Original anecdotes, commentary, rumination, and occasional pontification.
FEBRUARY 24, 2025 – (Cont.) The fourth letter from February 1981 in the packet that Russ sent me exactly 44 years later was from (now) Dr. Pavel Šebesta, the inimitable Czech, to whom I introduced the readers in “Stage IV” (2/19/25 post) of this series. Pavel’s letter came in a large light brown envelope bearing …
FEBRUARY 23, 2025 – (Cont.) The datometer aboard the time machine was restless—again. It began spinning, slowly at first, then faster, faster into a blur before slowing again and coming to rest at February 19, 1981, the date of (my sister) Jenny’s letter. I stepped from the machine and sat down in the garden paradise …
FEBRUARY 22, 2025 – (Cont.) The day before [January 12, 2025], while my sister Jenny was visiting our cousin Russ and his wife Kerri in California, they came across a letter that my grandfather had written to the Winthers back in June 1933. Russ emailed a scanned version to my other two sisters and me. …
FEBRUARY 21, 2025 – (Cont.) “I saw a stupid accident in Champlin on my return from the airport,” Dad wrote. A teenager on a bike tried to dart between the cars waiting for the stop light and got hit by cars in the third lane, which he didn’t notice were moving. He hit (or got …
FEBRUARY 19, 2025 – (Cont.) “Monica” was a Swedish woman, about the same age as I (25 at the time), whom I’d met on my first trip to Europe. She and two of her friends, all from Lund, were on a Greek holiday, and our initial encounter was aboard an overnight ferry from Brindisi to …
FEBRUARY 18, 2025 – (Cont.) If Dad had shared any of Mother’s misgivings about my decision to gallivant around the world until the money ran out, he hadn’t let on. I think his acquiescence in my plans stemmed from a combination of his knowing I was determined to follow through on my ambitions and his …
FEBRUARY 17, 2025 – (Cont.) The first letter was from my dad, who died 15 years ago this coming May. As I unfolded the single sheet of lined paper and exposed his familiar handwriting to the present light, the slight disturbance of air sent the time machine “datometer” into a dizzying blur. Dad’s distinctive cursive, …
SEPTEMBER 5, 2024 – (Cont.) When Susan and her husband Bob pulled into the yard, I had no idea what to expect. She was such a young kid when we’d last met on the deck of her family’s swimming pool in New Jersey, she’d made no lasting impression. We’d had no contact since. Jenny, who’d …
SEPTEMBER 4, 2024 – (Cont,) Many families experience splits, rifts, friction, upheavals, estrangement. The fractures in our own—cousin vs. cousin (Carol’s father vs. my uncle) and, it seemed, brother vs. brother (Carol’s grandfather vs. mine)—were not unusual as families go. Only a specialisit in abnormal psychology, however, could categorize the discord that ebbed and flowed …
SEPTEMBER 3, 2024 – (Cont.) In anticipation of our mini-reunion with Carol and her husband Barry, Jenny and I talked about things we could do and places where we could dine out. On our list were “Anna’s house” two doors down, where Anna and her husband Mickey lived. They were shirt-tail relatives of ours, though …
AUGUST 29, 2024 – (Cont.) Mother and UB—the last of their generation in our family—died within two months of each other in the first half of 2017. In August of that year my sisters and I and two members of the next generation gathered for three days at Lyme Light. It was the first time …
JUNE 20, 2024 – This afternoon we spent 90 minutes aboard a time machine, and though we never left the present, we experienced the past—over 410 years in the past, to be precise. The excitement was aboard the Onrust, a replica of the old Dutch sailing vessel built in 1613-14 by Adrien Block, a lawyer-turned-merchant-fortune …
JUNE 2, 2024 – In ancient times I was involved in a case concerning a prominent piece of real estate in downtown St. Paul[1]. For years the matter consumed a plurality, sometimes a majority, of my billable hours at the firm. Other lawyers with the pertinent client relationship that predated my hiring had reeled the …
MAY 25, 2024 – (Cont.) In the morning of May 25, Dan and I found our way to the Dalkon Shield Settlement Claims Administration facility occupying a full city block in downtown Richmond. On hand to greet us was Mike Sheppard. I remember him well even without the aid of my journal. He engaged with …
MAY 24, 2024 – The other day while in conversation with our eight-year-old granddaughter about writing, she asked me how many diaries I had. “Lots,” I said. “Ten?” she asked, seeking greater precision from me. “More than that. If I had to guess, probably several dozen.” “You should count ’em,” she said. We then went …
MAY 21, 2024 – (Cont.) The years passed. While I was in my second year of law school, Fred died at the age of 80. I was saddened by his passing; over the years I’d enjoyed many meaningful conversations with him. Ruth lived in the big house for a few years after Fred’s passing, then …
MAY 20, 2024 – (Cont.) Fred and Ruth had two small house dogs—a Corgi (I believe) named Bambi, and Chico, which, as you can tell from the name, was a Chihuahua—and three kids: Tom, Julie, and Sara. Tom was the oldest—way older than my oldest sister. He was well into grown-up status by the time …
MAY 19, 2024 – (Cont.) Fred was a successful businessman (See 1/3/24 post) who exuded intelligence and whose wry humor was always close to the surface. He liked to joke that everyone in town knew that our neighborhood was the poorest in Anoka because “We all lived on Rice.” While battling the city of Maplewood …
MAY 13, 2024 – To conclude series, The Neighbors, I now reminisce about the Moores, whose expansive river lot faced the Rathbuns’ house and our yard. Moore’s elegant home had been designed by an architect with pleasing sensibilities. Three well-proportioned second floor dormers faced the street, as did the two windows with shutters on the …
MAY 17, 2024 – (Cont.) I don’t know why, but after a couple of years the Kuhlmeys moved. Maybe it was because the lilac bush refused to surrender, even after having been burned at the stake by Mr. Kuhlmey. Replacing the Kulmeys were the Walchessens, by far the most interesting of our successors, mainly because …
MAY 16, 2024 – (Cont.) The third set of neighbors to occupy our old house next door were the Kuhlmeys—Mr. and Mrs., their grown son who’d been on his own before the Kuhlmeys move-in, and their very young son. Our family had very little interaction with these people, largely because they seemed to have little …
MAY 15, 2024 – (Cont.) Taking the place of the Schippers was Mrs. Gage, a widow of my grandparents’ vintage, and her son Dick. I’ve forgotten what he did for a living, if I ever knew in the first place. What I remember, however, is that he wore a suit to work and always flashed …
MAY 11, 2024 – During moving day in August 1961, our family became next door neighbors of ourselves. A year or two before, my parents had purchased the adjacent vacant lot from our neighbor Dr. Spurzem a few doors down and spent months planning their dream home. I remember well the process. Late into the …
MAY 9, 2024 – Next door (upstream along the Mississippi River) to Caines lived the Moores. The parents, Fred and Ruth, were smart, sharp, kind, cultured, and civic minded, and from my perspective, their impressive house and yard reflected their well-deserved reputation as pillars of the community. I’ll save them for last. For now, I’ll …
MAY 8, 2024 – (Cont.) On warm weather afternoons Bill would stroll down the driveway to retrieve the mail. Hanging from a crosspiece was a wooden square bearing the family name below a silhouetted hunter, gun raised toward silhouetted ducks flying across the top of square. If Bill wasn’t an avid worker, he was an …