Original anecdotes, commentary, rumination, and occasional pontification.
SEPTEMBER 14, 2020 – My third memorable fifth-grade lesson was about battlefield courage. The lesson could be traced directly to the Civil War. Background is in order. My dad was a student of the Civil War. He’d read all of Bruce Catton’s books on the subject and owned the four-inch-thick, illustrated volume, Civil War, published …
SEPTEMBER 13, 2020 – (cont.) As I circled the correct answer to question #4 (Susan had erased her circle around a wrong answer), I pictured a pool of vomit in the aisle; Mrs. Hilliard saying “Everyone stay calm,” then rushing out of the room; her returning minutes later with “Harry,” the friendly custodian only slightly …
SEPTEMBER 12, 2020 – My second memorable lesson from fifth grade was about guilt, taught again unwittingly by Susan Johansen, the girl who sat in front of me (see my 9/11 post – “The Sneeze”). One winter day our official teacher, Mrs. Hilliard, handed out a two-page, mimeographed math quiz and gave us instructions as …
SEPTEMBER 11, 2020 – I learned three memorable things in fifth grade. The first concerned sneezing. Until then, I’d never given sneezing much thought. When I had to sneeze, I sneezed. My sneezes were normal. They didn’t scare the cat or cause my arms to flap. And they didn’t produce improbable sounds—nothing like BZZZZZKK! which …
SEPTEMBER 10, 2020 – (Cont.) I was ecstatic but perplexed. The big kids at home had ample space to “deal with” their catches—a stretch of sand, a patch of grass, terra firma on which to lay the fish and work the hook out of its mouth. But a bass flopping around inside a net on …
SEPTEMBER 9, 2020 – (Cont.) When Dad got something special for any of my sisters or me—a birthday present, for example—he’d “hide” it on the back shelf of the front hall closet, which was pretty much his closet, where he parked his fedora, hat brush, dress coats, and umbrella. Every day in the weeks leading …
SEPTEMBER 8, 2020 – Recently, while sitting on the dock, my wife and I watched a lone fisherman out a ways haul in a catch. “Hard to tell,” I said, “if it’s a bass or a walleye; it’s definitely not a northern or a muskie.” “O-o-h-h,” my wife scoffed. “You don’t know the first thing …
SEPTEMBER 6, 2020 – At Björnholm, Dad was always engaged in a project relating to the operation, maintenance, or improvement of the cabin. Mother saw it as “work”—the burden of owning property, but she was wrong. For Dad, whose day job back in the cities involved wearing a suit and managing an array of people …
SEPTEMBER 5, 2020 – I never met him but was shown photos in his prime. He looked the part he’d assumed in life. His name was Bernard, and I knew his parents, Carl and Nellie, and his three sisters, who stayed close to home. Nellie was my grandmother’s cousin from Småland, back in Sweden. On …
SEPTEMBER 2, 2020 – Amidst the pandemic I’ve moved the world headquarters of my law office to the Red Cabin. My wife joins me now and again until boredom and her online book business lead back to “the cities.” Although I’m plenty sociable, I’ve also always enjoyed solitude, especially when surrounded by “nature.” “Nature” is …
AUGUST 21, 2020 – Yesterday I wrote about “Lady Gaga,” confusing her birthday (August 14), with my uncle’s, which, in fact, was yesterday. Having overshadowed the memory of “his day” with memories of “Gaga,” I must now write about Uncle Bruce—“UB”—the Inimitable. Originally, he was our Santa Claus (see 12/24-25/19 posts). Later, he was my …
AUGUST 20, 2020 – She was born on this day 124 years ago. We called her “Gaga” because at the babbling stage, my oldest sister called our other grandmother just plain, “Ga.” When confronted with a second grandmother, my inventive sister simply doubled up. Gaga’s name was “Orrell,” after the village of “Ore Hill” in …
AUGUST 19, 2020 – [Cont.] pretended Dad’s garden shovel was Stanley, the steam shovel in one of my Golden Books, and the wheelbarrow was a one-wheel version of my big toy dump truck. As I watched, Dad and Grandpa met two challenges with one source of dirt—what left the basement was hauled first to the …
AUGUST 18, 2020 – My dad was possibly the only man in the history of DIY projects who excavated manually, not one but two basements—concurrently. One basement was at our house in Anoka, Minnesota— “Basement No. 1.” The other—“Basement No. 2”—was at the family cabin in northwest Wisconsin. The Anoka house was built in ancient …
AUGUST 9, 2020 – Early on I was destined for Ayn Rand Land. One of my grandpas was “Ragnar,” the name of the hero-privateer in Rand’s best-seller, Atlas Shrugged. My other grandpa was a businessman. My dad was an arch-conservative, meaning my mom had to go along. Then the kicker: my oldest sister, an intellectual …
AUGUST 7, 2020 – That applies to me but also to my bro-in-law “GK.” In further coincidence, he was born in the same hospital as was his wife, my younger sister, years later—a converted Victorian house on Ferry Street in Anoka, Minnesota. You could tell it was a hospital: a modestly sized, bluish neon “HOSPITAL” …
AUGUST 6, 2020 – After a two-week break from breaking news, I read many anxiety-enhancing articles in today’s paper version of . . . the paper. Our delivery person never lands The Times close to our doorstep. Instead, the person randomly flings the paper at our front yard, where “All the News That’s Fit to …
JULY 26, 2020 – I’ve always found refuge in beauty—redwoods; mountains; seashore; sunrises, sunsets; starry nights by Heaven; Starry Night by Van Gogh; birdsong in spring and Beethoven’s Spring Sonata. But I also mean “small” beauty—delectable nourishment arranged artistically upon my dinner platter; translucent tail feathers of a bluejay flying across the yard into the …
JULY 25, 2020 – My mother traced her roots to England—“Olde” and “New.” Landing in 1621, her forebears were among the earliest colonizers of this land. They grew deep roots in the place where I now sit—Lyme, Connecticut. My exact location is the front verandah of “The Escape Hatch,” later renamed “Lyme Light” by two …
JULY 20, 2020 – (Cont.) Two weeks later, Dad and my two older sisters picked us up at the train depot in Minneapolis. “How was your trip?” he asked. “Good,” I said. “Wonderful,” Mother said. “We went to the fair,” my younger sister said. I couldn’t wait to present Dad with his requested souvenir. Less …
JULY 19, 2020 – (Cont.) A couple of weeks—half the summer, it seemed—had passed since I’d first been made aware of The Pietà. As my uncle, mother, sister and I walked the fairgrounds, I saw many other attractions that eclipsed Michelangelo’s famous work—things such as the old-fashioned car track next to the Ford Pavilion; the …
JULY 18, 2020 – Fifty-six years ago my mother, younger sister and I took a train trip to the Far East—Rutherford, New Jersey—to visit my uncle and grandparents. Our stay would last a month, and a centerpiece attraction was to be a trip to the New York World’s Fair. I remember a family conversation around …
July 13, 2020 – The other night I stepped out onto our dock to behold the heavens. I do so often and each time become ever more awestruck. High-powered binoculars multiply the starry display into mind-blowing proportions. I think about ordinary physics—time, light, distance; about astrophysics—the make-up of those burning lights. I think about how …
JULY 4, 2020 – (Cont.) “Who? I think I don’t know you,” he said. However much my chum might’ve changed physically, he wouldn’t have developed a thick accent. I showed him the photograph and explained why I’d thought he was Dick V. By this time, the woman had approached. By the shape of her mouth …
JULY 3, 2020 – On this cusp of Independence Day, I feel no shame in being American; no more shame than I’d feel imprisoned in a zoo of odd creatures, from a sloth to a turtle to a peacock to a lion to a wolf to a (breast-beating gorilla) to a playful porpoise to an …