Ace Wisdom

Life is short. We all need to make the most of life.
There is “perspective” however. Life when examined in the context of eternity is but the “blink of an eye”. Eternity has no beginning. Eternity has no end. Shakespeare, in one of his plays, said that “life is but a fleeting second in eternity”. Imagine that. In the click of a second on your watch, your life is over based on eternity.
Okay, follow me now. Your life is just a “blink”. Hardly seems worth the effort does it? Then you watch a movie like “City Slickers” and the trail boss, Curly, proclaims that the meaning of life is one thing. We never find out what the “one thing” is, but it is obviously very special.
So imagine that your fleeting life (one second) boils down to one thing (as declared by Curly). Also imagine that you will experience that one thing on one day late in your life. What a magnificent experience that would be. Everything comes to a crescendo.
Now imagine that you sleep through that infinitesimal part of the moment that was designed to be the essence of your life. Or possibly you are in the “bathroom” when your moment occurs. Maybe your cell phone rings and some guy is trying to sell you insurance. You could miss your moment. How disappointed would that be?
So Grasshoppers, my wish for you in your short life, is to discover the true one meaning of life and have the chance to experience life’s true rewards.
There is a theory that says you get to come back and experience many moments. You get to do things over and over until you get them right.
In the end, if someone asks you to describe your moment, was it a glorius moment? Was it a rewarding moment? Was it a f—ing moment? Were you just “there”? Don’t waste it. Make the most of your moment.
Love,
Dad

Rumor has it that a family member is about to manage the opening of a new hair styling facility in Sheboygan. It is called the Barbershop.
I want the world to know that my grandpa Chalk had a 3 chair barbershop in the late 1930’s and early 1940’s. It gave male gender customers haircuts and shaves. It is now 75 years later and someone has decided that it would be special to open a chain of outlets called the Barbershop. Huh? Grandpa Chalk did that 75 years ago.
The environment of the new Barbershop is unique. It serves guys only. There are individual cubicles. Each cubicle has a flat screen TV with a remote control that they tape to your fingers during your haircut. They have buckets (or baskets) of peanuts that you can enjoy before, during and after your haircut. You can shuck the shells to the floor, throw them at other customers or toss them in the air as the Packers fumble another ball. All this frivolity for $10.
Oh yeah, then there is the haircut. I assume that they give great haircuts. They have professional stylists. Maybe it doesn’t matter. They give a treat instead of a treatment.
Okay, peanuts on the floor isn’t a new concept. The Ground Round restaurant has been doing it for years and so have several local steak houses. Flat screen viewing has been part of sports bars for years. It is nice but not new. People are friendly. So what is the secret? What is the secret?
During my morning exercise, I encountered a retired barber and his friend. We kidded about the “Barbershop”. I described the concept of peanuts and TV to which the friend (a female mom) replyed that her son had received a cut at the new Barbershop in Appleton. His comment was “Mom, they have hot chicks”. Whoa! Now let me see. Peanuts! TV! A good haircut! Male only patrons! And apparently the secret, “hot chicks”!
So prepare Sheboygan. The Barbershop will take your community by storm. And I know the secret of their success.
Love,
Dad

On Labor Day we had tickets to the Milwaukee Brewers game versus the Houston Astros in Milwaukee. It was an afternoon game. Bright sunshine. The roof was open to Miller Park and a light cool breeze was coming in off Lake Michigan. Sitting in the shade and enjoying the excitement of a pennant chase, I couldn’t help reflect on how “Bucky” would have enjoyed the show. My Dad’s dream was to be in the “show” and he never dreamed how extravagant the performances would get. Yes sir, we were tapping our feet before the game and guessing “song titles” played by the organist.
My goal? Bring home a winner.
It was a good game. Ryan Braun “pumped out” a homer and Fielder got walked several times. The net result was that after seven innings, the Brewers were leading 7-4. I had made a pack with your mom that we would leave after 7 innings to beat the crowd. Never fear. Turnbow and Cordero would pitch the eighth and ninth. The game was in good hands. We had brought home a victory.
So we eased out of Miller Park. Our strategy had worked. No traffic problem,
Then listening to the remainder of the game on the radio, Houston had runners on base and were threatening to score in the top of the eighth inning. As we headed north on Highway 41, the Brewers were tied 7-7. What the hell? By the time we reached Lomira, the score had turned in favor of the Astros, 9-7. The stupid game didn’t end until we approached Fond du lac. It had taken over an hour to finish two innings and the Brewers pissed away another lead.
Well we tried. I guess our mistake was trying to leave a little early. If we had stayed, the Brewers would have won. Yeah, right!
Actually it was a very pleasant day. Everything was enjoyable right up to the time we left the park. Where else would you rather be on a summer ending Labor Day? Miller Park! A pennant race! Good ball game! Time with family! It doesn’t get much better. The score was incidental to the whole experience.
I can’t help but ponder “did leaving early affect the outcome of the game”? No, it couldn’t have! Could it? No matter, it was a failed attempt to bring home a winner.
Love,
Dad

Saturday afternoon was the kickoff of Badger football for the season. It was a sunny afternoon in Madison and a victory made it better.
We had two extra tickets for the game. Grasshopper No. 2 wanted one ticket for one of “the boys” because she was short a ticket (she had her own tickets).
Enter “cell phones”. We used cell phones to contact Grasshopper No. 2 as she approached the stadium to confirm our respective locations and ultimately connect up to enter the stadium together. We would met in front of Gate No. 10. Remember that Gate Number. Did we need the cell phones? No. Were they convenient. Yes.
Grasshopper No. 2’s family got split up during the ballgame because some sat with us in our familiar seat location and some stayed with her in the lower deck. Actually there was a switch of members at half time.
After the game, the plan was unclear. Fear not! We have cell phones. We can talk immediately after the game and make sure Grasshopper No. 2’s family could leave together. We were in the upper deck with her Son No. 2. She was in the lower deck directly beneath us with Son No. 1. When the game ended, we made a call to Grasshopper No. 2. No answer. More calls to No. 2. Still no answer. We know she had the cell phone turned on. Her vibrator system on the phone was active. She wasn’t responding to vibration. Aren’t cell phones great. On this particular day we wanted to get out of the stadium and weren’t anxious to stay for the infamous 5th quarter.
Then as I was looking down from the upper deck to her section, I spied Grasshopper No. 2 and family. There she was. She was looking up. She was waving. She was enjoying the music of the 5th quarter. Obviously she had not checked her cell phone. So from the upper deck I flashed 10 fingers to signify Gate 10 and pointed in the direction of Gate 10. Her face lit up with understanding and 5 minutes later we joined up in front of Gate 10 to return her property (Son No. 2). All was well.
Imagine that! 10 fingers did what cell phones with vibrators (along with instant messaging capabiliity, GPS information sharing and internet connection) couldn’t do. Fingers visually conveyed details of our meeting. 10 fingers cost nothing (it reminds me of the Indians sending smoke signals). Isn’t the Power of Ten amazing. The only thing more powerful than ten fingers is sometimes one finger. Huh.
Love,
Dad

A relative of mine (a very, very close relative) has a boat.
His first boat was for the family. Weekend and Holiday outings were part of the dream. Somehow the family didn’t buy into the dream.
So then it was a boat that was less family “friendly”. A faster boat. A hull design that uses air to lift it out of the water yet maintain stability. A boat with a perfectly balanced engine to give lots of speed.
Then it was a bigger engine with fuel injection. The engine includes spark advancing technology to give optimum performance. The boat purrs.
To go faster you need a tilt system to trim the engine to the perfect angle when the boat is near top speed. Add a backplate to raise the engine up and down to assist the tilt technology and you have a “hummer”. It goes fast.
Then you buy or trade for 15 different variations of props for the engine until you find the right one. Three tines. Four tines. Welded tips to increase cavitation. Welded tips to decrease cavitation. All the experimentation with the blades on the prop must include pitch angles from 19 to 24 degrees. The boat now goes really fast. But alas, it must go faster.
Top speed is attained riding in the boat alone. It reduces the weight in the boat to the bare minimum (no family members here) so that the vessel rides as high in the water as possible.
But the boat just doesn’t go fast enough! What can he do? What can he do? Then his life partner (his wife) says, “why don’t you buy a bigger engine”? Huh? It is obvious. A bigger engine will of course produce more speed. How many wifes have told their husband they need a bigger engine? It sends chills down your spine.
So Grasshopper No. 3’s dreams are alive. The answer is obvious, “get a bigger engine”.
My question is “how fast do you have to go”? I guess like everything in life, just a little bit faster.
Love,
Dad

There have been many jokes about the Andrews heritage. Every family has characteristics that separate them from the rest of humanity. It got me wondering. What is an Andrews? This of course is my view of the world.
Topping the list is a sense of humor. It is far and away the number one distinquishing characteristic of the Andrews family. Grasshopper No.1 laughs when people trip and fall down. Strange! Chuckles are mandatory.
We are personable. There might have been a “snake oil salesman” in our past. We are pretty good at convincing people that our point of view is correct. Some might call it charisma. Some might call it “bullshit factor”.
We are anal retentive. There seems to be a propensity to remember unimportant facts, especially numbers. This includes calendar dates, financial numbers and batting averages. I personally can remember the number of gallons of gas pumped into my car for several days along with mileage numbers off my speedometer. I can tell you the exact amount of change in my pocket. Really important stuff, huh?
We are stubborn. This comes in many variations ranging from just plain “bull-headed and unreasonable” to politely difficult. I know a few family situations were the stubborn generates an a–h— behavior. No you say!
We tend to avoid manual labor. I need to emphasize that this does not mean we are lazy. In fact, we can work long hours at ventures that are interesting. Grasshopper No. 3 seems to enjoy doing physical things but when you think about, he rides around on his a– all day.
We think we are smart! This is a relative belief. There is no real way of measuring “smartness” but half the battle is thinking you are pretty bright. We are “street-smart”.
We are persistant. We usually get what we want.
We are caring, loving and compassionate. Jesus, did I say that? If my arms were long enough I would pat myself on the back. Alternatively, there is an absense of mean-ness.
My mother would utter in German “self-pride stinks”. You can get so caught up in thinking you are so good that you become obnoxious to others. So the lesson Grasshoppers is be yourself. You are no better than anyone else. Use whatever characteristics you have to your benefit and others.
You’ve got to admit there is an Andrews mystique.
Love,
Dad

I exorcised this morning. Half-way through the 4 mile jaunt, my batteries in my trusty walk-man CD unit died. This Grasshoppers is a sign. It is a “sign” because I am careful to watch the indicator that shows remaining battery life and it was okay. It is a sign that other bad things may be coming. I hate that when my battery goes dead.
Then I had to go to my local dentist. He is my personal “dbf” artist. “DBF” stands for “drill, fill and bill”. I guess I should add forever and ever. The dentist has an annuity on the lives of your mother and I. I do get up tight about having to sit in a chair “in a layed back position” for over an hour pumped full of some magic numbing potion unable to move. I guess it is a control thing. I had a headache right up the back of my neck.
When I got home from the dentist, there was a contract from a local store owner verifying details of some carpet that we had ordered. Buried in the contract was a clause that said they could charge me 50% of all costs incurred should I cancel. Talk about an open ended license to steal. We have no intent to cancel anything, but that was a bullsh– clause. So I called the store and told them I objected. To shorten my story, they are sending me a new contract. Bastards.
My mood is improving. I put new batteries in my walk-man. I have recovered from my encounter with the dentist (actually he is a very nice person), and I have changed the contract for carpeting to my satisfaction.
Buried in all the above rhetoric is a lesson Grasshoppers. Don’t sign contracts that you do not understand or agree with. In this case my contract was for a carpet. There are contracts for cell phones, contracts for cable systems and contracts for personal loans. Read those contracts. They are legal documents and you are obligated. They favor the people drafting the contracts.
So tonight I am going to watch a rented movie from Hollywood Cinemas and maybe make some popcorn.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day. The sun will come up tomorrow. I dare anybody to screw it up. I will be watching for “signs”.
Love,
Dad

My wife deserves all the credit. She tightened her jaw and decided that there would be an Andrews reunion. I think the closest thing to a family reunion was Thanksgiving at the City Club with Myrna in the late 1970’s. So a special thank you to the love of my life.
Shelby’s rationale was that the Andrews clan was a fun group. There is always joking. There is always laughter. Getting together would be enjoyable. She was right. I think everyone who came to the Sheboygan Deland Home on Saturday had a good time.
It is amazing how many Bucky/Alice descendants attended the clambake. My count says that 29 people enjoyed chicken, mashed potatoes & gravy (it went in a hurry), biscuits, grapes and stuff. Bucky/Alice really didn’t understand what they were starting.
First Generation Attending:
Jack Andrews
Mary Ann Andrews
Addie Eisenhardt
“Ike” Eisenhardt
Jerry Andrews
Jane Andrews
Shelby Andrews (VP of Reunion Organization)
Chuck Andrews
Second Generation Attending:
Deborah Warosh
Tom Warosh
Kelly Andrews
Carlos Vargus
Margaret Andrews
Jackie Ashburn
John Ashburn
“Johnny” Andrews
Mike Klokow
Heather Klokow
Ryan Eisenhardt
LuAnn Eisenhardt
Third Generation Attending:
“Dano” Ragsdale
Grant Hollander
Mitchell Hollander
Dominic Andrews
Tommy Andrews
Sarah Pirrung
Lucy Eisenhardt
Fourth Generation Attending:
Conner Pirrung
McKayla Pirrung
Our collective prayer session summoned the “Rain Gods” to start a 3 day steady rain that hasn’t ended yet. Amazing what the power of many can do.
Thank You all for making the day very special. If I left anyone off my list it was inadvertent. Let me know and I’ll correct the list.
There are lots of pictures.
Love,
Chuck

I missed it!
In the late 1960’s I joined the Vollrath Company. They were using computers to help manage the business. One of the owning family members had attended MIT and came away with the conviction that managing information on a timely basis was the “future”. Vollrath had large main frame computers and an “army” of systems analysts and programmers. There were no software packages that you buy off the shelf. Everything had to be built from scratch. Every employee was involved in data collection including production people.
During a luncheon conversation one day, the managing family member offered the vision that when computers became cheap enough and every person could own one, American business would unleash tremendous potential. People would be able to get better information faster and they could develop “just in time” decision models. You would harness the power of the human mind.
The opportunity “right before my eyes” was that I could have made every effort to capitalize on the “information revolution”. I should have bought IBM in the 1960’s. I should have mortgaged the house when Yahoo first started. I should have bought into Microsoft which revolutionized software with a standard platform. I should have, I should have, I should have.
But I didn’t. Instead I plodded along with my 401K plans that were diversified and an IRA. I did not invest using my knowledge of the future. I had a gut feeling computing power would become so cheap that it would revolutionize all business models, but I failed to act.
I could have been rich. Sh–!
The lesson Grasshoppers is that you will see many things pass before your eyes. It is difficult to always grasp opportunity when it is there. You can’t lament about what you missed. Hey, I am rich in other ways. Cottages, boats, kids, and Grandkids. Opportunity comes in many forms. If you happen to grab onto the “magic of an idea”, good for you. If you don’t, join the crowd. For me, it was there right before my eyes.
Love,
Dad

There is an TV advertisement that reverses the psychology of exchanges between parents and children. A young adult confronts his dad saying “I’ll use my cell phone whenever I want.” The dad responds by saying that he certainly could use his phone when he wants and that running up long minutes of time was okay”. Not normal! It got me wondering how we could have made your lives less stressful and more fun.
For Grasshopper No.1, I would have said “when you live in our house, you can make whatever rules you want. It is your house too. Do whatever you want! Be Happy!’
Grasshopper No. 2 would be “if you don’t like your peas, don’t eat them. Blow the peas through a straw at you sister if you’d like”. This is not a heavy issue.
Grasshopper No. 3 could have all the gas for the boat that he wanted. “You want more gas for the boat? I’ll make special trips to bring you more. Call me. More soda and snacks for the cottage refrigerator? No Problem”.
Grasshopper No. 4 wouldn’t have to clean up his bedroom. “You want the room to stink. That is okay. Happiness is lounging in squalor. Mom will clean it when you are ready”!
Grasshopper No. 5 could eat strange foods for breakfast. “Pizza is good. Eat what you want”.
Your life would have changed if we had responded different. Our life would have changed. I offer the following:
Leave the toys laying all over the floor. It is okay. Mom and Dad will pick them up.
Suck you thumb if you want.
You can wear anything you want. It is a free country.
You absolutely do not have to get a haircut.
If all your friends can do it, you can too.
Stay out as long as you like. Curfews are so restrictive.
You want to stay home from school? Sleep as long as you want.
Talk with your mouth full. Its okay.
Booze and partying at the cottage is okay.
I obviously am making a spoof about situations where you Grasshoppers would have liked a different response. Life would have been so much easier for you and for Mom and Dad too. Interesting perspective.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that there is structure in life. Parents have the responsibility of shaping the character of their children. Rules are important. Respect is required (and earned). Mistakes get made. There are no apologies. Decisions are made and we all live with the consequences. That is life. So if you got “hang-ups”, deal with them.
If you want to return and live in our house, its okay. We will take care of you.
Love,
Dad