Street Preacher

In this photo you will see a young man preaching on a street corner in downtown Minneapolis. He is standing on a stool. This is a common sight in the summer. I was not aware of the One Way sign when I took the pic, but it is fitting.

On this particular day I stopped for a moment to listen to him. Most people walk by with heads down, chuckling or shaking their heads. No one looks him in the eye and listens. The message either is too disturbing or they do not want to be seen listening.

I stopped for a moment last week and listened. He preached mainly about judgement and how sins grieve the Father. He also spoke about the Christian message of redemption. He did not use the code language of the church today, such as calling sins "bad choices". He was very blunt and straightforward about what God has done for us, what He expects of us and the consquences for those who ignore or reject the message. While the delivery is from another time, I was at a loss to hear anything I disagreed with or that wasn't right out of the Bible.

The end of the line

Yesterday I took Rocko to the vet to have him put to death. He was almost 17 years old and a great family pet. Rob was about eight when he got this little puppy, Rachel in early days of highschool and Caroline was a toddler.

In the past year he had lost most of his hearing and eyesight and was spending most of his time sleeping or getting sick. This picture was taken a few minutes before our trip to the vet.

He was well behaved on the drive over, just sitting in the front seat, enjoying the air conditioner. When we got to the vet I let him roam around outside for a bit as he smelled the scent of other dogs on the bushes, rocks and grass.

I told myself that since I didn't cry at my grandparents funerals it would be really weird if I cried over the loss of an animal. But still, we all hated to see him go and this was not something anyone would look forward to. The vet was nice and I could tell he really loved animals and did not enjoy this part of his job. We held him down and he wimpered slightly as he was given an injection. This was followed by a nice long sigh, as he laid his head down and closed his eyes.

I took him home and placed him in a hole I had dug in our back yard under some trees. I covered him and packed the soil down firmly. I placed a nice sized rock over the spot to mark where he was and to keep any curious racoons or dogs from digging there. I walked out to the spot this morning and everything was fine.  It has been good to have a pet like this one.

A Dog, A Darling, A Daughter

June 16, 2011. Today is my 32nd wedding anniversary. On this blessed event I take a look at my calendar and note that...

...my youngest child has left for Guatemala.
...my wife is boarding a plane to spend the weekend with her mother.
...i have to take Rocko, our dog of 16+ years to the vet to put him to death. (Dads always get the fun stuff)

I've had better days. But hey, at least the market is up and when the market is up I can tolerate a lot.

Passages

My youngest daughter graduated from high school three days ago. The ceremony included what was her last performance on a public school stage as she raised her voice high with her choir singing the spiritual "Beulah Land" and "Bridge over Troubled Waters" (a version much better than the one that came out in the 70's). It was a fitting end to thirteen years in the Missouri and Minnesota school systems. Caroline always seems happiest when singing and you could tell by the look on her face the joy she felt that evening. As I look back it seems that she emerged with a stronger and warmer soul at the end of each year than at the beginning, which is as it should be for all of us. Her senior year set the stage for many good things to come.

 
High School is full of academic and personal struggles and it is so easy to forget this when you are decades removed from it. I found the period of life from 16 to 26 to be the most trying, tiring, stressful thus far. This is true for many people. So many big decisions are made during that time, decisions that need to be right, or close to it. She is about one-third through that stretch, and handling it much better than her father. During the past year I watched her labor over classwork from the morning until late at night. On any given day she worked much harder than most people I know.

Like most parents, I'm proud of all my children, equally so. Each had accomplishments and obstacles to overcome that made me so thankful to have been their father. Caroline has creative gifts that could come only from God, as nothing in that area could have been inherited from me. How she will use them remains to be seen but the view from the high school launching pad looks most promising from these biased old eyes.

I am glad that this young woman, who as a little girl would tell me, "it's my world daddy, but you can play in it", is building her world with an eye not on her daddy, but on her Father above. The toddler who would place her hands on my face and force me to look in her eyes when she spoke to me, will soon have other messages and will be just as determined to be heard. Cars, trains and planes will now take the little bike rider, who feared the slanted part of the sidewalk, to places not yet on her mind. The kid who was afraid of scary clowns at Six Flags will face a new set of scary stuff during college years. Regardless, she is a descendant of pioneers with their blood in her veins, and if it doesn't show yet, it soon will.

The morning walk

This is the summer route from the bus to the office. About seven blocks. I work in one of the buildings on the left at the end of the street. In the winter it's a bit painful to walk these streets, even to the skyway entrance two blocks from this intersection.

On summer mornings I pass an array of the homeless doing their morning business.... smoking, drinking coffee, talking to the voices, recycling trash, texting the governor, etc. I also walk by a tv station, numerous restaurants, an art gallery or two, drug stores, Macy's, the Target headquarters, the Mary Tyler Moore statue (someone please take it down), the IDS tower. On Thursdays there is the "farmers market" which only means that it was grown by a farmer somewhere. No way those tomatoes were grown in this state by June. I've never had a bad walk down this street, it's always a good way to start the day.

Punk Landscaping

My attempt to trim back our crabapple tree took on a life of it's own over the weekend. My punk landscaping turned this twenty foot tall orb of lush green leaves into the humble totem you see before you.

I have been known to take out trees from our yards over the years, usually because they are too close to the house. I hate for trees to touch my house, which is like installing an escalator and red carpet for squirrels.

On Sunday I started out by trying to take out some of the higher branches that were squeezing up against the roof. I thought I might be able to actually trim it, like a shrub. Deep down inside, I knew this was impossible, and that the tree would eventually end up as shown in this photo. Anyway, this was how I spent my afternoon, chain saw in one hand, tree limbs in the other. I filled 15 lawn waste bags and also got assorted knicks and scrapes on my legs, head and arms. I am betting that by August it will be looking somewhat like a tree again. My spouse is skeptical.

Also a photo of the house in June as we enter our brief, but welcome, summer. New landscaping in and starting to come alive. Eventually those electical boxes will be hidden, at least that is the plan. It was 102 in Minneapolis today, though with the windchill it only felt like 99. Nice to have a little taste of true summer, which is rare here.

Have a good day at school

"Have a good day at school" is a phrase I have repeated each day to my children since around 1985. In the past year it is something I have done almost fanatically, never missing a day. Sometimes I would get in the car, realize I had forgot, and headed back into the house. I have three school days left to say this to my youngest daughter. A week from now she will be out of high school and getting ready for her high school graduation ceremony.

Her reply is often a simple, "Thanks". It's probably evolved over the years. At one point it may have been, "I'm going to have a great day daddy, cause we're going to the zoo and having a picnic and riding the bus! Mommy's coming with us!" But there is something in that "thanks" that is uniquely hers, a way of saying it that is distinctive. Each morning send-off has been preparation for bigger ones to come. This week, which once seemed so far off, is now here. Soon it will be August and college.

"Have a good day at school" has been as much a prayer as anything. A mutual wish by parent and child that the day would bring good things and that evil things would be kept at bay. I am sure there were times when she dreaded the day ahead and thought, "if my dad only knew the kind of day awaits me". But there were also days of victory that belong just to her. This prayer has been answered many times over. I hope that all of my children look back on their time at home and in school as a very special, almost magical time, when all their needs were met and almost all their battles were won.

This journey started with Rachel at David O. Dodd Elementary in Little Rock and continued with Rob through Wren Hollow Elementary, Hanna Woods Elementary, Parkway Southwest Middle, Parkway South Middle, and Parkway South High in St. Louis, and on to Oak Point Intermediate, Central Middle and Eden Prairie High School in Minnesota. Three cities, three decades, several schools, numerous teachers and classmates.

Although it is not easy to see this time pass, it would be even worse to have things remain as they are. Like her older brother and sister, she is ready. Not quite ready for her own home, but ready to leave this one. And ready to spend four very special years become more and more like the type of person God would have her to be.

They eat a lot of popcorn and other observations on Minnesotans

In 2003, after a few months in Minnesota, I was asked how the people differed from those in other parts of America. "They eat a lot more popcorn" was the first thing that came to mind. (confirmed just moments ago in a stroll by our trading desk) Other things....

They are very polite and obedient ( it is their defining trait )

They do not understand Southerners, as they are prone to make statements about the south that would puzzle any of us. They speak of us as though we don't really exist, but were some sort of made for TV oddity.

Johnny is "going away" to school means attending college in a different county.

They believe a government can solve personal problems.

They are trusting.

They have a sense of superiority to the rest of the nation. Not smug, but a simple belief that they are indeed better.

They are fans of cold weather sports, hockey primarily, and football. They like baseball but it is more of a passing summer interest, rather than an obsession.

They are Democrats, but not reliably so. They never exhibit the burning passion over political issues that folks elsewhere do.

They eat fried cheese with ketchup.

They hate the heat and will spending silly sums on cabins in the North Country.

As neighbors go, they are difficult to get to know, but are generally helpful in a pinch.

As drivers, they are slow to react to change, such as the light turning from red to green. (They never seem to get that "green arrow thing" at intersections)

They never honk their horns in traffic. Anyone honking is obviously from out of state.

In the end, all this is trivial stuff, funny little things. As people, they are about as good as we get.

big people

I've met a few famous people over the years. I met one in Omaha a couple of weeks ago who is known for his wealth, more than anything else. None have I ever wanted to trade places with, but it is interesting to observe them. To think about what their life is like. I suspect some of them might want to trade places with me. Usually they are forgotten soon after they are gone.

Our Home in May

May began with freezing temps and snowflakes, but it is beginning to look like spring around here. The grass is green and leaves are coming out on all the trees. We had some landscaping done the past few weeks and took out a lot of the shrubs.

Smoked a few ribs for the third time this spring. Though the temp was in the 50's there is something about firing up a smoker and a grill that makes it seem much more like summer than it actually is. "You smell like smoke" is something I never tire of hearing.

Chicago to Minneapolis

Caught the 1:15 flight from O'Hare yesterday on United. Normally I pay no attention to the people around me on planes. I don't chit chat and really don't care whether they are going home or leaving home. But every once in a while someone will say something that gets my attention. Such as the rare exchange where the stewardess comes across as normal and the passenger as some sort of annoying fungus....

Stewardess: Would you care for a beverage before we take off?

The human seated next to me: I'll have a White Russian

Stewardess: What is that?

The human: I don't know. Ginger Ale please.

Stewardess: That I can do.

My running life

On January 1 1998 I ran four miles. I don't recall the run but I imagine it was in our neighborhood in St. Louis. I haven't missed a day since and have run 31,643 miles, an avg of 6.5 miles a day. In 2007 I ran 4015 miles, which still amazes me.

I rarely write about running. But obviously it's a big part of my life. I don't enjoy it as much as I did when I was younger though I still love it very much. I can't remember a day when i've had what i'd call a bad run. It is just harder now. I have pains in my knees that usually subside around mile 3.

The closest I ever came to upsetting my streak was a couple of times when I got to a hotel room around 11pm and immediately headed outside or to a fitness room to run a couple of miles.

Today I ran 12 miles downstairs on the treadmill. It caused me to think about how fortunate I have been to have stayed healthy all these years. I ran while watching Pirates of the Caribbean 3 on DVD. I've been going through all our DVDs this last month. I've watch classics like Yankee Doodle Dandy and Guys & Dolls, along with more forgetable flicks like Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and the Lizzie McGuire movie. Some people hate running on a treadmill, i've come to love it. I run in the privacy of a room in our basement. It's me, a treadmill, a tv, the heater, and assorted household items we cannot bear to get rid of, such as a crib, playpen, kiddy cars, and an almost lifesize Barbie. In the room i'm not too fat or too slow and I always have the perfect gait. Barbie looks at me admiringly and I return the favor by cleaning the cobwebs
out of her armpits from time to time.

I don't know how long I'll keep this streak going. I suppose as long as my health permits. It's been good. It's added some order and discipline to my life. I'd like to think I set a good example to my kids, or at least a better example than I would have otherwise. Running is a time for thinking and often for not thinking. Sometimes I pray while I run or think about what I should be praying about, only to forget later. Running is solitary. Moving my body down the road and keeping atuned to the aches and pains and sounds that remind me i am still alive.