Ace Wisdom

Tis the season. I know because Saturday the house was filled with smells of chocolate, fresh cookies, and party mix. It was mother and daughters bonding. They revisited days gone by. The one daughter missing was Grasshopper No. 5 who continues to have a web-site stating “I’ll be back in two shakes of a lambs tail”. Hilary will be President by that time!
I was excited. After all I am the cookie expert. I worked for a cookie company for over 12 years and my vast reservoir of knowledge would be invaluable. Yeah right! Did they ask me about “melt” temperatures on chocolate? No. Did they ask questions about transfats? No. Did they ask questions about hydrogenated oils? No. You get the idea. They didn’t need me.
This event wasn’t about the baking. It was the anticipation. We all have things that make Christmas special and holiday cookies (and other things) are a big part of that. Peanut butter bases with whole Hershey Kisses placed in the middle are great. You don’t bite them. You put the whole thing in your mouth at one time. There are plain sugar cookies, decorated cookies, sprinkled cookies and more. They are layed out on a big table to cool. Grasshopper No. 2 has a fetish for peanut butter balls dipped totally in chocolate and cooled in the freezer with toothpicks sticking out of them. I think both chocolate and peanut butter are an aphrodisiac. What is that all about? Suddenly all cookies are gone. What the hell? I’m told they are for Christmas. So my fantasy day got cut short.
Then there is the party mix. For some reason this is a “core offering”. It has to be according to the recipe in Mom’s Cookbook. Nana waits for it. Margaret can’t wait to make it. Debs has the process perfected. It is part of the Christmas fantasy.
The day starts with exuberance. Then there is competition for the ovens and cookies sheets and mixing bowls. As the “bake-off” continues, tiredness starts to creep in. Being on your feet for hours makes backs sore. Then somebody sits down for a short break. You can’t sit down. You realize how tired you are and getting up is difficult. Debs was the first to sit followed by Mom. Kelly was the closest thing to the “energizer bunny” while making the peanut balls in dipped chocolate.
Then there are the dishes. Lots and lots and lots of dishes.
I guess we all were part of the Saturday fantasy. At Christmas we get to eat the cookies and the baking team gets a sincere “thank you” for a job well done!
As I reflect on the whole effort, I don’t think the cookies matter much. Anticipation, sharing, bonding – Priceless!
Love,
Dad

Grasshopper No. 5 has not been blogging lately. Something about being back in “two shakes of a lamb’s tail”. What the hell does that mean. That posting has been up on her web-site for a month.
According to No. 5, she and her best friend (Shawn) were dining at a Minneapolis restaurant (I don’t remember the name, but it is in a “seedy” part of town). The food is fabulous however. As No. 5 and Shawn came out of the restaurant, they were less than a minute away from his car. Your mom and I got to ride in Shawn’s car back in August when we visited Minneapolis. It was a four door black A4 Audi sedan with stick shift and a silky ride. As No. 5 and Shawn approached the car, they heard a crunching sound. What the hell could that be?
As they got closer to the car, they began to realize that someone (totally inebriated) had plowed into the rear of that shiny Audi. Not only did he wrinkle the back of the Audi, he hit with such force that he pushed the car into a parked car in front of it. The net result was a car that folded like an accordion. I guess the frame is twisted and from the description, “total loss” would not surprise me. The good news is that no one was in the car at the time of the accident. There is a feeling of disbelief that comes over a person as you see your special possession come under attack. All the emotions evolve. Disbelief, shock, rationalization, anger and then resolve that “this too shall pass”.
I remember when the lady in the large Ford Expedition backed into my new Saab four years ago. She decided to leave the “line” at a local Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet. She never saw my sleek, low-slung, sporty new Saab wagon behind her. It was sort of like slow motion. I saw her backing up and my mind considered all the options in a nano second. The problem is that I couldn’t get the message from my brain to the rest of my body. I wasn’t sure what to press for my horn (I did press something but it didn’t work). Then my mind sent the message to “back up” to give the lady room. I reached for the gear shift to change it to reverse but I remember checking to see if there was a car behind me. It turns out there was no car but by the time all this got processed, that high riding Expedition with a hugh trailer hitch was tickling my front grill. $5,000 worth of tickling! I went through the same emotions as Shawn. Disbelief, shock, rationalization, anger and then resolve that this too shall pass.
I don’t know what Shawn will end up doing but the worst scenerio would be that the Audi will be repaired. It is the worst scenerio because Shawn will always know the car was in an accident and it “will never be right”. The best scenerio is that the insurance company of the drunk has good insurance and the Audi A4 gets replaced with something newer, sporty, and fun to drive.
Cars are just things. They can be replaced. Somehow though, guys more than gals treasure a finely crafted machine that they become “one with”. There is a despair that goes with damage to your machine. Have heart! There is always tomorrow.
Love,
Dad

Grasshopper No. 4 blogged recently about the blitz of events that have impacted his life. Clearly there are days when life sucks.
Well today is a “full moon”. The days leading up to the full moon are suspicious for strange events also. Take Sunday morning for example. Your Mom and I had a full day planned. I walked for an hour as usual. I showered. I went out to the car and turned the key. There was nothing. The Saab went click, click (sounds like the train went choo choo)! That sounds like a title for a book. The car was deader than a door nail. Well I don’t handle cars “not starting” very well.
It took me back to college and a book I had to read for a behavior science course. I think it was called “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Ridiing”. It was about two lads that embarked on a cross-country motorcycle ride. One guy was very brainy but didn’t know a nut from a bolt. He was more into studying the cosmos. His bike partner (I’ll call him Max), was a mechanical genius. He could fix motorcycles with chewing gum and Q-tips. So if you had to choose someone to travel through the countryside with, Max was the choice. Max seemed “at one” with the world and understanding the cosmos was not a high priority. In other words he enjoyed life.
Well my Saab was broke. What do I do? What do I do? I called “my guy Max” on Commercial street. He was calm, cool, and collected. Dad, he said, we’ll check the car out. We set a time and I had done all that I could do. Grasshopper 3 showed up with his brand new truck, lifted the hood on the Saab and cranked the engine. It was my battery. He pulled a tester out of the truck and it indicated that not only was my battery dead, it was a “bad” battery. We jumped in the red truck, zipped down down to Auto Zone and bought a $59.95 beauty. We went home, put in the battery, replaced a couple of screws and “varoooom”, that Saab was back in business. My head mechanic was cool and really seemed to know what he was doing. He took my stress balloon and deflated it.
Now I’m not comparing Grasshopper 3 to Max in my required book reading (or myself to the other guy) but if I ever go on a motorcycle trip with someone, I know who I’ll call.
By the way, the guy in the book who studied the cosmos (Max’s buddy) ended up in a psycho ward for awhile to regain his perspective on life. No, I don’t want to go down that path!
So a sincere thank you to Grasshopper No. 3. My car goes faster now!
Love,
Dad

Dec. 1, 2006 starts with a snow storm in southeast Wisconsin. It is “snow” joke (get it?). Forecast for Sheboygan is 6-8 inches and more if you head south.
I love my local TV station. They are forecasters of doom and gloom. Their name is “your Storm Team” at Channel 5. They are on vigilant watch for you. The term “storm” conjours up all the images of the worst weather outcomes.
The snow storm is different things to different people. Dominic and Tommy won’t have school. Happiness reins supreme. Get out the snow suits.
Debs can’t get out her driveway without snowblowing. Shit! Tom thought when he left the Wausau tundra that weather conditions would surely improve. So much for that fantasy.
Paul has to make a commute to Manitowoc along the corridor of snow blanketing the lakeshore. I can identify with Paul’s plight. You have a new job and want to make a good impression. Making it to work even though there is snow is impressive. Alternatively Highway 43 with winds blowing up to 40 mph is dangerous. What do you do? I commuted to Ripon for 14 years. I hated “snow” days. I made sure I had snow tires, charged my cell phone and packed “snow gear” in the back of the car (insulated boots, gloves, blankets and flashlights). Fortunately I never had to use them. Paul’s dilemma is to impress. My dilemma was to show that the “boss” could make it to work, everybody else should too! I did that? Yeah I did.
Chris watches the weather pattern hoping for snow. Calnin-Goss has snow removal contracts with different companies and retail outlets. That means cash comes in. The “snow joke” for Chris will be that our area will be on the very edge of the storm and we potentially will get very little or no snow.
Dec. 1 is the anniversary of a very large snow storm. It was Sunday, 1985. The Packers were playing the Tampa Bay Buccaneers at Lambeau. The snow amounts reached 12-15 inches and officials had trouble keeping the field free of snow. I remember because I was new at Artfaire and I was traveling by car to Kentucky. I left Appleton in deep snow and by the time we reached Chicago, the roads were clear.
So depending on your circumstance, you will feel different about the snow. I guess it is a lot like life. Every event has good and bad associated with it. Make the best of it.
Love,
Dad

Our first home was on St. Claire Street in Sheboygan. It was a two story, wood frame structure purchased in 1968 for $17,000. I don’t know what the square footage of the house was but I would guess around 3,000 square feet. The house had high ceilings, beautiful woodwork and a stunning red brick fireplace.
After the first couple of years we were visited by some bats. Thats right! Little mice with wings. They are nocturnal and considered a mammal. When they spread their wings, they suddenly appear larger and are kind of intimidating. Somehow bats were getting into the house. The most logical suspect location was the fireplace but we had it inspected and that was not the source. Baffling! Just baffling!
I killed several bats one morning as they clung to the “picture molding” that circumvented the living room. I found a broom and “wham”! I hoped that was the end of it.
A friend of ours said that we should not kill the bats. They do not attack people and they eat their weight in mosquitos every day. That didn’t change my mind. They are creepy little bastards.
My exposure to bats was through movies where Bella Lagosi plays a vampire and after he has sucked the blood from his victims, he turns into a bat and flies into the night. Eerie.
Then I watched documentaries about vampire bats that inhabit the caves in Mexico and they actually attack and eat full size cattle and people. So much for being harmless.
One night around 11:00 PM, the whole family was tucked in their bed. Debs would have been 10, Kelly 9 and Christopher 6. I was awakened by a clinking sound. As I listened, it was coming from the closet in our bedroom. It sounded like metal clothes hangers “clanking” together. Then I heard a flapping sound and I said to your mom, “there is another bat in the house”. I was hoping she would jump out of bed, turn on the light and kill the little critter. Yeah, right. I think she pulled the covers over her head. Soon we could hear the bat flying in the hall.
Suddenly the bedroom door at the end of the hall opened. Christopher was about to walk down the hall to the bathroom and we could envision the horror if he saw the bat flying over his head. Mom told him to get back in his bedroom and close the door. Good thinking!. Suddenly, Chris screamed and said there was something in his bedroom. He had returned to his bedroom and so had the bat. He opened the door and the bat flew out. We had been told that the police department would remove the pest because bats were potentially rabid. The police came and walked the house. As the policeman was coming down the back stairs, the bat started up the stairway. The policeman swatted it to the ground with his hand and stepped on the bat. Squish! Crisis over. You could tell the policeman didn’t like this encounter either.
It took several weeks to find how the bats were entering the house. There was a slight crack where the roof had warped away from the house. I mean a “slight” crack. You couldn’t believe that the bat would fit into such a small opening, but they did. We sealed the crack and our bat problem was solved.
The perception of bats is worse than the reality. Apparently they are good for the environment. Hopefully they bless your abode and not mine.
By the way, Christopher survived the ordeal!
Love,
Dad

Thanksgiving 2006 was at Van Abel’s restaurant in Hollandtown for out group of 16. Thats right! Just walk right in, our table was reserved, and food was served family style. There were abundant waitresses and waiters so take care of us. The food selection was awesome. The best part? No dishes!
Van Abel’s is a “throwback” to the City Club in Plymouth. The large open area with wooden floors lent itself to long tables and lots of people. I couldn’t help remembering the last couple of years that my Grandma Myrna offered to hold Thanksgiving in the “side-room” of the City Club. The tavern was closed all day and I think opened at 6:00 PM to regualr customers. It was the late 1970’s and Myrna knew that she wouldn’t be able to offer to host Thanksgiving many more times.
The “Bucky and Alice Clan” came. We still have pictures. It was Alice and Ray, Myna and Chuck, Chuck and Shelby, Jack and Mary Ann, Addie and Ike, Jerry and Jayne. Of course there were grandchildren totaling 15. Everybody brought food and I think Myrna did the turkey in her big roaster. The food was put on tables and it was a cooperative effort.
There was always something special about the City Club being closed to customers. It was quiet. The grandkids could wander anywhere in the tavern and Myrna set the orthophonic music machine so that songs could be played by pushing the selection button (no money).
For kids, it was like exploring. Nothing was off limits. They could run and slide. They could dance to the music. They could play pool. They could walk behind the bar. They could do all the things that were normally off limits. I think soda was made available from all the coolers behind the bar. There was a kind of freedom.
As I remember the Thanksgivings at the City Club, I am stricken by the fact that they were one of the few times that my whole family consisting of Grandma (and Step Grandfather), Mother (and Step Dad), brothers and sisters with spouses, and nieces and nephews got together in one place and the same time. It was special. I don’t think anybody attached much significance to the gathering at the time. It marked the end of an era as The Andrews Family moved on and the business was sold. It was a time that was neither good or bad. Things were changing. It was a warm memory.
So I hope everyone had a special Thanksgiving. For me it was a reminder of Thanksgivings past! At the Club! In Plymouth! With my family! It will always be special.
Lots of Warm Hugs
Dad

I’m struck by how complicated life can get. We have a propensity to take something really simple and complicate the hell out of it. Harrison Ford falls in love with Anne Heche in “Six Days and Seven Nights”. Ford is a small plane pilot in the Carribean Islands. He crashes his airplane and falls in love with Heche. Nobody, he repeats nobody is going to screw up the simple life he has womanizing, drinking and flying around the islands. Nobody until Anne comes along. The last scene shows Ford surrendering to her charm admitting that he will return to New York with her and he wanted to “complicate the hell out of his life”. No Harrison! No! No! No! It is the wrong life lesson.
Grasshopper No. 4 picked up on the “simplicity idea” with his Saturday morning football team. When the team went from remembering 15-20 plays down to 3-4 plays, the team did better. Yep, they did it simpler.
I was going through some papers the other night and I came across the purchase of our first cottage. You’ve heard the story about how we bought it on sight and sealed the deal with a handshake. The owner was Mr. Ray Mallman and he believed in keeping his word. You can’t get much simpler than a man’s word and a handshake.
I have mentioned Garrison Keelor, host of “Prairie Home Companion”. It is a Saturday night radio show out of St. Paul, Minnesota. The charm is that he makes reference to his growing up in a simple farm community in Minnesota. It makes you yearn for the simple life of a farm boy. The biggest problem Garrison refers to is removing piers on Lake Woebegone (I haven’t checked to see if there really is a lake by that name) at the end of the year. He refers to characters constantly from home where “women are strong, men are handsome and all children above average”. Excitement was the county fair and a barn-dance Saturday night. Simple was good.
Then I watched a one hour TV special on Warren Buffet, the second richest man in the world. Despite all the issues that go with money, he is really quite simple. He likes cherry cokes. I like cherry cokes. He likes cheeseburgers. I like cheeseburgers. He likes Dairy Queen shakes so he bought the company. I like Dairy Queen products but I have to pay market value. Okay! Okay! He can do things that I can’t do. He has lived in the same nice but simple home for 48 years. He knows what makes him happy and he doesn’t apologize for it. A nice afternoon is sitting at home in his sweatsuit with a bowl of popcorn watching Nebraska beat Texas. Hey, I like to do that.
Buffet’s formula for success is “do what you love and do it well”. The word simplicity isn’t in that success statement but it is implied.
So Grasshoppers my advice is to “strive for the simple life”. Sometimes it seems hard to do but with a little practice, you’ll find it is really quite simple.
Love,
Dad

I watched “Dancing With the Stars” with my loving wife. Emmitt Smith won the competition along with his dance partner, Cheryl Burke. Grasshopper No. 4 said I grossed him out when I said that Emmitt had a cute smile. That charismatic grin and a lot of enthusiasm took his team over the top. At the end of the last dance Emmitt slapped his partner on the ass. He can’t do that! That could be grounds for sexual harassment.
Then I was flipping channels and I came across a basketball preseason game with Texas Tech playing Oklahoma State. My favorite coach, Bobby Knight, was prowling the sidelines and his team was winning big time. One of his players failed to fight for a rebound. As the player approached the bench during a timeout, Bobby decided he would give the player some loving tips. As the kid stood in front of Knight taking the barrage of comments, he had his head down. Knight wanted to look the kid to look him in the eye so he clenched his fist and lovingly “popped” the kid under the chin to get his head up. To put it mildly, the kid got the message. In fact, it showed the kid sitting on the bench afterward trying to see if he had broken his jaw or something more serious. The incident was dismissed as a “teaching incident”. Seems to me it could be close to child abuse.
And then there is Sony’s new Play Station 3. The new unit is out today and there are only 400,000 available. So people are lined up outside the major retailers to get the first editions. People are standing in line with $600 in their pocket to buy the first units. One Walmart store had only 10 units available and had to turn hundreds of people away. Some people were selling their spot in line in for $100, $200, and $300. Then the people who bought the unit were re-selling it on ebay for amounts as high as $3,500. One report had bidding as high as $8,000. Is this a great Country or what? Robbery was committed on people standing in line. Dah! They make a great target for thieves. To top everything off, a person was shot in Connecticut for refusing to yield to a thief. Is everybody nuts?
Finally there is Terrell Owens. He is the “fruitcake” receiver for the Dallas Cowboys. He feigns injury, mocks the coaching staff and falls asleep in strategy meetings. His outrageous behavior gets written off as eccentric. He is not a role model! I repeat, he is not a role model! Guess what? He has written a childrens book. You’ve got to be kidding me!
Maybe it is the newly elected liberal Democrats that are encouraging outrageous behavior. What else could explain the strange things going on? Maybe it is just a sign of the times.
Love,
Dad

The cottage season always ended in late October or early November. It required turning off the cottage water system before it froze up along with removing the pier from the lake.
The inclination was always to wait until the last possible moment to close things up. We intended to enjoy the fall colors and we could run the boat well into October.
I had lots of volunteers to help me take out the pier. My inclination was always to take it out just after Labor Day when kids went back to school and activity on the lake really slowed down. I remember Chris pleading to leave the pier in well into October and he offered to help me remove it. I think Paul volunteered also.
Guess what? It came the end of October and there was no Chris. There was no Paul. And the G– D— pier was still in the water. Did you know lake water gets very, very cold in late October.
The first few years I tried to endure the cold water with a swim suit and work fast to remove sections of the modular pier. I know I am a little bit of a whimp, but I think the blood stopped flowing in my legs a few times. I remember thinking, where are those damn kids?
Then I decided to buy some hip boots to wade out into the water. This is a little known fact, but when cold water spills over the top of hips boots it is just as cold as having no boots at all. The numbing pain doesn’t end until you get the boots off. Again I remember thinking, where are those damn kids?
The process of removing the sectional pier evolved into a “rope system” where I could take out the pier without ever having to go into the water. I still had the privledge of complaining about lack of help but the truth was that I had eliminated the numbing cold. I still thought, where are those damn kids?
Finally, my common sense took over. The use of the boat and pier after Labor Day was quite neglible. So over the Labor Day weekend when lots of family was visiting, I solicited help to take the pier out. That ended the problem of having to deal with cold water.
The truth about September and October is that a cottage seems romantic. You know: the fall colors, tranquil waters and fresh air. The reality is that once kids were back in school, they ended up with weekend commitments. Factor in season tickets to UW-Badger football games and the cottage hardly ever got used.
But I have to admit, every now and then in the fall, the family would end up at the cottage among the collage of colors and enjoy the day. Those few moments almost (and I stress the word “almost”) made postponing removal of the pier worth while.
Love,
Dad

Because I can be anal retentive, there are numbers and dates that roll through my mind!
On this date, November 10, 1957 my dad (Bucky) died. It is hard to believe that it was 49 years ago. I was called home to the City Club from the Plymouth Movie Theater to learn the news. It was late on a Sunday afternoon. He was 37 years old.
One year later on November 13, 1958 my Grandmother Helen (Alice’s mother) died in Ashland, Wisconsin. She had high blood pressure along with diabetes. Because she lived in the “woods”, it took extremely long to get her to the hospital which was 30 miles away. The cause of death was never determined. She was 58 years old.
Within the span of 1 year, my mother lost her husband and her mother. Mix in the fact that there was no money and Alice’s world probably seemed to be collapsing around her. She developed a toughened exterior but to me she was always the same mom.
Now we move to consecutive dates. My Dad (Bucky) was born in May, 1920. He was the oldest son of Chalk and Myrna.
20 years later, I was born in 1940. I was the oldest child in our family
20 years later in 1960 Deborah was born to our family. Yep she was the oldest child.
20 years later, Debs blew the whole series of “20 year numbers”. Dano was supposed to have been born in 1980. That deviation might have had a significant effect on the cosmos and sent our family into a totally different dimension.
It is a good thing that you guys are not a slave to numbers. Wait, that is not totally true. Christopher shows signs of fretting over number detail. Curses!
Love,
Dad