Transition

I’ve been forced to contemplate all the great mysteries of the world lately.

If you eat a blueberry with white fuzz on it, will you die?

If you get up in the morning, walk into the kitchen to make coffee and a big hawk is looking at you through the window, what does that mean?  Somebody said it was an omen of good luck to come.  I’m waiting.

If I wear shirts that are different than usual while exercising, does this mean I am amenable to change at age 74?  Black shirts get a “Johnny Cash” sort of ridicule.  White shirts suggest Security Guard (Mall) uniforms.  Blue shirts with black shoulder decorations are “when are you going bowling?”.  You get the idea.  Either my old plaid shirts were “dated” or the bright colors are stunningly different.

Your Mom has been sorting through pictures on her new computer (after much consultation with the Geek Squad at Best Buy).  She asked me for dates based on the pictures!  There were many pictures that I call the “transition”.  It was the Fall of 1967.  We had moved from the thriving metropolis of Milwaukee and I had left the security of Allis-Chalmers Company (which does not exist any more, by the way).  I had a new job.  We were essentially “home” in the sense that everything was familiar.  Family was close.  We located (rented) on the north side of Sheboygan, which had “an old German world charm”.  And, we had committed to finding our first house.  By Spring, we had deposited most of our savings ($1,600) on a quaint large old house near downtown Sheboygan.

I mention our move to Sheboygan because it was “like our family life had begun for real”.  The rest is history.  You Grasshoppers grew up in Sheboygan (at least No.1, No.2 and No.3) –  No.4 and No.5 were born there and spent a significant portion of their childhood there.  I even got a job promotion or “two”.

There is no mistaking the pictures from the Fall of 1967.  It was a good time.  It was a transition.

Love,

Dad