Ace Wisdom

We are finally sorting through Christmas gifts and will make use of almost everything. My dear partner bought me clothes with the understanding that if they didn’t fit right (or I didn’t like them), she’d return them. That process is almost complete. The sweatshirts I can always use but the “bedroom” slippers are just “not me”.
Kelly and Carlos gave us the first 4 seasons of “24”. I had seen a few episodes in the past but you need continuity of the 24 one hour episodes to follow the story. When you own the dvd’s, you can watch the series without missing an episode. We have watched the first season series and are half way through the second season.
Go Jack Bauer! He of course is the hero and undeterred in his quest to serve his country and fight terrorists. He is like the energizer bunny! He just seems to keep going. Gunshot wounds, severe beatings and mental anguish are normal for Jack. Jack understands the “end game”. He knows how to focus on the goal. He knows how to win.
Jack doesn’t clutter the landscape with little shit. Blast through rumors. Beat up thugs. Don’t trust anyone. Sacrafice your own life if you have too. Golly, what a guy! In the second season of 24, a nuclear bomb might go off in Los Angeles. Help Jack, please help. Jack’s first action is to get an informer out of jail for questioning. The informer refuses to cooperate so Jack shoots him (dead), cuts off his head and delivers it in a canvas bag to people alleged to be terrorists. It proved that Jack wanted to be a friend of the terrorist because he delivered proof he had killed an informer. Pretty gross stuff. But hey, what is one life of a “sleaze bag” to save a million lives if the bomb goes off in L.A.? Jack’s staff is mortified that he chops off the head of a terrorist informer. To Jack it is something you do to save a million people.
Grasshoppers listen. Here is my lesson. In life we get so involved with the “clutter” and little things in life that we forget about life’s goals. I’m not suggesting that you resort to the crass techniques used by Jack but I do suggest you keep the big picture in mind. If you want financial security, direct your efforts to achieve that. Don’t be deterred. If you goal is to get in good physical shape, throw the bon-bons away and be consistent in your effort to reach the end game. You get the idea. Be like Jack. Focus, execute and celebrate.
Love,
Dad

Bucky graduated from high school in the Spring of 1938. He liked football, baskeball and track. He pole vaulted between 10-11 feet with the old stiff cane pole. He also played baseball and that seemed to be his passion.
I’ve always tried to “piece together” Bucky’s baseball exploits after high school and it has been difficult. Some of his mother’s (my Grandma Myrna) scrapbooks establish some time lines for the baseball career.
Bucky joined the Greenbush baseball team of the Kettle-Morine League in the summer of 1938. They won the league championship that year. He did everything left-handed. He pitched a little but his permanent position was right field.
My Grandpa Chalk was an ardent supporter of Bucky’s baseball career. Chalk was a Director of the Plymouth Athletic Association. There was a deeply shared interest.
In 1939, the Greenbush baseball team played in the State Baseball Tournament and the General Manager of the Milwaukee Brewers baseball club had noticed Bucky. “Bucky is a ball hawk and his batting was excellent. His speed had accounted for many stolen bases”. I know he was fast. As a result of his performance in that tournament, Bucky was offered a contract to play professionally. Bucky was 19 at the time and legal age was 21. His contract was “approved and signed by his father”. Grandpa Chalk continued support. Remember this was 1939. I don’t know what the relationship of the Brewers was to major league baseball. I thought at one time they were a major league club but I could be wrong. The Brewers might have been a AAA Club.
Bucky was to report to Hopkinsville (Kentucky), a Class D Club of the Southern League in the Spring of 1940. His opportunity was to advance to the class D team in Bloomington (I think Indiana) and then on to the Brewers.
The story gets a little hazy here because in the spring of 1940, he reported to the Brewers farm club in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Eau Claire was in the Northern League of Class D ball. That is where he met Andy Pafko who went on to have a 15-16 year major league career with the Chicago Cubs and the Milwaukee Braves.
The Spring of 1940 is when I was born. Bucky was off playing baseball for Eau Claire and my mother had to walk from her Mother & Dad’s home to the Plymouth Hospital to give birth. It sounds bad, but the walk was one block. My birth certificate identifies my dad as a professional baseball player. I don’t want to say I was an unexpected surprise, but my parents were married in February of 1040.
1940 was the transition year. A marriage in Februay followed by a baseball tryout that Spring and my being born in April must have created a “busy” time. I think Bucky was “cut” in late April or early May of 1940. Reality was about to set it in. He got a job at a local cheese business as a clerk-accountant. He managed the Plymouth baseball team of the Kettle-Morine League for several years including playing with the team. Baseball remained in his life as he continured to play for local teams and coached little league teams as his own kids grew up. In 1957 he was feted as one of the “all-time Plymouth baseball greats”.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that Bucky had a chance at the “brass ring”. How many people in life have an opportunity to pursue their passion and get paid for it? I know that Bucky lamented all his life about the missing the “Big Leagues” but he was one of the very few to even get a chance. He passed on his knowledge of the game to many including his own sons. He continued to be involved in baseball in some way. He may have thought he failed but I think he was fortunate to have had the chance to chase his dream. He followed his passion. He lived! Oh, how he lived!
Love,
Dad

As a kid growing up there was a steady barrage of information regarding taverns and saloons. My impression was that taverns were places of drinking, gambling and promiscuous women. Taverns were not at the high end of the business community. Maybe it was the impression left by comboy movies of the day. Saloons were the place that the bad guys always hung out. So growing up there was this sense of disapproval of taverns by the community.
Then I open up all of the memoriabilia that Myrna kept of the City Club and I get a different impression. The City Club seemed to be a very popular place in the 1930’s and 1940’s. Maybe it was Myrna and Chalk that worked to keep the tavern image up. The community seemed to embrace the City Club. My Grandpa Chalk was imvolved in the community belonging to civic and sports organizations. There is repeated reference to a deer hunting cabin in Forence County owned jointly by Chalk, Glenn Zimmermann (The Chief of Police), Atty George Mooney, Atty Gilbert Gaynor, Milton Timm (a City Official), and Carl Krohn (a clothing store owner). This is a pretty respectable circle of friends. My impression was that the City Club was a respectable place and was frequented by all social strata.
How could there be such a difference between my perceived “blue collar” hangout and a highly respectable place of business?
I think a lot had to do with the nature of the business in the early days. The City Club wasn’t just a tavern. It was a barber shop, a billiards parlor, a hotel, a restaurant and place that sold liquor. Chalk’s personality went a long way in creating a classy environment. He conducted business in a very professional way. Every bartender had to wear long sleeved white shirts while on duty. Chalk provided the shirts and paid for dry cleaning. He was the proprietor of a respected business.
As I grew up as a kid, things were changing. Chalk died in the mid 1940’s. His health had prevented the “fun” hunting trips and his involvement in sports diminished as sons Bucky and Bob graduated from high school. The barber shop was closed and eventually became an insurance agency. The billiards and pool disappeared. As the facility aged, it attracted a more “blue collar” customer base. I didn’t realize it at the time but I was watching a business that had matured and was in decline.
I missed the glory years of the City Club business. At one time it played a very prominent role in the City of Plymouth and commanded a lot of respect. Like all businesses, it needed to be “re-invented” and given new products and services. Some attempts were made to pump life into the “Club” but nothing seemed to invigorate it substancially.
The memories of the City Club are still good. The environment that I experienced growing up was different than the environment chronicled in the scrapbooks that Myrna put together.
The one thing I’ve come to understand is that The City Club played a significant place in Plymouth history and I was part of that history. How many people can say that?
Love,
Dad

I recently opened several boxes of memorabilia that my Grandma Myrna had accumulated over many years. There are scrapbooks and pictures that go back 90 years. A lot of the paper pages in the scrapbook and the newsprint are very yellow and very fragile.
I came across the Plymouth Review dated June 12, 1958. There was a picture that Myrna had saved showing 14 students that had received scholarships for college. Yep, I was in the picture. Imagine a kid from the City Club receiving a scholarship to UW-Oshkosh. I couldn’t help wondering how this could happen. I finished 78th in a class of 129 scholastically. Nope, it couldn’t be that. As I looked at the picture I couldn’t help think that this was a mistake. There I was. A thorn among roses. A pauper amongst kings. Little Chuckie.
Let’s get real! There were people in the Plymouth Review picture that got full scholarships for 4 years to prestigious Universities. Brilliant minds sharing over $30,000 in scholarship money (that would translate to $400,000 to $500,000 today). I got tuition paid for one year to Oshkosh. It was $90 per semester or $180 for the year. That figures out to .6% of the total. Whooooaaaa!
Truth is I had friends in high places. Vera Carlyle, the school librarian, was my counselor. I think she had some minor scholarships to award and she might have felt sorry for me. Also my dad (who died a year earlier) had been on the School Board for 4 years and everybody in the school system knew him. I remember meeting with Vera (who always seemed very, very old) when she told me about the scholarship. Her advice was to get the hell out of Plymouth. Go someplace where you get the full college experience. It was good advice.
So there I was in the picture of scholarhip recipients. I was the second from the right in the back row.
Vera helped me get into a good situation which I built upon over the years. I’m not sure I would have picked Oshkosh as my college of choice but the scholarship sealed the deal. All I needed for the first year was to pay for books and my living. I earned enough money during the summer to cover the needed expenses. I also had a magic pixie in Plymouth named Shelby that kept sprinkling a few dollars at her future investment.
Each of us is responsible for our own actions. I made the most of the Oshkosh experience. In a very subtle way that tiny scholarship set in motion my scholastic life. Sometimes small things have a big influence on our life. You just never know!
Love,
Dad

Here we go. 2007. Would you believe that this begins my eighth year of retirement. This is also the fifth year at our present address. Time is relentless.
As I write this, the ceremonies for Gerald Ford are dominating the TV airways. He is a “throwback” to World War II having enlisted in the Navy. For some reason the World War II experiences of my childhood remain poignant. I have a deep respect for anybody who served in “the big one”
The Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. did a testimony recently to Steven Spielberg who filmed “Saving Private Ryan”. About 8-10 survivors of Normany Beach in 1944 were brought onto the stage to salute Spielberg’s epic. I have to admit I got choked up a little bit. These guys are in their eighties and are a dying breed.
Then I watched the Rose Bowl game on New Years Day. Part of the pre-game ceremony was the Star Spangled Banner followed by exploding rockets. To cap it off, four air force jets came flying in low formation over the stadium that just shook the stands. For some reason low flying military aircraft paying tribute at public events chokes me up a little also. I can’t explain it. Maybe I was a pilot in a previous life. Each year there is a game at Camp Randall where low flying aircraft do a salute. I get goose bumps. The aircraft have unbelievable power. Maybe it is a reminder of the role aircraft played during World War II.
The next World War II president to “rest in State” will by George Bush, Sr. I believe he was a pilot during World War II. Then the Presidential ties to World War II will be in the past.
It is a shame that World War II memories are slowly slipping away. The War shaped the very world we lived in.
For 2007, world peace would be nice. It ain’t going to happen but it is a good goal.
Love,
Dad

The play, Fiddler on the Roof, has a song about tradition. It offers an explanation for the stupid things that we do as a society, country or family for no apparent reason. To toast the exit of the old year and celebrate the entrance of a New Year is an excuse to drink and have a party. Why do we do this? Tradition.
New Year’s Eve is amateur night. It turns loose all the heavy drinkers of the world and gives them reason to get “blotto” one more time. I suspect that you would be safer standing in the middle of the capital of Iraq without a weapon than driving America’s highways on New Years.
Tradition! We never thought of establishing a tradition at New Years. It requires repetition and something unique. We always had good food. Boiled shrimp, boiled lobster tails and steak. Sometimes we opened a bottle of Champagne or fine wine. Any one in the family that wanted to join us was always welcome.
We would try to have the New Years dinner later in the evening thinking that the closer we held festivities to the midnight hour, the better the celebration. Problem was that everyone was hungry at 7:00 PM. So slowly the dinner hour moved closer to the normal dinner hour.
There are several New Years eve celebrations that I remember distinctly. One was shortly after Grasshopper No. 1 had moved out of the house. To say that she was “broke” would be to put it mildly. We lived on North 6th street in Sheboygan. Your mom and I had just started preparing boiled shrimp with all the smells. It had to be done with with Durkee’s Shrimp Spice which came in small cardboard containers of loosely held herbs and spices. The spices were poured into boiling water and the house carried the aroma. There was a meek knock at the back door and in walks Grasshopper No. 1. I think her line was “Watcha doing?”. She knew exactly what we were doing and of course we invited her to join the festivities. Maybe that defines tradition. Something that everybody does over and over and is predictable. Actually it was nice she joined us.
A second New years Eve included Shea and Grasshopper No. 5. Grasshopper No. 5 had invited Shea to join us and they giggled through the whole evening. No. 5 had learned to mix a 50-50 combination of Hoffman House Shrimp spice and ketchup. I had introduced that because most kids got turned off by full concentration of spicy dip. And they ate and giggled. They giggled and ate. A good time was had by all. I’ve always wondered whether it was necessary to have the shrimp. I think the two girls would have giggled anyway.
I have noticed my own kids doing similar things on New Years Eve. They buy their own shrimp and lobster. My guess is that their children will pick up on the celebration. Guess what! Maybe we have started something. Could it be a tradition?
I have to admit that I did celebrate some very, very good years. I also ushered out some years that sucked. Thankfully there were more good years than bad. Regardless, the New Year meal takes place. It is done with people you love. It is prepared with good food. It is predictable.
Tradition! Tradition! La-de dum, la-de dum, la-de da de da de dum!!
Happy New Year to one an all.
Love,
Dad

Each year Christmas brings something special. It goes beyond material gifts. The presents are nice but they sometimes distort the true meaning of Christ’s birthday.
Last year the special event was when Grandson Dominic saw a light in the night sky as we were returning home on Christmas Eve. It was Santa. It had to be Santa. When we got home, presents were laid out under the tree and Dominic was sure that the light he saw was Santa bringing gifts to our house. I don’t know what Dominic saw but that really doesn’t matter. He believed in the magic of Santa for just a little longer. How special was that? A star shone!
This year as we approached Christmas Eve our plan was to have several kids and their (spouses or friends) join us for boiled shrimp and 2 inch thick steaks. The following day was the grandchildren “event”. They were all coming the following day.
Well Grasshopper No. 1’s daughter Dano was going to drive on Christmas Eve from Plymouth to our house but then return to Plymouth because she had to work Christmas Day (that part of the story sucks). Work on Christmas Day? Come on! Shelby’s mom Lyla (Nana) who is 95 and very, very quick minded had joined us at Thanksgiving was going to spend Christmas with one of her other kids. Here is how magic works. Dano called her great-grandmother Nana to wish her a Merry Christmas. During the conversation, Dana mentioned she was coming to our house alone Christmas Eve and returning the same night (that is a 70 mile journey). Wouldn’t you know that there was some “pixie dust” in the air. Nana volunteered to ride along with Dano for Christmas Eve to our house and then also return to Plymouth the same night. So Shelby’s mom got to join us for a very nice Christmas celebration. The company was good. There was laughter. Santa even brought Lyla a gift or two. There is no way we could have planned Nana joining us. It just sort of happened. Kind of like Dominic seeing Santa in the evening sky as he came to our house. So we just kind of count of blessings. A Star Shone, again!
A special Thank You goes out to my life partner who every year seems to get caught up in the spirit of Christmas. She creates magic moments that family will remember forever. Decorations! Food (always special recipes and aromas). And personalized gifts (she always tries to please everybody). She drives herself to the point of exhaustion. She can now recouperate knowing that she made everybody’s life just a little better. It is love that motivates her. She should know that everybody loves her back.
Love,
Dad

Remember back in January we decided to save money for Christmas? We vowed to put money aside each week so that when it came time to buy Christmas presents, we didn’t go into debt.
Then remember that we agreed that we would not use our credit card during the holidays. We pledged never to charge anything for Christmas again. Insanity is paying for Christmas the following year.
Pat yourself on the back. You had cash for Christmas and that credit card (if you still have one) never got pulled out of your wallet. What a good feeling! I’m really proud of you. Yep, a very special feeling!
Wait a minute! I’m picking up an extraterrestrial signal from outer space. I’m being told that all credit card usage is up rather than down. There is more. Members of my family also continued to use their cards more than last year.
What can I say. We had good intent. Here it comes! “Wait until next year!” We will not charge any Christmas gifts next year. The insanity has got to stop.
Well, what the hell. It is too late now. We are deeper in debt. Christmas is just around the corner. Family. Friends. Good food and beverage. Lots of sharing.
We can be thankful for many things. We live in the most prosperous society on earth. Maybe in the overall scheme of things we are working towards world peace. Christ did show us “the way”. So take a moment and enjoy the people around you. That is the ultimate “special feeling”.
We’ll work on the elimination of credit card debt next year.
A Very Merry Christmas to all!
Love,
Dad

In paging through Mom’s Recipe Book ( you all have copies) I decided to pick my 10 favorite dishes. I really don’t like to limit my choices to 10, but I promised I would try.
Anything produced on a char-coal grill is excellent. Mom’s chili is a “main-stay”. Chicken and dumpling soup is required when you are sick. Crockpot selections are always great. Johnsonville sausages are nestled in my meat compartment for snacks. So you see, I have general preferences.
From Mom’s Recipe Book my top 10 are:
No. 1 – Pork Chops and Stuffing. Anything with stuffing is good.
No. 2 – Chicken Popovers. You can’t eat just one.
No. 3 – Turkey Casserole.
No. 4 – Easy Chicken and Broccoli. Broccoli? Broccoli!
No. 5 – Hearty Fish Chowder. The secret is the spices.
No. 6 – Pork Chops and Potato Scallops.
No. 7 – Swedish Meatballs.
No. 8 – Vegetable and Hamburger Casserole.
No. 9 – Salmon Loaf.
No.10- Sweet and Sour Chicken
My holiday picks over and above the “top 10” would be cold shrimp appetizers, grilled thick (very thick) New York Strip steak and boiled lobster. All that gets pretty “pricey” but what the hell, it is only once a year.
Your mom was always pretty good at selecting tasty dishes and the dishes got progressively more healthy as time passed. Her recipe book lets you go back and enjoy the eating experiences that shaped your life. How many kids can say that?
Love,
Dad

I recently paged through a copy of your “Mom’s Recipe Book”. I have come to realize that the book is the sensory link to the family past. It contains many of the recipes that our family experienced as you Grasshoppers grew up. For the first time I went through the book page by page, read the quotations and looked at the pictures. I was struck by the awesome number of recipes.
You Grasshoppers are privledged to have a book dedicated to you. Even I don’t have that. Imagine the historical significance of having a timeless reference book that you inspired.
It has been 10 years since the book was finished. The copyright date is 1996. Your mother includes her maiden name in the author signature. I have never seen her do that before. I forget that the Steger side of the family provided most of scrumptious recipes! Certainly more than my side of the family.
I find that the book includes many quotes that I have espoused over the years. I don’t remember anyone getting my approval to use the quotes. Maybe there is a lawsuit in all this.
OKay! Stay with me now (mentally). This is the deep part. We are all the result of the sum total of all our life experiences. Those experiences include food. All the tastes, all the smells and all the sensory pleasures (or displeasures) that go with food are included in our memories. Mom’s Recipe Book lets you go back and revisit most of the memories you have of food and cooking.
Some of my distinct memories of people and food are as follows (most are not in Mom’s book):
Your mom as a child could not swallow raw oysters (and still can’t). Money bribes won’t help.
I can’t eat cooked spinach. The “gagging” reflex kicks in.
Kelly won’t eat peas (yes, I caused that issue). All the milk in the world won’t help swallowing.
Grandpa George liked to eat horse-radish right from the spoon. He must have had a cast iron stomach.
Christopher hankered for fresh bread. He probably was suffering some deep emotional anxiety.
Margaret likes cold pizza for breakfast. I have no idea what is going on?
Nana likes potato pancakes. You need to sprinkle sugar on the top.
Paul used to abuse Macaroni and Cheese. Variety was not in his menu choices.
Debs has become a master of the “soups”. Chicken soup. Beef soup. Chili. Maybe it is the healing power.
And so it goes. There are fetish desires that affect us all. And Mom’s book takes us there. Who can forget the smell of baking bread? The aroma of boiling shrimp. Soup brewing in a huge kettle.
The book is a work in progress. Recipes are added to the book. Modifications do occur. It gets better and better. And the best part is that is done by your Mom. She gives you a souce of life long pleasure. How special is that?
Grasshoppers stay tuned. In future blogs I will pick my Top 10 favorite recipes. I encourage you to tell me your favorite memories about food. Who knows, some of that “feedback” might end up in the “Book”. I have a little (sometimes very little) influence on the author.
Love,
Dad