was a myth)... Yes, we are pregnant again with our second child. We are at 14 weeks as of today. We kept the first trimester mum due to a blood clot that we could see in the early ultrasounds. With a lot of prayer and taking it easy, as of last week the clot is gone and everything looks good for a late November (Thanksgiving) baby.
We are going to an all-inclusive place in Cancun for all of next week to lay in the sun and do... NOTHING!
Am I boring you? For those of you looking for better content I suggest you look no further:
Today I paid a visit to my son's classroom, where they are preparing for the big "Kinderconcert" field trip tomorrow at Orchestra hall. I brought in the 12-string and gave a small presentation to a captive audience of 4 and 5-year-olds.
I played "Twinkle Twinkle" on the low strings, then on the high. And then on both finishing with a flourish (basically just an open E chord but it seemed to impress them). Then we all sang together while I played.
We talked about how different instruments work together to make music sound better and I answered questions like if it's harder to play 12 strings, what the tuning pegs do, etc.
I told them that music is for everyone, and that anybody can learn to play an instrument - It just takes practice.
At the end they all clapped and practiced the two new words they learned this week - "Bravo!" , "Encore!" You can laugh at me if you want but that is the only time I have heard those words spoken aloud while I had a guitar strapped to me.
My son capped it all off with "Thanks for coming! See you tomorrow!"
Ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic
You and I, we attend yet another one of these weddings. A sunny day, an overjoyed bride, a Groom standing an inch taller than normal with his chest out. You and I were these people not so long ago. Whispering girls, mischievous boys, proud parents and murmuring extended family. Clergy speaks, musicians strum, and all attention focuses on two, becoming one.
Hark, now hear the sailors cry
Smell the sea and feel the sky
Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic
The ceremony is beautiful. Perfect, just like ours was. At the reception we sit together like visiting royalty, guests in a foreign court. Strangers who share our table quickly become like amnesiatic old friends. As the meals are cleared away the music begins.
And when that fog horn blows I will be coming home
And when that fog horn blows I want to hear it
I don't have to fear it
We come together as this song plays. Our bodies fit together perfectly, and we stare unashamed into each other's eyes as we move. There is so much love in your eyes. Do you know how completely you have me? Our unborn child floats inside of you as we sway. The last time we danced to this song was at someone else's reception - That time you were carrying our first. The love was the same. The coupling of our bodies was the same. This dance is a continuation, part of a much larger dance that we started back when we were the bride and groom.
I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
Then magnificently we will float into the mystic
I look deeper into your eyes. Yes, you do know how completely you have me. I see that love returned. Awash in a sea of humanity we cling to each other, knowing that even after the music stops the dance will continue.
I don't know how much if ever I will blog about the movie Jaws again so I will also mention in passing that this movie contains one of the best monologues of all time (Though performed by co-star Robert Shaw, not by Scheider).
Scheider was an accomplished actor who appeared in a lot of other stuff too, but I note his passing due to the formative effect that the movie Jaws had on me. I very much identified with Brody's fish out of water (No pun intended) sense of insecurity and misplacement on Quint's boat. The conflict between Quint and Hooper reminded me a lot of the conflict in my family between my two brother in-laws. In fact it was the Quint-like one who took me to see Jaws while it was running in the theater. That would have made me maybe 7 years old at the time. That's a pretty heavy movie for a second grader to try and process.
Around that same time my family had just put a temporary end to our gypsy approach to camping & fishing and had settled into a cabin on Leech lake. The cabin was owned by my sister and the Quint-like brother in-law, so much like the movie, we had the similar experience of trying to coexist in Quint's domain. And all the while I was confronted with Leech lake - this big, wonderful yet mysterious body of water, dangerous as any ocean and scary as heck to a seven year old. Local resorts and bars contained photos and mounts of enormous Muskellunge, which saturated my subconscious with fears of swimming, fishing and even boating in that lake. A bigger boat sure sounded like a good idea to me. Yet like Brody, some conflicting sense of duty and curiosity called me out on to the water to confront these hobgoblins of my mind.
Predictably, around that time I went through a brief shark craze, a lot like the kids nowadays are into dinosaurs. All my reading and attention went into studying and understanding this phantom limb of my subconsciousness, voraciously eating up books as often as I could get to a library. Then snap, the informational feeding frenzy was over and I was on to something else. It's amazing how there is always something available to personify whatever fears we are dealing with. In the movie Brody went through a shark craze too, and came out the other end alive. Thanks Roy, for helping me get through mine.
This video was taken back in late November by tita Ciello when she visited us here in MN. Someone wasn't in the mood for singing - He purposely mispronounced the words, spoke the lyrics, etc...
Photos from last week's field trip to the pumpkin patch.
I don't have a lot to say about it, so I will get out of the way and let the pictures tell the story. One thing though, back in my day school buses did not have security cameras or 'body fluid cleanup kits.'
Yesterday was picture day at school. We won't get the proofs back from the 'real' photographer for a little while yet, but these are some shots I got at home before chauffeuring our young professor off to school.
Next week his class goes on a field trip to visit a pumpkin patch. We're pretty stoked about it in my household, as the wife and I will be accompanying as chaperons.
Yesterday was the wife's "American" birthday, as this was the day that she stood with 1,179 other people from 86 different countries and took the oath and became a United States citizen. Most of the people who stumble across this web journal do not know much about my beautiful wife; this is by design as I avoid putting too much information out on the web about my family. But today I will take exception, as I feel the need to tell the world just how very proud I am of her.
She was born in the Philippines, on the largest southern island. Her parents are down to earth hard working people, who have gone to great lengths to provide good opportunities for their children - My father in law even spent over ten years working in Saudi Arabia when local job conditions were so poor that he would not have been able to support his family. I don't think that my wife has ever forgotten her father's sacrifices, because by his actions he opened her eyes to life's possibilities, if one is willing to step outside of their comfort zone and leave home.
She finished high school at 16 and enrolled at a local college, which she completed in four years with a degree in computer science. At age 20 she found herself in the same depressed local economy that had pushed her father out of the country. Acting on her mother's advice she relocated to Manila, with the plan to live there until she either found a job or she ran out of money. She went through a season of living out of her suitcase, moving from relatives house to friends house and in and out of boarding houses. Each day was spent walking the streets of Makati, knocking down the doors of every business, looking for someone who would hire her. She was rejected too many times to count and did not acclimate to Manila well at first - On one occasion she was even accosted by a street thug, who ripped a gold chain right off of her neck as she was riding in an open air jeepney.
Twice a week she would call home crying, begging her mother to let her come home. Time after time her mother would reply that God is faithful, and that he would provide for her. Finally a company expressed interest in her and hired her. Not long after she was recruited for a position in Singapore, where she spent almost a year before transferring back to Manila.
One day she received a call from an American recruiter, who had a copy of her resume from her Makati days. It seemed a rather large company in the U.S. had a problem with several of their computer systems and there was a shortage of American programmers fluent in the original system language. In September of 1997 my future wife set foot in Minnesota. She has only been able to get back to see her parents one time, and has not been back to the Philippines since Christmastime of 1999. She misses her parents a lot and still talks to them at least twice a week. Her parent's faith and sacrifice has paid off, as her sister is also here in the U.S., living in Los Angeles.
In December of 2000 we met and fell in love, marrying in 2002. Our son was born in 2003. In the time since we have been together I have been at her side as she went through processing for both her green card and naturalization. It boggles my mind the sheer amounts of paperwork, the money spent, the hoops jumped through and the lines waited in, just to obtain something I got for free just because of an indiscretion by my parents.
So baby, congratulations on this payoff after all your hard work - Enjoy your day in the sun, because you have without a doubt EARNED this!
Unlike last year this year we went to the Minnesota State Fair. The wife won free tickets to see Prairie Home Companion, performed live in the grandstand this past Friday night. It was a great show, with a lot of really good music (Including a guest performance by Patty Griffin) and of course all of the extras that come with the MSF - Overindulgence of food, a fireworks display, the odor of the beer garden, etc.
One of the more amusing portions was the disbelief the wife experienced when she found out that we had to pay to get into the fair in order to redeem and enjoy our grandstand tickets. I forget sometimes that she's not from around here. Yesterday while we were driving I noted a pedestrian and commented, "That guy looks just like Willie Nelson." She looked at me blankly and asked, "Willie WHO?"
"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke, "There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke. But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate, So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."
On Saturday 08/11/2007 I went on a road trip to Northern MN to flyfish for trout. This is what I saw.
Friday night to Saturday morning it stormed. I drove north through the aftermath with lightning crackling through the clouds above me as I drove. The river was going to be muddy and I knew it. But there was nothing else to be done. My fishing day was my fishing day, and I had to take it come rain or shine.
I had several potential entry points circled on my map, and as I prowled the back country roads I happened across a whitetail family set up near the road. They gave me all the time in the world but by the time I had the presence of mind to dig out the camera and snap a photo, they were all but gone.
After exploring several of the tributaries to the Nemadji River, I finally settled on an entrance point on the river proper, where Highway 23 passes over it. There was a nice parking area that was empty, except for a fellow who was scouting for grouse hunting spots.
I wasn't much in the mood for company. It is hard enough to find a free day to depressurize once a quarter. Added to that I recently lost a cousin from complications involving a gall bladder removal. She was 43, died three days after my 39th birthday. She still is 43, and always going to be 43 from here on. I had been been easing into the mindset where I realistically know I could go at anytime, but now the 'easing' phase is officially over.
The river was muddy as I suspected. I spent a long time along the banks, watching for activity. It looked pretty dead. Given the lack of surface activity I started out nymphing, using a black wooly bugger with a strike indicator. After only a few casts I had two separate hits on my strike indicator. I quickly switched over to a #12 wolf adams and promptly hooked this little baby through the nose.
I worked the river for a few hours and that chubby little shiner was the only luck I had. I practiced my casting. I listened to the world around me, paying no mind to the occasional bridge noise in the distance.
There was no sense to be made from my cousin's death. I hadn't seen her since my mother's funeral, had scarcely even spoken to her then as there were just too many people to talk to. I had no idea that she was even having the surgery. I was not a factor in her life, nor she in mine really. And that is what the sadness is about, the guilt. The feeling that yes, we played together as kids and that somehow that childhood friendship should have carried over into adulthood. Up to now I had been able to live with the idea that there was time to make that connection, that it was ok to put it off for now. Except that now there isn't any more time.
I finally crawled up a muddy bank and set back to my truck for some lunch. There was no real trail to speak of so I bushwhacked through the forest, keeping the the river in earshot. I have humped through some tough brush in my day, and this was some of it. It was definitely not a friendly environment for a chubby guy lugging a flyrod.
After I ate I broke out the camera and explored for some good shots. Several attempts netted me some local insect life. Insects live hard and die fast. They don't have complex emotions like guilt and angst. They just get on about their business and make way for the next generation. The local plant life echoed that sentiment, as the air hung thick and sweet with the smell of pollen and nectar. Every plant and tree was in the midst of a giant bender, drunk to the gills on the rainwater from the previous night. The cicadas trilled from the treetops, like an alarm to let us know that September is coming. And when it does the nights will turn cold, and no insect plant or tree will wonder why nobody told them that it was coming.
I didn't have much heart to try the river again in the afternoon. I packed up the truck and made my way a few more miles up 23 to a scenic overlook. I have passed it a few times and never taken a picture there. Since I had the tripod with me I did a panoramic. After that I turned to the south and made my way back to my family like a homesick puppy.
The title of this post was something my wife wrote on a different post-it note (Not pictured). It was meant to designate an item in our refrigerator as my lunch for the following day.
I kept the post-it and used it as cube art. It inspired this doodle, obviously with a different context:
Happy Independence Day to all of you, 5 days after the fact. We had a great 4th - went on a picnic at Lake of the Isles and went to our town's fireworks display, which lasted for 30 minutes.
Eric over at the Ethereal Garage has a good fourth of July post including a fireworks video in which you can clearly hear the devious laugh of his three year old. They start 'em young up there in northern MN!
Here is a sketch I did on July 04 of the Bryant building, while parked at 31st & Hennepin Avenue. The wife was inside a nearby Famous Dave's procuring our picnic feast. I was parked facing northbound, so this is the western side of Hennepin as seen from the driver's side window.
Waiting until the last minute to purchase a mother's day card and then failing to do so because your wallet was locked in a church on Saturday night is NOT a valid excuse, never, ever, ever. It really does not matter how amusing an anecdote it may seem like to you.
Mother's day morning:
You wake up early - GOOD.
You let wife sleep in - GREAT.
You go downstairs to make breakfast - EXCELLENT.
Now, with that kind of momentum, DO NOT turn on that little tv you have in the kitchen. You're just begging to get caught up in some fishing show or that big fight at the end of Rocky III, the one that you have already seen 20 times.
It is a TRAP, and you WILL end up gulping down coffee and gobbling croissants, trying in vain to get to church on time. Turn off the TV, get the waffles cooking and ask yourself why on earth you would want to sabotage yourself in such a fashion. Wipe that smirk off your face, because it is NOT funny and you WILL find yourself wishing that you were dead.
If after church you should give your wife the option to "Choose wherever she wants" to go out to eat, NEWSFLASH: THAT DOES NOT CONSTITUTE 'HAVING A PLAN.'
Now I acknowledge that some women may not feel that this one is such a terrible offense, as they may relish the freedom of dining at a restaurant of their choice, so your mileage may vary.
But regardless of whether or not your wife allows you to fudge on this one, it is not an excercise in the proper use of initiative. Sooner or later she is going to realize that she chooses where or if you guys go out to eat all other 364 days out of the year and she is going to resent the fact that you did not take charge of this thing and just pick a place to take her to, for crying out loud. And then, brother, you will be brought up on charges for SHODDY HUSBANDRY, and you will be on trial for your life.
It's the equivalent of driving 5 over the limit: Technically you could be cited at any time. You could take this passive approach for years and never get a complaint. But just when you think you have an understanding with the authorities, BAM! You are in a world of hurt that you never even saw coming. Hedge your bets! Have a flight plan! Make your reservations well in advance if you need to. Don't let this pathetic tale become yours.
When you are confronted with the terrible truth:
Learn from your mistakes. Resolve to buy the card a week in advance. Tie a string around your finger or something. (Bonus Tip: Get a couple years supply on clearance and stash 'em)
Do not make excuses. you're busted, pal. And by the way - An explanation is just an excuse with one of those little pine tree air fresheners tied to it. So don't go splitting hairs. Make it a little easier on yourself.
Admit that you are a mangy, low-down dog. Lay on your back, wave your legs in the air and WHINE. Yelp when your sides are kicked. It's your only hope of getting back into the pack.
Say that you are sorry. If you can't say it, then you don't mean it. If you don't mean it, then you can't say it.
If you've been making excuses, offering explanations, fighting to maintain your pride or dignity, or worst of all not learning from your mistakes, then saying I'm sorry will not mean anything to her. It is better for you to go off to work, think all day about what you have done and tell her sorry right before you leave to go pick her up.
While waiting for the coals last night I walked around my house and this is what I saw. Click on photos to enlarge (Open in new windows)
Still have a few minutes to kill.
Snow on the mountain is taking nicely.
Bleeding heart, offering up some late-season blooms.
The planter has grown a beard.
I never knew... That plants can smile.
Meanwhile, in the garage... My collection of retired ice fishing utilities. I used an old tobaggan as a wall hanging and attached the various items that I have collected over the years, including a swedish spoon (That actually was what I used for drilling holes for my first two winters), an old Jon-E handwarmer with vintage fuel can, various jigsticks and an old single-mantle lantern (needs a new generator and pump seal)
My Bike. An old Trek Elance 400 that just turned 20 this year.
The child's bike. Garage sale special, 2 whopping dollars. SCORE!
The wife's bike. Even cheaper: Free from a friend, including the brain bucket.
It's not that I have anything against the Minnesota State Fair. It's just that when I thought about going this year I could not think for the life of me of any reason why (Except for end-of-summer tradition) I would want to go there. Plus when you like to eat like I do, it's a good place to stay away from.
This is what we did do: Click on photos to enlarge (Open in new windows)
1.) Both Friday night and Saturday night I listened to two nail-biter baseball games, the way that God intended: On a thirty year-old AM radio while tinkering in the garage.
2.) Saturday night we ate a ridiculously large amount of barbequed ribs. This Fred Flintstone-sized rack also gave us lunches for two days.
3.) After we ate part of a pig (Like pigs), we read about pigs.
My 2 1/2 year old placed his first telephone call today.
Mid-morning he broke away from the baby sitter long enough to get a hold of her telephone and succcesfully manipulate the redial and (As luck would have it) placed a call to his mother's cell phone. As I understand it the call went something like this:
Wife: "Hello?" Child: "Hello?" Child: "Hi, mommy!" Wife: "Hi, child! How are you?" Child: "I good anyou?" Wife: "I'm good too, thank you very much!" Child: "youwelcome!"
The conversation went on to include recitation of name, singing of "Row, row, your boat" and other assorted automated exchanges that we practice.
I don't know when I started using the telephone but I'm pretty sure it was sometime after I turned three.
By the way this is my first post using our new laptop. Now we are mobile!
"Maligayang Bati Sa Iyong Kaarawan" (Happy Birthday) to Gonzalo ("Papa") Olojan Sr., who is 78 years young today. Actually in his Cebuano dialect it would be "Maayong pagsaulog sa adlaw nga natawhan."
Papa was born in 1928 on the Philipine island of Leyte. He was twelve years old when the Japanese invaded his country. Like so many of his generation, he witnessed firsthand the brutality that was inflicted on his fellow countrymen during the war. He witnessed some of the battles between Japanese and American forces on and around Leyte during the liberation.
As he grew into a man he became an accomplished pastor in the PI (Philipine Islands) and in his prime had a very successful radio broadcast that went out each day over the lunch hour to reach workers who hungered for spiritual food.
In 1991 he came to Minnesota along with his wife Anita ("Mama") and helped to found the Filipino-American Christian Church. To this day he serves there as pastor emetrius.
Papa & Mama have earned their affectionate titles by acting as surrogate parents for so many of the Filipino transplants in the greater Minnesota community. Indeed, it was Papa who walked my beautiful wife down the aisle when her parents were unable to make it to the U.S. to attend our american wedding. Papa and Mama both have taken it upon themselves to act as my son's maternal grandparents in the absence of my wife's parents, earning themselves the additional titles of "Lolo" and "Lola" respectively.
Papa is an accomplished musician, talented in the guitar, Bandurria, Laud, piano, trumpet and the accordian. There isn't an instrument that the man couldn't learn how to play.
Papa has touched the hearts of countless people with his gentle demeanor forged with a firm and convicted faith in the Lord, and he never tires of spreading the Gospel or doing the Lord's work.
So here is my birthday wishes to Papa Olojan, may the Lord bless you with many more years!
OK, A more typical dream for me goes something like this:
We bought an older house and were fixing up the kitchen. We were replacing some bad sheetrock and I was installing a shade on a window. My wife was on the phone with her sister, who was complaining about her job. She works as a clinical laboratory scientist (for real) and in the dream her boss had her assembling a large chart for the wall which contains all of the terms and definitions that they use in her office. It was a huge chart, as big as a door. The thing was that the chart was actually a giant jigsaw puzzle and it was taking her forever to assemble it. The worst part was that while she was doing it they would only pay her minimum wage, because the shareholders in her company would never approve paying someone her salary 'just to assemble a jigsaw puzzle.'
Then the alarm clock went off and I was left to ponder this injustice as I shuffled off to brush my teeth, never knowing why we had bought a house with crumbly sheetrock in the kitchen.
I hope that everyone had a meaningful Christmas this year. Getting ready for & hosting a Christmas day party with mom in the ICU was like living a double life. I stayed in all day today, rested and cleaned - Tomorrow it's back to business as usual.
Incidentally, this fellow was quite fearless around Santa:
My mom is back in th hospital again. She was just fine a couple of days ago, and then she started running a fever and not being able to keep food down. The nurses thought that she was just coming down with the flu. This afternoon they found inflammation on her legs and running up her body. She was running a 104 temp and they could hear fluid in her lungs so they sent her off to the emergency room.
I hung around the ER waiting area with two of my sisters and my brother in-law while they prepped her to move up to the ICU. Apparently they had a lot of trouble with the big IV that they are running into her neck, because they were trying to run it for the fifth time when I finally went home at 1AM.
I did get to see her for a couple of minutes around midnight, after they had got her up to her room in th ICU. She was pooped and could barely keep her eyes open. She was wearing the oxygen mask that goes over the mouth & nose so she couldn't really talk. I don't know about my sisters but I was flashing back to spring when she was there with the breathing tube and eventually the tracheostomy. None of us said much about it but I think that we're all worried about mom having to go through all that again.
OK, need to turn in and get some shut-eye. I plan on getting up early and buying a snow rake (Tool for getting snow off the roof). I promised my dad I would stop by and take care of his roof for him, plus I need it for my own roof too. Oh yeah - I gave my sisters & brother in-law the URL to this web site - Who knows I may have just increased my readership by 75%.
It's not about giving thanks for one turkey dinner once a year. It's about gratitude every day that we wake up and discover that we are still alive.
What are you thankful for?
I am thankful for my family. I am thankful for the miracles I witness every day in watching my son grow. I am thankful that my parents are still alive after what they have each gone through in the past year. I am thankful for a loving and supportive wife, whose strengths compliment my weaknesses and vice versa.
It's not about remembering the story of the first europeans and the indians having a celebratory feast. It's about remembering that each and every one of us is a pilgrim, passing through this life on our journey to what lays beyond. Who we meet and the provisions that we are given are part of God's design for our lives. How we choose to interact with those people and how we choose to use the material posessions God gives us is up to us.
What are you thankful for?
I am thankful for my friends. I am thankful for the people in life that have taken the time to get to know me and to love me. I am thankful for my home. I am thankful for the opportunities that I have had in the past year to open up my home to people and break bread with them. I am thankful for my thick fingers and broken voice with which I can play and sing songs of praise and worship.
It's not about just giving thanks for our material blessings. It's also about giving thanks to a God that has set eternity into the hearts of men.
What are you thankful for?
Psalm 100
1 Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.
2 Worship the LORD with gladness; come before him with joyful songs.
3 Know that the LORD is God. It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.
4 Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name.
5 For the LORD is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.
I tried to write something tonight but it looked like something you'd find dried to the bars on a monkey cage. Work came down on me with full force today and I realized that if I intend to take my job seriously this summer it is not going to be a whole lot of fun. Realizations like that tend to take a lot out of you.
With that in mind I'm going to post anyway and use a photo as a crutch for this anemic content offering. Here's a picture I recently took of the wife and child in the car:
I don't use drugs anymore. I watch documentaries. There are more similarities between the two than I would care to admit. We could agrue back and forth regarding self-induced enlightenment and it wouldn't change the fact that I spent a good portion of this evening on my butt in the house, instead of outside enjoying the glorius summer evening with my family. That's a choice that I made and the more that I think about it the more it bugs me that I didn't even really think about it before I made it. I just went with the flow, which in turn washed me up on the couch.
The child is now at the age where he is starting to store long-term memories - More impressions and feelings at this point of course, but then again these earliest impressions are the foundations for how we develop into thinking and feeling people. It seems readily apparent to me that I would much rather have his mental imagery of me to be that of a gentle giant, looking down at him from a sunny blue sky, framed by large cumulus clouds. Not a distracted fixture in the living room, entranced by the incessant drone of the history channel or the like.
I'm probably being harder on myself than I need to be, but I am having a moment of clarity that I would like to carry over into the choices that I make tomorrow and beyond. I want to remember this feeling and carry it into my decision making process, and I resolve to get my body into motion
Sheesh. Another week goes by. March is practically shot, isn't it?
Mom got out of the nursing home last week. She's at home with dad. I don't think things will ever be back to the way that they were, but at least now they are back together. I don't think I could live away from the wife for three months. I think that would be worse than the stay in the nursing home.
We were supposed to get the motherload of snow today. Apparently down south they are, but here in the western suburbs (I'm at work right now) nary a flake. I suppose by tomorrow we will be lucky to find a hard frost on the ground.
After work tonight I am dropping by Mama & Papa Olojan's and dropping off Papa's La'ud. Last night I restrung it for him so that he can sound good at Philipine day at the Landmark Center this coming Sunday.
Mama & Papa are going back to the Philippines in April. When the come back they are bringing me a laud of my own. Hopefully Papa will teach me a few songs.
I am having more outdoor urges today. Partly because it is sunny and warm, partly because the wife read my desperate plea for help from last friday and suggested that we could "maybe" go somewhere this spring. Wherever it is I hope that they have trees. Of course stories like this also get me itchy to go into the woods. Owls large enough to carry away children and small livestock. Sign me up!
I don't know what it is about owls that captures my imagination. As a toddler the story goes that whenever we drove past a red owl store I would get excited and point up at the sign. My Red Owl obsession was apparently acute enough that my grandmother took notice and made a Red Owl pillow for me. At the farm where my grandparents lived there was a wooded pasture inhabited by a great horned owl. I canot recall if I ever actually saw the bird myself, but what I do recall is that I had some very wild ideas about the appearance of any creature with the words "Great," "Horned" and "Owl" in their name. I envisioned some sort of ultrabird, a super-owl. Perhaps a man-sized owl with horns like a bull. In the mythology of my childhood the great horned owl that lived in my grandparents' pasture was like a flying minataur. Except instead of being mean he was wise, of course. Not just because he was an owl, either. this creature had decided to live on my grandparent's farm and to me that seemed like a pretty wise move on the owl's part.
These days I take in information and it just sits in my head like the wool fluff that you find in a pillow. I look back to those days and I reallize that the way a child can take that wool fluff and spin it into a golden tapestry, designed to suit their entertainment needs. It's a lost art, insofar as we all have it and by growing up we lose it. Day-to-day living, task-oriented activities, and duty-Duty-DUTY suck the creativity out of us, until we can scarcely remember what it was like to think like a kid.
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but very soon I will return to the woods and look for my old friend the great horned owl.
Winter and Spring are playing chicken with each other. A warm day, followed by some snow, washed down with some rain. Repeat cycle. February is like a bipolar illusionist, messing with our collective minds. All you can do is wait him out. The good news is that we are over halfway to March, so it's all downhill from here.
Last Saturday we took care of our taxes; and by "We" and "take care of our taxes" I mean that I pushed the child around Southdale mall while the wife sat with our accountant. Lest you think that I was the one to get off easy I would mention that the child was in a foul mood; We were in a condition that I will from here on refer to as 'Shark mode' - Stop moving and you die.
I stopped by the Mac store. Every time I'm in that place it's the same thing- I am a leper PC user browsing in their midst. Before I can look around I have to scan the crowd and see if Lileks or any of my clients from Magnetic Poetry are there. I browse with the trepidation of that moment when one of the folks from Magpo appears out of nowhere, pointing at me and shrieking a la "Invasion of the Body Snatchers." Lileks doesn't know me so I wouldn't expect him to recognize me. Still if he pointed at me and shrieked I wouldn't be suprised. I reek of PC's.
It's not my fault that I am enamored with the photo Ipod. But for the money I might as well save for this pocket PC. Star Trek never anticipated that the communicator and the tricorder might get morphed into one device. Why do you think that Geordi had one? He needed something to carry around all his his George Clinton tunes.
Bathtime last night. I have grown accustomed to hearing a lot of strange sounds come out of the bathroom over the past two years. At first it did not sound odd at all to hear the wife say, "And I'll Huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house down!" (Although as a side note here, I was brought up as a "Blow your house IN" person myself) What was strange was the noise to follow, made by the child: "A-ffffffffffpht." then a brief moment of stunned silence, followed by a peal of delighted laughter from the wife.
We hadn't taught him that. He picked it up from a Barney video.
You have to understand that up to now working with the child has been much like training a parrot. He has learned thus far by imitating us and performing his tricks on cue. Pandora's box has been opened, and we are no longer the sole sources for information for the lad. Of course this has been true for some time but now there is no more denying it. The proof is right in front of us. A-ffffffffffpht.
It is a milestone event to witness a man's first steps in understanding his world by feeding on the information around him rather than having it spoon-fed by caregivers. It's also a sobering experience to get it driven home that yes, this little lump that you are trying to mold into a man is watching everything that you watch and listening to everything that you listen to. And without a doubt he is watching everything that you do and listening to everything that you say. These things you know at some level even before your first child is born, based on the advice given to you by friends and relatives. But when the little one comes, he seems so oblivious and it's not so hard to trick yourself into thinking that it's OK to watch a cop show or a war movie while the kid drinks a bottle in your lap and dozes off before bed.
I would like to think that we have been pretty good about keeping him away from the "bad" influences of media. But self-deception is just a straw house that doesn't stand up to a good gust of scrutiny. One "A-ffffffffffpht" was all it took.
Nygaard, Vernon age 83. Preceded in death by beloved wife, Eileen. Passed away peacefully on their 60th wedding anniversary Sept. 15, 2009. He will be greatly missed by children, Karen (Dale) Portz, Cheryl Dockter, LaVern (Chelsea) Nygaard, Danny (Narissa) Nygaard, Julie (Ron) Jaeger, and Terry (Jeane) Nygaard; grandchildren, Jennifer Lundborg, Dawn Dockter, Cindy Mohs, Diane, Lisa, Jessica, Rose, Joshua and Julia Nygaard, Shelly Muri, Kelly Walker, Nick Vernon Nygaard; great-grandchildren, Janessa, Faith, Ariel, Gracie, Allison, Brooke, Gregory, Derek, Rachel, Destiny, Kelsie and Candice; and brother, Robert (Marilyn) Nygaard. "Love you Dad" "Love you back" Interment Hillside Cemetery. Funeral service Friday, 9/18/09 at 11 AM with visitation Thursday (TODAY) 5-8 PM and 1 hour prior to service, all at: Washburn-McReavy Hillside Chapel 612-781-1999 2610 19th Ave. N.E., Mpls
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