It was a nice two-week respite during which I ignored politics and watched hours upon hours of the Olympics, even when I knew in advance the results. But as of Monday morning, I was going through Olympics withdrawal. No more Michael Phelps, no more Sanya Richards, no more beach volleyball, no more indoor volleyball! Oh the agony! But the political conventions will get me through to the start of NFL football and the final four weeks of the pennant races.
I've never been a volleyball fan, but, aside from the spectacular swimming events the first week, both the indoor and the outdoor volleyball competitions really caught my interest this time. The American men's team's gold-medal finish was especially sweet.
And it was hard not to be impressed by the opening and closing ceremonies. I can't imagine how many hundreds of people were involved, but China put on quite a show. Now let's see what the Brits do four years from now.
Now this week I'm watching the political coverage from morning to midnight. I seldom turn to the Republican news channel, otherwise known as Fox News (you know, "fair and balanced" and all that hogwash?). Every time I do, they seem to be interviewing some Republican. I wonder whom they will talk to next week in St. Paul?
One of the sweet moments of Monday's TV coverage was Chris Matthews of MSNBC pumping a wacko woman out in the crowd for details about the "17-page report" allegedly proving that Barack Obama is a Muslim that she was waving around. What a bunch of nut jobs politics brings out of the woodwork!
Tonight we get rid of one of the Clintons, and tomorrow night we are finished with the other. Hopefully by week's end most of the Hillary crowd will "get it" that the ballgame is over and they have lost. It was close, yes, but it's over and they have lost.
Next week I suspect I will not write a blog about the other convention. If I've heard once that Sen. McCain spent 5 1/2 years as a prisoner of war, I've heard it a thousand times. I get it. I admire his service to the country, but since when is the presidency a reward for time served? Oh well.
The conventions as they are these days are probably pointless, but it's the system we have in place. Better to be watching (and later voting) than not showing any interest at all.
And speaking of that, do you who are going back to college have your voting situation in order for the general election? Do you know when absentee ballots will be available from your county auditor back home? Will you make the effort and do your duty or simply ignore it because it's too much trouble. You tell me.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Where were you when Michael won his eighth gold?
Among the millions of people who were watching television last Saturday night when Michael Phelps, Brendan Hansen, Aaron Piersol and Jason Lezak raced for gold in the 400m swimming medley at the Olympics, I count myself among about 100, most of whom will never forget where they were when it happened.
I don't recall the name of the bar, but it's located inside the Crossroads hotel and convention center in Huron.
I was there along with more than 300 other people for the Huron College all-school reunion, a glorious opportunity to see many people with whom I went to college but most of whom I hadn't seen for 48 years. Incredibly a lot of them immediately recognized me, and in most cases I knew who they were, too.
While the HC reunion was going on in the convention center, so too was a large wedding reception in an adjoining room.
So as the 10:00 hour approached, the crowd in the bar began to grow. Vacant chairs became few and far between until there were none. There were reunion people there, there was the male half of the wedding party, and there were others who were probably just out for a Saturday night on the town.
I thought it rather neat that the barmaids yelled about three minutes before the swimmers took their places, "Any last orders before the race?" Apparently they, too, wanted to watch it and not be in anybody's way delivering drinks!
The wedding party guys, who were probably just past the age of 21, were fun to have in there. They began the tradiitional Olympic chant of "USA! USA! USA!"
As the medley began, one could cut the tension with a knife, especially since other countries' teams had the lead until Michael Phelps took to the pool for his butterfly leg. From then on, we bar patrons were yelling and cheering, imploring him to get the lead, which he did. From then on, as Lezak anchored the race for America, it was pandemonium. And as he hit the wall first to clinch the gold medal, people stood and cheered.
It was a great experience, and I for one will remember for a long time where I was when Michael Phelps (and his very valuable teammates) made Olympic history and swam their way into the record books.
I don't recall the name of the bar, but it's located inside the Crossroads hotel and convention center in Huron.
I was there along with more than 300 other people for the Huron College all-school reunion, a glorious opportunity to see many people with whom I went to college but most of whom I hadn't seen for 48 years. Incredibly a lot of them immediately recognized me, and in most cases I knew who they were, too.
While the HC reunion was going on in the convention center, so too was a large wedding reception in an adjoining room.
So as the 10:00 hour approached, the crowd in the bar began to grow. Vacant chairs became few and far between until there were none. There were reunion people there, there was the male half of the wedding party, and there were others who were probably just out for a Saturday night on the town.
I thought it rather neat that the barmaids yelled about three minutes before the swimmers took their places, "Any last orders before the race?" Apparently they, too, wanted to watch it and not be in anybody's way delivering drinks!
The wedding party guys, who were probably just past the age of 21, were fun to have in there. They began the tradiitional Olympic chant of "USA! USA! USA!"
As the medley began, one could cut the tension with a knife, especially since other countries' teams had the lead until Michael Phelps took to the pool for his butterfly leg. From then on, we bar patrons were yelling and cheering, imploring him to get the lead, which he did. From then on, as Lezak anchored the race for America, it was pandemonium. And as he hit the wall first to clinch the gold medal, people stood and cheered.
It was a great experience, and I for one will remember for a long time where I was when Michael Phelps (and his very valuable teammates) made Olympic history and swam their way into the record books.
Monday, August 11, 2008
It's never too late to go home again
My hometown of Onida has its own Sully County Fair on the second weekend of August, and for the 86th straight time, this year was no exception. But this year's fair was extra special because a few dozen hard-working people who live there had incorporated Onida's 125th anniversary into the fair. From all over the country, Onida natives came home, and I was one of them.
The tower of the Oahe Grain elevator is visible over the horizon for at least 15 miles away, and as I sped north on Highway 83 last Friday night, I was genuinely excited at the prospects of visiting the old hometown again and seeing people with whom I hadn't spoken for decades. The sad fact of life had been that almost all of my last few visits to Onida over the past 10 years had all been for funerals. This one was purely for fun.
The weekend didn't disappoint.
Maybe it's the same way between you and the people who grew up with you in your hometown. But it seems to me as if Onida folks---past and present---can be away from each other for 10 years or more and, immediately after a firm handshake or a heart-felt hug, can smoothly resume a conversation as if no time had passed in the interim. That happened over and over again all weekend long.
Since my brother and sister-in-law still live in Onida, I had a built-in place to stay. Their daughter and her family were also there from Rapid City, so it was a family reunion as well as a community reunion.
John and Linda also opened up their home and their backyard to four OHS graduating classes. Fortunately the weather cooperated beautifully---enough clouds to keep the temps in the 80s, enough breeze to keep the bugs away---as members of the Classes of 1959, 1960, 1961 (John's class) and 1962 reunited in one place. Though I graduated from OHS in 1956, the '59ers were freshmen during my senior year, and I knew many of the others, of course, so it was a great time to visit and recall memories from out of the very distant past.
The weekend also included a fish fry at the home of long-time friends on Friday night.
After that the place to be was uptown Onida where the city fathers had directed that a full block of Main Street be blocked off for the evening so that patrons of the two watering holes could walk back and forth. Brewster's on the east side of the street had a band on a stage in their patio area. The Blue Goose on the west side had a band out back, and the spot where our old Roxy Theatre once stood until its demolition earlier this year had become an outdoor patio. In the middle of Main Street, with no traffic to worry about, hundreds of us milled about, rediscovering so many people who in one way or another had been part of our earlier lives.
An annual tradition at the Sully County Fair is the alumni breakfast at the senior center early Saturday morning. It has become the place to gather and to see who's in town.
Then at noon Saturday the Dean Nelson family and the Joe and Dorothy Lamb family generously served a free (yes, I said "free"!) prime-rib or burgers dinner to more than a thousand people at the high school gym. The bleachers and the main floor were jammed full of people, and the joyful reunions with people I hadn't expected to see were numerous for me as I'm sure they were for countless others.
But the big event of the weekend was the 125th anniversary parade, and I had the honor of being the P.A. announcer at the head of Main Street as the parade, which formed on Ash Avenue, extending from uptown all the way east into the countryside, made a left turn and headed down Main Street where crowds awaited.
The image of Onida's Main Street is one that never leaves your mind once you have seen it. The majestic old Sully County Courthouse sits on the hill at the top of Main Street. The parade committee had me perched on a forklift of some sort across the street from there. Thanks also to the committee, I had a ream of material at my disposal, information on every float and entry in the parade.
The long line of more than 120 entries took more than an hour to pass my location and wend its way on down Main Street where another announcer waited to pick up the narrative. There was an alumni band, members of many of Sully Buttes High's outstanding award-winning bands from over the years, and for a group that had gotten together for the first time only an hour before the parade started, they sounded terrific. There's nothing like a marching band to set the pace for a parade.
There were kings and queens, former Snow Queens, political candidates, National Guard vehicles, tractors, covered wagons, horses, Miss Rodeo South Dakota, family floats, church floats, business vehicles, the two-time state "B" girls basketball champions, kids on bicycles, and a high school-age rock band. Now that was a parade!
The fairgrounds at the southeast corner of town became the focal point for the rest of the day's events. Thanks to hometown Sutton Rodeos Inc., the Sully County Fair always has for two nights what is probably the best rodeo of any county fair in South Dakota. During the day there is everything from a stick horse rodeo, bingo, a tire toss and a frying pan toss to 4-H activities, co-ed beach volleyball, a softball tournament, inflatable carnival rides and a youth talent contest.
Late on Saturday night, after the rodeo ended, no matter where we were in Onida, we had ringside seats for the best fireworks display I've ever seen.
Though county fair events continued on Sunday, I headed home to Vermillion to relieve my daughter who had taken on dog-sitting duties for the weekend so I could home. But as I drove cross-country (instead of on the interstate!) through Blunt and Miller and Huron and Parker and Viborg, I couldn't help but smile at all the people with whom I had been able to visit. I had seen 11 of my 25 surviving Class of '56 classmates, dozens of former students since I taught in that district for 13 years, and countless others. Larry from North Carolina, Julie from Texas, Bob from Georgia, Monte from Minnesota, Corwyn from California, Melissa from Alaska, Myron and Christi from Iowa, Carol from Virginia, Hazel from Wyoming, Jean from California, Gerry from Iowa, Sharon from Colorado, Joe and Ellen from Wyoming, Mary from New Mexico, Gary from Ohio, Brad from Minnesota, Caroline from Illinois, Tim from Wyoming, Kirke from Florida, Ellen and Dorothy from Missouri, Jason from Kansas, Janet from Minnesota, people from everywhere imaginable in South Dakota, including the Rillings from Custer, and Onida natives who lived there when I did and who are still there, not to mention others whom I'm unintentionally forgetting.
It was one of those weekends not to be missed, and if your hometown has one such celebration coming soon, don't stay home just because you're busy or just because you can't afford it or just because you're too tired or just because gas costs so much. Life is too short to miss the chance to reconnect with those who have been a part of your life.
Now, as I finish this and send it on its way to the Custer Chronicle office and to my blogsite, I am again giddy with anticipation because, only a week after going home to Onida for that magnificent reunion, I'm on the road to Huron where anybody and everybody who ever attended Huron College have been invited to a big reunion. There will be more than 300 people, as I hear it, and I will see people who are now in their 60s and 70s but who back in my H.C. days were, like me, in their late teens and early 20s. There will be people with whom I shared choir tours, "Y" meetings, coffee in the Wigwam, football games against the Evil Empire (Northern!), "Camelot," dorm-closing moments in the Passion Pit, Pow Wow Day parades, weekly services in the chapel, Alphomega newspaper staff meetings, student body campaigns, pizza nights at Charlie's, practice-teaching at Huron High, humanities class with Dean Agnes Hanson, religion classes with Mr. Weeks and Dr. Ross, P.E. classes with the football jocks, the lunch line at the cafeteria, and the Pan-Hellenic formal.
If they're smart, they will say as several in Onida did, "You haven't changed a bit!" It may be a bald-faced lie, but it's good to hear anyway.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Favre fever: I was sick of Brett Favre and his whole flip-flopping saga long before the rest of the civilized world was sick of him.
As a Vikings fan since attending their first-ever game against Dallas in Sioux Falls in August 1961, I was hoping and almost praying that, wherever the Good Ol' Boy ended up, it was not Minneapolis. No true-blue Viking fan could stomach the prospect of a stinkin' Packer being their quarterback, even if Mr. Wonderful did take them to the Super Bowl. Fortunately the Packer management stayed strong and sent the Good Ol' Boy packing to the other conference where he can play out his days until his next tearful retirement ceremony.
As I was watching and listening to the whole drama unfold the week of Aug. 3, I began to wonder if it ever occurred to the Good Ol' Boy from down-home Mississippi to change clothes. As he and First Lady Deanna boarded their jet in Hattiesburg on Sunday, he was wearing a gray T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. The next day as we saw him enter the Packer complex in Green Bay, it was the same attire.
On Wednesday as he left Green Bay to go back to Hattiesburg, he was still wearing the gray T-shirt and khaki shorts. I found myself hoping that First Lady Deanna would, when she got home, take time to wash a load of clothes.
Lo and behold, on Thursday when the Good Ol' Boy headed for New York, what do you suppose he chose as his wardrobe for the day. Would you believe a gray T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. I guess $18 million per year doesn't go very far these days, but his Wrangler jeans commercial (you know, the one where he says how comfortable he is in Wrangler) ought to warrant a couple of pairs of pants. I was not surprised to see that, by the time Broadway Brett had flown to Cleveland for his first Jets press conference that Thursday evening, he was still wearing the same clothes.
Thankfully, for the sake of New York's Mayor Bloomberg and others around him at City Hall during the welcoming ceremony on Friday morning, somebody had persuaded the Good Ol' Boy to wear something else.
When I wrote this column on Monday, Aug. 10, the Brett Favre Television Network, which sometimes goes by the name 'ESPN,' was still talking almost nonstop about No. 4. I shut them off and haven't chosen their channel since. I will no doubt return to ESPN on Sept. 8 when they televise the Vikings-Packers game. I will listen until they mention the name "Favre" for the 50th time after which I will shut off their sound and listen to the Vikings radio broadcast.
Do I hope Favre does well with the Jets? Actually an 0-16 record would be what I would like to see. It would be fun to see how the Good Ol' Boy handles the New York media.
As for the Packers, I hope Aaron Rodgers does well (except, of course, in his two games against Minnesota). He seems like a nice guy, and he's handled this Favre circus with dignity. Too bad he's the next stinkin' Packer I will somehow learn to hate.
-o-o-o-o-o-
The tower of the Oahe Grain elevator is visible over the horizon for at least 15 miles away, and as I sped north on Highway 83 last Friday night, I was genuinely excited at the prospects of visiting the old hometown again and seeing people with whom I hadn't spoken for decades. The sad fact of life had been that almost all of my last few visits to Onida over the past 10 years had all been for funerals. This one was purely for fun.
The weekend didn't disappoint.
Maybe it's the same way between you and the people who grew up with you in your hometown. But it seems to me as if Onida folks---past and present---can be away from each other for 10 years or more and, immediately after a firm handshake or a heart-felt hug, can smoothly resume a conversation as if no time had passed in the interim. That happened over and over again all weekend long.
Since my brother and sister-in-law still live in Onida, I had a built-in place to stay. Their daughter and her family were also there from Rapid City, so it was a family reunion as well as a community reunion.
John and Linda also opened up their home and their backyard to four OHS graduating classes. Fortunately the weather cooperated beautifully---enough clouds to keep the temps in the 80s, enough breeze to keep the bugs away---as members of the Classes of 1959, 1960, 1961 (John's class) and 1962 reunited in one place. Though I graduated from OHS in 1956, the '59ers were freshmen during my senior year, and I knew many of the others, of course, so it was a great time to visit and recall memories from out of the very distant past.
The weekend also included a fish fry at the home of long-time friends on Friday night.
After that the place to be was uptown Onida where the city fathers had directed that a full block of Main Street be blocked off for the evening so that patrons of the two watering holes could walk back and forth. Brewster's on the east side of the street had a band on a stage in their patio area. The Blue Goose on the west side had a band out back, and the spot where our old Roxy Theatre once stood until its demolition earlier this year had become an outdoor patio. In the middle of Main Street, with no traffic to worry about, hundreds of us milled about, rediscovering so many people who in one way or another had been part of our earlier lives.
An annual tradition at the Sully County Fair is the alumni breakfast at the senior center early Saturday morning. It has become the place to gather and to see who's in town.
Then at noon Saturday the Dean Nelson family and the Joe and Dorothy Lamb family generously served a free (yes, I said "free"!) prime-rib or burgers dinner to more than a thousand people at the high school gym. The bleachers and the main floor were jammed full of people, and the joyful reunions with people I hadn't expected to see were numerous for me as I'm sure they were for countless others.
But the big event of the weekend was the 125th anniversary parade, and I had the honor of being the P.A. announcer at the head of Main Street as the parade, which formed on Ash Avenue, extending from uptown all the way east into the countryside, made a left turn and headed down Main Street where crowds awaited.
The image of Onida's Main Street is one that never leaves your mind once you have seen it. The majestic old Sully County Courthouse sits on the hill at the top of Main Street. The parade committee had me perched on a forklift of some sort across the street from there. Thanks also to the committee, I had a ream of material at my disposal, information on every float and entry in the parade.
The long line of more than 120 entries took more than an hour to pass my location and wend its way on down Main Street where another announcer waited to pick up the narrative. There was an alumni band, members of many of Sully Buttes High's outstanding award-winning bands from over the years, and for a group that had gotten together for the first time only an hour before the parade started, they sounded terrific. There's nothing like a marching band to set the pace for a parade.
There were kings and queens, former Snow Queens, political candidates, National Guard vehicles, tractors, covered wagons, horses, Miss Rodeo South Dakota, family floats, church floats, business vehicles, the two-time state "B" girls basketball champions, kids on bicycles, and a high school-age rock band. Now that was a parade!
The fairgrounds at the southeast corner of town became the focal point for the rest of the day's events. Thanks to hometown Sutton Rodeos Inc., the Sully County Fair always has for two nights what is probably the best rodeo of any county fair in South Dakota. During the day there is everything from a stick horse rodeo, bingo, a tire toss and a frying pan toss to 4-H activities, co-ed beach volleyball, a softball tournament, inflatable carnival rides and a youth talent contest.
Late on Saturday night, after the rodeo ended, no matter where we were in Onida, we had ringside seats for the best fireworks display I've ever seen.
Though county fair events continued on Sunday, I headed home to Vermillion to relieve my daughter who had taken on dog-sitting duties for the weekend so I could home. But as I drove cross-country (instead of on the interstate!) through Blunt and Miller and Huron and Parker and Viborg, I couldn't help but smile at all the people with whom I had been able to visit. I had seen 11 of my 25 surviving Class of '56 classmates, dozens of former students since I taught in that district for 13 years, and countless others. Larry from North Carolina, Julie from Texas, Bob from Georgia, Monte from Minnesota, Corwyn from California, Melissa from Alaska, Myron and Christi from Iowa, Carol from Virginia, Hazel from Wyoming, Jean from California, Gerry from Iowa, Sharon from Colorado, Joe and Ellen from Wyoming, Mary from New Mexico, Gary from Ohio, Brad from Minnesota, Caroline from Illinois, Tim from Wyoming, Kirke from Florida, Ellen and Dorothy from Missouri, Jason from Kansas, Janet from Minnesota, people from everywhere imaginable in South Dakota, including the Rillings from Custer, and Onida natives who lived there when I did and who are still there, not to mention others whom I'm unintentionally forgetting.
It was one of those weekends not to be missed, and if your hometown has one such celebration coming soon, don't stay home just because you're busy or just because you can't afford it or just because you're too tired or just because gas costs so much. Life is too short to miss the chance to reconnect with those who have been a part of your life.
Now, as I finish this and send it on its way to the Custer Chronicle office and to my blogsite, I am again giddy with anticipation because, only a week after going home to Onida for that magnificent reunion, I'm on the road to Huron where anybody and everybody who ever attended Huron College have been invited to a big reunion. There will be more than 300 people, as I hear it, and I will see people who are now in their 60s and 70s but who back in my H.C. days were, like me, in their late teens and early 20s. There will be people with whom I shared choir tours, "Y" meetings, coffee in the Wigwam, football games against the Evil Empire (Northern!), "Camelot," dorm-closing moments in the Passion Pit, Pow Wow Day parades, weekly services in the chapel, Alphomega newspaper staff meetings, student body campaigns, pizza nights at Charlie's, practice-teaching at Huron High, humanities class with Dean Agnes Hanson, religion classes with Mr. Weeks and Dr. Ross, P.E. classes with the football jocks, the lunch line at the cafeteria, and the Pan-Hellenic formal.
If they're smart, they will say as several in Onida did, "You haven't changed a bit!" It may be a bald-faced lie, but it's good to hear anyway.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Favre fever: I was sick of Brett Favre and his whole flip-flopping saga long before the rest of the civilized world was sick of him.
As a Vikings fan since attending their first-ever game against Dallas in Sioux Falls in August 1961, I was hoping and almost praying that, wherever the Good Ol' Boy ended up, it was not Minneapolis. No true-blue Viking fan could stomach the prospect of a stinkin' Packer being their quarterback, even if Mr. Wonderful did take them to the Super Bowl. Fortunately the Packer management stayed strong and sent the Good Ol' Boy packing to the other conference where he can play out his days until his next tearful retirement ceremony.
As I was watching and listening to the whole drama unfold the week of Aug. 3, I began to wonder if it ever occurred to the Good Ol' Boy from down-home Mississippi to change clothes. As he and First Lady Deanna boarded their jet in Hattiesburg on Sunday, he was wearing a gray T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. The next day as we saw him enter the Packer complex in Green Bay, it was the same attire.
On Wednesday as he left Green Bay to go back to Hattiesburg, he was still wearing the gray T-shirt and khaki shorts. I found myself hoping that First Lady Deanna would, when she got home, take time to wash a load of clothes.
Lo and behold, on Thursday when the Good Ol' Boy headed for New York, what do you suppose he chose as his wardrobe for the day. Would you believe a gray T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. I guess $18 million per year doesn't go very far these days, but his Wrangler jeans commercial (you know, the one where he says how comfortable he is in Wrangler) ought to warrant a couple of pairs of pants. I was not surprised to see that, by the time Broadway Brett had flown to Cleveland for his first Jets press conference that Thursday evening, he was still wearing the same clothes.
Thankfully, for the sake of New York's Mayor Bloomberg and others around him at City Hall during the welcoming ceremony on Friday morning, somebody had persuaded the Good Ol' Boy to wear something else.
When I wrote this column on Monday, Aug. 10, the Brett Favre Television Network, which sometimes goes by the name 'ESPN,' was still talking almost nonstop about No. 4. I shut them off and haven't chosen their channel since. I will no doubt return to ESPN on Sept. 8 when they televise the Vikings-Packers game. I will listen until they mention the name "Favre" for the 50th time after which I will shut off their sound and listen to the Vikings radio broadcast.
Do I hope Favre does well with the Jets? Actually an 0-16 record would be what I would like to see. It would be fun to see how the Good Ol' Boy handles the New York media.
As for the Packers, I hope Aaron Rodgers does well (except, of course, in his two games against Minnesota). He seems like a nice guy, and he's handled this Favre circus with dignity. Too bad he's the next stinkin' Packer I will somehow learn to hate.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
I'll miss those early mornings
During these summer days with Heather commuting to work in Sioux Falls and Dylan here part of the time and gone part of the time to his dad's, the favorite part of each of my days while he has been here is from 6:30 to 8:30 a.m.
Dylan's "best buddy," by far, is his mom, so on those mornings when he has had trouble waking up before Heather's mandatory departure time of 6:45, he has been very disappointed that his mom has already left. So most days, Heather or I or both of us have managed to wake up Dylan so he can wave goodbye to his mom.
The typical routine is that I pick him up with Roscoe (his Minnesota Twins monkey) and a couple of other stuffed animals in tow and carry him (them!) outside as Heather gets into her car.
Dylan's and my standard game has been betting on which way Heather will go from our intersection---north to Cherry Street or east, a shorter way to get out to Highway 50 and on to I-29. She always goes east, and I know that and she knows that, so our "game" is that I bet she will go straight from our corner and Ryan bets she will turn east. Of course she always turns east, and he is delighted as he waves goodbye to his mom.
We stand out there until her car disappears far down Main Street to the east.
The rest of our routine is that from 6:45 to 7:00 Dylan watches "Arthur" on Iowa Public Television while I get my quick shower downstairs. The 7:00 half-hour is for "Curious George," during which time I fix Dylan some breakfast---fruit today? toast? cereal? Then during the 7:30 "Clifford" half-hour I get him dressed for the day. Heather always has his clothes set out, but sometimes Dylan determines he needs to wear his clothes for a particular sport, or he has one of his uniform-numbered shirts to wear. Finally after 8:00 he watches as much of "Super Why" as we have time for before heading off to the USD Children's Center in time to arrive there by 8:30.
Tuesday was the last of these very special mornings for this summer. Dylan is on to his dad's in Rapid City today for the last of this summer's 10-day visits out there, so by the time he is back for the week after next, Heather will be done with work in Sioux Falls and back in law school class here and she will have time to take Dylan to the children's center herself.
I'll miss those early mornings. They have been the highlight of the summer.
Dylan's "best buddy," by far, is his mom, so on those mornings when he has had trouble waking up before Heather's mandatory departure time of 6:45, he has been very disappointed that his mom has already left. So most days, Heather or I or both of us have managed to wake up Dylan so he can wave goodbye to his mom.
The typical routine is that I pick him up with Roscoe (his Minnesota Twins monkey) and a couple of other stuffed animals in tow and carry him (them!) outside as Heather gets into her car.
Dylan's and my standard game has been betting on which way Heather will go from our intersection---north to Cherry Street or east, a shorter way to get out to Highway 50 and on to I-29. She always goes east, and I know that and she knows that, so our "game" is that I bet she will go straight from our corner and Ryan bets she will turn east. Of course she always turns east, and he is delighted as he waves goodbye to his mom.
We stand out there until her car disappears far down Main Street to the east.
The rest of our routine is that from 6:45 to 7:00 Dylan watches "Arthur" on Iowa Public Television while I get my quick shower downstairs. The 7:00 half-hour is for "Curious George," during which time I fix Dylan some breakfast---fruit today? toast? cereal? Then during the 7:30 "Clifford" half-hour I get him dressed for the day. Heather always has his clothes set out, but sometimes Dylan determines he needs to wear his clothes for a particular sport, or he has one of his uniform-numbered shirts to wear. Finally after 8:00 he watches as much of "Super Why" as we have time for before heading off to the USD Children's Center in time to arrive there by 8:30.
Tuesday was the last of these very special mornings for this summer. Dylan is on to his dad's in Rapid City today for the last of this summer's 10-day visits out there, so by the time he is back for the week after next, Heather will be done with work in Sioux Falls and back in law school class here and she will have time to take Dylan to the children's center herself.
I'll miss those early mornings. They have been the highlight of the summer.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Did he say 'It's only a goose!'?
As I was listening to sports talk radio from Minneapolis this morning, desiring to be among the first in the world to immediately know if and when Brett Favre leaves his house, what he had for breakfast and whom he called most recently on his cellular phone, a totally unrelated topic raised its ugly head.
An e-mail responder to KFAN's "Common Man" lambasted a lady driver who had first committed the unthinkable---slowing down on I-35W to the posted speed limit or below. Secondly, it was reported from reliable sources that the dizzy woman had done so merely to attempt to save the life of a wayward goose which had made a daring decision to cross the interstate freeway to get to the other side.
(STOP THE PRESSES! Brett Favre just left Lambeau Field in his SUV, so he is not practicing with the Cheeseheads today. I swear the earth beneath the state of Wisconsin just moved again.)
Now back to the lady on I-35W. Apparently, without harm to her personal life or limb, she maneuvered her vehicle onto the median, got out of the car and tried to coax the goose into taking flight to safety.
The e-mailer to the call-in sports talk show shouted (I imagine he wrote in CAPITAL LETTERS), "Lady, it's only a goose!"
After all, how dare she cause these city slickers to slow down to anything less than 80 MPH on the interstate.
They wouldn't survive in Pierre, that's for sure. There, not only on the streets in the vicinity of Capitol Lake but also all over town, the geese who winter there and those who stop by during the other seasons have the right of way, whether any traffic signs state this fact or not. Over the years it has become commonplace for cars to back up a block in both directions, without any impatient driver pounding his horn, to await a goose's passage across Capitol Avenue on one side of the lake or Broadway on the other side.
Just this past year the rescue squad was called---and dutifully responded---when some goslings became trapped in a culvert near the lake. Imagine how the city slickers would have hooted over that sort of occurrence!
I can't be sure if the lady in question is still stranded on the median along I-35W. Hopefully the goose has taken flight and that some driver (no doubt one from outside the Twin Cities) has slowed to allow the lady's vehicle back into the traffic stream.
How dare she pull such a stunt!
An e-mail responder to KFAN's "Common Man" lambasted a lady driver who had first committed the unthinkable---slowing down on I-35W to the posted speed limit or below. Secondly, it was reported from reliable sources that the dizzy woman had done so merely to attempt to save the life of a wayward goose which had made a daring decision to cross the interstate freeway to get to the other side.
(STOP THE PRESSES! Brett Favre just left Lambeau Field in his SUV, so he is not practicing with the Cheeseheads today. I swear the earth beneath the state of Wisconsin just moved again.)
Now back to the lady on I-35W. Apparently, without harm to her personal life or limb, she maneuvered her vehicle onto the median, got out of the car and tried to coax the goose into taking flight to safety.
The e-mailer to the call-in sports talk show shouted (I imagine he wrote in CAPITAL LETTERS), "Lady, it's only a goose!"
After all, how dare she cause these city slickers to slow down to anything less than 80 MPH on the interstate.
They wouldn't survive in Pierre, that's for sure. There, not only on the streets in the vicinity of Capitol Lake but also all over town, the geese who winter there and those who stop by during the other seasons have the right of way, whether any traffic signs state this fact or not. Over the years it has become commonplace for cars to back up a block in both directions, without any impatient driver pounding his horn, to await a goose's passage across Capitol Avenue on one side of the lake or Broadway on the other side.
Just this past year the rescue squad was called---and dutifully responded---when some goslings became trapped in a culvert near the lake. Imagine how the city slickers would have hooted over that sort of occurrence!
I can't be sure if the lady in question is still stranded on the median along I-35W. Hopefully the goose has taken flight and that some driver (no doubt one from outside the Twin Cities) has slowed to allow the lady's vehicle back into the traffic stream.
How dare she pull such a stunt!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)