Dr. Dog's House

I’ve been busy lately, too busy to write a report to wrap up my wife’s trip. I started one last week but didn’t have time to finish. And now fate has written a new chapter in my life.

On Labor Day, two days after my wife returned from her week-long trip (more on that later), we drove down to visit my mom. The highlight of the visit came when I brought out my cell phone and called my mom’s brother, who had turned 90 years old the day before. He and my mom (who is 87) talked for a while. She was very happy to talk with him again–it had been over a year since he last drove up from central Wisconsin.

All was well for a few days. And then …

Early last Friday morning, my wife woke me up at about 2:30 a.m. The phone had been ringing, and it was the nursing home. My mom had fallen and hurt herself. (It was five days short of the fourth anniversary of her first fall.)

She has had a number of falls in recent weeks and months, mainly because she is getting forgetful about locking the wheels of her wheelchair when she tries to get on and off. Usually, she is all right. Not this time.

There was no point in driving down there in the middle of the night–she would be in the emergency room for a while. We went back to bed, and I called the nurses station at the hospital when I got up about 7 a.m. She had suffered a broken elbow and a fracture of a cervical spinal process in her neck. They also discovered a urinary tract infection, but the elbow was the main thing. It’s her right arm, and she’s right-handed.

We drove down to see her late Friday morning. She was uncomfortable in the rigid collar they had put on her. She recognized me, but it was very hard to understand what she was trying to say–not unusual. I did hear her say that she didn’t know what happened.

We went home, and I went ahead with my plans for Friday night, which involved covering a football game out of town and spending the night with a friend. I drove back Saturday morning, did some work, and then we drove down to see her again. That day, Saturday, she was totally out of it. Maybe it was the pain meds. She didn’t seem to recognize me at all, and she kept calling out her brother’s name … and also “Mama.”

I knew what that’s about. Several times in recent months, she had forgotten that her mother died many years ago. She has been asking about her mom during many of our recent visits, and I have to explain to her again that she died long ago. In 1963. Almost 50 years ago. If her mom were still alive, she would be over 120 years old.

And now she was calling for her mother again. My wife speculated “Maybe her mother is very close to her now.” And I wondered, too. Later, I told her this isn’t the first time I have driven home, wondering whether I would ever see her alive again.

She was in deep sleep when we returned Sunday afternoon, but after an hour or so, she woke up–and this time she did recognize me. By now, they had put a soft collar on her. We were able to talk for a little while (as well as she could–she still is hard to understand).

I wasn’t able to visit on Monday (too busy at work and then a meeting at night), but I drove down again on Tuesday afternoon. This time, even the soft collar was down. She was sleeping when I arrived, but she woke up, I gave her some water, and we talked for a while. Then she started getting tired and said I can go now.

I’m hoping she will feel good enough to return to the nursing home in another couple days. They are still doing medical tests. Nurses told me she sat up for a while today and is eating a little more.

It’s rough, though, for me. I haven’t been sleeping well–getting tired easily since this happened. That Saturday visit, especially, was mentally and emotionally draining.

****

As for my wife, she returned to town recently, on a Saturday night. While she was happy to be back home, she was also glad she made the trip.

We had talked nearly every night (until she let her cell phone’s batteries get too weak). When I asked her if she was enjoying herself, she replied, “Oh, you bet!” The people on the tour were kept pretty busy each day, and she got achy at times. Aspirin took care of that.

She was happy to get home but enjoyed the experience. She showed me some of the brochures she got about the shows, some pictures she took, two pieces of jewelry she bought, and she told me about some of her experiences.

One highlight was that she won a “Bugsplat” game on the way home, earning about $15 in quarters. They make a grid on the bus windshield, and the first big bug that splats on the grid pays off (in death) for the bus passenger who selected that square. They also did lots of bingo to pass the time on the bus.

The tour company has gone to Branson, Mo., for several consecutive years. Word is that they will may go to Nashville instead next year. I’m sure she would like that. She said she had a good time with everyone, and she, her roommate and the two other women from our town usually did things together–meals, etc. Bottom line: The trip was worth it.

The cats, of course, were very interested in her return, and she and Maggie had a long bonding session almost immediately. She was moderately impressed that the kitchen was not in any worse shape than when she had left it, and that there was not a big stack of dishes remaining to be washed. (We have an automatic dishwasher, but my vast knowledge does not include how to operate that.) To make up for it, there was a big pile of unwashed clothes upstairs.

She returned on the Saturday night of Labor Day weekend. We took it very easy on Sunday, but on Labor Day itself we went off to visit my mom. She had her first quilting group meeting of the season that Tuesday. It seems that life is getting back to normal.

Charlie, my cat, loves me and would never hurt me. Intentionally. But things can happen, and they did earlier this week.

It was late at night, and I was on my desktop computer upstairs, looking at some websites or working on letters. I heard “Meow-wow!” as Charlie hopped up on the chair next to me and then stepped over into my lap, where she curled up.

This is standard operating procedure for Charlie when I’m on the computer late at night. She will sit for a while, then hop off and go elsewhere. Or she may stick around for a while. Or she may go into orbit around my monitor–climbing up onto the desk, then strolling around the back of the flat-screen monitor (picking her way through some of the junk back there), cycling back to the front and stepping back down into my lap. Or she may go for another orbit. Or another.

It’s rather distracting when you’re trying to concentrate on your writing. But she can get away with it. She’s got me wrapped around her paw, let’s admit it.

Anyway, I was just wearing shorts–it was late, as I said–when Charlie climbed up, as usual, then went around the back of the monitor, as usual, and climbed back down into my lap, as usual. But I may have moved my leg, and that startled her. She started losing her balance. Charlie doesn’t have front claws, if you don’t know, but the ones on her rear paws still work. As she battled to keep her balance, she dug in … and left two long lines at the top of my right thigh …

Me-ouch!!!

I didn’t swear or yell. Charlie fell to the floor and ran off, letting me alone to clean up the blood.

A few minutes later, I went to bed. Soon Charlie hopped up on the bed, next to me. Purr, purr, purr.

****
Outside of that misadventure, I have been doing pretty well while my wife has been gone on her trip. Since I am a novice in the kitchen, you may want to know about that.

On Monday, I baked some frozen twice-baked potatoes. (Does that make them thrice-baked potatoes?) Tuesday, I bought a foot-long chicken sandwich from Subway–had half of it for lunch and the other half for supper, before heading off to a volleyball match. Wednesday, I had got a pizza pasty for lunch from the pasty place next door.

That afternoon, I drove out of town to visit a friend–we had pizza for supper, and I stayed overnight, driving back Thursday morning. I had yogurt and some grapes for lunch–supper was taken en route to another volleyball match, another stop at Subway.

The kitties didn’t get their canned food while I was gone last night. Aside from tha,t they have been fed regularly and their dry food and water is kept in good supply.

As for my wife, she is having a great time, seeing the shows down in Branson. “Are you enjoying yourself?” I asked during our phone call Thursday morning. “Oh, you bet!” she answered.

We have talked every night except last night (no cell reception at my friend’s place). She has been updating me on her adventures, while I tell her about my day. Each day down there has been very busy. This is her last day at Branson–they start the long bus trip home Friday morning.

I will not have to drive to Ironwood to pick her up Saturday night–one of the women from our town who is also taking the tour will drive her home. That’s fine–we’ve got an early deadline because of the Labor Day holiday, and Saturday will be pretty busy for me.

Yeah, I miss her, all right. It’s too quiet at home, though I have managed to keep myself busy. The kitties miss her, too, especially Maggie. But she will be back home within 48 hours.

And she is having a good time, which matters most of all.

There’s no getting around it. It’s going to happen. It really is.

My wife is going to leave me.

Really.

She will leave me for one week–more like 6 1/2 days–when she heads off on her tour down to southern Missouri this weekend.

It’s … going to be different for both of us. For one thing, I don’t cook very well. Hopefully, I can get by. Also, she normally takes care of our three cats–both feeding them and “loving them up” from time to time. Like several times a day. Each.

That’s not going to be in my portfolio. I’ll do well to feed them and make sure they have enough water. So we are going over those instructions.

Beyond that, it’s going to get lonely. No getting around that. Keep in mind that we have been married for “well over five years,” and in all that time we have never been apart for more than four days at a time–ever. This time, we’ll be apart for nearly a week. Plus, she will be farther from home than either of us have ever been. In fact, she will be the first of us to ever leave the Upper Midwest.

(Yes, we have not led very exciting lives.)

We have been preparing for this as well as we can. She got a Tracfone, so she can call me from far away. I got an AC charger for her Ipod and filled it (the Ipod, not the charger) with her favorite kinds of music. She will also have a charger for the rechargeable batteries in her camera.

“Maybe you should take” this and that. Extra clothes. Extra money. A swim suit. A microfiber cloth for cleaning glasses. BreathRight strips. Various over-the-counter meds, plus her prescriptions. This and that. I have been recruited to record “Monk” while she is gone. We went for a shopping trip yesterday, where she got things like undies, bras and luggage tags.

On Saturday afternoon, I drive her about 90 miles west, to the travel agency–the bus leaves at 8 a.m. Sunday. After it heads south, I am on my own for a while. Monday, I’ll be busy at the office, laying out the paper. Maybe that night I’ll go to a bar to watch a football game. Or else a movie at home. Tuesday, I’ve got volleyball. Nothing on Wednesday–maybe I can visit a friend. Thursday, more volleyball. Friday, football. Saturday, writing at the office and then driving back to the bus station to get my weary traveler at the end of her trip.

You can come along, she told me. Yeah, sure. It’s like this. First, this happens to be the start of my very busy period at work. Her tolerance for country music is much greater than mine. She’s got the money, and she’s got the time. I have neither. So I’ll stay here.

Besides, I have had a few adventures in life, and I want her to have some, too. She has never been anywhere as an adult except where I have taken her. And her interests are different than mine. I don’t mind taking her to quilt shows here or there in Wisconsin, but this kind of distance is out of my league.

Before she goes, I will tell her to go have fun and live it up. If she gets the notion to do anything–absolutely anything–don’t think twice, it’s fine with me. No matter where she goes or what she does or who she does it with, fine. Bottom line is, she will be back home next week–so let her have some fun while she’s on her own. If she wants to be naughty, so what?

I do know one thing, though. When she gets Saturday evening, she’s going to be very tired. We will spend a very quiet Labor Day weekend, I’m sure.

****

We got some agonizing news at the office this week. Ready?

Our health insurance rates are going up sharply. The letter from the company says “We are facing an increase of 29.9% to maintain our current coverage.” Oh, is that so?

Well, in my case, right now I am paying $103.50 per pay period (twice a month) for my “healthy lifestyle” coverage. Starting in September, that goes up to $164.09 per pay period. So for me, it’s going to be a 58.5% increase.

That also means my take-home pay goes down by $60.59, and that’s a serious decrease, too. On top of that, the deductible has doubled: from $500 per person/$1,000 for the family to $1,000/$2,000. After we hit $2,000 of covered expenses, the copay starts kicking in.

And I know I’m doing better than a lot of others who are collectively known as “the working poor,” those who don’t have insurance or who work a batch of part-time jobs. It just doesn’t add up.

Now, compare that with a friend of mine who works for a university–one of their business offices. She tells me she pays $59.08 every two weeks to cover herself and her husband. The annual deductible is $250 per person/$500 per year family. (There are three different levels of care, and theirs is the middle plan.) On top of that, her husband is retired military, so they have coverage from the government, too.

When my wife and I went on our three-day vacation trips this summer, some of the places we visited were Wausau and Appleton, Wis. Both are the homes of a number of insurance companies, and we couldn’t help but notice the palatial/opulent corporate offices. My premiums at work.

Gee, do you think this is a sore point with me?

Health care insurance reform is looking more distant each day. Sorry to say it, but you can’t deny facts. The “big lie” strategy has succeeded in getting the policy debate completely off course. And now Ted Kennedy has died. He was a great man because he cared about the little people. Like me. There aren’t very many like him: on the endangered species list. And, as for him being an unapologetic liberal, that breed may have just gone extinct.

There have been a few blog posts about the health care debate over the last month or so, and they have ignited flame wars. More heat, less light is not going to solve anything.

I just wonder about those who read about the debate in other countries and how they must be rolling their eyes at this. I’m a proud American, and I don’t like it when my country makes a fool of itself.

But we seem to have this knack.

My wife and I marked a quiet 38th anniversary last Friday.

It was quiet because the previous three days were spent running around central Wisconsin on a mini-vacation trip. We came home a bit tired out and spent out. So for the big night, she made chicken parmigiana for supper, and then we went to the local theater (the only movie house in the entire county) to see “Up,” which just arrived in town. (According to the posters, “Public Enemies” will be getting here soon. Before the DVD comes out!)

We planned this vacation so she could go to some places she was interested in. With the help of her AAA book and some diligent web-surfing, she picked some pretty good ones off the beaten track.

Our first one was a stone arch bridge in Merrill, Wis., which carries traffic through the downtown area …

We saw a park nearby and walked down a path to another, even older bridge. This one had a sign from the construction company, dated 1909. It was much narrower–one lane wide …

The next stop was Wausau. Our main stop there was the Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum. My wife was mainly interested in a sculpture garden on the grounds, and we walked around there. They had an exhibit with metal sculptures by artist Wendy Ross …

We also walked down by a small garden, where the bees were busily at work …

From there, we walked around to the main (temporary) entrance of the museum and went inside. They had two temporary exhibitions. One was photos of jungle life, taken by a National Geographic photographer. The other was called “American Ruins,” about places like ghost towns and crumbled, overgrown mansions from long ago. All the photos were taken in black-and-white, using infrared film, so the leaves, grasses and other foliage comes out white, not dark as you would expect. Interesting effects. We studied the photos for quite a while.

None of the photos on their website show the white leaves that well, but they give you an idea of what the exhibitions were like. No photos were permitted inside. The LYW Museum is best known for its “Birds in Art” permanent display, but we had to bookmark it for a future visit. We had one more place to visit this day.

This last stop for Tuesday was way out in the country, about 70 miles away on country roads. Called Jurustic Park, it is composed mainly of fanciful sculptures of animals and other creatures made from scrap metal.

But we had spent so much time at the museum that we arrived about 15 minutes after it had closed for the day. All we could do is take a few photos of the main entrance …

… and a telephoto shot of a “hobbit house” inside …

… before leaving. You can look over some of their other creations on their website–they really are fun to look at.

From there, we drove south to Marshfield and then east to Stevens Point, where we spent the night. Wednesday, we drove back west. This time our destination was the Rudolph Grotto, a Catholic shrine, gardens and “wonder cave.”

This place was started during the 1920s by Father Philip Wagner, who became very ill while studying for the priesthood in Europe. According to the brochure from grotto, Wagner went to Lourdes in France, to the Grotto of Our Lady, in 1912. He prayed and prayed and promised that if his health was restored, he would build a shrine in Mary’s honor. He got better and started planning.

Wagner became the priest in Rudolph in 1917, a new church was built, and he started envisioning flower beds and tree arrangements for his grotto. He used rocks from the surrounding area to build shrines. “Stones and large rocks were piled because he knew nothing of construction or masonry. In order to create the beautiful structures we see here today, Father Wagner began using concrete and the trial-and-error method of construction.”

Father Wagner lived at the church and worked on the grotto until his death in 1969. Another man worked with him on the grotto until he died in 1991. They kept making more and more shrines in the park–the last one was completed in 1983.

It is intensely Catholic, of course. There was a series of stations of the Seven Sorrows of Mary, including this one …

They also had statues for all 14 Stations of the Cross, plus many other shrines, plaques and statuary. Even a little wooden chapel …

And then there was the Wonder Cave. We couldn’t miss that. “A 1/5th mile catacomb-like passageway through the grotto depicting 26 shrines of the life and teaching of Jesus.”

It sure was narrow, and you had to duck your head pretty often. Even my wife, who rarely needs to duck her head for any reason …

It’s very dark inside, of course, and the shrines are illuminated with colored lights. Quite difficult for a camera without a tripod or a flash, but at least this scene came out well …

Outside we walked around the grounds a little longer when suddenly we encountered an untamed Wisconsin wildlife creature …

And we also stopped at a museum about the history of the shrine, the parish and Rudolph, Wis. And among everything else, we came across this heartbreaking relic …

One more stop before leaving the Stevens Point area: The Herrschner’s catalog outlet store. How many of you have seen the Herrschner’s catalog of craft items? This is where they come from. Here is the door to the store …

… and here is a wall of yarn of all colors of the rainbow …

They also had a large variety of fabrics. I was impressed, but my wife said she has seen larger varieties at the Hobby Lobby stores, which was on our schedule for Thursday. She was especially disappointed by the relative lack of needlework items and the large quantity of “close-out” items for sale–she thought there would be a lot more to look at.

From there, we got on the highway and drove to Oshkosh, where we met up with S and her husband. It happened to be his birthday, and our original plan was to see “Public Enemies,” which they hadn’t seen yet (even though some scenes were shot in Oshkosh and they took me to see the preparations over a year ago). But S doesn’t like violent movies, so she wasn’t going to go. They also had their 5-year-old grandson with them, whom they were babysitting. Hmmm.

We finally decided: We would go to a movie that everyone could enjoy. We opted for the new “Ice Age” movie, and everyone went and had a good time. From there, we had supper at the Golden Corral buffet, and then we went to our motel, to relax in the swimming pool and (especially) the hot tub.

That wasn’t the end of our day. They invited us to join them at a neighborhood bar near their home, for a birthday toast. Neither of us visits bars very often, but we went this time, spent another hour with them and had a good time. The highlight was when Johnny Depp (from “Public Enemies”) came on the David Letterman show, and life at the bar ground to a dead stop. The younger women were swooning!

That capped a very busy Wednesday. Thursday was supposed to be a lot easier: Just visit a few stores my wife wanted to visit (Hobby Lobby, Fashion Bug) and then start driving home. By about 11 a.m., the shopping was done, and we pointed the car north. In Appleton, the last big city on our way, we stopped at a sub place for lunch. As we walked to the store, I reached for my cell phone out of habit, to see if there were any messages. It wasn’t there.

I checked my pockets, to see if I had stuck it in there. Then I went back to the car and checked the area around the front seat. Then the trunk, where I had changed a shirt earlier and may have absent-mindedly put it down.

It wasn’t here. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere.

My wife said, “Maybe we should go back and look.” “Back there” meant Oshkosh, about 30 miles south, where we had started the day. We had only made a few stops, and I knew I had it while waiting at Hobby Lobby. We zipped back south. Once we got there, we stopped at each place. Nobody had seen anything. I left addresses and phone numbers, just in case.

We still hadn’t had lunch–it was 1:30 by now–so we went to a Subway, and my wife got something. I was just too upset at myself to eat anything. I had a sip or two of her soda, and that was all. Nothing to do but drive back north, phoneless, my mind racing, imagining the cost and hassle of getting a new phone set up.

Three hours later, we were home. My wife checked the answer machine. Sure enough, a woman had called, saying she had found my phone in a parking lot. The next message was from S. The woman had contacted her, too, and they had gone down to pick it up.

They aren’t going to mail it to me: We had earlier made plans to meet again this weekend at that clothing-optional “beach,” where they like to camp in summer–I haven’t been there yet this year, and that was on my to-do list. A mailed phone wouldn’t arrive until late this week, so I told them to just keep it until I get down there.

A hectic end to a busy trip. On Monday, the first official high school football practices were held. Summer is nearly over.

There is a saying … something along the lines of “Fatigue makes cowards of us all.” I think Vince Lombardi is credited with it.

He was probably referring to football, but I guess it applies to other aspects of life as well. I’ve been feeling really tired lately, and I haven’t exactly been feeling brave and bold, either. Coincidence?

Some things have been bothering me that I know shouldn’t be. It’s that simple. I’ve been tired lately, and I haven’t been able to turn off the worry and fears. Where is that switch, anyhow?

Emotions are mixed up. Maybe my mood will be better in a little while. Some things I’m trying to do feel a lot like banging my head against the wall. I’m so impatient for something good to happen to me. And I am trying my hardest. But that effort hasn’t made any difference. When I work hard at something and see those efforts fail, I tend to get disappointed and depressed. So that’s where I’ve been at.

Maybe I ought to be more relaxed about things, let go and take a “whatever!” attitude. But that isn’t easy for me, especially when it really matters to me.

If you don’t know (if you are fairly new to my writings), be advised that I can throw as good a pity party for myself as anybody. I really can. Take some weariness, mix in discouragement, stir in impatience, put it in a 300-degree oven for 20 mintues, and it’s ready.

At those times I tend to forget a few things. Or I focus on some things and forget about others.

I tend to forget that I am the only one responsible for my own happiness. Nobody else is–just me. So if I’m going to be happy, it’s all up to me. What I need to do is reflect on the good things and not worry about the others. Change what I can do something about. Accept what I can’t do anything about. Be wise enough to know the difference.

If you have been following along, you know a few of these concerns already. The canceled weekend planned with B. The work load all summer (supposedly my slow time of the year). The house that hasn’t sold.

I can tell you a few more. A big one is my late aunt’s nephew, who was the executor of her estate … and who evidently has embezzled a lot of the money. He is facing criminal charges now but pleaded not guilty at the arraignment, which drags out the whole process further. My aunt died in the first weeks of 2007. The trial won’t be until the spring of 2010. Sentencing may be in the summer. Restitution to the estate: who knows? Will I live that long?

Then … I’d like to get another car. I’ve had my present car for six years now, and it has 166K on it. That’s 267K kilometers. But it’s still doing well, still gets pretty good gas mileage. And still is just as small as it’s ever been. Until my aunt’s estate gets settled or my mom’s house sells, though, I won’t be in the market. Not that I’m planning to spend a lot, either.

(By the way, Cash for Clunkers doesn’t apply to vehicles that still get about 36 mpg.)

There’s one more I could tell you about. But I sure don’t want to scandalize all of you by telling you about my search for a special friend, one who lives close enough that I could visit her once in a while–every month, more or less.

I am searching. I am trying. I know she must be out there. But I don’t want to upset those of you who hold fast to traditional beliefs on marriage, so I won’t tell you about that.

****
My wife and I took a mini-vacation trip last week. Photos and stories to come. We went to some odd places and had one really odd adventure involving my cell phone.

But it’s late and I’m tired. Time to post this and get some sleep. After all, isn’t it the lack of sleep that is at the crux of all this?

We’ve got just one month to go in a summer that never really got going. We didn’t know that back in early June when my wife and son and I took a one-day trip to Rhinelander to have a little fun.

That was before the short trip to Canada and before the Fourth of July trip. On this one, the featured stop (aside from exercising our shopping muscles) was a visit to a city-operated historic museum named Pioneer Park.

It’s not pretentious at all, but there was a lot to see and study. It’s a quick jump into the time machine and back a few generations. Back when trains carried goods and supplies and raw materials all over. When lumberjacks chopped down trees with pure muscle power. When children went to schools that had all the grades in the same room.

An old train and a semaphore marked the outside of the depot and the Rhinelander Railroad Museum …

Nearby, a crossing sign showed the little reflectors that were used on signs in the days before reflectorized paint was invented. I turned on the flash to get the reflections …

Then inside the depot, to the ticket counter, which stood under some old station signs …

A little further, a display showed what life in the old train depot was like–manual typewriters, glass insulators, hand-written account books and a hand-wound clock in the corner …

Downstairs, they had a model train layout that showed what Rhinelander was like back in the old days–minus the pillars, of course. At the bottom right, there are some coin slots that were supposed to make the trains run. David and I both deposited quarters … and shrugged our shoulders as the trains remained stationary …

We went back outside to look over a big log sledge that once carried logs out of the wood in winter, pulled by horses on ice trails …

What kind of loads did those horses pull? We went to the Rhinelander Logging Museum to find out. This photo from 1897 ought to answer that question. Several other pictures in the museum showed huge loads …

The museum included a cook shack and the loggers’ barracks. Here is the room where the loggers ate0–the kitchen is in back, beyond where David and my wife are standing …

We didn’t get to the barracks in time, but this is what they were like back in the day …

Then we went to another building and went down a short entry hall …

… into a one-room school building, the Rhinelander School Museum …

Very nostalgic place. How many of you learned how to make letters (printed and cursive) by following these guides lined up above the blackboard? …

And how many of you first read from books like these? …

How did the one-room schools teach eight different grades in one room at the same time? By intricate planning, as this schedule shows …

The old classroom had a working stereoptican with cards, and my wife enjoyed trying that out. Outside of the wall maps and blackboard and books and globe, that was the extent of multimedia. Most of the stereoptican cards were over a hundred years old …

Such teaching demanded a lot from a teacher, and so did the rules that they were expected to follow faithfully. I got several different sets of rules set for teachers, and here they are:

• You will not marry during the term of your contract.
• You are not to keep company with men.
• You must be home between the hours of 8 p.m. and 6 a.m. unless attending a school function.
• You may not loiter downtown in ice cream stores.
• You may not travel beyond the city limits unless you have the permission of the chairman of the board.
• You may not ride in a carriage or automobile with any man unless he is your father or brother.
• You may not smoke cigarettes or play at cards.
• You may not dress in bright colors.
• You may under no circumstances dye your hair.
• You must wear at least two petticoats.
• Your dresses must not be shorter than two inches above the ankle.
• It is understood the teacher will attend church each Sunday and either teach a class in Sunday school or sing in the choir.
• To keep the schoolroom near and clean, you must:

1. Sweep the floor at least once daily.
2. Scrub the floor at least once a week with hot soapy water.
3. Clean the blackboards at least once a day.
4. Start the fire by 7 a.m. so the room will be warm by 8 a.m.

Here are some teachers’ rules from 1872:

• Teachers every day will fill lamps, clean chimneys.
• Each teacher will bring a bucket of water and a scuttle of coat for the day’s session.
• Make your pens carefully. You may whittle nibs to the individual taste of the pupils.
• Men teacher may take one evening each week for courting purposes or two evenings a week if they go to church regularly.
• After 10 hours in school, the teachers may spend the remaining time reading the Bible or other good books.
• Women teachers who marry or engage in unseemly conduct will be dismissed.
• Every teacher should lay aside from each payday a goodly sum of his earnings for his benefit during his declining years so that he will not become a burden on society.
• Any teacher who smokes, uses liquor in any form, frequents pool or public halls or gets shaved in a barber shop will give good reason to suspect his worth, intention, integrity and honesty.
• The teacher who performs his labor faithfully and without fault for five years will be given an increase of 25 cents per week in his pay, providing the board of education approves.

****
I’ve got many more things to write about. The trick is finding the time, especially since my wife and I will be making a mini-vacation trip to central Wisconsin this week. Three days and two nights, starting Tuesday morning.

Coming attractions include some photos from the recent U.P. firefighters tournament and the rodeo held here last weekend. Believe me, I’ve got some really spectacular rodeo action shots–stuff good enough to submit to the state newspaper contest, I think.

The firemen’s pix combine action with humor–at times humor too suggestive for a family newspaper. But you aren’t offended by stuff like that, are you?

I didn’t think so.

The month of July has been busy. With a capital B. It's been hard to find time to catch up with my thoughts, let alone digest them well enough to put them down for you to read.

Work is very busy in summer. Last week, we had the big high school football camp in town, followed by the firemen's tournament late in the week. That was a blast. Lots of fun. Article and photos to come soon, I hope.

I still am trying to find time to do an article and pictures about a visit to a museum in Rhinelander, particularly a one-room schoolhouse. Found some interesting stuff there, especially to those of you who are in the education field.

But that has to wait. Next week, my wife and I will be going on a trip to central Wisconsin, and we really need to work out a plan very soon. I'm hoping we can get together and plot everything out tonight. This is mostly a trip for her, places that she wants to visit. We're going to the Wausau area first and then to Oshkosh to visit S and her husband.

More things going on ...

--As you may know, we are trying to sell my mom's house. We have moved nearly everything out of it, but my wife wants a few of the remaining items for us--bedroom furniture, the kitchen table, an old sewing machine table. So we need to find a couple guys and a truck to haul it from one place to another. Along with that, I am tracking down various bits of information regarding the house for the real estate agent who is trying to sell it.

The house is costing me a lot of money--property taxes, insurance, upkeep, utility bills. All this money is coming out of my wallet, and the so0ner I sell the house, the happier I will be.

 --My friend B, whom you read about recently, is going on a trip. She is flying from Alaska to a major West Coast city (You'd recognize the name in a instant.), where she will meet a friend of hers. This time the friend is not me. She told me about it about a week ago.

The news came soon after she had to call off a get-together we were talking about in mid-August. I have one weekend off in August, and she was planning a flight to the Midwest so we could renew acquaintances. But someone in her office is getting married, and she has to cover for her during the honeymoon that week. (Her weekend with this other guy is the weekend before.)

It wasn't happy news, certainly, and B was worried how I would take it. But look at it this way:

1. B and I did meet just a few weeks ago. Not a long time but long enough to know that we enjoyed each other's company very much. It was a wonderful time--one of the best of my life.

2. B and her other friend are both parts of polyamorous couples. They have been writing each other for about a year. It's time they met, I think.

I'm not sad they are meeting and spending a weekend together. What makes me sad is that the door is rapidly closing on our chances for another visit for quite a while--fall and football are just around the corner, you know. And right after that: winter.

I am angry. Not at her. Not at him. Not at myself. But I have been muttering "this damn job" to myself a lot more than I ever have. Work increasingly is getting in the way of personal happiness. Think about it: The one August weekend I could get away is the one weekend she can't. I told B that I feel we are both tied down to our respective offices by invisible ropes we just can't break.

Anyway, B and I had a long phone chat last weekend, and we agree that we will be seeing other people because our next visit may not come for a long while. Maybe not until 2010. Maybe not until next summer.

Maybe somehow, deep inside, we knew that when we got together over the Fourth. Because we packed an awful lot of living into those four days and three nights.

--The last bit of news is about my wife. She may be going on an Adventure! With a capital A. Believe it or not.

She is considering taking a bus tour to Branson, Mo., for a week-long series of concerts and shows. This would take place the week before Labor Day. I would drive her to the bus station and pick her up again a week later. In between, the kitties and I would fend for ourselves.

She hasn't committed yet--no check has been sent. She seems to be leaning that way, though, and I am urging her to go for it and have an Adventure. I don't want her to get cold feet--I want her to get out and do something fun and different, maybe even a little selfish, for once in her life. It won't bother me that I'm back home--for me, frankly, a little country music goes a long way.

(She would like to go on long trips with me, too, but then I would lose much of my vacation time, which I want to keep for other opportunities. This damn job.)

How different would this be for her? It would be the farthest she has ever been from home. For that matter, it's also farther than I have ever been from home. And our time apart will be our longest separation since we started going together--just after the first footprints on the moon's surface. That's a long time.

But I think it would be a really good thing for her, and we are moving ahead. Maybe we'll invest in her own cell phone so she can keep in touch with me--cheaper than using motel phones, certainly.

Occasionally, I noted to her, her sisters take trips to Vegas, and that may be something she wants to think about--to go along with them.  Time will tell.

That distance (1,732 kilometers for those of you who are into metrics) is how far I drove during my extended Fourth of July weekend trip. If you plot it out on a map, my course looks sort of like a backwards "7," as I drove mostly west to Minneapolis-St. Paul, then southeast to the neopagan gathering ... and then retraced my tire tracks a couple days later. My wife and I left home on Wednesday around noon and got back home the following Monday at about mid-afternoon.

I did this so I could have my first visit with B, my friend from Alaska. We met at the MSP Airport on Thursday just after noon and parted on Sunday, late in the afternoon. That gave us most of four days and three nights together. Without getting into a lot of words, we both had a great time, and the days passed very quickly. Way too quickly. We had packed a lot of activities into those four days, so we were very busy, and we both slept well each night--even I, who often wake up in the middle of the night and can't settle down again.

Thanks to our cell phones and texting, we kept in touch with each other as we neared our rendezvous (the baggage pickup area at the MSP airport). I had parked at the nearby Mall of America and took the light rail train to the terminal. She texted me when her plane landed. By the time she phoned me a little later after exiting the plane, she had already spotted me. It was a 10-second phone call. Happy hugs and kisses ensued.

We rode back to the mall, where we did some shopping, got lunch (Arby's), then hit the road for the three-hour drive to our motel. Supper was at Pizza Hut. The next morning, we finished the drive to the gathering, passing through some very scenic, hilly country that thrilled her, including a brief drive up narrow roads to a top-of-the-mountain park. Lovely place, but we didn't stay there long; we had places to go.

We got to the gathering site, where she started meeting some of my friends. All went very well there--she said she had a great time at the events we went to, meeting many new friends along the way. She had never been to an event like that, and it was exotic, to put it mildly.

We missed many of the events--B wanted to see sarong-tying workshop, and I wanted the drumming and dancing circle; we arrived a day late for that. But we made it to a discussion of the group, a potluck dinner and a "henna play party," with people decorating each other with henna. B really wanted to see that, and she did. We took part--I drew a little butterfly on her ...

And she drew a moon with some stars on me ...

They only exist in these photos now; the henna has already faded away completely.

A symposium was held in the evening, and I hoped for a starry night, because you can really see the stars and Milky Way from this hilltop location--no light pollution at all. But it was mostly cloudy. We went back to my tent and slept well. I just brought one sleeping bag for the two of us. When it got cool overnight, we put the thermal blanket under us on the air mattress and the sleeping bag over us. Problem solved.

The next day, we stumbled through a "mirror dance," then enjoyed the sensual pleasures of taste at a "naked lunch," where a poem of that name was read. "Clothing is definitely optional," said the program, and so it was. One important rule: When someone feeds you something by hand, you have to happily moan with pleasure. Strawberries (a few with chocolate on top), grapes, melon, date bars. Mmmmmmmmmmm!!!

After that, we took part in a very serious discussion of polyamory that went two hours and could have gone for two more. The people there are very committed to the lifestyle they lead and their lovers--all of them. After it ended, B and I went back to our campsite, took down the tent and moved things back to the car. We stayed long enough to take part in the main ritual was that evening, and we left right after that, with more hugs for the people there.

We drove back north, and she was delighted to come upon a big fireworks show in one of the towns.  B has lived in Alaska for years, and they don't have fireworks that far north on the Fourth of July. Just after the start of summer, the sun is up 22 hours a day, and the sky never gets dark. They have fireworks for New Year's, but people have to bundle up for subzero weather to see it.

We got to our motel at 11:30 p.m. and were pleased to find the hot tub and whirlpool still open. We relaxed and let the rushing warm water sooth away our tense muscles from the drive before going to bed. During our final morning, as we were getting ready, I remembered that we still had to do a tick check on each other. Lucky that I remembered--I spotted one on B's tummy. We had to get out her tweezers to carefully pull the little bugger out. She said I was tick-free.

She had gifts, both for me and my wife. She gave her a book on Alaskan wildflowers, a cutting board and an ulu (an all-purpose cutting knife with a rocking handle, like those used by the Inuit). She gave me a black Alaska T-shirt with a multi-colored moose on it.

I only took a few pictures, and there was just one of the two of us together. We stopped at a gas station near the motel on that final morning and saw a big orange moose on the motel grounds nearby. A woman saw me taking a picture of B and took a picture of the two of us together ...

Then, back in the car. A few hours later we were back at the Mall of America. A visit to Taco Bell, an ice cream at Dairy Queen, and then back into the light rail train, heading back to the airport. She got her boarding pass. The security checkpoint lines nearby were very long--but one of the officers told us to walk down to the other end of the terminal, where the lines were a lot shorter. Indeed they were--B just had one person in front of her. Within minutes she was through, and we waved good-bye for the final time.

The next morning, I got an e-mail from her, saying she was back in Alaska, safe and sound, ready to go to bed and dream of ticks.

****
Now ... I bet you're wondering what my wife was doing while I was gone.

She was having a great time with her sisters. All three of them live in the same area, and I drove her to one of their homes that first day (leaving for the Twin Cities by myself the next morning). On her first solo day, she and the sister drove up to Duluth, took in two Imax movies, visited a big flower display at a local park and ate dinner at a revolving restaurant, 18 stories above the ground. That's pretty big for Duluth. When they told me about it, I was impressed.

On day two, she stayed in town with the family, they had a big cookout and went to the circus that night, seeing fireworks afterward. On day three, she and the sister went down to Eau Claire to visit some parks, a mini-zoo, visit some nephews and have a nice supper. I guess they had a good time--they got home an hour after I got back from the Twin Cities. We stayed there that night and left for home the next morning.

While she and I were separated, we kept in touch the best we could--but she doesn't have her own cell phone (not interested), and I didn't have the sister's cell number, so I kept calling her house. They weren't home that much, but I did talk to her a few times from the road (or the tent or restaurant or motel).

It all worked out, and I'm very happy with how everything went. B and I knew we didn't have a lot of time, and many things we had talked about doing fell by the wayside. Even so, we did a lot, we had very busy days, and I don't think we could have packed much more into our time together. She loved the gathering and wants to go back next year.

Meanwhile, my wife said she really enjoyed having a long holiday weekend with her sisters, so this whole story could very well be repeated next summer. Why not? It sounds like it worked for everybody.

****

B and I talked for the first time since the trip (besides e-mails) on Saturday night. It went well, and my wife was part of it too--I put my cell phone on speaker. Since we said good-bye two weeks earlier, both of us have been trying to catch up on our sleep--she, especially, was fatigued when the visit was over. She also had to deal with a few health problems (nothing major), exacerbated by an unusual Alaskan heat wave that sent temperatures shooting up into the 80s and low 90s, along with wildfires and smoke.

All that is past now. We had hoped to meet again in August, but those plans didn't work out. So our next time will be ... whenever. When the time is right. As it was two weeks ago.

I just got back from a very enjoyable adventure on the road. But before I report on that, I still need to fill you in on our recent trip to Canada.

One city in Canada, really: Sault Ste. Marie, the closest Canadian city if you live in the U.P.

We made our trip in the first weeks after new passport laws went into effect--since we had applied for and received the new passport cards, we were all set. We showed them to the Canadian customs officer, answered the standard questions and were off--off to the Ontario tourism office, where we changed our money into the more colorful Canadian currency. You don't think it's colorful? Take a look ...

There are no $1 bills because Canada hasn't used them for years. Instead, they use a $1 coin (the loonie) and a $2 coin (the twonie). Canada wanted people to use the loonie, so they did a very clever thing U.S. officials haven't figured out yet--they stopped printing dollar bills. People were soon using loonies.

We also bulked up on tourism brochures and then did a little shopping, got our motel and settled down early: We had a very early wake-up the next day. The Agawa Canyon Tour Train pulls out of the station at 7 a.m. (Central Time; 8 a.m. local time), and we had better be at the station in time ...

The Algoma Central Railroad was owned by Wisconsin Central for a time and now is owned by Canadian National. Why they were using a Denver and Rio Grande train, I have no idea.

The Agawa Canyon trip is a favorite adventure that we hadn't done since about 2002. The train takes us 116 miles north of Sault Ste. Marie through the Canadian wilderness--known locally as Algoma Country--to the Agawa Canyon. Long-time readers know that I love trains and train rides. I was born too late for that to be a part of my life.

It's not totally unpopulated. We passed many beautiful lakes with a few little fishing cottages, and the train is the only way people get there. Deep, dense woods lined the tracks, which also frequently passed through rocky walls--must have taken a lot of manpower and dynamite to blast a train for the trains that.

Unfortunately, our seats were on the right side of the train--most of the lakes and other neat views were on the left. So we had to make sure to switch to the other side for the trip home.

Here are some of the sights we saw ...

At a number of places, the train passed wilderness scenes located on the other side of large mirrors ...

Of course, this long-time train lover savored the rocking of the cars and the clickety-clack of the rails. There were many camera-worthy sights along the way, and the shutters were clicking when we crossed the curved trestle over the Montreal River ...

We finally got to the canyon, passing several waterfalls that flowed down tall granite walls. This one is Bridal Veil Falls. Because it looks like bridal veil. Don't know why they named another Big Beaver Falls. I was afraid to ask ...

I had set myself a goal for this trip. There is an observation/lookout tower near the tracks that is open to the public ... if you don't mind climbing a few steps. This time, I decided, I would make the climb. So up the steps I started climbing. A few flights of steps, then a short path to more steps. I stopped and looked up ...

Gulp!

That's a lot of steps. A lot of stair-climbing was required if I wanted to reach the top. I sighed ... and started on my way. Up, up, up.

Lots of steps. Luckily, I didn't need to count them because somebody did that for me already; there are little signs next to every 50th step. So up I kept climbing. 50. 100. 150. It was steep. Occasionally I stopped for breath at a landing before pushing on. It wasn't easy, but I was persistent. Bull-headed, in other words ...

I had never climbed up to the observation tower before. Even when we were kids and my brother made the climb. I kept going. Past 200. Past 250. Up more. We're getting close. Here is the 300 sign. Just a little more. And then there were no more steps to climb.

They didn't have a sign, but it was 320 steps top to bottom. Twenty steps past the 300 sign, anyway. Yes, I took my camera along, and yes, I took pictures of the view ...

See down there, that pink dot under the closest building? That was my wife, looking up at me. If I zoom in ...

She had her camera along, too, and zoomed in to get a photo of me as I was climbing the final steps, holding the railing with both hands ...

Fortunately, the trip back down the steps was a lot easier than the way up.

After that, we walked and looked around--they had some nice daffodils in the park. The stop at the canyon would have been much more pleasant if we had remembered to take along bug spray--I did bring it, but it was back at the motel. They had some no-see-ums, which didn't seem to be biting but were everywhere. Meanwhile, the dinner bell had rung for the mosquitoes. It was a 1 1/2 hour layover at the canyon, and nearly everyone was back on the train in plenty of time.

We got back to the Soo at about 6 and had supper at an Italian restaurant--meat raviolis with two enormous meatballs. After that, we went around looking for a garden we had heard about--drove around and around, finally found it and discovered it was a arboreal garden. My wife wasn't interested in looking at trees.

The next day, we tried to find some garden north of the city, but it was just a nature reserve--no flowers there, either. We did find a place with some beautiful scenery--I got some pictures but the no-see-ums (or were they blackflies?) were there, and they were biting, and we had to beat a retreat. My wife did get a picture of me looking at the landscape. The bugs wanted to get in the picture, and so ...

From there, we went to a bookstore, then saw some old, old buildings by the Canadian locks. Then it was time to cash in our Canadian money and head for the bridge. We were both ready to go home.

But we sure had a great time and wished we could have stayed longer. It is, as I said before, a favorite trip.

****
The story of my latest adventure comes soon.

On our recent trip to Canada (the Canada part of the story is still to come), I got to fulfill a pledge I had made a long time ago, on some dead or dying blog or another: I saw Christmas in June.

It's about a five-hour drive from our home to Sault Ste. Marie and the International Bridge. We went via Marquette, and less than an hour past the Upper Peninsula's largest city (population almost 20,000) we entered Christmas. How could you miss it? ...

There are various places around the country that try to capitalize on holiday-inspired names. Christmas. Santa Claus. St. Nicholas. North Pole. They do so with varying amounts of success, especially in this more cynical era. But it's tourism, you know, and souvenir shops. A few dollars change hands. There are certain places where it's Christmas 365 days a year, and this is one of them.

We first came upon a motel that didn't look very busy, regardless of what the sign in front says. Note the bow on the gift-shaped sign ...

The unmown lawn and the gravel in the driveway both indicate that it's been pretty quiet at the Christmas Motel for a while.

A little later, we came upon the Christmas Mall. Alas, it also looked like it has seen better days. For example, how did Mrs. Claus lose her head? ...

And as you see on the right, you can get your eggnog or whatever you fancy in Christmas.

I felt sorry for Mrs. Claus, so I took a picture from the other direction, where you can see a faint smile. Note that the Christmas Mall, which has a fudge shop, an ice cream shop, a liquor store and a gift shop, also houses the post office. When you get mail postmarked Christmas, Mich., this is where it comes from ...

Despite the state of her sign, they still have a street names for Mrs. Claus. And they have a Santa Lane. And a St. Nicholas Avenue. And the main drag through town is Christmas Avenue.

Then we hit paydirt: Santa's Workshop. It says so right there. In case you have any doubts whether this is a viable place, just look at the left of this photo. That ought to erase all doubts ...

Of course, right outside is a huge Santa, standing right next to the North Pole. I mean, how could it not be the North Pole? It says so right on it.

The business of Christmas may be Christmas, but they have other businesses, too.  On the way out of town, we came upon the place where Santa gets his sled tuned up ...

When Santa has visitors in town--maybe some elves brought in for short-term seasonal work--they probably stay here ...

Soon we were out of town and on our way to the Soo. About three hours later, we were on the International Bridge. The two flags mark the international border ...

and the end of this part of the story ..