Compostings (267)
Echoes From the Loafers’ Club Meeting
I did what any honest man would do.
And what was that?
I didn't think you'd know.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: Exercise does no good if you don’t tell everyone about it. Most things are more fun than a barrel of monkeys. Delusion creates confidence.
The cafe chronicles
You couldn’t tell me from a dill pickle.
I complained that there was no meat in my sandwich.
The waitress responded, "You must have bit past it. You should have ordered the beets."
"I haven’t liked beets since the accident," I said.
"What accident was that?"
"The time I accidentally ate some beets."
Beth Knudson told me that she gets two meals out of a hamburger and fries. She added that she is good at eating exactly half the burger and half the fries. I pictured Beth holding a ruler while eating exactly half of each french fry.
I talked to Tom Donovan. It’s good to talk to a local who hadn’t yet gone to pasture in Texas. Tom had bought a Powerball ticket for a chance to win $1.6 billion. He hadn’t won. He said that he wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d won.
I’d have been mighty surprised. I hadn’t bought a ticket.
Every person is searching for something
It was back in the days before I needed a password to do everything.
I’m a tall guy. My mother was a short gal.
That’s why I was the one standing on a stool that was knee high to a gnat, digging around in the tall shelves and trying to find something that my mother needed. It was something that she’d put away in a good place so she wouldn’t forget, thus guaranteeing that she’d forget.
I moved things about, sliding them here and there.
I must have been getting close to finding what I was searching for because a vase fell, hitting me in the head before it smashed into over five pieces on the floor.
As I rubbed my head, Mother complained, "That was my best flower vase."
I replied, "That was my best head."
I’m negotiating the movie rights.
Cold and cool
The January weather was cold, making the terra really firma.
People were willingly jumping out of the frying pan into the fire when I tried to whistle the theme from "The Andy Griffith Show," but it came out as an icicle two choruses long.
I needed to get home to do an interview on a radio show from Boston. Such things are always fun and they keep me both humble and grateful.
Years ago, Smithsonian Magazine did a piece about me. It had been a slow year for news, but it was cool.
Arriving home one day, my wife had presented me with a stack of phone calls that I needed to return. I worked my way through the calls. One was from the Minneapolis newspaper.
"Wow!" I thought, "They want to talk me to me about the Smithsonian article."
I called the number. The person on the other end of the line thanked me for returning her call before saying, "I wanted to make you aware of our 26-week special subscription rate."
You could hear the air escaping from my swollen head like that fleeing a punctured balloon.
Dialogue from a marriage
"Do you know where my good white shirt is?"
"Didn’t you put it away?" my wife asked in return.
"I did," I said, wondering what that had to do with anything, before adding, "Do you know where it is?"
Flying fish
I was in Seattle for work. I decided to visit the world famous Pike Place Fish Market, an open air fish market located at the corner of Pike Street and Pike Place. It’s known for its tradition of fishmongers throwing fish to one another. It’s a popular tourist destination and as you might expect from a popular tourist destination, it’s a busy place. Except on the day I visited. It was so quiet, I could hear a fin drop.
Nature notes
"Why don't birds get shocked when they sit on high voltage lines?" When they’re in contact with only one power line, they’re not forming a complete circuit, so the electricity doesn’t flow through them. Some larger birds have been electrocuted when they touch a second line, completing the circuit.
Meeting adjourned
Be kind. Sooner or later, you will need a favor from most everyone in the world.
Echoes From the Loafers’ Club Meeting
I’ve got some bad news for you.
Give it to me. I’m sitting down.
I just painted the chair you’re sitting on.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: Calories make the world go round. Most things are like toilet paper. You never realize what you have until it’s gone. The original punch line was, "Ouch!"
Fowl consideration
I could still fit into the clothes I wore in 2015, so it was time to think of food. Chicken came to mind. A chicken dinner, and I didn’t mean corn, would be sublime. The hotel clerk gave me the phone number of a nearby provider of fried chicken. She said that they delivered. That sounded like a plan, as I needed to put the finishing touches on a couple of magazine articles.
I called in the order and got to work. When I work, I lose track of time. At least until my stomach growled. I looked at the time on my digital device. Three hours had passed.
I’d been looking forward to fried fowl that would never arrive. My order had gone to that place where unfulfilled orders go.
I learned a lesson. Don’t count my chickens before they’re dispatched.
Operators were standing by
I’d tried to explain a rotary dial telephone to a youngster. His face went into screensaver mode.
That’s two hours that I’ll never get back. I didn’t even mention how people once held a hand over the phone's mouthpiece and snarled at their family, "Shhhh! It’s long distance."
Long distance was a miracle that only maps could explain. It brought voices of loved ones from faraway places.
Long distances aren’t as far away as they once were. The voices, still welcomed, are more easily heard. I no longer have a rotary phone in my office that used to be on the other side of the house. It was moved to its current location due to office politics.
My office isn’t that messy. Maybe it’s because I don’t do enough work, but I think it’s because I’m well organized.
Even though it’d be difficult to send a text with it, my office could use a rotary phone.
The Duke of Speedometer
I was driving a rental car, a Chevy Somethingorother, on a two-lane road in Ohio. It was a beautiful day and the traffic was behaving. I felt as rich as Croesus. The radio was tuned to one of those solid gold to make me feel old stations. Some old songs never grow old. "Duke of Earl" by Gene Chandler was playing. It’s a nifty number. The chorus goes like this, "Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl. Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl. Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl. Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl." It’s catchy and it brought back memories. My teenage set of wheels had been an old Ford (Fix Or Repair Daily) in which nothing much worked. The speedometer didn’t work, but the radio did. It was an AM version that allowed me to occasionally listen to "Duke of Earl." If each time Gene Chandler sang "Duke," my Ford (Found On Road Dead) passed a broken line marking the middle of the road, I knew that I was doing 55 mph. That's good to know if you have a broken speedometer and access to the "All 'Duke of Earl' Channel."
Those thrilling days of yesteryear
The weather wasn’t conducive to travel, but I had a date with an exotic beauty from far away. An exotic beauty from far away was any girl who lived 10 miles from me. This one lived in the Twin Cities. Ten miles multiplied many times.
"How long do you think it’ll take me to get to Minneapolis?" I asked.
My father replied, "In this weather, I’d say at least three hours."
"I’ll bet I could get there faster than that."
"I’ll bet you can’t," said the jury at my trial. "You can’t use the car."
There is good news today
Fortunate famished folks finally find flavorful food. The Village Inn in Hartland has reopened after being closed for over a year. Hurrah!
Congratulations to Stephen Langlie of Chisago City, whose personal memoir will be archived at the Eisenhower Presidential Library. Stephen wrote, "Me, from NRHS, imagine that! Miss Fick, my fiery NRHS English teacher, would be so proud."
Meeting adjourned
Mark Christenson of Minneapolis wrote, "Mitch Miller mentioned the word, 'Kind' in his closing song. It went like this: 'Be kind to your web-footed friends. For a duck may be somebody's mother. Be kind to your friends in the swamp. Where the weather is always damp. You may think that this is the end. Well, it is!'"
That was the theme song for my radio show for years.
Echoes From the Loafers’ Club Meeting
Enjoying your melon-sized muffin?
Yup.
You're supposed to take the plastic wrapping off the muffin before you eat it.
I thought it was a little chewy.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: The world might not be ready for four-way stop signs. Why can’t misery love being alone? Think twice, speak once. I want slow food fast.
I almost wrecked my Hesperus
It’s nearly impossible for me to walk by a backhoe without watching it work. Each backhoe is an expedition in itself. Not quite like Lewis and Clark, but close.
I consider the Lewis and Clark Expedition to be this country’s great, epic adventure. It boggles the mind as to how they were able to accomplish what they did without the use of a single selfie stick.
I found my mother's memory just as amazing.
My mother liked Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. She memorized "The Wreck of the Hesperus." She was able to recite this long, narrative poem until her dying day.
I couldn’t memorize my school locker number.
I decided to learn things by heart other than the statistics on the back of baseball cards.
I tried to find contentment in memorizing one of Longfellow’s quotes, "We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done."
I needed to do more. I told my mother that I was going to memorize Evangeline, an epic poem by Longfellow. This poem is longer than our winters.
I tried. I felt like Wile E. Coyote trying to catch the Roadrunner, but I kept at it.
And I did memorize it, but just the title.
Serving as a bad example every winter
I don’t think that it’s the difference between optimism and pessimism, but when a winter storm is forecast, my wife expects the worst and I expect it will miss us. I figure that those in the weather predicting business tend to foretell more storms than we could ever get. They do so for two reasons. If they predict a storm that doesn’t happen, we are happy. We’ve dodged a bullet. If they hadn’t informed us of a possible storm and we get one, we are unhappy. My wife is wise in taking precautions. The cold and snow can be a lethal combination. I marvel that -40° Fahrenheit equals -40° Celsius. We get lots of snow at home. We’re subject to river-effect snow. The LeSueur River can be cruel.
I shoveled deep snow and put letters in the mailbox. I lost both my shoes in the process. My Crocs weren’t winter ready. My shoeless feet became so cold that my feet turned blue. Actually, only one was blue. The other foot was black. I was wearing mismatched socks.
It could have been worse. When I was a boy, walking five miles to school, uphill in both directions, I was too poor to have shoes. I wrapped my feet in barbed wire.
When basketball players rush the stands
I watched a high school boys’ basketball game between the Triton Cobras (Dodge Center, Claremont, West Concord) and the GFW Thunderbirds (Gibbon, Fairfax, Winthrop) played on a neutral court. It was an exciting game with Triton winning by a single point.
After the game, the players and staff of the two teams shuffled by one another, touching hands and chanting the traditional, "Good game." Then the GFW players walked across the court and moved into the stands to shake hands with their fans and thank them for being there. That was nice.
I asked the coach of the Thunderbirds, Rich Busse, about the habit. He said that the team had instituted the custom some years ago to express appreciation for support and to let everyone know that it’s not all about the final score.
I found it a delightful sign of respect and gratitude from a team worth rooting for.
Nature notes
American goldfinches molt twice a year, acquiring bright, yellow feathers in the spring before breeding and olive-brown feathers after nesting in the fall. The fall feathers are denser, providing needed insulation. The color of their legs, feet and bill change with each molt. In fall and winter, their legs, feet and bill are a dark grayish-brown. In spring and summer, they change to a buffy yellow-orange.
Meeting adjourned
William Arthur Ward said, "Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it." Be kind.
Echoes From the Loafers' Club Meeting
Sarah is mad at me.
Why?
Because I mispronounced her name. I called her Sara.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — -both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: Having a cold means that you no longer need worry about catching one. Anyone with a toothbrush has no excuse for having nothing to do.
Shopping for an appetite
I’d warned everyone to get out of the way of the flying pigs. I’d just finished my Christmas shopping. The store should have put up bleachers and charged admission. And the experts had said that it couldn’t be finished before the day before Christmas. "Ha!" I say to them, collectively and individually. I’d finished corralling gifts in a shopping cart with a wobbly wheel in a busy store where amidst the proclamations of bonhomie such as, "I haven’t seen you since the last time," a frazzled employee had grumbled, "Doesn’t anyone have a home they could go to?"
A plumber had been ahead of me in the checkout line. I complained to him about the leak in my wallet. The cashier asked whether I wanted paper or plastic. I needed to consult the manual. Sometimes a fellow forgets which one he should get. I have 414 cloth shopping bags that I’d left in my car. They stay in pristine condition when they go unused.
Shopping builds an appetite. I entered a cafe and noticed a sign saying that the special was, "Hamburger and a shake $5."
That sounded as if it were meant for me. I’d considered fruitcake, but I’d be eating too much fruitcake over the holidays. I admit it, I like fruitcake. I am what I eat. In a landmark decision, I ordered the special.
The hamburger was OK, but the handshake could have been firmer.
Now that the Christmas tree is out of a job
I learn something every Christmas. This year, I discovered that some turkey and some mistletoe make for a bad sandwich.
A mourning dove spent Christmas Day in the platform feeder attached to a window of our house. It’s not a rare bird, nor is it being on a feeder an odd thing. Still, it’s a miracle. The dove was my mother’s favorite bird. I miss her. Seeing her empty chair at Christmas still causes an ache after all these years. I became a bit misty-eyed. That’s not an uncommon occurrence. Since I first became a grandfather, I’ve started crying at the movie theater. Usually, it’s when I pay for the tickets. This was different. The dove on the feeder brought back wonderful memories. Lovely memories are miracles.
A friend told me of a button being mysteriously sewn back onto his shirt on the day of his wedding anniversary. He didn’t do it and his wife had died eight months earlier.
My mother-in-law is the last of the generation not only of her family, but of her late husband's as well. Her sister Alice died in May. Her sons found gifts that Alice had wrapped and tagged. One of them was for my mother-in-law. This Christmas, my mother-in-law received a Christmas gift from a late sister. The gift wasn’t alone. It came with an avalanche of pleasant memories.
Those thrilling days of yesteryear
He spent all day Sunday dreading Monday. He chewed gum while writing, "I will not chew gum in class" 100 times on the blackboard.
He didn’t like school, there was no doubt of that. But I'm convinced that he liked his teacher. So did I. We all did.
Each year, I gave my grade school teacher a Christmas gift. It was typically something handcrafted or baked by my mother and wrapped in festive paper. It wasn't an attempt at influence peddling. I didn’t imagine that it would help me get better grades. I didn’t want to be a brown-noser. I wanted my teacher to know that she was loved and appreciated. The teacher never failed to send a thank-you note.
Nature notes
"How can I keep squirrels off my bird feeders?" The squirrels assume that the feeders are squirrel feeders. Baffles, usually metal or plastic domes or saucer-shaped disks, placed above and below pole feeders make it difficult for squirrels to cling to, climb over or gnaw through. Most commercial feeders that are touted as squirrel-proof are merely squirrel-resistant. They do help save food for the birds, but can be expensive.
Meeting adjourned
Be kind or be quiet.
Echoes From the Loafers' Club Meeting
Do you know what the best thing about Christmas is?
No, it’s impossible to pick out one thing.
That’s the best thing about Christmas.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: When you reach a certain age, you don’t fall. You have a fall. Life is like a box of Jelly Belly candy. Sometimes you get one of the nasty flavors like earwax, stinky socks, barf or skunk spray.
The cafe chronicles
I stopped to eat. I was too late for lunch and too early for dinner. I was hungry, so I ordered dunch or linner. I joined in the recycled conversations. I reminded another that he shouldn't hold the bottomless cup of coffee over his lap. Those seated around the table were good men, but not the kind to readily admit good fortune. Yet, we were all more than willing to admit our good luck at being where we were, with who we were with and being able to wish everyone a Merry Christmas.
Hope is a fine southern Minnesota town
She flew from one lane to another and passed us as if we were backing up. A State Farm sticker was proudly displayed in the rear window of her minivan. I'll bet State Farm wouldn't have approved of her driving.
I was riding in a swell bus en route to watch the Minnesota Gophers women's basketball team play. There were two buses headed northward in our mini-convoy. I was enjoying the experience of kicking the back of someone’s seat until part of our bus fell off. The sound almost woke the driver. I might have expected it. We were just beyond Hope.
My thanks to Rick Schultz for organizing the wonderful trip.
Thoughts while ringing
Winter hadn’t officially started yet as I rang the bells for the Salvation Army, but December had been so nice it was as if winter’s back had been broken before it even got here. A friend said that winter must have been over as the ice was out on all the local lakes. No matter, we can’t tell the weather what to do. Supermarkets can be challenging for men. We’re good at entering a store needing to get just one thing and leaving with a couple of big bags filled with items. We come back later because we’d forgotten to get the one thing that we were supposed to get. Most every self-checkout lane involves a cashier. I remember not many years ago, if someone had brought his own shopping bag to a grocery store, he’d have been declared a nut.
Christmases past run like newsreels in my mind
I remember helping Mother make sugar cookies. The way I helped was by eating the dough.
I’d written "Merry Xmas" in frosting on a large cookie. My mother saw it and was a wee bit miffed. Perhaps she felt that writing Xmas was disrespectful. I don't know if she thought the X presented a resemblance to the cross or if it was taking Christ out of Christmas. I assured her that Xmas wasn’t disrespectful. It was ancient. Chi is the first letter in the Greek word for Christ and is represented by a symbol similar to an X.
I used that as an argument.
My mother reminded me that I wasn't Greek.
I should have told her that I was trying to save on frosting.
Before the cookies had all been baked, it began to snow. The wind blew. It bordered on blizzard conditions. I went to bed, wondering why blizzards couldn’t concentrate their efforts on school days and leave Christmas alone.
The storm wore on. The wind woke me in the middle of the night. I saw my mother sitting in the dark, looking out the window. She was watching the weather, hoping the storm would cease and my older siblings and their families would be able to make it home for Christmas.
The snowplow went by in the wee hours. Father cleared the snow from the drive. Family made it home. The sugar cookies were eaten.
This was all possible because the storm had stopped.
I don’t think it would have quit if it hadn’t been for Mom.
Nature notes
Jan Prescher of Ellendale said that birds stand on one leg because if they didn't, they’d fall over.
Meeting adjourned
Bite your tongue until you can say something kind. Don't forget to neatly fold the used wrapping paper and to save the bows. Merry Christmas.
Echoes From the Loafers’ Club Meeting
I used a hundred dollar bill to start a fire in my fireplace.
Wow! You are dripping in money.
Not really. It was a bill from my dentist.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: Humiliation is good. It causes time to slow down. If you sleep well, it’s likely due to a poor memory rather than a clear conscience.
The cafe chronicles
I asked the waitress, "What do you recommend?"
She replied, "That you listen to your wife."
The guy in the next chair ordered a minute steak. When it arrived, it was minute. He called for backup — a bottle of ketchup. He left an asparagus tip as a gratuity.
I watched a dramatic event at the next table. The waitress presented the check, signaling the start of a slow-draw competition among wallet owners. They finally gave the bill to the only one of them still working.
We were in one of the united states — matrimony
My wife enjoys knitting.
I don’t. Go figure. It’s a crazy world.
She uses performance-enhancing needles and needed a couple.
My wife found a knitting store. I parked the car.
"You should come in with me. It’s cold outside," she said, knitting her brow. That’s what she does when she’s not knitting.
Goodbye cool world. I went in.
My idea of a good shopping experience is to sit and imagine what the other shoppers would look like without their cellphones.
Inside the shop, I was attempting to become one with a price tag when my bride mentioned that the business had a second floor. We walked upstairs, taking our shopping to a new level.
I love this and that
There are maybe 3,000 stars visible to the naked eye.
When my wife and I ring bells for the Salvation Army, I see more stars than that.
While ringing, I spoke with a buddy wearing one of those down jackets that made him look like a giant hand grenade. He reminded me that I had the right to remain silent.
A friend told me that she’d come to the supermarket looking for a dip. She found me. Another friend said that it did no good for her to hang mistletoe at her house. Her tall husband hits his head on it.
Then there were those snowbirds that were getting ready to go to Texas or Arizona, who secretly (or not secretly) harbored a wish that bad weather be our constant winter companion. That makes their escape a wise one.
From there, my wife and I joined Judy Hendrickson at the Kiwanis Holiday Lights at Sibley Park in Mankato. At this lovely place with an impressive display of Christmas lights, we collected over 1,065 pounds of food for the New Richland Area Food Shelf.
On the drive to unload the donated food at Trinity Lutheran, there was barely room to breathe in my car. There was so much food, that both ladies were buried under it.
Despite the cramped conditions that rivaled flying in last class, it was a grand way to celebrate the season.
My neighbor
My neighbor is a frugal fellow. He can get four or five meals out of a paper napkin.
As might be expected, the tires on his car are far from new. They are worn nearly beyond use. My neighbor had a flat tire the other day. He was running late and was unhappy. He was changing the tire and it wasn't going well. He took to cussing. A local minister stopped to help. It didn't stop my neighbor’s swearing.
"You'll never get to Heaven with language like that," advised the pastor.
"Heaven?" replied my neighbor. "I'm trying to get to Hartland."
A bag of good wishes
I stopped at a don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-it town in Alaska. There was a gas station, a small grocery store, a cafe, a bar, and a contract post office — all in the same building. While I waited for my sandwich, I noticed that all the mailboxes were empty. I asked the proprietor/postmaster about it. He replied that he hadn’t distributed the mail for over three weeks.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because I tell everyone that the mail comes only once a month."
Nature notes
"Do birds have a sense of smell?" Birds are able to smell. The ability varies widely among species.
Meeting adjourned
"Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible." — Dalai Lama. Merry Christmas.
Echoes From the Loafers' Club Meeting
It bothers me.
What bothers you?
You know, when I'm talking and I can't find the right, er, uh, um...
Word?
That's it!
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: You know you're getting old if your wisdom creaks. Failing doesn’t make a failure.
Getting shot for gas
Not long ago, I was shot to health. The doctor lined up the shots and a needle-wielding nurse gave them to me. I tried to count the inoculations, but failed in the attempt.
I rang the bells for the Salvation Army recently. That gives me pleasure, but my back stiffens after a few hours. It’s a lingering effect of years of playing football. I should never have tried to run around my own end.
The supermarket where I rang advertised flu shots. The shot came with gas points. I’d receive $0.20 off a gallon of gas for getting a flu shot. Life is good.
When I was having service work done on my vehicle, I looked at a tiny sports car with a big price tag in the showroom. I was wondering what the car would be when it grew up, when a salesman walked up to me and said, "What would it take to get you into this baby today?"
I told him that it would take a large trust fund and an even larger shoehorn. I couldn't get enough flu shots to keep it in gas.
I can smell it as if it were yesterday
She was the perfect hostess except for one thing. The Earl Grey tea. I think Earl Grey is the lutefisk of the tea world. People either love it or they can't stand it. I’m in the latter group. I drank it with a forced smile. I made a face as if a car had run over my foot. The tea tasted like dirt stirred in hot water with a few flowers tossed in. The bergamot orange annoyed me. It smelled fine, but tasted like swill.
I remember the year when I bought my wife some expensive perfume. We were bookish and broke, so it was quite an investment. I got it for no reason, which meant I gave it as a gift to make up for something I’d said or something I should have said after having had a big bowl of stupid for breakfast. The perfume was more than I could have easily afforded, so I determined to smell it slowly.
Smells are wonderful at bringing memories. I remembered having a big day of shoveling chicken, pig and cow manure. That’s the trifecta for a dung scooper. While I was shoveling, I’d think how great my life would be when I wasn't covered with manure. I whistled while I worked. Actually, I did more whistling than work.
When I shoveled the chicken manure, there was some pheasant exhaust included. That was because of Phil.
Phil was a rooster pheasant. He wasn't that pleasant. He’d been rescued while still in the egg after his mother had been killed by a mower while sitting on her nest in an alfalfa field. I took the clutch of pheasant eggs and put them under a banty hen that incubated, hatched and raised them. One by one, the wildness took the pheasants and they wandered off, never to return. Soon all the pheasants had left except Phil, who had no apparent desire to leave the friendly confines of the henhouse. Phil wasn’t well behaved. Banty roosters are known for their fighting ability, but Phil battered them as if they were fish. Each of Phil’s days appeared to be part of a villainous enterprise set on world domination.
Back to the Earl Grey tea. The woman’s dog entered the kitchen and presented me with a Christmas goose. It was a surprise.
I asked her what her dog’s name was. She told me it was Kevin. I told her that I thought Kevin was an interesting name for a canine. She said that she’d named her dog after her ex-husband. She enjoyed the occasional rebuke, "Bad Kevin!"
Nature notes
Young blue jays might be more likely to migrate than adults, but adults also migrate. Some jays migrate one year, but not the next, and then head south again the following year. Science is unable to determine why they migrate when they do.
Meeting adjourned
Ephesians 4:32 says, "Be kind to each other."
Echoes from the Loafers' Club Meeting
The world is becoming too crowded.
That's true.
Yet, it could use a lot more like me.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: How the roll of toilet paper hangs doesn't really matter. Over or under is but a tiny comfort. What matters is that the toilet paper is there.
Thanksgiving memories
I was thankful. No one had burned the gravy. I’m thankful all year. Especially about gravy. Gravy covers a multitude of sins.
One day, she was counting her blessings. The next day she was sleeping on the streets. She was waiting for a store to open. A hunter-gatherer, one of millions shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. That's what Black Friday does to a somewhat sane individual. She’d taken a self-defense class in preparation of going shopping on Black Friday. Sleeping on the streets for a chance to win a $10 gift certificate or to pay for a trophy TV. George Carlin said, "Some national parks have long waiting lists for camping reservations. When you have to wait a year to sleep next to a tree, something is wrong."
I’m thankful that shopping makes people happy. I'm thankful that I don't go shopping on Black Friday.
I’m thankful that things that shouldn't be flavored with pumpkin will no longer be flavored with pumpkin.
We’re never far from where we’re from
We played musical chairs in school. Yes, chairs played musical instruments in those days. Our mothers offered meals with two options — take it or leave it. We ate hotdog relish, mustard, catsup, and onions without the hotdogs in restaurants that advertised "Free condiments." We listened to cassette tapes intently. You never knew when you were listening to a fragile tape for the last time. A black magic marker that had run out of ink was kept in a drawer as a historical marker. Fishing wasn't catch-and-release. It was catch-and-eat.
"What seven-letter word becomes longer when you remove a letter."
"Lounger."
That passed as intellectual conversation during the year that one of my classmates at Summer Bible School ate my macaroni art project. It was a compliment.
It was that summer that I found a 50-cent coin on the sidewalk. Fifty cents bought a lot of black licorice or baseball cards accompanied by bad bubble gum. That coin was walking around money that inspired me to walk around. After I’d discovered the money, I spent the rest of the day walking around with my head down, searching for more money. I missed seeing many wonders of the world by concentrating on monetary rewards. I learned my lesson when I saw stars. No, they weren't the stars that come out at night. They were the stars that suddenly appeared when I walked into that street post.
Ferry tales
I’m a member of the Ferry Tale of the Year Club. Each year, I take a couple of trips on a ferry operated by the Alaska Maritime Highway. It’s a delightful way to travel. The last ferry I was on was the LeConte. It had no gift shop. I like that, although offering a postcard or two would be a nice touch. I send at least one postcard a day to someone who made a difference. I led tours for years, going here and there. I spent so much time in gift shops while doing my job, that I was purchased four times by tourists.
On the ferry, I talked to a fellow who told me that when his father was dying, he’d asked his son to bury him the cheapest way possible. The dutiful son said he would, but admitted that he didn't get the cheapest casket available. He couldn't do that to the old man. He bought the second cheapest casket.
I met Jay Proetto in Haines, Alaska. We talked and I enjoyed his company. We’d both worked with sandhill cranes. We were strangers no more. I expected to see the retired park ranger again, to visit with him again. He died a couple of days later. Endings speak of beginnings. We’d better enjoy the day. It might be all we have.
Nature notes
Birdseed mixes with much millet are good for platform feeders, not tube feeders. Seed blends high in sunflower seeds and peanuts work well in tube feeders.
Meeting adjourned
Olin Miller said, "You wouldn’t worry about what people may think of you if you could know how seldom they do." Be kind anyway.
Echoes from the Loafers' Club Meeting
When my wife first began to snore, it was so cute I could hardly stand it, but now...
But now what?
Now I can hardly stand it.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: If you leave dirty dishes on the counter long enough, they grow a new meal. The trouble with ignorance is that it's confident. If you allow a cellphone into your life, don’t blame it for ringing.
The cafe chronicles
Bring your shovel and pitchfork to the Eat Around It Cafe. The portions are that big. It’s where the dessert can be an apology for lunch and the alphabet soup spells disaster. What is the nostalgia special? Leftovers. The cafe is where the lettuce salad doesn't sell well. Most of the patrons get enough green food from the back of their refrigerators.
Bear with me
I came across bear scat in North Carolina. That's what bears do when they forget the words to songs. Bears hibernate. There is safety in numb bears. If you encounter a bear, don't run from it. A bear likes fast food. What is a fear of bears called? Common sense. Please remember that bear spray doesn't work the same way as mosquito spray. A black bear fell through a skylight onto a table of cupcakes at a kid’s birthday in Juneau, Alaska. A bear called Tripod, because of a bad foot, raided the coolers on boats in Haines harbor. The bear was trying to find its bearings. Haines, Alaska, is so beautiful that bears hug themselves with joy. Bear hugs are fine things, but do not hug bears. I spotted the footprints of a gigantic bear in Alaska. It was overbearing. What do you call a grizzly half buried in a snow bank? A bear mid-drift. A friend told me to be careful when passing a grizzly den. I asked if there was a safer route? "No," she replied. "That's a bear you'll just have to cross."
I saw a bear one day and then I saw it again two days later. That bear’s repeating.
Travel tales
As I arrived in Lafayette, Louisiana, I said, "Lafayette, we are here."
The small city of Haines, Alaska, doesn’t have a stoplight, but it has a brewery and a distillery.
I’d worked in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I’d said goodbye to the ocean as I left for home. The ocean didn’t say anything. It just waved.
I shoehorned myself into the seat of an airplane. The captain's voice came over the speaker, "If there is anything we can do to make your flight more pleasant, we don’t want to hear about it."
There were many kids from Juneau on the Alaska ferry with me. They were off to a debate tournament and some basketball competitions. They were rambunctious, but I think they were good kids. There were at least four of them that didn’t bump into me or step on my feet as I sat in my seat.
I took a short tour of a big city. Big buildings on my left. Big buildings on my right.
I was the auctioneer at a fundraiser far from home. It was an enjoyable gig. People were generous and kind. One of the things I auctioned off was a combination hot dog and bun toaster. If my wonderful mother still walked the earth, she’d be beaming with pride.
I returned to Minnesota in time for the first real snow at my home. As I am after each snowfall, I was grateful that I send my driveway out to be cleared. My father claimed that when the dark-eyed juncos, called snowbirds by many, returned, we’d have trackable snow in six weeks. The juncos predicted November 18. The snow event was on November 20. Pretty close.
Nature notes
A white Christmas is defined as having 1 inch of snow on the ground on Christmas day. According to the Minnesota State Climatology Office, here are the chances of a white Christmas shown as a percentage for each city. Albert Lea 69, Austin 67, Brainerd 97, Bricelyn 71, Detroit Lakes 90, Duluth 97, Fairmont 76, Faribault 78, Lanesboro 73, Mora 92, New Ulm 64, North Mankato 68, Owatonna 71, Rochester 78, Twin Cities 71, Waseca 81, Wells 72, and Winona 78.
Meeting adjourned
May you have all you need this Thanksgiving. May the word "kind" define you.
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
I don’t seem to be able to stay on my diet.
Why not? Lack of willpower?
That’s not it. The problem is that I enjoy reading by the light of an open refrigerator.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: Never trust atoms. They make up everything. Don't be sad that life is passing you by. Be happy that it isn't running over you. Be forewarned, life may cause drowsiness.
King Midas
King Midas was greedy. He loved only two things, his daughter and gold. One day, King Midas helped an aging wizard with an income tax problem. The wizard thanked him for the favor and offered to grant him any wish. King Midas asked that everything he touched be turned in gold. The Midas touch. The wizard granted the wish. The king scratched his nose and caught a nasty head cold. The lesson here is that if you ask an aging wizard to grant a wish, especially a wizard who is hard of hearing, you’d better get it in writing.
I don’t remember doing it, but I must have asked an elderly, hard-of-hearing wizard for fried chicken. I got a freed chicken instead. A rooster showed up at our place. We didn’t know he was coming. He was a traveling chicken. He wasn't good at being a chicken. He couldn’t fly well enough to occupy a proper perch. I had him step on the head of a rake and then I lifted him up to a rafter in our machine shed so that he’d be safe from predators. I did that late each afternoon. In the morning, I went to the shed with the rake and lifted it up to the rafter. The rooster stepped on it and I lowered him to the ground, making it possible for him to get on with his day.
I need a rental car that comes when I call it
I was far from home and I’d been traveling incessantly. Befuddled was my description. My flight landed at the airport and I dragged my bag to the rental car counter. I rented a Chevy Malibu. The clerk told me that I’d find it in stall 17. I walked to the car. The door opened without involving the key. I sat behind the wheel. It was crowded in there. As I sat there, nonplussed, a family of three — father, mother, and teen daughter — approached. The man tapped on the driver’s side window. It took me a while to roll the window down.
"Is this your car, buddy?" the father asked, in a not all that friendly manner. I suspected he thought that a homeless man had been living in his rental car.
"Apparently not," I said.
I apologized and climbed out of the Chevy Cruze and found my Malibu in stall 19. I’d been given the wrong stall number.
The family of three watched me get into my car before finding seats in the Cruze.
If one of them had been Dorothy Parker, she’d have said, "This wasn't just plain terrible, this was fancy terrible. This was terrible with raisins in it."
I tried to not think about Bullwinkle
My wife and I sat with friends at an American Legion hall far from home. We ate spaghetti with a meat sauce made from moose for a Veterans Day meal. We talked about a mutual friend who is 27 years old – young, but with an old soul. She approached life with a wisdom generally acquired with age. I heard nearby voices say things as, "I don't want to waste time being mad at you," "I know it’s the 11th, but I don't know what month it is,' "The Rolling Stones need to keep touring until all their fans have died," and "I've saved a lot on my heat bill by wearing long underwear all the time."
Some of the talkers might have been old souls, but it’s definitely amazing what a fellow can hear while listening.
Nature notes
"Why do birds stand on one leg?" I can’t be sure, but I suspect it conserves body heat. Bare legs are exposed to cold, wind, and moisture. Cutting that exposure in half saves on fuel. Maybe it’s a way to give one leg a rest or just a comfortable way to stand.
Meeting adjourned
Be kind. The world is a small place.
More...
Enjoying an Elvis at an eatery named The Point
Written by Jim LutgensEchoes from the Loafers' Club Meeting
I almost bought some exercise equipment.
Why didn’t you?
The guy at the store where I was going to buy it said that I’d have to carry it to my car.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: When someone picks up his cellphone, everyone else does, too. Whoever sits in the middle seats of an aircraft should earn more frequent flyer miles than those in other seats. Why trust the media regarding the economy when you can listen to your cousin's neighbor's brother-in-law who hasn't worked in 25 years?
The cafe chronicles
I stopped at a lighthouse in North Carolina to use the little lighthouse, if you know what I mean. The lighthouse was like Tom Bodett’s commercial for Motel 6; they kept a light on. They kept it on all night. It was probably a low-energy light bulb. I wonder how many lighthouse keepers it takes to change a light bulb? I ran into some friends there. They asked if I wanted to go to the beach and get something to eat. I said I shore would. I had an Elvis at an eatery named The Point. It was a grilled sandwich with peanut butter, banana, and applewood bacon.
It was powerful good, but it wasn’t health food.
John Mortimer said, "I refuse to spend my life worrying about what I eat. There’s no pleasure worth forgoing just for an extra three years in the geriatric ward.”
The weather was beautiful, but it's not always so in that area. It's a place that is hit with hurricanes and nor'easters. Those strong winds are why some businesses end up overseas.
A dear and a deer
"Are you going out of the house looking like that?" my wife asked.
How do I answer that question? I couldn't say "No," because that would mean I couldn't leave the house. I couldn't say "Yes," because that wouldn't work on many levels. This happens regularly at the Batt house. I have no concept of color coordination. My wife knows that, but I still try to keep it a secret.
It's no way to treat a man who has developed the ability to sleep wrong. For many ailments, sleep helps. If you sleep wrong, more sleep might not be the cure.
Besides, I’d hit a deer. Not the whole deer, just an antler. It was the first deer I've ever hit.
A neighbor was working a farm field near a state park. His father had told him to drive slowly because of the great number of deer in the area. He drove slow. His vehicle was hit in the rear by a deer.
I hit a cow once when I was 17 years old. I was just lucky that I wasn’t on foot. Such occurrences are how cars develop personalities. The front end of my old Ford plowed into the rear end of a beef cow. The cow won. The car made mooing sounds for the rest of its existence.
My car had escaped damage from the poor deer except for a flat tire. A tine had stabbed the tire. I hadn’t changed a tire in 20 years. It was the opposite of fun.
I recall riding home with a friend when I was 17 when his ancient Chevy suffered a flat tire. That was no problem for the likes of us. We changed flat tires as often as we changed underwear. That’s what happens when your tires are at best retreads and more often junkyard rejects. The night was as dark as your favorite simile. We had a flashlight that refused to shine. Even so, we managed to remove the hubcap from the injured tire and place it on the ground. We skillfully employed a lug wrench to remove the lug nuts.
We put the lug nuts into the hubcap just as we’d been taught by our fathers. That made it easy to find them when they needed to be put back on. We were doing things lickety-split.
Then my buddy stepped on the hubcap. This catapulted the lug nuts into the air. We couldn’t see them fly, but our keen ears heard them land in the grassy ditch with a series of small thumps. Our cherubic demeanors had flown with them.
It became a longer night.
Nature notes
Birds can bathe in the winter because the feathers of healthy birds shed most of the water, preventing it from leaking through to the insulating down and skin.
Meeting adjourned
"I saw that." —Karma
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
Why aren’t you at work?
I may not be at work, but I’m thinking about work. I don’t know the meaning of the word "quit."
So why aren’t you at work?
I got fired.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: When a speaker says he doesn't need a microphone, he needs to use a microphone. "Deja you" is when you forget someone’s name again.
From those thrilling days of yesteryear
I was in the backseat, going for a Sunday drive with my parents. I had reached the age where I wasn't meant to play the part of a Sunday rider. Dad was driving the old Pontiac and he waved at another driver. He waved at everyone he met on gravel roads.
"Who was that?" my mother asked.
"I don't know."
"Well, you waved at him," my mother said.
"I wave at everyone."
"Was it the new preacher?" she asked.
"I don't think it was the new preacher. That was a new car. They don’t get paid that much."
Dad waved again. There was no other car on the road.
"Now who are you waving at?" Mom wondered aloud.
"I’m just practicing."
Sneezing thrice
The cat moved quickly as if she didn't want to hold up traffic. She catches mice, but is strictly catch-and-release. I’m not allergic to cats.
I sneezed in North Carolina. It’s not illegal and I’m not allergic to the state. I sneezed three times. That’s my regular sneeze number. I expected to hear "Bless you," "Gesundheit," or "Did anybody get hurt?" What I heard was, "Scat cat, your tail is in the gravy."
The Chihuahua chronicles
He was my constant companion. His name was Sancho. That Chihuahua accompanied me on work and birding trips for many years. Have you ever walked into a room and were unable to remember why you were there? Sancho lived his life that way, but he was happy being who he was and was a true friend. When I was rushed and used the drive-thru of a fast food restaurant to pick up a cup of tea, Sancho stared at the clerk at the drive-up window, adopting his cutest look. Invariably, the worker commented on how precious my little dog was and wondered if it’d be OK to give him a bit of hamburger. That was Sancho’s plan. Sancho had learned to beg without really begging. He was good at it. Other than rolling on dead carp, eating in my pickup was Sancho’s favorite thing.
Bitten by a rat. Rats!
I ate at a restaurant in Mankato offering asparagus fries. Two days earlier, I had been in a Newark, Ohio, eatery that had carrot-bacon soup on its menu. It sounded like something an aunt of mine had concocted. Whatever the kitchen provided, she threw together into the oddest of edible combinations. I met a fellow in Ohio who told me that, for years, he’d been the guy that the woodchuck whispered its winter forecast to on Groundhog’s Day. He quit when a groundhog bit him.
That reminded me of a friend who works in a pet store in North Carolina. A mother and her young child came into the store, wanting a safe and furry pet. He recommended a rat. He found them easy going and interesting. He took one out of a cage while stressing its sweet disposition. He’d nearly completed his puffery when the rat bit him on that flap of skin between the thumb and forefinger. Without thinking, he flung the rat, bouncing it off a hamster cage. The second the rat hit the floor, it made tracks. My friend, not wanting to lose inventory, dove to the floor and captured the unhappy rodent. He looked up to see a wide-eyed mother and her frightened son. They didn't buy a rat or anything else.
Nature notes
"Why don’t birds have ears like us?" Because they’re concerned about their looks. Just picture a robin with big floppy ears like ours. It’s not a pretty image. That robin wouldn’t dare show up for early worms. Birds have ear holes with feathers covering them. This cuts down on earring wear and wind noise. The feathers deaden the howl of the wind, helping birds to hear important sounds. The lack of external ears also aids aerodynamics. The sleeker the body, the less wind resistance.
Meeting adjourned
Be kind for no reason.
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
It’s a sticky situation, but fortunately, when I was a teenager, my father told me exactly what to do in such a case.
What was it?
I don’t know. I wasn't listening.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: It would be a noisy fall if leaves could scream. If it weren’t for the last minute, nothing would get done. The weather has worsened since we started having weather events. It makes the weather feel as if it needs to perform.
The cafe chronicles
I ate with guys who had become their father years ago and were working on becoming their grandfathers. They are fellows who believe that salad is what food eats.
I had some gravy misgivings and strawberry shortcomings, but the napkins were fresh.
"What has four legs and flies?" asked one of the loafers. And before we had a chance to reply, he said, "One of the tables here."
Another curmudgeon added, "If this is rice pudding, it's delicious. But if it's mashed potatoes, it's the worst I’ve ever eaten."
He claimed that he wasn’t fat. He was just easy to see.
If you are a grandparent, you realize what "new and improved" really means. We agreed that it was our duty to teach the grandchildren about Halloween. The secret is to eat all the candy that your parents like the best before you get home.
Fishing with father
I spoke at a gathering in the Outer Banks, barrier islands off the coast of North Carolina. Those in attendance were beyond nice. I quickly concluded that if you laid all the fishermen in the world end-to-end, they’d be in North Carolina. Fishermen were as common as air.
I’m not much of a fisherman, but I recall fondly going fishing with my father. Before we got busy with spring fieldwork, we'd head to Morristown. There we’d sit on a dam and freeze our rear ends off in order to catch some bullheads. Cleaning bullheads fell somewhere between yucky and dangerous. Then we’d eat the fish.
I haven’t eaten many bullheads since those days. I know that the attraction wasn’t catching or eating. It was fishing with Dad.
Laundry lessons
When I got married, I had some concerns. I worried whether we’d be able to live on her income.
A friend named John Sill of North Carolina does all the laundry in his house. I asked his wife, Cathy, if it was difficult to train him. I was kidding, but Cathy told me that the secret was to make sure that she always had more underwear than he did. That way, he always runs out first.
He wasn’t all hat
I was on an observation deck at Bodie Lake in North Carolina. I was using binoculars and a camera to look at birds on the lake. A man stood silently next to me. A sudden gust of wind took his hat and deposited it somewhere where he wouldn’t be able to get it back.
"I hope it wasn't your lucky hat," I said.
The man looked at me, smiled sadly and said, "Apparently it was my unlucky hat," and walked away.
Driving yourself crazy
It was a one-lane bridge. That was fine. Unfortunately, there was no indication as to which lane the one-lane bridge was on.
A friend of mine has the bad habit of driving down the middle of rural roads. He does that in case a deer pops out from the roadside.
Driving is a hoot and a hiss. I’d spoken at a nursing home. The activities director there told me that a musician had showed up recently. He’d driven a long distance to get there. The director was happy to see him. He set up all his equipment. It took a long time for the employees of the home to bring in the crowd from the rooms. He played. They were a very appreciative audience. They thanked him profusely. They told him that it was a great surprise, him showing up. It turned out to be a surprise for him, too. He had gone to the wrong nursing home.
Nature notes
"If I feed just one thing to the wild birds, what should it be?" Black oil sunflower seeds. They attract the most birds of the kind that we want for neighbors.
Meeting adjourned
Why be anything but kind?
Echoes from the Loafers' Club Meeting
Take a look at these lovely stamps I got at the post office.
Nice. I wonder what you have to do to get your picture on a stamp?
You need to have a really tiny head.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: If you don't know where you're going, every road will get you there. It's too bad junk food doesn't taste like junk. Good things come to those who wait, but the line could be long.
Where’s Waldo the woolly bear?
I’d spoken at one thing and was driving to speak at another a couple of hours away. Farmers were busy in the fields and woolly bear caterpillars crossed the roads. They do cross the roads, seldom traveling down a road. Woolly bears have long been used as winter weather forecasters. The darker the caterpillar, the harsher the winter is supposed to be. The bands on a woolly bear are more of a measure of a caterpillar’s age and of past weather than a prediction of an upcoming winter, but I enjoy looking at them anyway. I’d decided to take a photo of one of the tiny travelers. I pulled over on a quiet rural road to snap a picture. I quickly noticed that the quiet road had combines coming towards me in two directions. I needed to move before the combines made it impossible. I made an executive decision and grabbed the woolly bear to photograph later. The woolly bear curled into a ball in my hand. I placed it into a cup holder, planning to pull into a rest area for the photo shoot. I watched the little thing struggle to get out of the cup holder. It was unable to escape. A radio show about the 1945 World Series between the Tigers and Cubs distracted me. By the time I saw the rest area sign, the woolly bear was no longer in the cup holder. I searched the car. I did so twice more when arriving home late that night. I used a powerful flashlight, but couldn’t find the Houdini of woolly bears. I hope it escaped from the car. I feel terrible about the lost woolly worm, but I hope it means that we’ll have a nice winter.
Don’t give any beer to the donkey
I was in Hungary. I stopped at a place to eat. I opted for outdoor seating on a lovely day. The waitress was harried but happy. Her English was good and before I ordered, she told me, "Please do not give beer to the donkey."
I hadn't considered doing that. I looked at the donkey standing under a tree. The donkey looked at me seated at a table. I’d had experience with donkeys, trying to ride them while playing donkey baseball and basketball for fundraisers.
I ordered goulash. What else? I was in Hungary. I like goulash. The goulash of the school lunch program of my youth was delicious.
The Hungarian goulash was sublime. While I ate, I watched a fellow get up to refill his glass. While he was gone, the donkey ate his goulash.
He’d probably given the donkey beer.
The cat cemetery
When I was a boy, I shared the caretaker duties of a cat cemetery located near our outhouse with Georgette, my niece. We also shared an age. My family milked cows, which meant that people thought we could never have enough cats. There were people who presented cats to us proudly. There were anonymous givers who dropped felines off at the farm. Add the ability of the resident farm cats to be fruitful and multiply, and we had countless cats. We were kids, so we named the cats. The outdoors isn’t kind to cats. There are critters, cars, hunters, dogs, diseases, and cat haters willing to kill cats. Cats died. Whenever a cat tipped over, there were funeral services. I presided over many a feline funeral. Georgette’s role was to shed tears and inscribe the tombstones with a proper epitaph. She’d find something nice about the deceased to chalk on the red bricks from an old chimney. Things like, "Here lies Fluffy. He always shared his milk with others." There was always a cat named Fluffy somewhere in our herd of cats. I called the rows of small bricks Fluffy Field.
Meeting adjourned
Now is the time to say all those nice things you should have said.