Jonas Brothers - yucky poo

I have a Burger King right across the street from work. I'm fond of their breakfast specials. But my entrance to there finds the walls plastered with Jonas Brothers stuff. Posters everywhere! Hard on the appetite. Haven't puked yet, but could happen. They were on Conan O'Brian's Tonight Show tonight. How shallow. Conan, how could you stoop so low!

**At this point, Rumbleshorts chose to edit previous comments that were posted by his evil twin brother. That twin is once again locked up in the basement and we hope he will not see the light of day again!

Talking with Dad - 1999

Talking with Dad

Two years ago, my Dad was losing a long, crummy, battle with cancer, dying at home in a rented hospital bed. His bed was in the addition on the East side of our house where the sun could shine in through big windows every morning. That’s how he knew it was morning. He lived on tubes for months, until, one day, he gathered us together for one last act as head of the family. He said it was time to remove those tubes.

I gave the eulogy at his funeral; he asked me to because I was a Toastmaster. And I did good for him. I did the very, best I could for him. I remember the last line… “next year Grandma Erna is going to have her best garden ever, because every day Grandpa is going to shine down upon it.”

Mom continued to live in that house. For strength and healing, she embraced her circle of friends from church. And we’d come up to visit. Sometimes stay the night. She loves a houseful of kids! The more noise the better. Even at night… when everybody snores! And sometimes, I’d sleep down in that addition where Dad died.

I’m expecting a visit, I guess. I’d like to see him again. There’s so much we could talk about, not that we ever did. Maybe he’d yell at me for still smoking(God knows somebody should)! I can hear him now, “I quit cold turkey when I was your age!” Yeah, and it still killed ya thirty years later. Certainly we could find something better to talk about than that! I mean, after all, we are Minnesota sports fans.

“Darn Vikings! Stupid Twins! But hey… how about that Tom Lehmann?” Dad always liked Tom Lehmann because they were both from Alexandria, Minnesota. The only reason he would watch golf was to see if Tom Lehmann was on top of the leader board.

Even if I saw Dad and he said nothing at all, just smiled, well, just seeing him smile again would be pretty darn nice.

The grandkids would love to be part of this visit. Grampa was such a funny guy with them. He’d say “2 + 2 = 22” and they’d laugh, scream and protest “no, no grampa!” It was his granddaughter, my daughter Anna, who helped me cry out every last tear the day he died.

How stupid not to talk while we’re both still able! Shouldn’t that be a precious moment in every day?

We did have our memories. Dad used to pitch baseballs to Harmon Killebrew and Tony Oliva. I was Harmon and my brother was Tony O. He never did take his turn. He only pitched. We tore the hide off the ball! We fished and we camped. He worked, we played.

He really did quite a bit for us kids. And maybe now, I’m just being selfish. I want more. Maybe now that he’s gone, it’s easier to talk.

We’re going to my Mom’s this weekend. We’ve got a lot to talk about. It’s precious. And at night, well, the kids and I… we’ll sleep in the addition.

**Dedicated with love from Mark to his Dad… Morrie Sannes.

Father's Day Eve

Lucky me. A long fine day filled with time for both Jim and Anna.

Anna and I migrated north this morning so she could be in the Four Mile Run in Farmington. Hey, that rhymes.

Four mile run,
In Farmington,
My baby girl,
She got it done.
Middle of the pack,
Was a darn good finish,
Guess she must've,
Been eatin' her spinach!

And we returned home from a wonderful morning. While catching some zzzzzssss on the recliner, I realized the MN Twins had a night game. Jim and I are ravid fans, to put it mildly, and decided to attend the game on the spur of the moment.

We used to hit maybe 6-8 games a season, but his schedule of good stuff has made that more of a challenge. Today worked though. North again! We got the good old cheap seats. The Twins provided four home runs, the most special being Joe Maurer's patented blast to left center, two rows up. Just enough! Twins fell short on the score, but it was a good pa and son time.

I understand we may see the movie UP tomorrow at the Kasson State Theatre. Three bucks for matinee! And Dad will try to cook a good Father's Day supper.

I'm a lucky guy. There is no task too great to do for these wonderful kids!

Fishing instead of mowing the lawn

My lawn needed mowing, still does. The weather lady on channel 12 gave me a day of sunshine, so perfect and fine! But hey, there's always some chore to take your time if you let it. And if I left that grass a growin' one more day and went fishin' instead, inner harmony would grow by leaps and bounds to the Nth degree.

I think the vitamin D of sunshine is absorbed so much better on a river than pushing a mower. Allergies... mowing stuffs up my head. Noses run in my family.

So I met friend Dave for a morning of canoeing, fly fishing, absorbing vitamin D and exchanging bull. Fly fishing I just took up again after forty years and this was my first canoeing in forty years, too. Canoeing 101 it was. Managed to dump us only once! Unstable guy in many ways, it was a balancing act that was fortunately tuned on a shallow river.

A beautiful river, it was shined on by a beautiful day. Bass were the targets and we got a few. Couple nice size, too! We'd drift and stop, wade and cast, dressed as fisherman do in chest waders, fishing vests and always wearing the smile a good day of friends and fishing brings.

Wore me out I must say! Lawn mowing would have done the same. But at days end, with canoe and stuff loaded up to go home, we sat at river's edge and had a cold one, reflecting on what a darn fine day it had been.

You know, it's getting into summer and lawns need to be a bit longer anyway, to keep from burning up. And a good day of fishing can keep a guy from burning out. A win-win situation!

Old Farts Dating

Not an easy thing, trying to date at the age of 53. Especially when you've been out of the game for 20+ years. You'd think there'd be 53 year old women out there waiting for 53 year old stud-muffins like me. Maybe not a stud-muffin, more like a three day old donut that's been sittin' on the counter, crusty but available and looking for a bite.

Looking for a bite, tried trolling for a while. Now just still fishin', enjoying some quiet time, but still hoping for a nibble.

It's the 'Uncle Orville' syndrome. Unc never married and when we asked him why he'd just say "I only get married on weekends!" Orville's 'getting married' to him just meant the honeymoon. He did get to honeymoon quite a bit. Dashing South Dakota farmer that he was, he had no problem finding a weekend match.

Maybe I need some bib overalls with a sign that reads 'One night stand'. Would I like more than one night? Yes, if that unlikely match exists. For my remaining 50 years, provided I live till 103, I'd certainly need a gal with an enormous sense of humor, one that lends itself to her choice of music. If we could cook together while Prairie Home Companion plays from the under-the-counter kitchen radio, that would work good, too.

She might be out there, kinda like that star in the sky I never noticed before.

I'm ready for Iron Ore Betty!

Dad is happy for son Jim and Prom date Laura

Pretty neat. Grand march is an hour away and the kids we've been watching all their lives will be all spiffy and beaming. Dance is in the gym and they have an all night party after wards with oodles of good prizes. Jim expects to be back about 5am and has asked to be woken at 9am. Can't miss our Sunday morning bowling!

Pretty good kids!

Fishin', Mother's Day and Prom.

All the same weekend this year, Fishin' Opener, Mother's Day and Prom. Still waitin' for my prom date.

A perfect date would be the gal who longs for a lake with a walleye chop and at day's end would slow dance in the cabin. And how about that porch time? God sure makes crickets sing pretty out there at night. A 50 degree night is just the right crisp. Turns up the wattage on the stars. Even the skeeters are just laying back. Most anyway.

A perfect date. I'd cook breakfast for her! Eggs over-easy so you can break the yoke with your toast and smother the edges. Out on the dock, the morning fog still has the lake tucked in, not even the slightest ripple on the surface. Coffee in the thermos and sandwiches. That'll be good about the middle of morning.

It's a still fishin', bobber watching day. Just on the edge of the reeds. Somethings awake neath there and seems hungry... gotcha!

We release this one. Already had a keeper in the boat. Everybody should have a keeper.

Good luck fishin'!