On This Date in 1999 (April 15)

This letter will be the last that I send to you in Arizona. JoAnna says that you’ll be back in Two Rivers by the end of the month. Back to reality!

We’ve been experiencing a lot of April showers lately. We had a couple periods of rain during the week, including a soaking downpour that started late Thursday evening and lasted throughout the night. Yesterday we had beautiful weather through the late afternoon when a bank of gray clouds darkened the western horizon. It has been raining on and off ever since, which makes today a good time to stay inside and tackle some cleaning projects or just take it easy. JoAnna’s doing the latter right now. She’s sacked out on the couch watching a biography of Cher on VH1.

“I can barely keep my eyes opened,” she told me a few minutes ago.

The boys are on the other side of the house waiting for a friend to come over, someone who lives just a block away from us.

JoAnna and I started our spring cleaning yesterday. The house was begging for our attention. We started out with the living room/dining area/study, covering every surface from ceiling to floor. The cabinets and buffet were cleared out and cleaned, and then the contents were more efficiently organized. We also tackled the kitchen, again from top to bottom. We didn’t have to clean all the cabinets since JoAnna had rearranged some of them to accommodate the new dishes and glasses we got at Christmas. While I was cleaning the kitchen countertops, JoAnna tidied up the hallway between the kitchen and garage and then removed all the Abrahamson campaign clutter that had accumulated around the computer during the past three months. I’m so glad this election is over. Shirley was easily re-elected to the Supreme Court, beating her opponent handily, by a 63-37 margin. Sharryn Rose couldn’t even win Brown County, her home base.

Friday evening we hosted a card party here. Sheepshead, of course. We started at 7:00 and played until nearly 11:00. Nobody was really into the game. It was the first time this year that the group has gotten together for cards and we were more interested in talking and joking. JoAnna made hot tamales, and our guests brought various snacks – chips and cookies, mostly. Jon Erpenbach brought along Joey and Amy, his two children, so the boys had someone to play with. Amy is just crazy about Boxer, but, unfortunately, the feeling is not mutual. Amy is much too rough with him. Boxer was a basket case by the end of the evening. When we were saying goodbye to our guests, I held him so he wouldn’t make a dash for the open door. He bit me rather forcefully on my left index finger, the little runtski. He was all wound up after having been chased around the house by four wild kids for much of the evening.

JoAnna decided we’d go to church this morning since she didn’t want to get cleaned up for church after our housecleaning and then get all grubby again during the workout at the health club. Andy accompanied her and played basketball while she went through her routine. Eddie and I stayed home. I finished writing a letter to Mom, and Eddie watched TV. Mom, by the way, is doing fine. Dad had become such a burden, the Parkinson’s completely immobilizing him during the last couple weeks of his life. Both JoAnna and I were surprised, almost shocked, by her appearance at Christmas. She had lost so much weight. Some of it is attributable to an overactive thyroid, a diagnosis made by her doctor earlier in the year. I’m convinced that an equal part was a result of the ongoing stress of taking care of Dad. Mom was determined to keep him at home and, fortunately, Hospice was there during his last days so he could die peacefully and with dignity. Now Mom can get back to having a life of her own. 

The boys and I had a nice visit in Warren for a portion of the last week in March, during the boys’ spring break from school. We went shopping a couple times, once to the Jamestown (New York) mall, once to the Warren mall. We took Mom and Barb out to lunch one day. Otherwise we just hung out. Our evening meals lasted for three hours, with the family, including Larry and Kim, who always joined us at this time of the day, gathered around the dining room table for food and conversation.

The boys and I spent April Fool’s Day on the road. We stayed at a motel in Hammond, Indiana, just outside of Chicago. The boys spent most of the evening in the pool. I joined them for awhile, but then wrote a note to Mom while they continued to splash around. We had a great time in Chicago. On Friday, we visited the planetarium, walked through Grant Park to the Art Institute (not a very big hit with the boys, but they did enjoy the arms & armor exhibit) and the Museum of Broadcast Communications (featuring oldtime TV and radio memorabilia), and then walked back to the car – over an hour of walking altogether, which resulted in a few complaints from the boys during our return trip. It was a beautiful day for walking, though.

Around 3:00, we checked into our motel, the Best Western River North, located a few blocks north of the Chicago River and six blocks west of Michigan Avenue. We thought we’d be able to get in a swim before supper, but the pool was closed for repairs. Fortunately, a Nintendo game was attached to the TV in our room. That evening, we saw the Chicago Bulls make history, losing to Orlando by the largest margin in the team’s 33-year history. On Saturday, we went to Lou Mitchell’s, one of my favorite restaurants, for breakfast, took a trip to the Skydeck of the Sears Building, and wandered around the Lincoln Park Zoo. We returned to the United Center that evening to watch a hockey game, the Chicago Black Hawks vs. the Carolina Hurricanes. The Hawks won in the final minute of the game, 2-1. It was, admittedly, an expensive weekend, but I don’t think I went over budget. I have to wait until I get my next Mastercard statement for the final verdict. The boys and I are determined that Mom will accompany us on our next trip to Chicago.

It looks like JoAnna has fallen asleep. I thought we were going to continue with our spring cleaning today, clean the bathrooms, specifically. I should attend to a couple areas I overlooked yesterday – the closet next to the front entrance and the cabinets next to the dishwasher. There’s also a couple loads of laundry to do, and I should go through my closet and chest of drawers and bag up a donation of castoffs to Goodwill. I also need to finish filling out our tax forms. JoAnna has me feeling lazy, though. Maybe I’ll just stretch out on the living room couch and continue reading the book I started yesterday, Little Green Men, by Christopher Buckley, a very funny novel about a George Will-type commentator who becomes convinced that he was abducted by aliens. Buckley deliciously spoofs the pomposities of Washington.

Later that same day.

I was able to check off most of the chores on my to-do list, while JoAnna continued to sack out on the couch. She must have used up all her energy at the health club last night. During the early afternoon, she did get up and prepare a round steak in the crock pot for supper and then completed the meal preparations between 5:30 and 6:00. Otherwise, she was snoozin’ or surfin’, the perfect couch potato. Eddie’s soccer practice was canceled. Andy’s lasted nearly two hours. Right now JoAnna is preparing the boys for their first communion, which takes place the first weekend of May. We hope to see you here then. We send you our love.

On This Date in 1999 (March 21, part 2)

On Friday, during the return trip from Warren to Middleton, I spent most of my time in the passenger’s seat writing down my thoughts about the past few days. I used the backs of picture postcards I bought at the first rest area we stopped at. 

“What are you doing, Dad?” Eddie asked once he and Andy and Mom finished a round of 20 questions. 

“I’m writing some postcards,” I answered cryptically. 

“Who are they for?” he wondered. 

“They’re for all of us. I’m writing about Grandpa and everything that’s happened recently,” I explained.

And so, I’d like to share these thoughts with you. You may not understand all of the references or recognize all of the names, but I think you’ll enjoy reading these reflections nonetheless.

I left the house at 2:52 Tuesday afternoon, coinciding with the boys’ dismissal from school, timing my travel preparations and houseorderly tasks to perfection. I found Eddie standing expectantly along the curve of Elm Lawn School’s semi-circular driveway.

“Where’s your brother?” I asked him, a trace of annoyance in my voice.

I scanned the area looking for a blue-and-yellow Michigan jacket.

George Mavrolis, the school principal, approached and made a comment about the unseasonably warm weather. He then asked Eddie if he knew when the first day of spring was, but Eddie seemed not to hear him and continued to gaze at some unfocused distance.

“Eddie, Mr. Mavrolis asked you a question,” I prompted, my words accompanied by a little nudge to his shoulder.

Eddie refused to make eye contact but managed to mumble the correct answer. 

I was on the verge of asking George if Andy’s class had been dismissed, but two things stopped me from forming this question. First of all, I didn’t want George to think that Andy had fucked up (again), to put it in the crude vernacular. Then Andy walked out of the school. 

After a quick stop home so Andy could drop off his trumpet case and pick up a couple pillows, we drove to the Loraine Building just off the capitol square. All three of us rode the elevator to the ninth floor to retrieve Mom and escort her to the van. JoAnna’s desk is located just outside the Attorney General’s office, which provides a spectacular view of the capitol. 

We merged onto the interstate at 4 o’clock and remained in motion, for the most part, until 10:00. We chose the direct route through Chicago, which resulted in stop-and-go delays along a stretch of the Kennedy Expressway from two miles west of O’Hare until a mile or so past the I-94 interchange. I felt stressed and eager to give up my turn at the wheel. Occasional yelps and squeals from the boys only served to exacerbate my anxiety. A few times I turned my head and barked a staccato “Boys!” over my right shoulder. 

We switched drivers at the first rest area east of Gary on the Indiana Toll Road. Since it was too dark to read and I wasn’t in the mood to continue listening to The Good Mother, I turned my thoughts toward our destination and started to fret about our arrival time, doing some math, mostly subtraction, in the process. 

Let’s see. We left Madison at 4 p.m. The visitation at the funeral home begins at 2:00 tomorrow afternoon. That leaves us with 22 hours. Minus one for the change in time zone. 21. With the delay through Chicago, the entire trip will take 12 hours. 9. Before I worked my way through these calculations, I had a panicky vision of pulling into the driveway of 4 East Third Avenue at quarter of 2, the four of us racing unsuccessfully against time to get into our dress clothes and drive to the funeral home before the first mourners arrive. 

We stayed at a Motel 8 literally a stone’s throw from the Wauseon exit of the Ohio Turnpike, 356 miles under our belt, which erased my fears of a chaotic tomorrow. Andy quickly slid into a pouty mood when his parents took control of the TV, JoAnna and I preferring to unwind to scenes of urban realism (Law & Order) instead of cartoon fantasies. 

At 5:30 a.m., the alarm quickly buzzed its way into my consciousness. It took us an hour to rouse ourselves, get dressed, and pack the van. I returned the room key to the office and helped myself to two cinnamon rolls, the most appetizing continental breakfast choices. I would have eaten one myself had some coffee been brewed, willing to make a rare exception to my now-in-its-second-year java prohibition. 

We arrived in Warren at quarter to 12. JoAnna became weepy when she embraced Mom, but Mom kept her composure, which I felt was a significant sign of things to come. Ruth Benander, Dad’s sister, had arrived the previous day, flying into Jamestown from Chicago via Pittsburgh, after a bus trip from Rockford to O’Hare, a tiring trek for anyone, let alone an 85 year old who had just lost her sister-in-law, her dead husband’s twin, and her beloved younger brother in a 2-week period. She looked worn down, deeply tired, the flip side of her sunny appearance and vivacious manner when JoAnna and I saw her at Charles’s wedding during the late afternoon of February 28th, a few hours before she learned of Ruthie’s death. 

We changed clothes at the house rather than drive the seven miles to Larry and Kim’s camp, where we’d be spending the two nights of our brief, “unscheduled” visit. A single question looped through my mind at this time. How am I going to react once I see Dad’s made-up, withered body lying in a casket? 

Not as strongly as I anticipated, it turned out. We all approached the open casket cautiously, Dad’s presence like the subtle pull of the moon. I briefly studied his face: the unnaturally orange skin tone, the larger-than-I-remembered nostrils, the lips sewn shut, pursed into a position that the Parkinson’s Disease had made it impossible for him to do on his own. I walked away knowing that I’d never be able to obliterate this sad image from my mind but fiercely determined to focus on images of happy and proud times: Dad’s authoritative yet kindly presence in the pulpit, his ear-to-ear grin while water-skiing behind Uncle Harry’s powerful Chris Craft, his joie de vivre in the company of friends like the fellow Lutheran pastor and his wife Warren and Anna Hollertz. 

I nervously awaited the first guests to arrive at the funeral home, occasionally feeling a trickle of perspiration run down the side of my body, soaked up by my t-shirt before it reached my waist. I hoped to first greet people I didn’t know (or didn’t remember) to help me finetune my emotional thermostat. This approach was quickly overruled as soon as I caught a glimpse of the first arrival. Yolanda Peroski (the mother of Mardi, one of my best friends from high school) walked straight toward me, bypassing Dale at the head of the reception line. As soon as she embraced me, my self-control collapsed and I blubbered some incoherent remark in response to her expression of sympathy. I quickly regained my composure, not because I was embarrassed by the tears reddening my eyes, wetting my face, and thickening my voice, but rather because this emotional bubble burst of its own accord and allowed me to proceed through the rest of the afternoon (and evening) in an almost serene state of mind. 

Mom gave her children much to be proud of. She conducted herself with great poise and dignity, graciously acknowledging the many heartfelt expressions of sympathy. She never once lost her composure and always had a ready word to diffuse any discomfort or tension that might have tried to creep into the room. 

During the two hours of the afternoon, the people seemed to come in waves. At one point, the three main rooms of the funeral home were filled with people and the sound of overlapping conversations. Then, as if Mark Patterson, the funeral home director, had waved a magic wand, the rooms cleared, allowing the family to break formation, sit down, bend or twist at the waist to relieve lower back pain, get a drink of water, and talk quietly among ourselves. 

The boys, not surprisingly or unexpectedly, were not able to last through the entire afternoon visitation. I think Eddie found it too creepy being in the same room with a dead body, even if (or, more likely, especially since) it was Grandpa’s. Barb volunteered, perhaps a tad too eagerly, to take the boys home. She seemed surprised when JoAnna and I informed her that they could be left on their own for an hour. 

“I think I’ll have some tea before I come back,” Barb announced, as if to tell us not to expect her immediate return. 

Warren and Anna Hollertz arrived around 3 o’clock, and after working their way through the reception line – you could see Mom’s face visibly light up when she greeted them – they talked with Ruth until 4:00. They joined us for a portion of a well-deserved intermission at the house. The food – cold cuts, buns, pasta salad, fruit salad -- was all donated by considerate well-wishers. Feeling a need for some fresh air, JoAnna and I excused ourselves to take a walk, enjoying a taste of mid-March, later-afternoon balminess. Our route followed a wide, narrow rectangle: Conewango Avenue to Pennsylvania Avenue, across the street to Water Street to Fifth Avenue, and back across the creek to Conewango. Then we joined the others at the dining room table. 

The first hour of the evening visitation provided us with a mostly steady stream of hands to shakes and sympathies to acknowledge. If I choked up at Yolanda’s appearance, how sloppy am I going to be when Barb and Mardi arrive? I wondered. As it turned out, they showed up separately and both received a clear-eyed, catch-free greeting from me. With no guests to greet during the second hour, Barb and Mardi and JoAnna and I shot the breeze until it was time to leave. 

Time to backtrack, to rewind the tape two hours and twenty minutes. The phone rang as we were getting ready to leave for the evening visitation.. Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, I was able to pick it up on the first ring.

“Hello,” I announced cheerily.

“Is Marion there?” a familiar voiced asked.

“Yes, she is, but we’re just about to leave the house for the funeral home. Is this Gen?” (Gen is Mom’s younger sister. She and her husband Ed live in East Longmeadow, Massachusetts.) 

She seemed both surprised and disappointed that I had been able to identify her voice, as if I had uncovered a secret before she could spring it on us. And this phone call was all about a BIG surprise. 

Less than ten seconds after I handed the phone to Mom, we heard her exclaim, “You’re in Warren!?” 

Gen was calling from the room that she and Ed had just checked into at the Holiday Inn. Earlier in the week, Gen had informed Mom that they wouldn’t be able to attend Dad’s funeral, no doubt already having planned this sisterly bit of subterfuge. JoAnna and I haven’t seen Gen and Ed since Larry and Kim’s wedding almost 12 years ago. Gen has a prominent widow’s hump due to her osteoporosis, but otherwise looks great. She still colors her hair, which helps to solidify her status as Marion’s younger sister. Despite his heart problems, Ed looks to be in good shapes for his 75 years. He’s still as quick as ever with an amusing story or a witty aside. After the evening visitation, they joined us for another of our relaxed family gatherings around the dining room table. We adjourned around 10:00, and an hour later, Mom and Dad and the boys were at the cabin, in bed, with the lights (and TV) off. 

When I called home the previous Sunday evening to learn the specifics of Dad’s funeral arrangements, Mom asked me to read two scripture passages at Thursday’s service. How could I refuse? Immediately, though, I had to ask myself: Emotionally, am I going to be up to the task? 

Before going to sleep Wednesday and right after waking up Thursday, I carefully practiced reading both passages, Philippians 4: 4-7 and I Corinthians 13 (the entire chapter), concentrating on the longer passage. Sometimes I reread a certain phrase or sentence until my tongue and lips could form the words effortlessly. “Childish speech” provided the biggest challenge, saying these two words in succession without sounding like my speech was slurred. 

The funeral was scheduled for 11:00, but the family had to be at the church at quarter to ten since there was a final visitation and viewing of the body one hour prior to the service.

An impressive contingent of ministers, numbering more than a dozen, attended the funeral. Jim Seeley, on of my best friends was grade school, was part of this group. We had a chance to reminisce about the grief we used to give our Sunday school teachers and the wiffle ball games we played at the Jefferson Street schoolyard. I neglected to mention our Saturday afternoons at the bowling alley with Dave Blair and Bob Feldman, which we dubbed “Beat the Jelly”, a reference to Jim’s protuberant stomach, a shape he has maintained through the years.

Mom had selected Roger Thelin, Howard Ford, Tom Scarcella, as well as her three sons to serve as pallbearers. Later, JoAnna would comment on how unusual this arrangement seemed, that the immediate members of the family generally do not serve in this capacity.

“It would have been nice if we could have all sat together as a family,” she said.

As it turned out, there was not enough room for me to sit in the family pew.

As we wheeled the casket to the front of the church, I could feel a succession of small tremors of emotion inside of me. I was unable to sing along to the first hymn, “Amazing Grace”. In fact, I found that I couldn’t even mouth the words. 

The scripture readings took place early in the 45-minute service, after a choir anthem. I read the two selections with surprising assurance, although halfway through the thirteenth chapter of I Corinthians, I felt another one of those emotional bubbles start to rise up my throat. I was able to swallow it unobtrusively, my voice remaining unbroken, although it must have had a quivering pitch for a brief moment. When I returned to the pew, Roger Thelin leaned toward me and whispered, “Great job,” as my body convulsed slightly while it briefly wrestled with a strange mixture of relief and grief.

During the bishop’s homily, I felt a stab of emotion when he made reference to Dad’s retirement party at this same location in 1981and quoted one of the parishioners as saying, “We are going to miss him. We love him so much.” To my ears, the sharp sound that involuntarily escaped my throat seemed to echo throughout the church, carrying with it a jagged note of pain.

A luncheon was held in the church’s fellowship hall immediately following the service. Once people had finished their meal, Mom visited each table and chatted amiably with our guests. She seemed to know every move that was required of her in this difficult situation, as if offering help and giving advice were, like Abby and Ann Landers, her life’s work.

Drained by the intense emotionalism of the past 24 hours, I was relieved to return to the house and unwind. I did so in grand style, falling asleep on the recliner in the living room for two blissful hours of unconsciousness. I woke up refreshed. The family, all ten of us – Mom, Larry, Kim, Barb, Dale, Ruth, JoAnna, Andy, Eddie, and me – went out to dinner Tootsie’s Restaurant at the Holiday Inn. For Mom, this was her first evening out in more than three years, perhaps even twice that long if I really think about it. Dale surprised everyone by volunteering to pay the tab. Larry and I couldn’t even talk him into a three-way split. Later, JoAnna and I wondered if this outcome had been prearranged. Mom had a certain determined look on her face toward the end of our meal, I noticed, as I was keeping an eye out on the waitress for our bill. 

The evening ended with one more gathering around the dining room table. 

Dad will certainly be missed, but his death was a welcome blessing. Parkinson’s had reduced him to a mere shell of his former self. During the last ten days of his life, he couldn’t sit up, eat solid foods – had become as helpless as the day he was born, had come full circle in his 83 years of life. The visitation and funeral helped me, and the rest of the family, I’m sure, to put a big exclamation point at the end of his life. As we heard so many times on Wednesday and Thursday, Dad touched many people’s lives very deeply. 

The boys and I will be back in Pennsylvania at the end of this week. Mom will no longer be housebound, all her days taken up by her duty as Dad’s caregiver. For the first time in a few years, she’ll really able to focus her attention on the boys.

Hope all is going well with you in Arizona. We send you our love.

On This Date in 1999 (March 5)

Sandy and Charles

I think Andy’s basketball season last one weekend too long. His team is scheduled to play in a tournament this weekend, starting late this afternoon. On Wednesday, we learned that only four other teams will be participating. It hardly seems worth the effort. All the teams play against each other, and then the top two teams will play a championship game on Sunday afternoon. Although Andy plays only one game today, three games are scheduled for tomorrow. At 10:00, noon, and 3:00. After last weekend’s exciting Tri-County tournament, which Middleton won convincingly, anything else seems anti-climactic. If the boys make it to the championship, I won’t be able to see the game, as the library initiates Sunday hours on the 7th. I scheduled myself to work the first three Sundays of operation, both to work at the reference desk and get a feel as to how things go. We are expecting to be extremely busy. People in the community seem to be very excited about these expanded hours.

Sitting:  Carole, JoAnna, Paul

Standing:  Ruth, Mim

On Wednesday, just before taxiing Andy to basketball practice, he asked me, “Dad, how many times a week do we have supper as a family?”

“Oh, probably two or three times,” I answered, without giving my answer a whole lot of thought.

But I did wonder, “Why is he asking me this question?”

Later that evening, I picked up a copy of the Elm Lawn newsletter that he brought home. It was just a single sheet of paper with short articles printed on both sides. The one that caught my eye: How Often Families Eat Dinner Together.

Nights per week:

• Seven 22% 
• Five or six 30% 
• Three or four 26% 
• One or two 17% 
• None 5% 

So then I thought about it. Today (Wednesday) is a no. JoAnna’s at an Airport Commission meeting, and I got home from the library too late to fix a meal for the boys and me. Tuesday is my evening to work. I usually spend two hours at home in the middle of the afternoon to break up a long (11-hour) workday, but since I have to be on the reference desk at 5:00, a family supper is not an option. On Monday, JoAnna fixed chicken cacciatore in the crockpot – and almost didn’t make it home in time. Though a bit rushed, it was a family meal. ONE. JoAnna and I attended my cousin Charles’s wedding late Sunday afternoon, leaving the boys to fend for themselves. Following Andy’s championship game on Saturday afternoon, the family went to Culver’s for an early supper before 5 o’clock mass at St. Bernard’s. TWO. Friday evening, in Mount Horeb, where the basketball tournament was held, JoAnna and Eddie and I went out for supper at the Main Street Bar & Grill between games. The coaches wanted to keep the boys at the school. Outside of Crandall’s take-out, it was the first fish fry we had in quite some time. Thursday. I can’t remember that far back. Wait a minute. I think it’s coming into focus. Another crockpot meal. Stew meat simmered in cream of mushroom soup served over noodles, family style – literally. THREE. 

Sitting:  Shirley, Ruth, Carole

Standing:  Don

Perhaps you’d like to read more about last weekend’s basketball tournament. The four best teams in the two 5th grade leagues were matched up. Middleton handily won both its games Friday evening, 51-37 against Stoughton, and 37-28 against Waunakee, two victories which put them in the championship game against Sauk Prairie, the team that tagged Middleton with its only loss, one of their first games of the season. There was electricity in the air of the gym Saturday afternoon. The bleachers may not have been packed, but both teams drew large and vociferous contingents. Except for the last minute of the game, it was a see-saw battle, the fans loudly applauding each team’s good plays and generally screaming encouragement. With Middleton leading by two points with 1:00 showing on the clock, our guys scored six unanswered points. Andy scored a critical basket on a fast break, which put Middleton up 31-25 with 20 seconds left. The crowd acted as though it was at the Kohl Center for the NCAA finals. But it was one of the most truly exciting sports contests I have ever watched, and I don’t just say that because Andy was part of it, although I can’t deny that our son’s presence certainly gave the game an extra edge. Everyone was breathless by the time the final buzzer sounded, the fans more so than the players. I wish someone had videotaped this game. Even after-the-fact, you could have felt the intensity. You would have also been very proud to see how well Andy played. He has very noticeably improved his game this season. 

My cousin Charles, Lila’s son, who is 62 years old, got married for the second time last Sunday at Bethel Lutheran Church in Madison. JoAnna and I were expecting a short, informal service, but it turned out to be a musical extravaganza. Charles is an accomplished organist and composed much of the music for the ceremony. My cousin Mim, from Beloit, sang five different songs at various intervals. (She also sang at our wedding.) There was a reception in the church basement afterwards. Both Lila and Signe (two of my dad’s sisters) did not recognize JoAnna or me. In fact, Lila chillingly reminded me of my dad. Her face has the same mask-like appearance that my dad now wears because of Parkinson’s. Lila must be similarly affected. Ruth, my dad’s youngest sister, is, at 84, as spry and vivacious as ever. She’s the only child of Herman and Anna who still has all her marbles, so to speak. I don’t mean to sound disrespectful. As they say, sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying. 

Genevieve and Tom

According to Mom’s recent letters, Dad’s situation continues to deteriorate. He is sleeping more now, which, in a way, is a blessing for her. He’s very contrary; he won’t listen to her when she tells him to do something and will occasionally try to hit her. Once in awhile he’ll lose his balance because of this uncharacteristic movement and fall. Being a fulltime homecare provider is taking an even bigger toll on her now. It may sound like a horrible thing to say, but she seems to be getting to the point now where she thinks Dad would be better off dead. And I can understand that. Physically and mentally, there is very little left of Dad. In her latest letter, Mom says she tries to concentrate on the 50 good years of their relationship and not the stress and sadness and loneliness of the past five. I’m sure Mom often feels like a prisoner in her own house. She doesn’t get a whole lot of help, even from Larry, Barb, and Dale. And maybe I’d tune out of this situation if I lived in Warren. 

Enough depressing stuff. 

The boys and I are doing an instant replay of last year’s spring break. Since JoAnna is unable to get away for an entire week, having just started her new job in the Department of Justice, I decided a visit to Warren was in order since we may not have an opportunity to do so this summer. We’ll leave Middleton around noon on Friday, March 26th – the boys being able to leave school early – and drive as far as a Holidome in South Bend or Fort Wayne. I’m sure it will be a quiet visit in Warren, which is now or has never has been a happenin’ place. The boys and I will sleep at Larry and Kim’s cabin, which means they’ll be able to stay up late watching TV without disturbing Grandpa. We’ll begin our return trip on Thursday and spend a couple day in Chicago. I bought tickets for a Bulls game on Friday, April 2nd. Plenty of cheap seats are available now that Michael Jordan has retired. I’d also like to take the boys to the Art Institute, which I think Eddie would really enjoy. Otherwise, our itinerary is still in the formative stages. 

JoAnna is flying out to Pennsylvania for Julieanna’s christening. She’ll leave Thursday after work and return late Sunday evening. The plane ticket costs $300, but then Madison to Allentown requires two stopovers, I think. At the same time, she bought our tickets for the Louisiana trip. The total: just over $1,000, which I think is very reasonable for the four of us. We leave on a Wednesday and return on Tuesday. This will be a short (thin?) vacation that will likely be sandwiched between the end of Andy’s baseball and the beginning of his football seasons. 

I got a call from Andy’s teacher yesterday. She was very concerned about the irresponsible attitude he’s been developing lately, over the last couple weeks, specifically. I mentioned that JoAnna and I were concerned, too. All of a sudden, he didn’t have any homework. “I did that at school,” he would say whenever we pushed for details. As it turns out, he was blowing everything off – not completing classwork, not noting assignments in his homework folder, not returning school library materials when asked. As a result, he was given an in-school suspension yesterday, with my blessing, on a day when the rest of his class went on a field trip to the Madison Civic Center to see a play about Thomas Edison. That consequence provided Andy with a much-needed slap in the face. I talked with Mrs. Ball again this morning, and she reported an immediate improvement in Andy’s attitude. I scheduled a conference with her for next Wednesday, since I felt very strongly the need for a face-to-face followup. Andy, of course, will be included in our discussion, since this is all about him.

The weather turned nasty today. We might have as much as five inches of snow on the ground tomorrow morning. The trip to Oregon, for game one of Andy’s basketball tournament, took twice as long as usual. They crushed a Madison team, 55-8, Andy scoring 8 points, coming this close (||) from a breakaway game for him, i.e. 16 points.

On This Date in 1999 (February 25)

This will be one of those letters that is pieced together over a period of three or four days. The news will be fresh as I report it, though.

We were able to sit down to a family supper tonight. JoAnna mixed together some stew meat and cream of mushroom soup in the crockpot this morning and let it cook on medium all day. I got home from work in time to put the noodles in a boiling pan of water and heat up some frozen corn in the microwave.

“Where are the rolls?” I asked, kiddingly, as JoAnna put the food into serving bowls.

“Yeah, we want rolls!” Eddie chimed in, not realizing that I was just giving Mom a hard time.

After our meal, JoAnna worked at the computer and listened to a Billy Joel greatest hits CD; the boys played in Andy’s bedroom – sometimes too exuberantly; once I had to break up a loud wrestling match – while listening to ‘N Sync; and I cleaned up the kitchen while the very listenable and catchy country-rock tunes of Cheri Knight kept me company. The placement of the three CD players prevented a battle-of-the-bands atmosphere.

Right now I have the house to myself. JoAnna and the boys are at the health club. I read the first chapter of Fortunate Lives by Robb Foreman Dew, a novel that focuses on a married couple and their 2 children, 18-year-old David, who is getting ready to leave home for college, and 12-year-old Sarah, during a summer of transition in their lives. That summary certainly won’t get anyone sprinting to the nearest library or bookstore. What did I find appealing about the book? Something about the cover grabbed my attention, but I also remember that the book created a very positive buzz when it was first published.

I was surprised to read in the Warren paper about the all the commercial projects now being considered. If CVS builds a drug store at the intersection Market Street and Pennsylvania Avenue West, does that mean they’ll close one or both of their other stores? Having three locations within such a tight radius would be overkill. A Country Fair will certainly change the streetscape of that stretch of Pennsylvania Avenue on the east side. And a Wal-Mart will irrevocably alter the Warren area’s competitive retail mix. I can see their appearance being the end of the end (the beginning of the end occurred with the opening of the mall, I suppose) of retail in downtown Warren, which is generally the negative effect a Wal-Mart store has in small markets. I’m not convinced that the former Farm Colony is a desirable location for a motel, considering that for all the years it was allegedly in operation, the Conewango Motel never seemed to draw any customers. I could never figure out how that place stayed in business for as long as it did. Warren could probably support an Applebee’s, a restaurant chain noted for its convivial atmosphere, moderately priced dinners, and attentiveness to children. That would be quite a business complex if it ever moves past the development stage. (Now I see the decision is up to the voters of Conewango township – whether or not they wish to revoke their “dry” status.) 

Did you notice the obituary for Allan Poust? He was a classmate of mine, sort of an odd kid, as I recall. He was very sports oriented but never tried out for any of the teams in junior high or high school. I never saw him at any social functions. In fact, he didn’t seem to have any close friends. Allan’s social development was severely stunted. Even in high school, he had this very strange attitude towards the opposite sex. It wasn’t so much childish as it was misogynist. I sometimes got the feeling that he really hated girls. Fortunately, he adopted a more mature view of the relationships between men and women after he left Warren.

On This Date in 1999 (January 2, Part 1)

I woke up Friday morning at 3 o’clock, after falling asleep sometime before midnight. We let the boys watch TV once we returned to the cabin, and I can remember JoAnna calling out, “Time to go to bed!”, which caused me to lift my head from the pillow and scan my surroundings so I could answer the question, “Where the hell am I?” I’m not sure if I gave a correct answer before drifting off to sleep again.

Once I was awake, I wanted to leave right away, but I repressed this impulse and tried to go back to sleep. After a half hour of staring into space, I whispered to JoAnna, “Hon! Hon! Let’s leave now.” She wasn’t ready to get out of bed yet.

“Let’s rest for awhile.”

She couldn’t sleep either, but even in her groggy state, she had the good sense to keep us in bed. It would have been foolish to start our trip four hours before daylight. I’m such a road warrior!

After dozing off a few times, I got up at 5:15 and washed my greasy hair. It seems no matter how short I wear it, I always have to wash it every day, unless I want to look like a derelict. While JoAnna roused the boys out of bed, I stuffed our two duffel bags into the back of the van, not caring about rear-mirror visibility. I wasn’t pleased to find a fresh cover of four inches of snow on the ground, with more falling from the sky at a pretty good pace. It’s going to be some tough sledding during the first part of our trip, I thought.

And I was right. Once we made the left turn onto U.S. 62, I strained my eyes to see the road. It wasn’t so much the snow than our defective, or perhaps just frozen, windshield wipers. I kept our speed at 30 mph and steeled myself for the stress of slippery roads and wind-blown snow. We encountered very little traffic so I took advantage of the opportunity to straddle the center line while driving. During the stretch of NY17 between Jamestown and Bemus Point, numerous ghosts swirled in front of the windshield, their brief reducing visibility to zero for a few disconcerting seconds. For awhile, I thought we were a supporting cast members of a snowbound sequel of Casper.

Curious about what we were driving into (or, hopefully, out of), I tuned in a radio station from Jamestown hoping to hear a weather forecast. The disc jockey talked about 3 feet of fresh snow on the ground in Sheridan, New York, which JoAnna was unable to find in our Rand McNally Road Atlas. Knowing where New York’s snow belt is located, I figured (hoped and prayed) that it was north of us. We also heard that the New York Thruway between the New York state line and Lackawanna was closed. What about the Pennsylvania stretch of I-90, I wondered. How bad can things get?

Not too bad, fortunately. The interstate was open, but snow-covered and probably slippery, but I didn’t go fast enough to find out. Road conditions didn’t improve until we reached the west side of Cleveland. Through the western two-thirds of Ohio and Indiana, we were able to make up for some lost time. We encountered some lake-effect snow driving through the western suburbs of Chicago, which we hoped wasn’t the leading edge of a storm blowing out of the Great Plains. It wasn’t. We returned home at 5:30 p.m. CST, 12½ hours on the road and five minutes into the second quarter of the Rose Bowl.

We turned on the TV as soon as we entered the house. I did get the van unpacked but this morning most of the suitcases remained filled. During halftime, I drove to the grocery store to pick up some basics – milk and bread – but I found the door locked, even though all the lights were on. They had closed at 5:00. JoAnna’s top priority was reorganizing the kitchen cabinets, which she was able to accomplish by the end of Wisconsin’s extremely satisfying 38-31 victory over UCLA. I should have bet some big bucks on this game. A simpleton could have looked at the scores of the games that UCLA played this season and predicted a Rose Bowl loss for them. They have no defense. Wisconsin may not have a quarterback – Mike Samuel has been an object of constant abuse during his collegiate career – but they do have Ron Dayne and one of the best defense units in NCAA division I football. The Big 10 had a great bowl season, going 5-and-0. Most sports dorks, partial to southern schools, will consider it a fluke.


Right now we’re in the middle of our first major winter storm of the year. Snowing, blowing, stay-at-home conditions. We’ll probably end up with 6-8 inches on the ground before the end of the day, and more is predicted for Sunday. If we had left Warren today, we’d probably be looking for a motel right about now (2 p.m.).

In spite of the treacherous weather conditions, Andy still played his first basketball game of the season. His team beat Verona 40-19, and Andy didn’t look as though he had spent the last two weeks in front of a TV set. He only scored 2 points but pulled down 5 rebounds. Middleton played very well together and look like they’ll be a contender for the league championship.

The boys are out sledding at Elm Lawn right now. We made sure they were well protected against the elements. JoAnna’s in the kitchen baking and watching the Bills get beat by the Dolphins. (It looks like Doug Flutie’s magic season is about to come to an end.) The card party we’re invited to is still on for this evening. In fact, that’s one of the reasons JoAnna’s in the kitchen. She took a page out of Kim’s cookbook and is making stromboli.

We had a wonderful vacation, probably one of the best Christmas holidays in memory, but it certainly is nice to be home. I thought the house had a strange feel to it when we returned yesterday, as if it had been standing vacant for months instead of two weeks, but that’s probably just an indication of how special our getaway was.

On This Date in 1998

Dear Shelia and Roger,

We’re down to the wire this year, as you can see by the date. There was just too much to do before we left Middleton for the rest of the year. For the first time since the boys have been in school, Christmas break lasts for two weeks, and we decided that was plenty of time to make the trips to both Two Rivers, Wisconsin, and Warren, Pennsylvania. We have two more days in TR with the Richard family. The boys are excited because tonight is when we open our gifts. Andy is hoping to get a Playstation video game system, a wish granted, and Eddie will settle for anything Star Wars related. Another wish granted. As for me, I just want peace on earth and goodwill toward men. Yeah, right! Just like in Washington D.C.!

Speaking of politics, JoAnna is temporarily living the life of a stay-at-home Mom, an out-of-character role for her. She resigned her position as chair of the State Democratic Senate caucus after 3 years of enough stress that would last most people an entire career. She goes out on a high note, though, having won back the senate in this last election. She deserves a breather, as far as I’m concerned, and, financially, her decision won’t have an impact for awhile. She feels, and I agree with her, can afford to be choosy as to what she does next.

As for me, I finished my term as WLA president so now I can put a sharper focus on my Middleton responsibilities. It’s hard to believe that we’ve been here almost 13 years. Of course, that pales against your longevity at OPL, Shelia.

We make the trip to Pennsylvania on Saturday, a 12-hour drive. I strained my back on Tuesday – don’t ask me how; probably lifting one too many Brandy Old-fashioneds –but I’m feeling almost back to normal right now so I should be able to put in my full time behind the wheel.

Maybe when I don’t feel so rushed for time, I can provide you with some more detailed coverage of what’s been going on with JoAnna and me and the boys. To quote a movie title, “It’s a Wonderful Life”, but you’ d probably like to know the how and why!

My Only Visit to the Busy Bee Restaurant in Warren PA 16365

The yellow arrow points to the only remaining ceiling tile from the many years when the restaurant wasn't a smoke-free environment.

Photo credit:  Retiring Guy

Although the Nelson family moved to Warren in August 1957, it wasn't until September 2013 when I made my first visit to The Busy Bee.  Back in the day, it wasn't the type of establishment where a  minister took his family.  In this regard, it was very much like the now-defunct New Yorker, with its martini glass neon sign illuminating the facade.

On This Date in 1998

I wanted a change ot scene so I drove an alternative route during most of the trip back to Middleton. I took one of my favorite (and most familiar) stretches of highway in Pennsylvania, U.S. 62 between the Buckaloons and Oil City. To pass the time, the boys and I played a game of Jeopardy. Andy picked the categories – psorts, states, cities, (musical) groups, movies, TV shows – and I made up the questions. Groups for $300. What group sang about Michelle, Anna, and Lady Madonna? The Beatles, an answer the boys missed, as they are more familiar with the earliest Beatles songs. Sports for $200. What quarterback led the Green Bay Packers to their first two Super Bowl victories? Andy knew it was Bart Starr.

After a pit stop at the Barkleyville interchange, we hopped onto Interstate 80 and soon found ourselves crawling along at less than 10 miles an hour due to a road construction delay. It felt as though we were in rush hour traffic. Fortunately, it lasted for only 15 minutes.

We took U.S. 30 through the western half of Ohio, the first 1090 miles a mostly straight stretch of two-lane highway except for bypasses around Bucyrus and Upper Sandusky. Traffic was moderate but moved along at a pace just above the speed limit. Our destination was Van Wert, just 13 miles east of the Indiana state line. But with light still in the skiy and my butt glued to the driver’s seat, we continued onward to the west side of Fort Wayne and checked into a Holiday Inn with a pool and activity area, just like South Bend, much to the boys’ delight. We played around in a swimming pool strewn with big plastic noodles, which was helpful for Eddie since the water was 7 feet deep at one end. Andy and I played ping-pong, and I bought the boys $5 worth of tokens to play video games. Back in the room ,the boys settled in front of the TV (big surprise!) while I went out to find a convenient drive-through. A McDonald’s was located less than a block away.

We continued our trip at 9 a.m. Monday morning. We drove 20 miles west on U.S. 30, which is a four-land divided highway across the length of Indiana, before stopping for breakfast at a Bob Evans in Columbia City. Eddie ordered pancakes off the kids’ menu but ate only two bites, plus the one strip of bacon served with his order. He seemed lethargic and slightly pale, so I wondered if he might be coming down with something. Andy ordered lunch, a kids’ pizza with alphabet-shaped deep-fried potatoes, and a lemonade, which he found too sour for his taste. I considered an omelet, but everything pictured on the colorful menu looked like too much food, so I settled for an order of 2 eggs over easy, fried potatoes, and toast. Eddie did eat one piece of my toast.

The trip through Chicago around noontime was a breeze. No delays anywhere. The section of Interstate 94 that arcs around Chicago was a different story. The portion of the highway we saw in northwestern Indiana was moving at a snail’s pace. And the traffic looked to be mostly semis. In an interesting, but frustrating reversal of typical road conditions, the loser we got to Rockford, the worse the traffic became. It seemed to be a combination of stalled vehicles and road construction. The delays caused us to push back our expected time of arrival 45 minutes. Originally, I had predicted 2:30. We pulled into the driveway at 3:10.

The boys immediately plopped themselves in front of the TV while I unloaded the car, unpacked the suitcases, started a load of wash, and then removed an assortment of debris – gum wrappers, half-empty bottles of Mountain Dew, little football and baseball helmets, crumpled napkins, etc. – from every surface of the Saturn. At 5:00, we left for Cross Plains, so Andy could pick up his football equipment. At first I thought I’d hear a complaint from Eddie, but he almost sprang off the couch when I told him it was time to leave.

This excursion took longer than I expected. We didn’t return home until 7:00. Along with Eddie, the back seat contained a helmet, jersey, pants, shoulder pads, knee pads, hip pads, and a tailbone pad. Did I forget anything? When Andy had put on all his gear, just to make sure everything fit, he looked as though he had aged a quick two years.

JoAnna, of course, was happy to see us all. After she made some phone calls for one of her candidates and I did some grocery shopping, the four of us went out to Dairy Queen for a treat.

I was up early Tuesday morning g. At 5:30. Already back into the routine, what with laundry and shopping Monday evening, I was on the Walkfit before 6:00, listening to music and watching Sport Center with the sound off. For the first time this summer, I was the first to arrive at work. I was at my desk a few minutes past 7:00. I had lots of mail to look through, 380 email messages waiting for me (most of which I immediately clicked into the trash), then prepared myself for the three meetings I would be attending during the day: Dane County librarians in the morning, Wisconsin Library Association Personnel Committee in the early afternoon, and a library board meeting in the evening. It was a long day. The boys went to work with JoAnna as Andy had a physical at 10:15. We had to schedule one with our previous pediatrician, who now practices in Fitchburg, a south suburb of Madison, as our current one was booked into October when I called for an appointment three weeks ago. Andy had to have a physical before his first practice yesterday, and, to my great relief, the Middleton Clinic made the referral for us. Otherwise, I would have had to get down on my knees and beg and plead.

The boys spent the first half of the afternoon at home alone. When I stopped by for lunch after my second emoting, it was obvious that they had been occupying every room of the house at one time or another.

“Why do you guys have to watch TV in our bedroom?” I asked them in exasperation, after picking up a half-empty glass of milk in the bathroom, the residue of Chips Ahoy cookies on the surface of the milk and sides of the glass.

I wanted to get back to work but waited around until Andy’s ride to practice arrived. I was afraid he would forget the form the doctor signed, certifying that he was fit to play. And sure enough, he would have. It might have been a good lesson for him to watch the practice from the sidelines.

Eddie didn’t want to accompany me to the library, so I dropped him off at his chosen destination. The Middleton pool, which provide a convenient “babysitting” service. JoAnna picked him up there. After the two of them had something to eat, they went to pick up Andy and Drew at practice. I couldn’t wait to get home to ask how things went, so I called JoAnna right after the board meeting adjourned at 7:45.

“He liked it,” she reported. “He looked really good. I’m surprised how fast he is.”

Andy always complained whenever he had to run the mile in 3rd and 4th grade gym class, and running is a big portion of this week’s football practices.

“We didn’t only do running, Dad”, Andy told me during a conversation about his first practice after I returned home from work. Before going to sleep, he clipped stories and statistical summaries from the day’s sports pages of The Capital Times and taped them on one of the walls next to his bed. Close to ten o’clock, he was still wearing his practice jersey, although he didn’t wear it to bed.

Eddie still isn’t sleeping in his own room. He slept on the floor next to his brother’s bed last night and on the futon on the night before. Yesterday evening, he started to work on a large drawing with a prehistoric theme (i.e., dinosaurs, which haven’t been in his repertoire lately.)

It sure didn’t take long to get back into the old swing of things.

The boys and I enjoyed our visit. Last night, JoAnna suggested, without prompting, that we go to Pennsylvania for Christmas, but we haven’t work out the dates yet.

On This Date in 1998

Since today is a carbon copy of yesterday, we’re back at the beach – Kinzua Dam again as flotation devices are not permitted at Chapman Dam. Barb didn’t join us today, complaining of a sunburn, actually a little bit of redness on the upper left side of her chest area. But thanks to Barb, the boys and I came better prepared today. She found a rubber raft in the attic and bought a pail and shovel set, the three “shovels” able to be used a squirt guns. We also brought along beach footwear, so we didn’t have to repeat yesterday’s painful trek along 40 feet of stones to get to the water. The bottoms of my feet are a little sore today, and it feels like there is a bruise in the middle of my right sole.

Unable to continue with Sara Paretsky’s latest book, a major disappointment, I purchased a copy of Cloudsplitter, a 700-page epic by Russell Banks based on the lives of John Brown and his offspring. Banks will be the keynote speaker at this year’s WLA conference, and I promised myself I would read this latest book of his by then. Might as well get started now, I told myself, after finding no other titles by Banks on the shelves. It’s a book that you might enjoy as it deals with Bloody Kansas, the raid on Harpers Ferry, and other events leading up to the Civil War, part of a 300-year conflict that the author refers to as the War Between the Races. After reading 40 pages, I think it’s safe to state that this is a well-researched, well-imagined, and well-written book.

I’m surprised my retreat to the blanket hasn’t been interrupted, but Andy, untypically, is enjoying being on his own. He’s at the water’s edge, inspecting stones, or so it looks from here. Eddie is on the raft, paddling himself around with one of the shovels. Andy and I tossed the Frisbee back and forth for awhile, until my right contact popped out of my eye after two consecutive dives as I tried to make a spectacular catches of Andy’s errant throws. Both times, to my great relief, I was able to pluck the lens from my eyelids.

On This Date in 1998

The first two days in Warren were hazy and humid, but today is perfect beach weather with a warming sun and a cooling breeze. Taking advantage of this great weather, Barb and the boys and I are hanging out at Kinzua Dam. Due to the lack of rain for much of the summer here, the water level is low, which has reduced the areas marked off for swimming, but it’s a sparse turnout so there’s plenty of room for everybody. I bought a Frisbee prior to our departure, which Andy is now using to collect stones.

I didn’t wear my watch this afternoon, so I don’t have any idea what time it is. The boys have been in the water much of the time. Some kids lent them rubber tubs to float around on, so they are enjoying themselves right now. Andy and I brought along our gloves and a ball and played catch for awhile. You’d think he’d be sick of baseball by now.

We ended up spending four hours at Kinzua Beach. I should have swum lengths while the boys were playing but preferred to be lazy and stretch out on the blanket Barb brought along. I talked with Barb about Dad, as his mental deterioration is much more noticeable now than it was in March. She says he’s “out of it” pretty much all of the time now. Sometimes he can’t find his way to the bathroom. One evening at dinner, he looked at Mom and asked, “Who are you?” Mom replied, “I’m your wife, Carl. We’ve been married 53 years.” “I don’t believe you,” he said. Last night while some of us were still at the dinner table and others were in the living room watching TV, I heard Mom say, “You can’t take your clothes off here.” At first I thought she was talking to Eddie because I could see where Andy was. W hat happened though was that Dad had unbuttoned his shirt and was ready to undo his pants. According to Barb, this is a regular occurrence. While Mom finished cleaning the kitchen, Dad stood in the bathroom in his undershirt and pants. After a long interval, he asked where his glasses were. He accused Mom of taking them. While she was leading him to his bed, I heard her call out, “Carl, stop doing that! Stop doing that, Carl!” He was trying to hit her, but in his enfeebled state wasn’t able to do that. I got up from where I was sitting in the living room – the boys were upstairs taking a bath at this time – and walked to the threshold of the kitchen. I felt so helpless. I didn’t need to intercede, of course, but this scene, most of which I had only heard, filled me with the strangest sensation.

Mom filled me in on Barb’s prospects yesterday during a late-afternoon conversation. She’ll be providing child care for a couple who own a restaurant downtown three days a week, three hours a day. S he may have an option for more extended employment in the fall, assisting a woman who is recovering from a serious car accident. Mom, of course, would like to see Barb get a “real” job, i.e. one with health coverage, specifically. “We’re not going to be around to take care of her forever,” she said. I think she’s more concerned about Barb’s long-term prospects than she lets on.

I should have added one important piece of information about Dad’s undressing. I don’t think Mom mentioned this in any of her letters this summer. Dad recently had a bad case of shingles. According to Barb’s more detailed description, almost the entire left side of his body was covered with a very painful rash. Fortunately, the medication his doctor prescribes for him worked quickly and effectively. But while he was suffering from shingles, I’m sure his clothes were mostly an unwanted irritation.

After too many stays at the Warren County Jail, Dale seems to have experienced a true reformation. Outside of his passion for cars, his life is solitary. Watching TV in his bedroom serves as his only recreational activity. Otherwise, he’s at Shultz, or in the garage, working on cars, an activity at which he is indisputably the master. At least he found his calling. Wait until you see the picture of a 1984 Monte Carol he rebuilt. Its bright whiteness gleams like a vain Hollywood star’s smile. He’s talking about selling the car – for Dale, there’s always another junker to rehabilitate – and if I had the money and a protective storage space, I’d be first in line. If he ever charged for the time he puts into remaking these vehicles, he could retire. But a life of leisure is not his goal.

This afternoon I’m on the porch of 4 East Third. There’s more traffic noise here, obviously, but otherwise things are pretty quiet. The boys are upstairs watching TV. Andy and I just finished a game of catch, my throwing him pop-ups that he had to catch without stepping beyond the sidewalk that runs between the side of the house and the garage. Earlier in the afternoon, I took a ride on Dale’s bike around the east side of Warren, and then north on the bike-hike trail to the State Hospital in North Warren and back. My butt was very sore when I finished. I think the seat is a little too high, even for my long legs. I started reading Sara Paretsky’s latest book, Ghost Country, not one of the V. I. Warshawski series. After four chapters, I’m ready to put it aside. I find the writing style very irritating. It’s as if Paretsky is trying too hard to do something different. I was going to look for a better read at the Book Rack during my bike ride, but the store closes at 1:00 on Wednesday.

Barb has been working on various projects around the hose. She recently finished the downstairs bathroom, stripping off the busy wallpaper that I always thought was such an odd choice for such a small room, painting it a color that’s hard to describe (it’s not an off-white, more of a cream and beige blend) and then adding a border where the walls and the cupboards meet the ceiling. She’s currently repainting the front porch and her fastidious approach to this project will probably keep her busy with it through the end of the month. She also cleaned and repainted the walls leading from the kitchen to the basement but is still working on the steps. What she is doing around the house is certainly not frivolous. They are long overdue projects that Dad never tackled when he was healthy and Mom would never have the interest in or energy for. The bathroom looks much improved, especially with the new washer and dryer, which have an almost aerodynamic design. What I can’t figure out is why she wants to continue to live her life in semi-seclusion. It’s not like she can’t get along with people. Lynn just stopped by with Scottie and Marisa, and she and Lynn had what sounded like a pleasant, unforced conversation for 15 minutes. Scottie’s here while Lynn takes Marisa to the dentist. Barb just tried to get the boys to play outside, but Andy and Eddie are such drones right now.

Andy complained of having a sore throat yesterday so I bought him some lozenges. It’s better now, he says, but after two different symptoms in two days (a headache on Monday), I’m keeping close tabs on his well-being.

It’s only Wednesday, but already it feels as though I’ve been here for a week. That both is and isn’t a complaint, depending upon which part of my brain I stroll through.

Look forward to seeing you on Monday.

On This Date in 1998

It’s the middle of the afternoon and I’m enjoying the view from the deck of Larry and Kim’s cabin. Except for the boys, it’s very peaceful out here. After lunch we went miniature golfing and then stopped at County Market to buy a few things to have on hand: cereal, milk, pop tarts (the first of which was just downed by Eddie), microwave popcorn, orange juice and a 6-pack of Mountain Dew.

It’s a much more comfortable and relaxing environment staying out here. It makes a big difference now that the eating area has been transformed into dad’s bedroom. The dining room can’t serve the same informal purpose, a place where Dale can eat lunch, Eddie can draw or build Legos, and Grandma can work on her crossword puzzle with the TV droning in the background. He can shuffle from room to room on his own power. I haven’t seen him use his wheelchair much yet. It’s obvious that since my last visit he has retreated farther into the solitary world that Parkinson’s has boxed him into. I’m sure it’s not intentional, but Mom addresses him like a child whenever she attends to him. Speaking more slowly and clearly than she usually does. Repeating questions. Stretching out a pause to what for me is an uncomfortable length as she awaits a response, which she manages to understand but is usually incomprehensively garbled to me. When I was the boys’ ages, I could never cut through the thick accent of Grandpa Nelson’s English. Now I can’t understand the words my dad is speaking.

The weather is muggy today. The temperature is in the mid-80s. I suggested going swimming at the dam but Andy said he didn’t feel like doing that. Grandma mentioned that Andy seems tired, and I certainly agree with that observation. I think the last two weeks of July were physically and emotionally draining for him. First of all, he played a lot of baseball during that stretch. Secondly, I recall experiencing butterflies before a regular league softball game in Oshkosh. I’m sure Andy had some moments of apprehension prior (and during) both of his July tournaments. (Actually, the last one was in August.) As we were leaving Reedsburg late Saturday afternoon, at the halfway point of the tournament, he told me, “I can’t wait to get home. I’m really tired.”

As a competitor in sports events, Andy learned a lot this summer. Not taking anything away from Eddie, of course, we have a lot to be proud of in our older son.

(Sorry for the sloppiness of this card but the slope of this comfortable chair is not conducive to good penmanship.)

We miss you.

On This Date in 1998

So begins another week. June is zipping along at a pretty fast clip. I’d rather see it move along at a more leisurely pace, but I’m sure that won’t happen. I’d have to discover a miracle of physics, and sometimes I have a problem locating my keys.

During the summer I have to add a task to my morning routine. During the school year, the boys almost always buy their lunch at Elm Lawn, but the summer program they are enrolled in at Sauk Trail doesn’t provide a hot lunch option, so I need to make them one. For Eddie, it’s peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a small container of applesauce, a can of Fresca, cookies, and depending upon what’s available, goldfish or baby carrots. Andy eats a turkey and cheese sandwich with mayo, a fruit cup, and then the same as what I pack for Eddie. JoAnna created a list of household chores for othe boys to do in order to earn their allowance: make their beds, tidy up their rooms, put their clothes away, wash the dishes, take out the garbage. For Andy’s I should add “make your own lunch”.

Friday evening, JoAnna attended the state Democratic convention at the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Monona Terrace in Madison. Neither of the boys had a baseball game scheduled. Andy preferred to stay at home instead of going out to eat, so we ordered a pizza for delivery and watched game 5 of the Bulls-Jazz series. I was pleased to see the Jazz win. Andy, of course, wanted the Bulls’ celebration to begin.

Saturday afternoon, we participated in a “deck-raising”. Ron and Julie, friends of ours who live in the east side of Madison, were putting a deck off their back porch. They are part of the group that we occasionally play cards with. JoAnna and I thought the boys wouldn’t be interested, but Andy wanted to go and that, of course, left Eddie with no choice. He wanted to stay home. Andy asked if Meaghan could come along with us, and I didn’t see a problem with that, as the boys usually accompany us to our card parties anyway. We arrived at 12:30, in time for a hamburger cookout. JoAnna didn’t show up until nearly 2:00 as she was at the Dem convention again. Ron’s parents and one of his brothers were there as well as a half dozen of Ron and Julie’s friends. Most of the people in attendance observed the work being done. For about an hour or so, I used a power drill to insert screws into the wood beams. The kids behaved very well, keeping out of the way most of the time. Andy and Meaghan brought their baseball gloves along and were able to play catch. On the drive back to Middleton, we stopped at Best Buy so Andy could buy a CD by Chumbawamba, a group that had a #1 hit earlier this year with their song “Tubthumper”. Not a group or song I’m familiar with. Later, giving into his persistent requests, I took Eddie to Target so he could buy a Beast War toy. The particularly character he wanted wasn’t in stock. We searched the toy section thoroughly. Eddie seemed more perplexed than disappointed. On the way home, we stopped at our neighborhood Walgreen’s, as I wasn’t in the mood to drive an additional three miles to Toys R Us. Fortunately, and against all odds I had figured, he found what he wanted there.


JoAnna and I pretty much vegged out Saturday night. The boys went swimming t the outdoor pool. During the morning, I had worked on another portion of the front lawn, reseeding a particularly bare area, so I had my sense of accomplishment for the day. (The project continues to be a success.) We ended up watching a movie, Romancing the Stone, a romantic comedy/thriller with Michael Dougals and Kathleen Turner. I saw it when it was first released in 1984, the spring before I met JoAnna. She had never seen it.


Since JoAnna had a meeting to attend at 1:00 Sunday afternoon, we weren’t able to plan any family activity. Meaghan spent most of the day at our house. I kept hearing Andy complain about their being nothing to do. When he asked if I’d take them miniature golfing, I declined. Meaghan’s dad ended up providing taxi service. I watered my grass seed and then finished the challenging task of “pruning” a 8-inch-diameter limb from the silver maple in the back yard. I wasn’t using the most effective tool, although I did get the thing down after 30 minutes of dogged persistence. Then it took me another hour to but the limb into manageable pieces and transport them to the curb. The branch had been interfering with the straight growth of the three evergreens.

JoAnna fixed a pasta salad and we grilled out hamburgers for supper. Afterwards Andy and I rode our bikes to a nearby ball field and he practiced his pitching and batting. Andy’s team has played two games so far this season and won both of them, 12-3 last Monday and 6-0 on Wednesday. Andy has pitched two innings in each game, giving up only 2 hits, 0 runs, 1 walked, and notching 8 strikeouts. He looks good on the mount, at ease and confident, with a very economical pitching motion.

I’ve been reading the articles about Warren Public Library in the Times-Observer (Which reminds me. I need to renew my subscription.) The library certainly generates a lot of publicity but, unfortunately, most of it is bad. Speaking of bad news, the closing of Carnahan’s certainly isn’t good news for downtown. The mall never did turn downtown Warren into a ghost town, although a lot of former retail space is now used for offices. I think the idea of developing the riverfront is a long overdue good idea and maybe that will help to reinvigorate the downtown area.

I’ve enclosed some pictures of Boxer (and family).

On This Date in 1998

Sorry for being out of touch for so long. We should have made definite plans to see David Grisman at the Barrymore. That would have given us both something to look forward to. As it turned out, no surprise, I didn’t go, another missed opportunity to see a performer I have long admired.

Life is proceeding at its usual hectic pace. Only 6 more days of school left, and then we shift into our summer schedule. Which isn’t all that different from our schoolyear schedule actually, since it offers no relief from the usual juggling of activities and commitments. The boys will be attending a daycare program at a local school, one that provides them with a variety of offsite activities throughout the summer. Our evenings, at least three times a week, will be taken up with baseball games. We probably won’t venture out of Dane County until the end of June. (Not quite true.)

The boys and I drove to Pennsylvania during spring break. JoAnna was immersed in a special election. Her busy schedule didn’t permit a break. On the drive east, we made a planned stop at a Holidome in South Bend, Indiana, where the boys enjoyed the pool and a large activity area. In fact, they didn’t get to bed until 1 a.m. Party time! Nothing of interest to report from our four days in Warren, except that my dad continues to deteriorate both physically and mentally form Parkinson’s Disease.

Before returning home, we spent a couple of days in Chicago. I splurged and got us a room at a Days Inn on Lake Shore Drive, just across the way from Navy Pier. We visited the Field Museum, Shedd Aquarium, and Museum of Science & Industry, which I first visited when I was Andy’s age and remember being literally cluttered with all kinds of fascinating exhibits. Now there seems to be so much open space and all these rinky-dink displays. Even the boys weren’t overly impressed with this stop. We also walked around Michigan Avenue, bustling with activity, and took a ride on a speeding elevator to the top of the Hancock building at dusk. We had a great time.

Easter weekend the family spent on night in – get ready to cringe – Wisconsin Dells at the Polynesian, a resort hotel with two indoor waterparks. The boys, of course, had been lobbying for this getaway. Perhaps it’s a sign of how much my life has been transformed since those crazy Oshkosh years of excess, but I actually enjoyed myself. Family outings have been somewhat of a rarity this year. The waterparks, a bit of a stretch to call them that, are geared for younger children, Eddie probably being at the upper end of the age range. Andy still had a great time, though. Friday evening, Mom and Dad kept an eye on the boys from the bar, drinking margaritas and playing casino. We told each other we should have got a suite, so we could have some privacy after the boys went to bed.

We spent the Memorial Day weekend in Two Rivers, where JoAnna and I celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary. All day Saturday I was an almanac of historical information. Exactly twelve years ago today, at this very minute, I was getting out of bed with a most horrendous hangover. Twelve years ago today, the men in the wedding party were hanging out in the parking lot of the Lighthouse Inn. Twelve years ago today, I was sweating bullets minutes before Dad’s homily. Twelve years ago today, people had finished inching their way through the reception line and pictures of the wedding party were being taken. Twelve years ago today, Joan Kranick’s husband was wearing JoAnna’s bra at the reception. What a weekend that was!

Saturday evening of this past weekend, after playing baseball with the boys in Nashotah Park in the morning and golfing with JoAnna, Andy, and Larry in the afternoon, we grilled steaks on the barbecue and had a feast. In many ways, it was a perfect day of fun and relaxation. We topped it off by playing cards and sitting around the fire in Larry’s outdoor pit.

Teaching stuff. I survived my class and a series of other teaching commitments without incident. The home front. As a result of years of rough play in the back yard and a blight in the front yard, I’ve been doing some major work as a lawn doctor. At first, I thought about hiring a professional, but the results of my test area in the back yard were very satisfying, so I convinced myself it is a job that I can do. Although I was grousing about its condition in March, the yard looks beautiful now what with the perennials massing and the annuals providing attractive splashes of color. So if it’s not my Middleton Public Library commitments, there’s still plenty to keep me busy.

We now have a new member of the household. Boxer is a little gray-and-white furball, just the cutest little kitty. We got him a few weeks ago when he was 6 weeks old. At that time, I could cup him in my hands. He’s a playful little guy. JoAnna and I have to close our bedroom door if we don’t want to be disturbed at 4 or 5 in the morning. “Time to play,” Boxer says. When I walk home for lunch, he bounces around my feet like a puppy. Today he didn’t appreciate the fact that I was ignoring him while eating my lunch, so he started to crawl up my legs, claws digging into my shins. He didn’t get the hoped for reaction.

I had been resisting the idea of a pet for a long time, remembering our previous experience with Misty, the hairball queen, but JoAnna and Eddie kept pressuring me. They promised that the cat would be their responsibility, and so far I’ve held them to that. As I told JoAnna, Boxer is not going to be like the laundry or the grocery shopping a chore that I take over almost exclusively.

Let us know when you’re going to be in the area. Look forward to seeing you soon.