Johnny Cash Wannabe? 

Extra Hour?

I really thought that with an extra hour this weekend I would find something new posted on my blog. But last time the Warden checked there was nothing there. Kind of spoookey, isn’t it? Almost scary. Did it disappear? Or did I simply not write anything?

Now I’m confused. My son Mark is all dressed up in black this evening. He’s covered from head to toe in black silk, with black netting over his face. I get this feeling that somewhere somehow someone is celebrating a birthday. Is he wearing this to scare off the constant flow of urchins that keep ringing our door bell? Or is he celebrating someone’s 40-something birthday? He won’t say. All he does is howl.

The howling increases in frequency and volume as he nears the front door and the huge bowl of M&Ms. I wonder if he is guarding them. Staring at them has given me the munchies. But I dare not sneak any, lest the Warden threaten me. Those are for the kids she might say. Or why don’t you have some chips or Cheetoes instead?

There’s probably a good reason she has Mr. Black guarding the front door. I decide to retreat to my office where I suddenly remember a private stash of chocolate hidden near the back of the middle drawer of my desk, the last remaining vestiges of my red valentine heart-shaped box. A piece of dark chocolate filled with creamy nougat and a hint of nut was still there to tempt me. And so it goes, I wait until the holiday synonymous with candy to finish off my box. But it tasted oh so fine. I even think it was safe. If not, I may not blog for a while.

A Memorial Day He Can't Forget

It never ceases to amaze me what my dad keeps in his head. He’s one that would much rather listen than talk. I wonder who I take after.

When the subject of “dumb things teen-agers do” came up, he told me a story of him and his brother speeding down a busy street in north Minneapolis in an older vehicle with practically no brakes. His brother of course was driving. As they crossed the railroad tracks, my dad who was in the back seat looked out the rear window and saw the train literally four feet from their back bumper.

What’s amazing though is the fact that they kept speeding around the northern side of town until they came across a sight that to this day was hard for my dad to completely describe. The year was 1950. The day was Memorial Day. As they headed east and crossed the Mississippi River, they came upon another intersection of tracks and road. But this one forced them to stop, for the train was already blocking the road. And in the foreground was a Chevrolet sedan that didn’t make it. A family of four was strewn across the field. The bodies and parts of the car were separated by over a hundred yards. The husband was close to the initial impact, his lifeless body was covered in gravel, but blood managed to gurgle out of his mouth. The infant child was also dead. The mother was many yards away, but missing a leg. The engine of the car was thrown dozens of yards. A second child was thrown from the car but survived. It was a very gruesome site, one that received substantial coverage in the next day’s newspaper. My dad remembers it being discussed at school the next day. But he never told me if he shared his first hand experience with the class. Was it too hard for him relate the story? Or was he too shy then also?

I should have asked him, but I mostly just listened.

Mud Man

As a parting gift my cousin hand painted this sculpture by my oldest son and placed it on the dashboard of my work van. It was created with real drywall speed set. So when St. Christopher is not available, Mud Man will have to do.

Mud Man--notice he's balder than I am.

"Choo Choo" or "End of an Era"

My cousin is now gone. This evening we parted ways as his parents drove him to their house for the weekend. On Monday he will re-enter Minnesota Teen Challenge to finish his program and possibly do an internship.

Last night it was only the three of us home, the Warden, my cousin, and me. So we decided to ride the train. My cousin, although he actually worked on it, had never ridden the light rail from Downtown Minneapolis to the Mall of America. So off we went. When we got on board it was standing room only, with not even a round handle to grab onto. As we headed south people slowly started disappearing, and the Warden was first to find an empty seat. My cousin and I stood for most of the way, not finding a seat until about the airport. The airport is where my cousin was working on 9-11-01. He was driving pilings for an entrance to the light rail tunnel under the airport. He spoke about how eerie it was going from continuous takeoffs and landings to absolute silence. Only a few fighter jets were allowed to take off.

A short while after these somber remembrances, we arrived at the Mall, each of us bringing a very empty stomach. We were tempted to grab the first thing we saw, chips and pretzels, but decided to walk until he happened upon someplace with food of substance. Around the first bend was a place we had been once or twice before, the Rainforest Café, the original one at that. And this time there was no line, so in we went. They sat us next to an absolutely awesome fish tank, filled with at least a dozen different varieties of brightly colored fish. I never tire of that sight. And I would have been content to leave that place merely feasting on the visual stimuli. But I ate anyways. And then I helped the Warden with her plate. I would have helped my cousin too, but he was holding a fork in one hand and a sharp knife in the other.

And the conversation was as good as the food, recapping the past two months together and our soon to be more separate futures. Although the food is part of the place’s draw, the ambiance is probably the greater pull. I’ve mentioned the fish, but the place is also known for its frequent thunder and lightning, its numerous jungle trees, and a gift shop with all sorts of toy animals. I didn’t see the parrot, however, that used to be out front to lure people in. Maybe he’s only a weekend treat.

Did I mention the coffee was great? And because it was, I had to visit the boy’s room on the way out. This gave my cousin and my wife a chance to mosey on through the gift shop. While leaving the facilities I heard the loud screeches of a Rainforest monkey. A new feature, I thought. As I looked around many others were also enjoying this new sound. Was there a monkey in the house? I kept walking until I saw the Warden up ahead. But she was running away. What was the deal? What was I missing? Then out of the corner of my eye I see, and hear very loudly, the monkey—my cousin. He has perfected a monkey call and screech, loud enough and believable enough to get most of the restaurant’s attention. And loud enough to encourage the Warden out of the gift shop without buying anything. Thank you, dear cousin.

These past few months have been like that, always full of excitement, and laughs, and heart-to-heart discussions about life and faith and family and work. All of them wrapped around with plenty of joy from a new lease on life and a new appreciation for each new day. I’m going to miss that.

Seasons of Time

Hope on the inside

the company I keep 

I normally don’t have time (or money) to eat breakfast out that often. But I splurged these past two mornings. Wednesday my cousin and I met two other guys at the Bean Scene about 6:30 for coffee, waffles, and conversation. This morning my cousin and I met up with my dad, my younger brother, my uncle, and my dad’s two cousins for some feed at Oodles in Robbinsdale. The transition in conversations and concerns from one morning to the next was interesting.

Wednesday morning I heard of the struggles of a young parent with two kids trying to balance work, and marriage, and family time, and social life, and church, and stuff. . . Wednesday evening I wrestled with teen-agers as they sought housing arrangements and employment and general direction in life. Then come Thursday morning I gathered with family more advanced in age and wisdom than me. The discussions revolved more around health than anything else. Everyone was optimistic and upbeat and grateful (fun things to see in people who have long weathered life’s storms.) The tolls of age were apparent though as one of my dad’s cousins sporadically revealed the symptoms of his encroaching Alzheimer’s. The hints of the advancing disease might not have been noticeable to others who didn’t know him, but for those of us who share long histories with him, it was becoming clearer. It’s a sad, sad condition, but at this stage it seemed to open up a portion of his soul that was good to see. He was especially free to speak of the things that mattered greatly to him: his marriage, his service to our country, his extended family, and the mementos that he cherishes.

As the leaves around here continue to fall, I’m acutely aware of the passage of time. Fall is my favorite time of year, primarily for the comfortable temperatures, but also for the colorful landscapes (a chance to cry out “wow”), and the longer evenings, which encourage me to slow down and take life at a more relaxed pace. But time marches on.

These thoughts were also reinforced by one of the places I ended up working this week. It was a place called Hope. It was in a part of town that I haven’t visited in over 12 years, an out-of-the-way part of east St. Paul, over 20 miles from my home. Hope Church, or more completely Hope Lutheran Church, is on a quiet street on a road that dead-ends a few blocks away. It’s an old building that you wouldn’t know about if you didn’t live in the immediate neighborhood. But I knew about this place. And as a school age kid it gave me lots of hope.

I knew about the place because three of my cousins lived on that street when I was growing up. Their house on Clear Avenue was the home of my mom’s sister Joannie and her husband until the day she prematurely died of a brain aneurysm, on her birthday. As a kid I loved to visit that house and play with my “favorite” cousins, the ones closest in age to me. But as I grew older I became increasingly concerned for the spiritual lives of these close relatives, who were devout Catholics that brought me with them to Mass (back when the services were still in Latin.) My upbringing of anti-Catholic sentiment had encouraged me to see no redeeming value in anything from Rome. So when I got word that they would sometimes visit that “Protestant” church down the block, I got excited. I no longer carry that strong anti-Catholic bias with me. The Catholic church has changed much in these past decades, as have I. My life has been blessed by many Catholic friends who share a faith so similar to mine.

Before my aunt died, I had many opportunities to witness her vibrant faith “even though” (or maybe because) she remained faithful to her childhood tradition. She exemplified a servant's heart to the very end and was the best hugger in my life until I got married. (And in that deal I got a twofer, you’ll have to figure that out for yourself.)

My thinking has changed along some ecclesiastical lines through the years, as has the building in which I was working. It still houses an English speaking congregation, but it also provides space to worshippers who use a different language. (I couldn’t figure out what language it is though.) But it looks as though change is happening fast around that place, enough change to bring in a handful of drywallers. I hope our handiwork will help them serve each other and our Lord more effectively.

So time marches on, here, there, and in St. Paul. But for now it’s fall, and I’m loving it.

I Sometimes Work with Shrek

Shrek

Toot, toot

Reading church history is an eye-opening experience. I started a new book recently and was glancing through the early pages where the author was setting the stage by mentioning the major shifts in the development of what we call Christianity. He wrote of the significant change that took place around the year 1500 when the ancient or medieval world gave way to a more modern one. And of course one of the main characters (in deed a primary player and cause) during this monumental move was Martin Luther. In many ways, he straddled the ancient and modern worlds, living in both while being pivotal in bringing about much change. Still a product of the medieval world, he was very much in tune with the spiritual realm, battling evil and the demonic whenever and however he could. But my eyes were opened by his manly technique. Being the student of Scripture, tradition, law, and cuisine that he was, he was willing and able to use his masculine gifts. To ward off evil spirits, especially in the middle of the night, he often resorted to flatulence.

Now there’s a man I can respect and seek to emulate. Now if I can only find a way to bring these new insights to my wife, I’ll be pleased (or at least relieved.)

Sunday Morning Travelogue

My iPod has been acting up a bit lately. I finally decided to sit at the computer last night and set it straight. It’s now behaving itself and making me proud. I got it running like a charm, so I decided to invest a little screen time in other projects (sorry, no insightful blogs on the agenda yet). While at my desk I started up iTunes and set it to shuffle. Good music was enjoyed by me. At bed time (about 9:30 p.m.) I merely hit the pause key and let it rest until morning.

I woke up this morning to a cloudy day which is way too hot for my tastes, especially in October—day 2 of 4 in a row with highs in the 80s. Do I turn on the A/C in October? What is a Nordic type to do? I needed to concentrate and ponder my dilemma, so I against switched on iTunes, still in the scramble mode. First comes a Dylan song, then some Rich Mullins, followed by an epic that lifted my spirits, gray clouds or not.

I had to confess that few things work better than a Weird Al song in the morning, a little pre-worship levity. So for your and my listening and reading pleasure, I now submit (the local relevance is thrown in for free, and yes, I have actually been there with the family and my camera, but I can’t find the picture now):

The Biggest Ball Of Twine In Minnesota
By Al Yankovic

Well, I had two weeks of vacation time coming
After working all year down at Big Roy's Heating And Plumbing
So one night when my family the I were gathered 'round the dinner table
I said, "Kids, if you could go anywhere in this great big world, now
Where'd you like to go ta"
They said, "Dad, we wanna see the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota"
They picked the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota

So the very next day we loaded up the car
With potato skins and pickled wieners,
Crossword puzzles, Spider-Man comics, and mama's home made rhubarb pie
Pulled out of the driveway and the neighbors, they all waved good-bye
And so began our three day journey

We picked up a guy holding a sign that said "twine ball or bust"
He smelled real bad and he said his name was Bernie
I put in a Slim Whitman tape, my wife put on a brand new hair net
Kids were in the back seat jumping up and down,
yelling "Are we there yet?"
And all of us were joined together in one common thought
As we rolled down the long and winding interstate in our '53 DeSoto
We're gonna see the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota
We're headin' for the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota

Oh, we couldn't wait to get there
So we drove straight through for three whole days and nights
Of course, we stopped for more pickled wieners now and then
The scenery was just so pretty, boy I wish the kids could've seen it
But you can't see out of the side of the car
Because the windows are completely covered
With the decals of all the place where we've already been

There's Elvis-O-Rama, the Tupperware Museum,
The Boll Weevil Monument, and Cranberry World,
The Shuffleboard Hall Of Fame, Poodle Dog Rock,
And The Mecca of Albino Squirrels
We've been to ghost towns, theme parks, wax museums,
And a place where you can drive through the middle of a tree
We've seen alligator farms and tarantula ranches,
But there's still one thing we gotta see

Well, we crossed the state line about 6:39
And we saw a sign that said "Twine Ball exit - 50 miles"
Oh, the kids were so happy the started singing
"99 Bottles Of Beer On The Wall" for the 27th time that day
So, we pulled off the road at the last chance gas station
Got a few more pickled wieners and a diet chocolate soda
On our way to see the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota
We're gonna see the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota

Finally, at 7:37 early Wednesday evening as the sun was setting
in the Minnesota sky
Out in the distance, on the horizon, it appeared to me like a vision
before my unbelieving eye
I parked the car and walked with awe-filled reverence towards that
glorious huge majestic sphere
I was just so overwhelmed by its sheer immensity,
I had to pop myself a beer
Yes, on these hallowed grounds, open ten to eight on weekdays,
in a little shrine under a make-shift pagoda,
There sits the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota
I tell you, it's the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota

Oh, what on earth would make a man decide to do that kind of thing?
Oh, windin' up twenty-one thousand, one hundred forty pounds of string
What was he trying to prove, who was he trying to impress
Why did he build it, how did he do, it was anybody's guess
Where did he get the twine, what was goin' through his mind
Did it just seem like a good idea at the time

Well, we walked up beside it and I warned the kids
"Now, you better not touch it, those ropes are there for a reason"
I said, "Maybe if you're good, I'll tie it to the back of our car
and we can take it home", but I was only teasin'
Then we went to the gift shop and stood in line
Bought a souvenir miniature ball of twine, some window decals,
and anything else they'd sell us
And we bought a couple post cards, "Greetings from the twine ball,
wish you were here"
Won't the folks back home be jealous

I gave our camera to Bernie and we stood by the ball and we all gathered
'round and said, "Cheese"
The Bernie ran away with my brand new Insti-Matic,
but at least we got our memories
Then we all just stared at the ball for a while and my eyes got moist,
but I said with a smile, "Kids, this here's what America's all about"
Then I started feelin' kinda gooey inside and I fell on my knees
and I cried and cried
And that's when those security guards threw us out
You know, I bet if we unraveled that sucker,
It'd roll all the way down to Fargo, North Dakota
'Cause it's the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota
I'm talkin' 'bout the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota

Well, we stayed that night at the Twine Ball Inn
In the morning we were on our way home again
But we really didn't want to leave, that was perfectly clear
I said, "Folks, I can tell you're all sad to go"
Then I winked my eye and I said, "You know, I got a funny kind of feelin'
we'll be comin' back again next year"
'Cause I've been all around this great big world
And I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather go to
Than the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota
I said the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota
Minnesota
Minnesota
Minnesota