Newsletter

I want to experiment with a newsletter that links to this site, any ideas? Short post while my mind wanders. I've been thinking that most people really don't know when they have it good. I know of people who are facing challenges in their lives that would drive a normal person insane; yet when asked how things are going the response in, "doesn't do any good to complain". Think about that one; it doesn't do any good to complain, does it? From the psychologist side of things venting/complaining does some good but not as much as adapting to your situation, good or bad, and making the best of it. If it's a terminal illness of a family member there is some odd comfort that it the stress, the time consumption, won't last forever; a sad but true outcome. So when you complain that you don't make enough money you should look for work, or take on a second job. Free time is a commodity that many don't have and why do they call it free; because you're not making any money during that time. It doesn't do any good to complain; again, what if it is a financial problem that is the stress in your life? First be thankful there isn't a debtors prison anymore, you can't go to jail for being bad with your credit cards; only bankrupt. Ultimately I guess when we complain we vent, we share our sorrows, but should we? There are many areas of my life that are far from perfect but yet when someone asks me how I'm doing my best response, (if they pause to listen for an answer), is I'm upright and breathing. I can't complain is another good answer if you're stuck for something to say.

Blue Sunday

June 7th, cloudy and cold; when will this end? I have a kayak gathering dust, my bicycle is rusting in the driveway, and walking means that I'd have to dig out my winter jacket that I just put up in the attic a few weeks ago when it hit 90 degrees, for a day. The U.P. isn't just a place it's a way of life. You need to be able to enjoy snow sports or you need to be like me a man who loves to read, if not the winter wears you down. Sadly a lot of us have to work multiple jobs to help pay for heating our homes for nine months out of the year. We could stand tall and cut the heat on June 1st and wait until October 1st to turn it back on but we'd be dealing with 50 degree days and, shudder, 35 degree nights. From about June 15th to August 15th we have summer. During this time the U.P. becomes a wonderland of adventure. You can fish, swim, kayak, hike, or just be a tourist in your own hometown. So on this blue Sunday, June 7th, I can only look forward to our U.P. summer that's only 8 days away, I hope.

Loss is Loss

My cousin Shelly died suddenly leaving behind a husband and three children; she was 39. So here I sit in shock watching a Land of The Lost marathon hoping that this show from my childhood can somehow erase the confusion and pain of this unexplained death. When someone young dies it's assumed it's suicide or an accident, this was neither. She felt dizzy, she laid down and never woke up. Why do these things happen; there's no easy answer. She was needed elsewhere, a higher purpose, OK. Shelly once thought that when her oldest child was a baby that our grandmother, who had just past, was watching over her and the baby. I really hope she was because I'm sure grandma was the first to meet her, no doubt with tears in her eyes, but with open arms. In the UP a cousin is more then just your aunt's or uncle's child, they're your friend. I'm 39 but will turn 40 soon, Shelly will now and forever be 39. Rest in peace Shell.

Triggers

You can never know for sure when an event will trigger emotions or a memory; I've had two in two days. The first came when American Idol crowned their latest winner, Kris, a soft spoken humble man. This even made me wish that someday I'd have the stage moment, the Brett Favre disease, you know the one, where you can't get away from people chanting your name or standing and applauding when you do your job. I doubt my students will ever stand up and cheer when I enter a room. That moment made me wonder if it's necessary, the cheers, the accolades, to feel important, needed? My fear of success is greater than my fear of failure. Failure is a part of everyones life, success comes to fewer people. I'm upright and breathing, so I'm successful. This brings me to my second event, of all things, a TV show again, this time NCIS. This episode had Gibbs going back to his hometown where his father lives. During the episode he flashes back to his youth and at the end he hugs his father. My father has been dead now 31 years this July, I can't even remember his voice. It's funny how a TV show can make you sad when it has a happy ending. Some people don't like it when I say that he's been dead 31 years, they would prefer I say he's been gone. Gone implies he'll be back. I never said these would all be cheerful!

Church League Softball

I have a suggestion to anyone who thinks that they are some sort of athlete; don't wait twenty years in between games! I played my first softball game in twenty years on a very cold (40 degrees) and windy night with a group of guys I had never played with before. There were too many players so I sat out the first two innings and then got the chance to play. I struck out. In slow pitch softball striking out is the equivalent and swimming without getting wet; it's call slow pitch for a reason. My next at bat I grounded out. It is a church league so no one told me I sucked or gave me advice, "hold the bat higher" or "just swing dummy" so I left not feeling terrible and awfully glad we won the game so that my two outs didn't matter. After twenty years of not playing, primarily because no one asked me, I'm glad to be part of a team again even if I only play just a little bit. My last experience at age 19 was more of a drinking league then one where you pray before the game. When I was young and dumb I just thought drinking was part of the game and didn't know that you actually needed to be able to run to first if you got a hit. Also back then when it was tournament time our "coach" would find ringers to play so that he could win. Today it's going to be 80, up 40 degrees from yesterday, UP weather at its best.

It has to start somewhere.

I had a yard sale this past weekend, (a side income for most small town folk), it was successful; meaning that I made more than the ad price and didn't have to worry about the weather because it was indoors. During the sale one of my column readers, who mistook me for another columnist, stated, "you know you should really write a Yooper column and advertise for those gone south Yoopers." Once she figured out that I wasn't that guy from Rock but rather the father of three from Hubbell she persisted even more. What would I write about? She said, "you know, Yooper stuff". What's Yooper stuff? "You know, how we live, what we eat, drink, and stuff we do." First off if you don't know what a Yooper is let me enlighten you now so that you can either stop reading or read more. A Yooper is a person who was born and raised in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, born and raised is the key, if you moved here forty years ago you're still a transplant. Yoopers "go mall" and eat pasties. Yoopers work hard and relax even harder. A Yooper is someone who loves the fact that winter starts at Halloween and ends on Memorial Day give or take a month. I've fought against being called a Yooper because I was born and raised to believe that you can be anything you want to be so to me being a Yooper meant that I didn't have a choice; how wrong I was. What it means is that if you're stuck in a ditch someone will stop and help you out and it won't cost you anything. It means if you're too broke to go for a beer someone will bring one to you. It means you're part of a large family that panks their snow, wears a chook and fishes out of a creek. I'm a Yooper and if you are too check back now and again and I might just write something you like.