It always seemed to me that a convertible and a teardrop would be an ideal combination for sight seeing.
I will never know.
Gratitude #83 - Sweet Biddies!
11 years ago
Saturday, April 18, 2009
not today
It always seemed to me that a convertible and a teardrop would be an ideal combination for sight seeing.
I will never know.
leveling my field
I remember a job back when I was an apprentice
The husband was in his early 70’s. The wife a considerable amount younger. I guess maybe 20 years. Since this happened 50 years ago I might be confused here, but I remember the wife saying that he was a 70 year old bat.
The house was old, but solid. They were farmers and had a fair spread for the time. She wanted a new kitchen (she needed one) and he wanted to level his fields so they would irrigate easier.
The underlying contention was that she was younger and would get more out of it, and he might die any time and the money would be wasted. I doubt those words were audible, but they seemed to have been intended.
I have no idea of how they settled that. I was only in the house for a few hours that one day. But, this week, as I was working on making raised beds for my garden I got to thinking about the old farmer. When I met him he was about the age I am now. He worked hard and spent a fair amount of money doing something that might or might not make any sense. But it was his decision.
I have had a run of stomach aches of late that have been a bit worry-some. What if the reaper comes along about the time I have the garden beds all finished, and I don’t get to “enjoy” them.
So I struggle along to “improve” things. Not only do I try to maintain, but I try to improve, make it better. The idea in the garden is that when I am finished it should take less time and less effort to make it all work well and produce good food for us. Of course there is no guarantee! I won’t always have the energy to maintain my “spread.”
Then I look at my family. About the time I think it is all going right, the everything is going forward and all will be well, it changes and it is obvious that it is not going forward easily. Alzheimer’s is the big one in this category. Living with the disease has changed my view of the future. Somehow just to survive is the issue. To take care of Miriam as long as I can and then for me to go.
But, I will keep working on my beds. As my aunt used to say about something else: “I can’t help it, that is how I am.”
The husband was in his early 70’s. The wife a considerable amount younger. I guess maybe 20 years. Since this happened 50 years ago I might be confused here, but I remember the wife saying that he was a 70 year old bat.
The house was old, but solid. They were farmers and had a fair spread for the time. She wanted a new kitchen (she needed one) and he wanted to level his fields so they would irrigate easier.
The underlying contention was that she was younger and would get more out of it, and he might die any time and the money would be wasted. I doubt those words were audible, but they seemed to have been intended.
I have no idea of how they settled that. I was only in the house for a few hours that one day. But, this week, as I was working on making raised beds for my garden I got to thinking about the old farmer. When I met him he was about the age I am now. He worked hard and spent a fair amount of money doing something that might or might not make any sense. But it was his decision.
I have had a run of stomach aches of late that have been a bit worry-some. What if the reaper comes along about the time I have the garden beds all finished, and I don’t get to “enjoy” them.
So I struggle along to “improve” things. Not only do I try to maintain, but I try to improve, make it better. The idea in the garden is that when I am finished it should take less time and less effort to make it all work well and produce good food for us. Of course there is no guarantee! I won’t always have the energy to maintain my “spread.”
Then I look at my family. About the time I think it is all going right, the everything is going forward and all will be well, it changes and it is obvious that it is not going forward easily. Alzheimer’s is the big one in this category. Living with the disease has changed my view of the future. Somehow just to survive is the issue. To take care of Miriam as long as I can and then for me to go.
But, I will keep working on my beds. As my aunt used to say about something else: “I can’t help it, that is how I am.”
Friday, April 17, 2009
"as the twig. . ."
Miriam with Andrew and Emily. They are less than a year apart in age.
Both are teens now!
turn out?
“I am so fortunate I have such a good daughter.”
Yesterday I was having a conversation with a daughter. She is going to be out of the country for a full month and is making arrangements for the care of her 15 year old.
An aunt for a week, grandparents for two weeks, and a friend for the last short week.
She was so thankful that her daughter was not into trouble and was not likely to be so. We agreed.
Once when my kids were about that age I was talking to Mom and Dad about something they had done and Mom said: “Dave, your kids have not ‘turned out’ yet.”
Of course that was true, they were teens.
My step dad, who had a fine sense of humor sometimes, roared in laughter. “Neither have my Mom’s kids.” Dad was the youngest of 4 brothers and dad had to be in his mid 60’s at that point.
Which brings me back to my granddaughter.
She is a good kid, and as I look at all of my grandkids, they are all extremely good kids. I know that we don’t always live like we were taught, and that some people seem to go bad, but I think what I see is a very good indication of the future.
I was right when I talked about my daughters with Mom and Dad, after all. A very long time ago, a greek named Virgil said much the same thing: “As the twig is bent, so the tree inclines.”
My love for my daughters and grandkids is not determined by how “good” they are. My love for them is unchanging and given without reservation, but I am one happy grandpa.
I know that in the next decade all of my grandkids will mature into their own person, and I will still quote Virgil, I believe.
A side thought: that same child was not doing well in math. She is a high school freshmen. Daughter got the neighbor girl (who is the same age, and very bright) for a tutor and the grade has come up to a very respectable B. I am proud of them all.
Yesterday I was having a conversation with a daughter. She is going to be out of the country for a full month and is making arrangements for the care of her 15 year old.
An aunt for a week, grandparents for two weeks, and a friend for the last short week.
She was so thankful that her daughter was not into trouble and was not likely to be so. We agreed.
Once when my kids were about that age I was talking to Mom and Dad about something they had done and Mom said: “Dave, your kids have not ‘turned out’ yet.”
Of course that was true, they were teens.
My step dad, who had a fine sense of humor sometimes, roared in laughter. “Neither have my Mom’s kids.” Dad was the youngest of 4 brothers and dad had to be in his mid 60’s at that point.
Which brings me back to my granddaughter.
She is a good kid, and as I look at all of my grandkids, they are all extremely good kids. I know that we don’t always live like we were taught, and that some people seem to go bad, but I think what I see is a very good indication of the future.
I was right when I talked about my daughters with Mom and Dad, after all. A very long time ago, a greek named Virgil said much the same thing: “As the twig is bent, so the tree inclines.”
My love for my daughters and grandkids is not determined by how “good” they are. My love for them is unchanging and given without reservation, but I am one happy grandpa.
I know that in the next decade all of my grandkids will mature into their own person, and I will still quote Virgil, I believe.
A side thought: that same child was not doing well in math. She is a high school freshmen. Daughter got the neighbor girl (who is the same age, and very bright) for a tutor and the grade has come up to a very respectable B. I am proud of them all.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
visiting grandma
Before Linda was born we had a VW.
(Remember when there was A volkswagen, and A ford, and A chevy? But I digress yet again).
We drove the 4 hours to visit my parents with some regularity. Miriam’s parents were an hour and a half away, much of the time, and we visited there too, but honestly, not as much.
In case you have not packed for a weekend with 5 people using a VW beetle as your suitcase, it takes some doing. So, I would take the back seat out (easy to do) though the car battery lived under the back seat on those models, and pack.
The technique I devised involved loading so that the top layer was blankets and flat. I might even have put a piece of plywood in to help that effort. We packed pretty light, there was no choice, but we were not deprived.
There was an old VW joke that you were not really packed until you had carefully filled the space under the front seats, and we did that too.
The sleepy girls would lie crosswise in that space, all tucked in under the blanket (VW’s were not famous for their good heaters, remember?). They would sleep while we drove. (Kinda illegal now, but that was another era). T
Sometimes we would schedule the trip so it was at night, but often it came after a long day in the photography studio, and just worked that way.
About half an hour from our destination, Arline, who was about 6, would raise up and say: “Are were about there daddy?”
How fondly I remember that little voice and that question. As far as our trip goes were were almost there, but I am not sure of the larger implications.
If it was after mom and dad went to bed, we knew where the beds would be. The back door was unlocked. We carried the sleeping little girls in and put them in their beds. We all had a good rest.
I remember things like that with such fondness, now that they grown and gone. I was not a perfect dad by buckets, but I sure did love those little girls (and I still do).
(Remember when there was A volkswagen, and A ford, and A chevy? But I digress yet again).
We drove the 4 hours to visit my parents with some regularity. Miriam’s parents were an hour and a half away, much of the time, and we visited there too, but honestly, not as much.
In case you have not packed for a weekend with 5 people using a VW beetle as your suitcase, it takes some doing. So, I would take the back seat out (easy to do) though the car battery lived under the back seat on those models, and pack.
The technique I devised involved loading so that the top layer was blankets and flat. I might even have put a piece of plywood in to help that effort. We packed pretty light, there was no choice, but we were not deprived.
There was an old VW joke that you were not really packed until you had carefully filled the space under the front seats, and we did that too.
The sleepy girls would lie crosswise in that space, all tucked in under the blanket (VW’s were not famous for their good heaters, remember?). They would sleep while we drove. (Kinda illegal now, but that was another era). T
Sometimes we would schedule the trip so it was at night, but often it came after a long day in the photography studio, and just worked that way.
About half an hour from our destination, Arline, who was about 6, would raise up and say: “Are were about there daddy?”
How fondly I remember that little voice and that question. As far as our trip goes were were almost there, but I am not sure of the larger implications.
If it was after mom and dad went to bed, we knew where the beds would be. The back door was unlocked. We carried the sleeping little girls in and put them in their beds. We all had a good rest.
I remember things like that with such fondness, now that they grown and gone. I was not a perfect dad by buckets, but I sure did love those little girls (and I still do).
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
my friend David
This is my friend and camping companion, David.
For good family reasons (he tells me) he had to move almost five hundred miles away.
He still owns a house here and so i see him more often than I will.
another one
Yesterday a family friend called.
His wife, his voice quivered, he was afraid, she did not act right, he was sure, she had some early dementia.
We know both him and his wife quite well and he may well be right.
That does not make it any easier.
He is more than a decade older than she. They have no children together. His health is quite good, but she worries and worries that if something happens to him she will be all alone.
Like my Miriam, she had been fired from her job, a job she dearly loved and had worked at for more than twenty five years. That loss haunted her. And it is more than just the loss it is the humiliation of knowing that in some way she failed. We do not take to failure easily.
“Who can take care of me,” she worries.
Of course I had no magic words I could not tell him that if she took a fancy medicine she would get better. I could give him some guidance about how he can cope, how he can be better for and to her.
Our paths will cross soon and we will sit down for a visit. They don’t live close and we don’t see them often. She does some internet, he does not. So, like my friends Ron and Roz, they are quite isolated from all of the companionship and information that the internet can provide.
The only good thing I could tell him is that at the first stages she will worry and fuss about herself and what is going on, but that will pass and she will be happier in many ways, maybe happier than she has been in along time.
One of my daughters is doing a painted portrait of Miriam. It shows Miriam with her dignity in tact, with a quizzical expression looking at the viewer. The words on the bottom of the painting set the mood. “Free at last.”
I am not ready for that painting yet, though I admire it a lot. Miriam’s maybe at last free of her fears, but the term also refers to the end of our life together, and I do not want to dwell on that.
It is a horrible disease.
His wife, his voice quivered, he was afraid, she did not act right, he was sure, she had some early dementia.
We know both him and his wife quite well and he may well be right.
That does not make it any easier.
He is more than a decade older than she. They have no children together. His health is quite good, but she worries and worries that if something happens to him she will be all alone.
Like my Miriam, she had been fired from her job, a job she dearly loved and had worked at for more than twenty five years. That loss haunted her. And it is more than just the loss it is the humiliation of knowing that in some way she failed. We do not take to failure easily.
“Who can take care of me,” she worries.
Of course I had no magic words I could not tell him that if she took a fancy medicine she would get better. I could give him some guidance about how he can cope, how he can be better for and to her.
Our paths will cross soon and we will sit down for a visit. They don’t live close and we don’t see them often. She does some internet, he does not. So, like my friends Ron and Roz, they are quite isolated from all of the companionship and information that the internet can provide.
The only good thing I could tell him is that at the first stages she will worry and fuss about herself and what is going on, but that will pass and she will be happier in many ways, maybe happier than she has been in along time.
One of my daughters is doing a painted portrait of Miriam. It shows Miriam with her dignity in tact, with a quizzical expression looking at the viewer. The words on the bottom of the painting set the mood. “Free at last.”
I am not ready for that painting yet, though I admire it a lot. Miriam’s maybe at last free of her fears, but the term also refers to the end of our life together, and I do not want to dwell on that.
It is a horrible disease.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
skin boats
Skin boats are fascinating pieces of art and usefulness. This is a model of one that the original Alaskans used for hunting at sea.
They are light and can be very seaworthy, and I am seriously blown away by the idea of a small boat that I could row for exercise and pleasure and then pick it up and put in the back of my pickup or on top of my teardrop
.
Hmm.
digital what?
No one ever accused me of being the quickest arrow.
I am bright enough to get in trouble (some what like like daughter’s standard poodle), but I rarely am the first in the block to be really up to date.
Take TV. For reasons that I will say have to do with the budget, we have never had cable tv. A few years ago I did put up a $30 antenna and my neighbor was amazed that they were still being made.
So last night, after having the converter box sitting on top of the TV since January, I decided to see if it would work.
Wow. My favorite channel by far is Idaho Public TV. I do not rely on TV for news, I find most of the “entertainment” on TV to be banal or dumb (thought I do like good comedy).
But now my local PTV station has 4 channels! One is called learn/create. Wow again. When I visit daughters who have cable I am fascinated by the design and decoration channels.
So here I am now, watching channel 4.3. Not just 4, and the picture is better.
I feel like an aristocrat.
I am bright enough to get in trouble (some what like like daughter’s standard poodle), but I rarely am the first in the block to be really up to date.
Take TV. For reasons that I will say have to do with the budget, we have never had cable tv. A few years ago I did put up a $30 antenna and my neighbor was amazed that they were still being made.
So last night, after having the converter box sitting on top of the TV since January, I decided to see if it would work.
Wow. My favorite channel by far is Idaho Public TV. I do not rely on TV for news, I find most of the “entertainment” on TV to be banal or dumb (thought I do like good comedy).
But now my local PTV station has 4 channels! One is called learn/create. Wow again. When I visit daughters who have cable I am fascinated by the design and decoration channels.
So here I am now, watching channel 4.3. Not just 4, and the picture is better.
I feel like an aristocrat.
Monday, April 13, 2009
first veggie
One of the first veggies out of our garden is a delicacy.
Asparagus. Yesterday we had our first.
It seems to me that when a food crop is in season and the price is right (out of my garden -- free), and the quality is tops, it is time to indulge.
So, for the next few weeks we will have asparagus, right to the point where I get tired of it, and then boom it goes away.
The produce section of our grocery store has it much of the time, but at prices that put it off our budget, but for now we eat like there was no budget.
Same for other crops. I rarely buy tomatoes out of the store. They are there and they look pretty good, but they are not very good, not when compared with vine ripe. There are other things to eat in the winter besides plasticized tomatoes.
And when those good tomatoes are on, I will gorge myself, meanwhile we have asparagus.
Asparagus. Yesterday we had our first.
It seems to me that when a food crop is in season and the price is right (out of my garden -- free), and the quality is tops, it is time to indulge.
So, for the next few weeks we will have asparagus, right to the point where I get tired of it, and then boom it goes away.
The produce section of our grocery store has it much of the time, but at prices that put it off our budget, but for now we eat like there was no budget.
Same for other crops. I rarely buy tomatoes out of the store. They are there and they look pretty good, but they are not very good, not when compared with vine ripe. There are other things to eat in the winter besides plasticized tomatoes.
And when those good tomatoes are on, I will gorge myself, meanwhile we have asparagus.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
apprentice
The job they called me to work on was a floor in two new stores.
We thought of them as large grocery stores, but by today’s standards they were pretty small, maybe 2 or 3000 feet each.
The tile was newly available Vinyl-Asbestos tile (there was no danger from this asbestos- to us at least). It was about 3/32 thick (not quite an eighth of an inch) and was quite heavy.
The trick was to pick up a stack about 4 or 5 inches high, bend over and put a tile in position, kick it in a bit tighter with the foot and then do it again and again.
Hard work, and a bit tedious. The tile had to be set tight or all sorts of problems would show up.
At the end of the jobs, Miles said to me. “Dave we have lots of work to do, but you don’t know how to do it, so I guess that is all we can use you.” That is a fairly standard line to a beginning worker.
In a fit of brilliance (brilliance comes and goes in my life, goes more often than comes, I fear) I said to him: “If you will teach me, I will work for free.”
Hmm, he said, I will need to talk to Otto.
They decided I was worthy and I began going to work every day, lunch in hand, just like I had a job, I just didn’t get paid. I don’t remember how we lived, I know we didn’t have much money. Miriam may have finished her nurses training by the and had a job, I don’t remember.
The guys were pretty smart. They taught me one small part of the business that I could make them a profit on, and so I could be paid.
Ceramic tile had recently become available to the Floor trades. There was one real Tile Setter in town, but the method of installation was close to what a mason might do, that is lots of cement (like they make concrete out of), sand and such.
We used a thin ceramic tile a bit over ⅛” thick, imported from England. We used a mastic (glue) and stuck the tile right on sheetrock. It was a bad idea, and it did not last too long (typically 8 to 10 years) but it was the best affordable thing available to us right then.
The trick was that the mastic we used was lethal. It was taken off the market a LONG time ago, for good reasons. In 45 minutes to an hour it would make you so dizzy you could hardly stand up.
I learned to set a tub wrap (about 5’ high around a bathtub) before I got really dizzy, about 45 minutes.
Before too long they bought me a nice tool box filled with the tools they thought I should have, they gave me a company truck to drive, and paid me $1.75 an hour. Considering that minimum wage was 75 cents an hour, I was being paid very well.
That is how I became an apprentice, how I learned the trade that fed us much of my life. As trades go it was a good one. The pay was pretty good, the work was inside, warm in winter and cool in summer, it was fairly clean most of the time and Otto and Miles were good to work for.
Arline was a baby, Miriam was beautiful, life was good.
We thought of them as large grocery stores, but by today’s standards they were pretty small, maybe 2 or 3000 feet each.
The tile was newly available Vinyl-Asbestos tile (there was no danger from this asbestos- to us at least). It was about 3/32 thick (not quite an eighth of an inch) and was quite heavy.
The trick was to pick up a stack about 4 or 5 inches high, bend over and put a tile in position, kick it in a bit tighter with the foot and then do it again and again.
Hard work, and a bit tedious. The tile had to be set tight or all sorts of problems would show up.
At the end of the jobs, Miles said to me. “Dave we have lots of work to do, but you don’t know how to do it, so I guess that is all we can use you.” That is a fairly standard line to a beginning worker.
In a fit of brilliance (brilliance comes and goes in my life, goes more often than comes, I fear) I said to him: “If you will teach me, I will work for free.”
Hmm, he said, I will need to talk to Otto.
They decided I was worthy and I began going to work every day, lunch in hand, just like I had a job, I just didn’t get paid. I don’t remember how we lived, I know we didn’t have much money. Miriam may have finished her nurses training by the and had a job, I don’t remember.
The guys were pretty smart. They taught me one small part of the business that I could make them a profit on, and so I could be paid.
Ceramic tile had recently become available to the Floor trades. There was one real Tile Setter in town, but the method of installation was close to what a mason might do, that is lots of cement (like they make concrete out of), sand and such.
We used a thin ceramic tile a bit over ⅛” thick, imported from England. We used a mastic (glue) and stuck the tile right on sheetrock. It was a bad idea, and it did not last too long (typically 8 to 10 years) but it was the best affordable thing available to us right then.
The trick was that the mastic we used was lethal. It was taken off the market a LONG time ago, for good reasons. In 45 minutes to an hour it would make you so dizzy you could hardly stand up.
I learned to set a tub wrap (about 5’ high around a bathtub) before I got really dizzy, about 45 minutes.
Before too long they bought me a nice tool box filled with the tools they thought I should have, they gave me a company truck to drive, and paid me $1.75 an hour. Considering that minimum wage was 75 cents an hour, I was being paid very well.
That is how I became an apprentice, how I learned the trade that fed us much of my life. As trades go it was a good one. The pay was pretty good, the work was inside, warm in winter and cool in summer, it was fairly clean most of the time and Otto and Miles were good to work for.
Arline was a baby, Miriam was beautiful, life was good.
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