Compostings (267)
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
This soup is terrible.
That's not soup. It's oatmeal.
Oh, then it's delicious.
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: I saw bicyclists and motorcyclists wearing helmets. A bicyclist ran a stop sign in front of my car. Maybe I should have been wearing a helmet, too? The best way to forgive someone is to ask for forgiveness in return. The first thing to get for a family project is a mop. In a perfect world, mosquitoes would suck fat instead of blood.
The cafe chronicles
The coffee was so strong it even woke up the people who didn't drink it. I don’t drink coffee, but apparently it doesn’t need to be that good early in the morning. It just needs to be coffee. I like good tea. There's a quote attributed to Abraham Lincoln that says, "If this is coffee, please bring me some tea; but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee."
As I said, I drink tea. A fellow loafer told me that anyone who wakes up in the morning and doesn't crave a cup of coffee, probably isn't worth waking up.
Those thrilling days of yesteryear
I plopped down in an easy chair. It was comfy, bad springs and all, and the perfect perch for me to enjoy reading a Steinbeck book I’d checked out of the library. Something made a sound as I sat down. It was the sound of something breaking. Just then, my mother walked into the room.
"You're not wearing your new glasses," she said. "You haven’t misplaced them? I hope you know where they are."
I did. I knew exactly where they were.
An account of a cruise
I was a tour leader on a delightful cruise. It was a give-and-take- journey. I was given food or had my photo taken each time I turned around. People go on cruises to see what puts on more pounds — waists or suitcases. It's where a seasick individual sends postcards reading, "Having a time. Wish I were there."
I asked the captain how many miles per hour the ship was traveling. He said, "Knots to you."
Don’t ask
I admit it. I’m hard to live with. I'm terrible to be around in the morning. I wake up cheerful. When I set my alarm, I awake before it has a chance to go off. I'm not aware of a term that describes the ability to wake up just before an alarm sounds. My cousin Roger Batt of Algona asked if there's a name for asking a question that you already know the answer to. Parents find this an effective method of uncovering deceit. "Where have you been?" "What have you been doing?" are often asked when the parent knows where and what. Children learn to answer questions with questions, such as "What do you mean?" "Who told you that?" and "Why do you want to know?"
Asking a question that we already know the answer to isn’t really a rhetorical question. A rhetorical question is one in which no answer is expected or required.
I've been told that a great lawyer knows the answer before he asks any question. A teacher’s job is to ask questions she knows the answers to.
A term I was taught was a "known-answer question." It's rather unwieldy, but descriptive.
Saying "goodbye," but hoping it isn’t
Life is a balancing act. We each are one of the Flying Wallendas. We do and say what we need to get by.
Some people find it hard to say, "Goodbye." My cousin Harold "Mike" Batt of Cedar Falls was a small boy when he accompanied his brother Dick, on the day Dick left for the army. Mike said "goodbye" and never saw his older brother again. Dick was killed in action.
My brother Donald found it difficult to say "goodbye." When he was in the service, he said goodbye to a good friend. That friend was killed that day in battle. Goodbye had a frightening finality to it.
Donald said "goodbye" in other ways. "I’ll see you," "I’d better get" or "Well, I suppose."
Meeting adjourned
"Two kinds of gratitude: The sudden kind we feel for what we take; the larger kind we feel for what we give." — Edwin Arlington Robinson
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
My uncle Ralph died.
I’m sorry to hear that. Were you two close?
He was like an uncle to 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: I don't need a weathervane to know which direction the wind is blowing. There are discarded plastic bags everywhere. When driving around the countryside and trying not to look at plastic bags, I’ve noticed that many farmers are hoarders. They specialize in rocks. I drove down the highway behind a police car. That experience was so relaxing when compared to having a police car behind me.
The cafe chronicles
He had a beard like a field of wheat. His eyes caught the attention of a waitress as if he were a frog snatching a fly out of the air.
He teased me about the shirt I was wearing. He said that it looked like a landfill. I told him that I’d consulted my wife before putting it on. What I didn't tell him was that when I’d asked her what would go with the shirt, she had told me that there was no clothing made that would go with the shirt.
The elevator
I spoke at a thing in Iowa City. I got into a hotel elevator with more than enough people in it. I hoped that it was going down, because I didn't think it’d have been able to go up. Earlier, I had stood in a cemetery on a rainy day at the College of Saint Benedict as I said a prayer for my wife's aunt Alice. It seemed like the right thing to do. Alice had just died. I'm sure she took the elevator up.
Hurling for distance and accuracy
The cat threw up. It’s her way of saying good morning. It was a trophy-sized hairball. If she had been wearing tights, it’d have been a demonstration of one of her superpowers. Call it what you want — barf, blow lunch, heave, bring up or hurl. Hurling is a sport in Ireland. I’ll bet cat upchucking is impressive there.
The phone rang after 10 o'clock that night. I feared that someone had died. I wanted to put my hands over my ears and ignore the phone. I do that at wedding dances. I don't do it so I can’t hear a phone. I do it because the music of the DJs has become too loud for me. So I hold my hands over my ears, which have become sensitive to loud sounds. There I sit, a dork with hand-covered ears, as a few dancers shuffle about the floor. Some nice person always asks me, "Are you O.K.?"
I guess no one is ever completely O.K., but I reply, "I'm trying to hold a thought."
As to the phone call, a loved one had gone into the hospital. Thankfully, she was quickly released.
Meanwhile, the cat was trying to hold both a thought and a hairball.
The amazing flying machines of Hobby Lobby
I was in a parked car in Mankato, in of all things, a parking lot outside of Hobby Lobby. My wife was in the store. I belong to the Harried Husbands’ Union (HHU) that forbids me to enter certain stores. It was a warm day, so I rolled down a window and began to read a book that had been downloaded onto my cellphone. I didn’t know that the Air Force Thunderbirds were in town. I watched as five jets of this elite, precision-flying team zoomed overhead performing incredible acrobatic maneuvers at 400 mph. Somewhere, penguins were tipping over. A barn swallow flew by the car. I turned to the video camera part of my cellphone. I wanted a video of the swallow flying accompanied by the sounds of the jets. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. The planets weren’t aligned and the time wasn’t available. My wife exited Hobby Lobby and we drove off under a cloud of contrails.
Nature notes
A reader asked about a bald cardinal visiting a feeder. This condition is caused by an unusual molt pattern. The feathers will grow back. You might see the bird wearing a baseball cap until that happens.
Meeting adjourned
"Unexpected kindness is the most powerful, least costly, and most underrated agent of human change." — Bob Kerrey
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
I’m glad our roads are being upgraded, but all those orange barrels are driving me crazy.
Well, you know what they say in France.
No, what?
How would I know? I don’t speak French.
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: I was passed by a Smart car. The driver was using a smartphone that was nearly as big as the car. He was typing while driving. When people are left to their own devices today, they are left to their own electronic devices. I’m a lucky man. I struggle with texting while sitting at my desk. There is no point to me trying to text while driving.
The cafe chronicles
The place was old and battered. If the building could tell stories, it would likely choose to remain wisely silent. It was my kind of place.
I did my double-check to see if it was a proper eatery. I checked for dried food on the silverware and talked to a stranger. No food remnants and a friendly fellow. I was good to go.
"The food is as good as it looks," said the man confidently, no longer a stranger.
It was South of the Border Day at the Minnesota cafe. The staff was dressed as Iowans.
I grew up in a time when a measure of a man was how many pancakes he could eat at breakfast.
I ate two. I’m both tall and wide enough.
Cleaning house
My lovely bride did some spring housecleaning. Things had to go. Two of the things were lightsabers. I think they were just toys, but you can never be certain about such things. I don’t know much about Star Wars, I’d seen only the first movie of the series, but the lightsaber was the weapon of a Jedi knight, an elegant weapon of a weirder age. It could be used to cut through doors if you lost the key or to blast enemies.
I carried the two lightsabers into a location where charity donations are made. It was a busy place with folks coming and going. My arms were filled with many items other than the lightsabers. I’m a guy. "Somewhat ill-advised" is my motto. I want to carry everything in one trip. Women, much wiser, will make multiple trips.
Somehow, both lightsabers lit up. I don’t know why. I do know that people scurried out of my way. Perhaps the Force was with me. I felt like Obi-Wan Kenobi.
How do you spell "dilemma"?
I taught a writing class at a college far from home. The students were incredible, as smart as they come. Yogi would have said that each was smarter than the average bear. We talked about words that are often misspelled. I don’t believe "misspelled" to be one of them. I didn’t consider texting shortcuts. The first word that came to my mind was dilemma that is often spelled "dilemna." I’ve talked with many people who have stated that was the way they were taught to spell the word in school.
I’m not sure if my teachers ever taught me anything that was incorrect. They probably did. Everyone makes mistakes. What I do know is that I went to Disney World once. I met Goofy there. I greeted him and I’ll never forget what he said to me. Goofy said, "You’re calling me goofy?"
There is no doubt that I’m goofy, but I know that I’d be much goofier had I not had such wonderful teachers.
Nature notes
What size prey does a red-tailed hawk eat? This handsome hawk looks much larger than it really is. A red-tailed hawk weighs 1 1⁄2 to 3 pounds. These hawks want to catch prey and carry it off to eat in safety, but they can only lift about half their weight. Mammals make up the bulk of a red-tailed hawk’s diet. This includes voles, mice, rats, rabbits, hares and ground squirrels. They eat birds such as pheasants, starlings and blackbirds. They also feed on snakes and carrion. Individual prey items can weigh anywhere from under an ounce to 5 pounds.
Meeting adjourned
"Be yourself. Well, maybe someone a little nicer." — Barbara Bush. Be kind.
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
I wish you hadn’t told me that.
Well, it’s the truth.
I know. That’s why I wish you hadn’t told me that.
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 driving, it’s a good idea to go one direction at a time. Without weather, we’d have difficulty starting a conversation. Bad weather is gossiped about more than any reality TV star. Everyone has a different definition of bad weather. All I know is that good weather is a day when the wind doesn't blow. We have windy days here and we have days that are even windier.
The cafe chronicles
His name was Gary. That’s a name that has become less and less popular, but he still answers to it. He introduced his wife. He added that her full-time job was correcting everything he said and she was very good at it. He maintained that he wasn’t always wrong. Sometimes he was just confused. He wasn’t a morning person. He might not even have been an afternoon person. He felt that there was something wrong with those who were in good spirits at breakfast. He ate out only when the toaster in their kitchen was on vacation.
"There is nothing like good food. I wish we had some," he grumbled loud enough for the waitress to hear. The waitress smiled, obviously familiar with his routine.
Gary told me that his granddaughter had a message on her arm. His wife corrected him by saying, "It’s a lovely tattoo."
"Lovely girl," said Gary, "but I can’t say much for the message."
I ran in a potato race once. The potato won
Duane Morse of Phoenix told me that he'd run the Twin Cities Marathon a few years ago. He said, "I enjoyed it as much as you can enjoy running a marathon."
I’ve never run a marathon. The closest I’ve come has been carrying a teammate up a hill in football practice in a torturous exercise called "carrying a teammate up a hill."
If you see me running, you'd better run, too, because something is chasing me.
A marriage is a work in progress
David Abramson of Meadowlands told me that he drove their motorhome while his wife, Helen, knitted in the passenger seat. He explained that he had to drive. He had never learned how to knit.
John and Jan Menge of Webster, Wisconsin told me that they had been married for 20 years without a single argument. Then their pastor suggested they should attend a retreat concentrating on various forms of marriage counseling. They argued about attending. Their truce had ended. Wisdom dictates that we shouldn’t try to fix that which isn’t broken. That includes marriages.
The wheels on the bus went round and round
The bus driver and I stopped to get gas in a small town in North Dakota. I picked up an iced tea and the local newspaper. The clerk rang up the sale. I thanked her for the bargain price and reminded her that the gas needed to be paid for, too.
She smiled, thanked me in return and said that she’d done the same thing earlier in the week. It resulted in a drive-off without paying for gas, whether it was intentional or not. She said that her boss was mad at her and she worried that she might be fired.
"Maybe the people will come back and pay for it," I offered.
She was quite certain that would never happen.
She was a pleasant woman. I hoped she was wrong.
Rick Draper of New Richland told me one of his favorite jokes. "Does this bus go to Duluth?"
"No, it goes 'beep, beep' like all the other buses."
The bus I rode on went "beep, beep" and ran on gas that was bought and paid for.
Nature notes
My father enjoyed watching birds. That love was passed along to me. Father’s Day comes and goes in a blink, but the memories of my father’s gentle and heartening dealings with nature endure. Dad called the indigo bunting a "blue canary" and the house wren "Jenny Wren." Jenny Wren was a dolls' dressmaker in "Our Mutual Friend," a novel by Charles Dickens. A willing scold, the house wren’s song is exuberant and bubbling. It’s a tiny bird that produces a big sound.
Meeting adjourned
Be kind and be the hero of your own story.
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
I see you have a couple of trees down in your yard.
It’s sad. They were tall and lovely.
When did we have enough wind to blow them down?
It wasn't the wind. My brother used the hammock. Maybe now he'll stay on his diet.
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbor — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: What did parents step on before Lego bricks were invented? Jacks, that’s what. They were sinister implements of torture. Does anyone in a funeral procession ever think that their car isn’t as nice as others? I hope not. Interesting is an interesting word.
The cafe chronicles
I’d driven through one cone zone after another. Roadwork begets roadwork. I groused a bit until I saw a helicopter fly from a Mayo hospital. I’d just attended a Friends of Library book sale where I’d obtained a bag of books for a few dollars to treat myself for completing 12 hours of filming. I was tired. Having to admit he is human is a hard thing for a man to do. I was hungry, too.
The cafe’s owner was thinking of having the ceiling painted. He didn't want to lose any money by closing the business, so he planned on covering the customers with a tarp.
I ordered the beef dinner special. The waitress high-fived another, saying, "I finally sold that last piece of beef." The special came with three sides — a carrot and two peas.
It was a cafe that believed in customer service. That’s why it had a dentist come in once a day to remove a diner’s teeth from a steak.
No loafers there
I was in a tall hotel. I’ve always wanted to carry a "The end is near" sign onto a crowded elevator, but my inner adult has stopped me. Everyone was looking at cellphone screens. I looked down at shoes. Everyone wore slip-on shoes. Some might have been loafers. These people weren’t loafers. My theory is that with the ubiquitous cellphones, we don't look down at our shoes as we once did when we rode elevators. We don’t notice if shoes are untied because we're mesmerized by tiny, lighted screens. That's why we wear shoes without laces. They prevent us from tripping over unnoticed and untied shoelaces. I might call them slip-on shoes, but they are safety shoes.
I visited a friend. His shoes were held in place by Velcro.
His new residence was warm and humid enough to grow tomatoes commercially. He wasn’t born and raised locally. He was a social climber who’d moved here from Seattle. He hated having to specify that he was from Washington state and not from D.C.
He welcomed me and told me to keep talking until I thought of something worth saying.
His wife had died. He missed her. They’d been married over 60 years. He was fond of saying that she never wasn't effervescent.
Waving at strangers
The auditorium was packed. There had been special doings.
Have you noticed that in the midst of many applauding people, there is always one person clapping after everyone else has stopped? That’s usually me. I don’t want to be the first to stop, so I turn it into a clapping marathon.
Someone in the crowded hall waved. I waved back. A person near me walked to the waver. The wave hadn’t been intended for me.
I always never do that.
The trail of a birding grandpa
I saw trumpeter swans at the Straight River Marsh. There were recently hatched members of the family. These youngsters are called cygnets. A sandhill crane flew over the marsh, being hurried along by angry blackbirds.
Eurasian collared-doves enjoyed the town of Meriden. This dove looks like a mourning dove with a black collar and a tail that had been cut short. Not to be ignored, a mourning dove sang, "Hula, hoop, hoop, hoop."
Dame’s rocket bloomed on roadsides. It resembles phlox, but the flowers have four petals compared to the five of phlox.
I watched a white-eyed vireo at Flandreau State Park as monarch butterflies fluttered about me and an indigo bunting male sang, "Fire, fire. Where, where? Here, here. See it, see it?" The bird my father called a blue canary sings from dawn to dusk. I traipsed around the park and then headed off to watch granddaughters play softball and basketball. That was multitasking for a birding grandpa.
Meeting adjourned
Be kind and be the reason someone smiles.
Echoes from the Loafers' Club Meeting
What do you think?
You know what they say about that at MIT?
No, what?
How would I 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: Why does bad traffic happen to good drivers? When you buy a car, you see one like it everywhere. You are special if you think everyone else is.
The cafe chronicles
It was sugar-free, gluten-free, fat-free and lactose-free.
In other words, it was an empty plate.
I told those assembled at the table of infinite knowledge that a friend, a policeman in Canada, had paid for a class on plants for me as my birthday present. It was botany on the mountie.
Another loafer said that whenever he suffered a slight cut as a boy and called it to his mother’s attention, she’d look at it and say, "Get a spoon."
He was as bald as a doorknob. His wife reminded him all too often of that fact, as if he weren’t aware of it. He didn’t mind not having hair. He didn't miss all the combing. He’d learned, that a wise person uses what he has. She was fond of reminding him that her father had a full head of hair until the day he died. Her father was an unpleasant fellow, prone to laziness and accomplished little in life. He was completely lacking in social graces. The only good thing about his father-in-law was that his mother-in-law was even worse. He told her that grass didn’t grow on a busy street. He insisted that God made few perfect heads. The rest He covered with hair to hide imperfections. He wanted to tell his wife that having a full head of hair was the best thing her father could do. He wanted to tell her that, but he strived to be the kinder of the two of them. It wasn't difficult. And yet, he loved her.
Winner, winner, chicken dinner
I enjoy ringing the bell for the Salvation Army. I've done it for years. The Army used to have a friendly contest to see who could raise the most money. I’d won a few of the annual competitions.
I played competitive sports for years. I wanted to win. It was the object of playing. After I retired from the sports scene, my competitive juices flowed away.
There was an older woman who rang the bells often and expressed a desire to be the number one money raiser. A noble goal. She’d also won a number of the yearly contests.
One year, a snowstorm hit. What a surprise, a snowstorm during the Christmas season. Who’d have thought it possible? The woman was unable to get to her bell-ringing appointment due to the storm. I was in town, so I took her place. I rang a few hours in her name. The kettle was surprisingly busy.
At the annual volunteer appreciation dinner, she received the award for fundraising. I finished a few dollars behind her. She was happy. She’d helped others. She was a winner.
I was happy. I’d helped others. I'd helped someone win. I never told the woman. I’d never felt more like a winner.
From the family files
My grandson Crosby is a kindergartner. He plays baseball. His team bats against a pitching machine. They won their first game 3 to 0. I asked him if it was fun. Crosby replied, "I have good people on my team."
My brother-in-law, Doug Bushlack of New Richland, asked for a German potato salad recipe that he’d enjoyed at a high school graduation. His only concern was that his wife, a good cook, tends to leave anything she doesn't like out of recipes.
My mother drank coffee most of her life. There was always a pot simmering on the stove. By the day’s end, the coffee was strong, bitter and as thick as 10-30 motor oil. She moved onto tea in her later years. She drank whatever kind of tea was sold by the local grocery stores. She could get three cups of hot tea out of one bag. The last cup tasted like water, only weaker.
Mr. Softball, Mr. Action, Mr. Excitement
Greg Bartsch of Geneva has retired. I think I join all those who know him in saying, "Who?" Besides retiring as Scott Groth’s partner in crime, Greg (fondly referred to as Mr. Softball) retired earlier from an illustrious career as Geneva’s Fire Chief. Greg is a good man who does good things. I wish him happy trails.
Nature notes
Mark Tollefson of New Richland asked about the tail colors of red-tailed hawks. Adults have rufous tails. Juveniles have barred, brownish tails that don’t turn red until the molt of their second summers.
Meeting adjourned
You don’t need a reason to be kind.
Echoes from the Loafers' Club Meeting
How was your weekend?
Well, I became two days older and got a new neighbor. His name is Neuman N. Newman.
What does the N. stand for?
Nothing.
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 have an Olds, it’s old. Why wasn’t one of the Doobie Brothers named Shoobie? Who would order a knuckle sandwich?
The cafe chronicles
His stomach had grown big enough that he had to name it. He admitted that he sometimes had trouble getting served in a cafe because he looked like he'd already eaten. He liked cheeseburgers, but claimed the cheeseburgers in this particular eatery were both terrible and too small. Besides, he was in a perpetual pursuit of the perfect pancake.
I leaned in and listened as he talked of his short, but illustrious baseball career. He hit a home run in his last at bat. He never played again. There was no reason to. His first marriage might have ended in a divorce, but his ex-wife said that he’d always remain her first husband. His second wife passed away a few years ago. He said that it wasn’t easy living alone. He had no one to blame for not remembering to jiggle the handle of the toilet.
They were out of the special. I ate a pancake. The waitress brought the check. There was no delivery charge.
I turned where the big, blue silo used to be
He greeted me at the front door by saying that if he seemed human, it was all an act. He said he used to get letters from Ed McMahon. He appreciated Ed because Ed cared enough to try to sell everyone overpriced insurance. He didn’t need insurance unless it was to protect him in the case of pass interference.
His life was haunted by bad pass interference calls. His favorite teams were the Vikings and whoever was playing the Packers. This provided maximum suffering. He preferred radio over TV. He listened to the Viking games on two radios. He listened to one radio when the Vikings had the ball and to another radio when the other team possessed the football. He had an offensive radio and a defensive radio.
He was the loneliest lighthouse keeper in the prairie.
Patience
Paul Lynne of Hartland told me that he had attended the graduation ceremonies of the kindergarten class that included his grandson. The children received a certificate and were asked what they wanted to be when they grew up. There were future doctors, nurses, lawyers and teachers. When Paul’s grandchild was given his opportunity to speak, he said, "I want to be a daddy."
When I graduated from kindergarten, I didn’t get a certificate. I got the chicken pox.
Character development
A friend and I were talking about all of the characters that once lived in our fair city. It was fun talking about them. It brought back pleasant memories. Most of them had shuffled off this mortal coil. The number of characters in town is down to six, quite a drop from a high of 19 in 1962. My friend asked where all the replacement characters would come from. I assumed he was one. He was sure that I was one. There will be no shortage.
Shopping for shoes
She told me that her name was Rhonda. I immediately thought of the Beach Boys song, "Help me, Rhonda."
"I'll bet people sometimes sing a bit of that song when they hear your name," I said.
She replied, "More often than you'd ever believe."
She worked in a store that sold shoes. Many kinds of shoes.
I’d quickly grown weary of looking at shoes. I’d finally found a style of footwear that I liked. I asked Rhonda if the store had it in my size. She complimented my choice, but doubted that they had any in a size big enough for me. I had chosen a woman’s shoe. I fled the store. I might be fleeing still.
Nature notes
Apples and crabapples are in the rose family, Rosaceae, in the genus Malus. Crabapples are differentiated from apples based on fruit size. If the fruit is two inches in diameter or less, it’s termed a crabapple. If the fruit is larger than two inches, it’s classified as an apple.
Meeting adjourned
Kind people are the best kind of people.
Echoes from the Loafers' Club Meeting
What are you doing?
I'm helping you.
I'm not doing anything.
I know. That's why I'm willing to help.
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: There is a long line to anything that is free.
The cafe chronicles
The waitress told us that if she didn't work there, she’d pay to get in. The food was better than eating my own cooking. I hadn't eaten myself into next week. I'd had an elegant sufficiency. I sat back, comfortable in my food intake, and listened as a member at the table of infinite knowledge ordered everything well done. Even the green salad. He wanted all his food to be well done.
He was a worrier. He had thrown a boomerang away years ago and he still feared its return. He didn't grow a garden. He found a supermarket more dependable. He gave up gardening the year that all the zucchini resembled LBJ. He considered himself an outdoorsman. He went camping — sort of. He takes the screens off his bedroom windows during the mosquito season. He’d found a way to make people like him. He finds out what they think about something and then he tells them that they are right. People find being declared a genius endearing.
Eating in the café is an elucidatory experience.
Syzygy
I was in the middle of three lanes headed north. The car on each side of me was of the same brand of car as I was driving. I don't own a rare kind of automobile, but it’s not the most common either. Three passenger vehicles traveling in a parallel formation caused me to feel as if I’d won a game of tic-tac-toe. The coincidental arrangement was over faster than a dollar dinner. In astronomy, an alignment of three celestial objects, such as the sun, the earth and either the moon or a planet is called syzygy. Syzygy occurs at the time of full moon and new moon. And maybe when three homogenous vehicles journey shoulder-to-shoulder down a highway.
The brunch bunch
I ate brunch with a friend. Brunch combines all of the excitement of breakfast and lunch. We shook hands when we met at the restaurant and watched others bump fists. I wondered what would be next, knocking elbows? My friend told me of the exploits of his dog Leonard as bad music annoyed the background. It was a poor version of the music played in the movies when wild horses are running on the screen. It was slightly better than static. The man said that his ex-wife had remarried. I congratulated him on acquiring a husband-in-law.
It was nice sharing a look ahead and a look back with a friend.
The next morning, I had breakfast with Pat Ryan of Janesville. We ate in St. Joseph's where we were both teaching writing classes at a college. I waved at Pat as I drove out of the parking lot.
I didn’t look back. Many people maintain that we should never look back.
Pat’s Kia had refused to start. It needed a friend’s car to work the other end of the jumper cables. I wasn’t there.
I should have looked back.
An old coot talked about bald eagles on TV in New Orleans
Thank you to those who sent clips of my appearance on the FOX 8 News WVUE-TV in New Orleans. I was on a segment titled, "The Bald Eagle: A Louisiana Success Story." It’s amazing to see bald eagles where once I couldn’t see them no matter how long or hard I looked. Each eagle I see is a miracle, as is every other living thing. Except maybe chiggers and deer ticks. I’m proud to be a trustee of the American Bald Eagle Foundation that has helped with the eagle’s recovery. Louisiana was lovely and I delighted in doing the TV gig. The recovery of the bird that is our national emblem is encouraging, heartwarming and amazing.
Nature notes
Feed the monarch butterflies. There are a number of milkweed species native to Minnesota. Butterfly weed and clasping, common, fourleaf, green comet, oval-leaf (dwarf), poke, prairie (Sullivant’s), purple, showy milkweed, sidecluster (wooly), slimleaf (narrow-leaved), swamp, tall green and whorled milkweed. Meeting adjourned
Meeting adjourned
Being kind to others is an easy way to be kind to yourself.
Echoes from the Loafers' Club Meeting
You know what they say?
No, what do they say.
They say, "You know what they say?"
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: Practice does not always make purfekt.
The cafe chronicles
I was hungry. All of my swallows had gone back to Capistrano. I prefer a small cafe, even if a salad is nothing more than a sprig of parsley resting on a steak, over the franchised wines and dins.
I ordered the unusual. The food went from skillet to gullet in record time. The catch of the day was a baseball. A man at the table of infinite knowledge locked a lip over a coffee cup. He thought that tipping a waitress meant giving her a shove.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"Oh, I can still complain," he complained.
He thought the coffee had too much sugar in it, until he realized he was drinking the maple syrup. I’d have had to nudge my way into the conversation.
I heard, "The coffee is as tough as the steaks. It’s so bad that each cup seems bottomless. The hamburgers aren't that good, but each one comes with a free packet of ketchup."
I’ll be checking the traplines
My wife asked me to pick up a couple of mousetraps. I didn't know that we celebrated the birthdays of any mice or that she had her mind set on having a mouse fur coat.
I headed out early in the morning. I was catching a flight to Texas. I planned to stop and buy the mousetraps, leave them in my car parked in a gigantic lot and employ them when I got home. The city with the hardware store had parking meters. If they couldn’t get you for going too fast, they’d get you for remaining still. I found the mousetraps quickly and got in the checkout line. I liked the place. It was homey, hardwarey, and they didn't have my email address. That meant I wouldn’t get a survey from them. A survey is nothing more than a homework assignment. The man ahead of me had a cart heaped high with things. He was a nice fellow and asked if I’d like to go ahead of him. There were no 10 items or less or 10 items or fewer lanes. I declined saying that I had plenty of time to catch my plane. He looked at the two mousetraps, likely thinking that they were much too small to catch an airplane.
Driving Mrs. Batt crazy
I spent the day in my wife’s company. Small world, huh? Unless you have to paint it. I drove her new car. It was a learning experience.
My 14-year-old granddaughter has talked of the delights of one day being a licensed driver. It will be a learning experience. Her father’s chances of getting enough sleep have diminished.
If your wife is right, agree with her. If you are right, don't tell your wife. This rule applies to granddaughters as well as wives.
We all struggle
Mike Kingery of Atwater, Minnesota, played major league baseball for the Royals, Mariners, Giants, Athletics, Rockies and Pirates. Mike and his family, he has eight children, formed a bluegrass and gospel band. He and his wife Chris moved 54 times in 15 years during his baseball career. I enjoyed listening to their music. There was no forced clapping during their performances. I like that in a band. Mike downplayed his musical abilities by saying that people watch the Kingery Family just to see an MLB player struggle on bass.
The next day, I looked at a maple tree that I’d planted years ago. Its rapid growth pleased me, but it reminded me of how quickly time passes. We start at the top of a playground slide. Once we let go, we go quickly. I’d visited an Alzheimer's unit recently — a place for good people whose minds had betrayed them. There was a slow failing of human machines. People were treated with gentle care as they waited to die. The parade of life passes quickly from life’s sweet beginnings. Most of us will end up struggling on bass.
Nature notes
When birds perch on a power line, they don’t form a complete circuit, so the electricity doesn’t flow through them. Larger birds are electrocuted when they come into contact with a second wire, completing the circuit.
Meeting adjourned
Be kind just because.
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
My uncle Alfred plays football.
At his age?
The whole family can't wait for him to kick off.
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: Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes the reason is because I’m an idiot.
BYOTP
The kind lady told me that she regularly visited her aunt Cora at a nursing home. At the end of each visit, Cora asked her guest to bring her some toilet paper because she detested the toilet paper that was provided for her. My mother had been in the same facility, but had never once commented on the quality of its toilet paper. Perhaps being a person who once recycled catalogs as toilet paper, she hadn’t noticed. Visitors brought Cora toilet paper frequently. When Cora died, her closet was found to be stuffed with gifted toilet paper. She was perfectly happy using the toilet paper of the nursing home. What Cora was doing was encouraging visits. She didn't want better toilet paper, she wanted more company.
Funeral potatoes
I attended three wakes in one day. There was one at a church before the funeral and another at each of two funeral homes. I was glad that I’d known the deceased individuals and that neither funeral home offered trinkets reading, "Come again" as lagniappes.
A fellow mourner and I talked as we waited in line to pay our respects. He told me that he went to wakes regularly, but never attended funerals. I asked why.
"When I used to go to funerals," he said, "I’d eat a meal. I particularly enjoy funeral potatoes. I don't like getting a meal from someone without being able to buy them lunch in return."
My Grandma Cook had died. The funeral had passed. Relatives had gone home. My mother and her sister Helen were cleaning Grandma’s house. Books abounded, but each found a new home. Mom and aunt Helen were carrying the last few books out the door when books were dropped. Money fell from them. Were the bills used as bookmarks? That’s doubtful. I suspect Grandma found the books a place to hide mad money or to set aside a little moola for emergencies. Nobody else reported finding money in Grandma’s books. Maybe there had been no more. Mom and Helen fretted not. They’d gotten by without the money yesterday and they'd be all right without it tomorrow.
Hokey Pokey
This past winter, a first-time visitor to Minnesota asked me, "Is the weather always like this here?"
I replied, "Only when it’s cold, windy and snowing."
Eileen Harguth of Waseca told me that her grandson, Drew, told her that he was addicted to the Hokey Pokey until he turned himself around.
The weather has turned itself around. Spring has sprung. Maybe it was the Hokey Pokey that did it?
I was in a public library, trying to catch up on writing assignments. My wife loves to knit. She was knitting away furiously, trying to get a project finished before she ran out of yarn when I noticed that the substantial magazine rack wasn’t displaying three magazines because they were frequently stolen. The three periodicals rapidly rustled were Vanity Fair, GQ and Mental Floss.
My sister Georgianna attended a number of schools. My parents moved around early in their marriage, searching for the right place to call home. Georgianna made sure that her four children went to only one school and that they didn't steal magazines from libraries.
Let’s hope the thieves do the Hokey Pokey.
Thank you for thanking me
"Thank you," she said as I left the business.
"Thank you," I replied. I’d thanked her for thanking me.
While in the UK, I found myself saying "sorry" in reply to others saying "sorry" and they say "sorry" a lot there.
As I left the store where I’d thanked someone for thanking me, I realized I was OK with that.
Nature notes
Robert Frost wrote, "I have wished a bird would fly away, and not sing by my house all day; have clapped my hands at him from the door when it seemed as if I could bear no more. The fault must partly have been in me. The bird was not to blame for his key. And of course there must be something wrong in wanting to silence any song."
Meeting adjourned
If you can’t be kind, be kinder.
More...
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club
Honesty is the best policy.
Do you really believe that?
I do. Unless you want people to like you.
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 only thing I can do better than anyone else is to read my own handwriting.
Cafe chronicles
It was amateur hour at the cafe. He read the menu like it was his old high school yearbook. Things looked familiar, but he couldn't remember all of them. He ordered just one thing. None of the regulars ever ordered just one thing because the waitress always forgot to bring one thing.
A discussion was ongoing.
"It was that guy. He was in that movie I liked."
"Do you mean 'Groundhog Day'? You loved that film."
"No, it was similar, but completely different. He made a couple of movies with that blonde woman with the perky nose."
"Oh, I know who you mean, I can’t think of his name either. I think he was in a movie with 'the' in the title."
"Here, I’ll Google it," said another grabbing his smartphone.
A hush fell over the crowd. Attitudes worsened. They didn’t want to know who the guy was. They were just enjoying the process.
Visiting day
I visited a hospital. A man dropped his cellphone to the floor with a clatter. I hoped he wasn't a surgeon. I called on a friend. He was doing as well as could be expected, but he should have bought an extended warranty.
Later, I visited a home with a flowery hanging on the door saying, "Happy everything." A woman, a regular reader of this column, told me that I seemed almost normal. She appeared surprised, but it was a nice compliment.
At another stop, a friend told me that he regularly played checkers with the administrator of the facility wherein he resided. He said that they played for money and claimed that he wouldn't need to be paying any rent for a long time.
This was where I learned who George Strait was. I enjoy music, but I tend to listen to what I already like. It’s hard to get it all listened to. This leaves me clueless about most singers.
I looked up the spelling of his name. I knew how to spell George. That was my father’s name. I thought the last name was Straight because of experience.
I’d enjoyed "The Straight Story," a film based on Alvin Straight's 1994 journey on a lawn mower. Straight was a 73-year-old who’d heard that his estranged brother had suffered a stroke and decided to visit and make amends. Straight’s eyesight and health were too poor for him to get a driver’s license, so he hooked a trailer to his 1966 John Deere lawn tractor, maximum speed of about 5 miles per hour, and began a 250-mile journey from Laurens, Iowa, to Mount Zion, Wisconsin.
I’ve spent time along the Straight River, which is crooked.
I once spent time in a Minnesota cabin that almost made it to Canada. It was before iPods or cellphones. I had a battery-powered radio that refused to pick up anything but white noise. Strait might have been part of it.
My research informed me that Strait sang, "All My Ex’s Live in Texas." I’d heard that tune. I’m not sure why "Ex's" is in the possessive form. I have no exes, but if I did, Texas would be the place for them.
Yesteryear
Toys ran on imagination. School was school, one no better than another. Teachers threatened to kick a misbehaving student so hard that when the lad sat down, he’d leave a footprint. If a boy wore a baseball cap backwards, he was a catcher. We checked the bottoms of our shoes before entering a home. Boredom was expressed as, "What can I eat?"
Mother’s Day
Mom found the camera. There were a couple of shots left on the roll of film. She couldn't remember what was on the roll. There was only one way to find out. She lined up available family members, took a couple of photos of them and headed to the drug store to see what developed.
On Mother’s Day and on all other days, I hold my mother’s memory in loving thoughts.
Nature notes
The ancient Greeks believed that swallows burrowed underground instead of migrating.
Meeting adjourned
"The fragrance of flowers spreads only in the direction of the wind. But the goodness of a person spreads in all directions." - Chanakya
Echoes from the Loafer’s Club Meeting
I didn't get out of bed yesterday.
Why not?
I have a condition.
What condition?
Chronic laziness.
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’s too easy to jump to confusions.
Cafe chronicles
His car, yellow and rusty like a bruised banana, was parked outside. He was one of those guys who knew a guy who knew a guy. He claimed that he’d been so poor while growing up that he used to go hunting with an ear of corn and a hammer.
"One more cup of coffee and the tide will come in. If I live one more year, I’m eating all the red meat that I want," he declared. Live long and abandon diet.
He complained about the small portions until he took a bite. He said that his son was doing well since he got out of prison and had just remarried. They didn't have a band or a DJ at the wedding dance. Each attendee received his or her own iPod with the music loaded into it. "I’ll bet you've never seen anything like that in Iowa."
We reminded him that he was in Minnesota.
"That’s O.K.," he responded. "I’ll bet you've still never seen anything like that in Iowa."
Scattered notes
I wore cargo pants. I was a walking junk drawer, a bipedal briefcase filled with scattered notes. Here are several of those.
A fellow at a library in Great Falls, Montana, told me that he had seven children — all daughters. He wasn't just part of a family, he was in a sorority.
A man in Houma, Louisiana, told me that he had friends and family who ate nutrias — rodents that look like something between a muskrat and a beaver. I asked if there was a secret to eating them. He said it was to ask for a blindfold.
He was an infrequent visitor to my past. He’d buy a bag of potato chips and eat every chip in front of us kids, without sharing a single morsel. Then he’d blow up the empty bag with breath smelling of cigarette smoke before popping it with his hands in an attempt to amuse us. He was like watching others enjoying an amusement park ride.
Not a passing grade
I was headed down a two-lane blacktop near the city of Manchester, population 57. I was listening to a Rodgers and Hammerstein tune from "Oklahoma." I sang along in the key of off. "Oh, what a beautiful morning. Oh, what a beautiful day. I've got a wonderful feeling, everything's going my way." I grew up listening to music while looking at album covers. I don’t do that while driving. A garbage truck was ahead of me. It signaled a left-hand turn at a crossroads. In the other lane was a pickup also signaling to turn left. I stopped and waited. A business van passed the pickup on the right by zooming through the right-hand turn lane. He didn’t make a turn. Yipes! Maybe he’d been texting helpful driving tips to the rest of the fleet. It was good that the garbage truck driver was observant or everything could have been going the van driver’s way and none of it would have been good.
From the family files
My sister-in-law moved to a lovely place that offers a balcony. She has no plans to use the second-floor balcony. She has a fear of heights. That’s because she hasn’t watched enough cartoons. If she’d seen just a couple episodes featuring Wile E. Coyote, she’d know that falling isn't a problem. You can be suspended in midair, actually walking on the air, as long as you don’t look down. It’s only when Wile E. looked down did he fall. So my sister-in-law should be able to enjoy the balcony as long as she looks up.
My young grandson wiped his nose on his blanket. That’s frowned upon even in my family. His grandmother, my wife, asked him if he wanted a tissue. Crosby smiled, nodded his head and finished wiping his nose on the blanket. He’ll probably be a Congressman one day.
Nature notes
The cardinal is the state bird of seven states and the western meadowlark is the state bird of six others.
Meeting adjourned
"I can live a whole month on a good compliment." — Mark Twain
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
You’ll never guess why my nephew Gnarly bought his house.
For the spiral staircase?
It doesn't have one.
The price?
No.
The taxes?
Nope.
The school?
I say nay.
I give up. Why did he buy the house?
The cellphone reception there is excellent.
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: Many great historical events have happened next door to souvenir shops.
The cafe chronicles
A study found that the average American eats food from a restaurant 191 times per year and much of that is takeout.
This was one of those times. Sans takeout.
The gentlemen seated around the table of infinite knowledge offered more snoose and commentary than news and commentary. Few of them knew that a suntan could extend above the elbow. The table is an odd place where a man finds glee in meeting his deductible.
When you greeted one, he took it from there. He was generous with his conversations. He said that the seasons are getting farther together. I know what he meant. I think. His wife, who he considered an important part of his marriage, was mad at him because he’d mistaken the gravy for a bowl of soup and had eaten it all. He shared the tale of his late bachelor uncle who had lived and worked in Chicago. He was paid after work on Saturdays. Every payday, on his way home, he stopped to buy two cigars for a nickel, a quart of beer and a hunk of Limburger cheese. He took the goodies home and enjoyed them in his room. This habit might have been the reason he remained unmarried.
"There aren’t any salt and pepper shakers on the table," complained one loafer.
"We don’t have any salt and pepper shakers," replied the waitress. "We have salt and pepper holders. You have to do your own shaking."
First Communion
Friends suffered a devastating house fire. The good news was that everyone escaped uninjured. This calamity caused me to want to ask this question. Other than living things, what would you grab first if your house were on fire?
I attended my granddaughter Hadley's first Communion recently. The little lady was lovely in her 42-year-old dress. The same dress had been worn by her sister, her cousins, her aunts and her mother for their first Communions. There might be someone in that family who’d save that dress forthwith in case of a fire.
I looked at this beautiful child and was mystified how she could have reached her age so quickly. Then Hadley asked me, "What do you call a rabbit with lice?" Her answer, "Bugs Bunny." I felt better.
Hadley enjoyed the entire celebration. She was flawless and not unhappy to receive gifts for doing her part. She can’t wait to see what she’ll get for her second Communion.
Annie and her main squeeze
He was told by his grandmother to never fall in love with a woman who spits or whistles, particularly on a day when there was a funeral in town. This made him overly cautious when it came to romance, even though he liked whistling. Despite this, he did fall in stride with Annie. As far as he knew, she was a non-whistling non-spitter.
Each week, he took Annie to a movie. They had several movie theaters to select from. She picked the film one week, he chose what they'd see the next.
One night, the weather was so pleasant as they left the theater that they walked a bit slower than normal. Winter had hurried their passages to his car and they enjoyed a leisurely stroll. They had been pleased with the movie. By the time it had begun showing at the little theater, it had already become a classic everywhere else.
"We’ve been going together for a long time," said Annie, attempting to match his stride. "It’s been 20 years."
"I do believe you’re right."
"Neither of us is getting any younger," added Annie.
"I can’t argue with you there."
"Don’t you think we should consider getting married?" asked Annie.
"Probably, but who would have us?"
Nature notes
Mallard pairs form long before the spring breeding season. Pairing takes place in the fall, but courtship can be seen in winter. Only the female incubates the eggs and cares for the ducklings.
Meeting adjourned
Be kind. There are people who would love to have your bad days.
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
I loved seeing so many new people at bingo this week.
There were many first-timers.
Yes, I’m just sorry that so many of them had to win.
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: Why don’t they make potato chip bags that fit the contents?
The cafe chronicles
Each fellow seated at the table of infinite knowledge was perfectly capable of holding up both sides of a conversation. And they were all trying to do that. These guys knew that a good night’s sleep is essential to a good day’s loafing. The right-to-know group was meeting. Their wives called them gossips. These are people who, when you ask them how they are, they will tell you.
One fellow told me that he lived just the other side of nowhere and that old age had come at a bad time for him. He admitted, "I cheat on my diet. At my age, I need something to feel guilty about."
Cajun thrills and chills
I spoke at some things in Louisiana. They were places meant for my kind and I was having a swell time. The weather was lovely, but some of the locals thought it unseasonably cold. "This weather must be nothing to you," they said. "You’re from Minnesota. You’re used to it."
The weather meant everything to me. Weather is all that is needed to start a conversation with a stranger.
Putting the "Oh" in Ohio
I did a book signing in Columbus, Ohio. I got along fine with the day. One woman who bought a book said that she was a basketball coach who often practiced her team against six defenders. That would be a good preparation for life. We all find ourselves outnumbered.
A friend who lives in Ohio is a pilot for one of the major airlines. He flies regularly to places like London and Paris. He told me that the people were the best part of his job and that the people were the worst part of his job.
Life is a matter of getting used to things. When I was a small boy, I was given creamed asparagus on toast in the ancient belief that a cat would eat an onion if it were hungry enough. My mother creamed foods. Most creamed foods were not on a little boy’s bucket list. I whined a bit. My mother told me to eat around it. It was all I had. I’d have had to eat around everything by eating nothing.
I love asparagus today. I love people. I’m outnumbered. Everything and everyone takes some getting used to.
Memories prove that there are always boxes in the attic
It was back in the day when one of the favored jokes in my set was, "How many ears did Davy Crockett have? Three — his left ear, his right ear and his wild front ear." It was when I was trying to find something that I was good at other than annoying my family.
One of the first things that I was proficient at was putting my hand on the rabbit ears antenna of our old TV and improving the reception. I was considered a healer. Unfortunately, I couldn’t heal myself. I had a cold, but it wasn’t a malady convincing enough to allow my mother to keep me home. I went to school, a Petri dish of illness-causing organisms. I sat in class and suffered. There is no such thing as a common cold. No one with a cold calls it common. I’d perfected a vacant stare that looked as if I had a relentlessly keen interest in what the teacher was saying.
The only fly in the ointment, other than feeling miserable, was that my cold caused me to wheeze occasionally. My wheezing caught the attention of the teacher who thought I was making weird sounds intentionally.
"Do you have something that you would like to share with the rest of the class, Mr. Batt?" asked my teacher.
I replied without thinking, "My cold."
Nature notes
"Why do I see turkey vultures perched with their wings outspread?" It’s because you’re looking at them. I wish all questions were that easy to answer. This spread-winged stance is called the horaltic pose and it’s believed to dry wings, warm bodies, and bake away bacteria.
Meeting adjourned
It's a little embarrassing that after 45 years of research and study, the best advice I can give people is to be a little kinder to each other." - Aldous Huxley