Red Rocks

Red Rocks

Sunday, October 09, 2005

Happy Birthday Dad!

Well, we're down to one more Saturday of soccer and one cross-country meet and then the sports are over for awhile and I can try and get in some hunting.

I see by the calendar that my old Dad is 79 today. The nicest present he got was a bye week for the Vikings. Hope you had a good day.

It was the pheasant opener this weekend which means only 3 1/2 weeks to deer season. I am really excited to get up to the cabin for a long weekend with the guys.

Still trying to figure out how to get up to Minot to see the R@fink and try some of these homebrews of his.

I've had a few thoughts about some of the recent political events, but haven't managed to get them keyboarded in here yet.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

First Saturday of Autumn

Well, we got through the Bismarck Soccer League Jamboree. The kids play 3 "half-games" and with three boys you can guess how long we were out there. I really think soccer is finally starting to make headway against the traditional American sports uphere in the northland. The place was jam packed with kids and parents, so obviously somebody thinks it is fun.

I see that my old friend Bob R@kfink worked on a batch of home brew this weekend. It was an Ireland style Red Ale, and it makes me thirsty just thinking about it.

I had suggested to him that we get a few other home brewers out there together for an American Oktoberfest late September '06. It would be a great chance for a tasting and a little backyard football or goose/duck opener for those so inclined. I don't know which of you is into brewing (or drinking, for that matter) but it would be a chance to do something really different and fun. Reply in the old comments section if you are interested.

I'm in the busy season at work, and want to get out hunting a few times, and tomorrow may be the last golf game of the season, and who knows what the rest of Fall will hold?

Monday, August 22, 2005

Writing by a real writer

I thought I'd start with a post from a writer who can really write. This is from a collection called Passages Toward The Dark by poet Thomas McGrath, and is simply titled "Poem":

My little son comes running with open arms!
Sometimes I can't bear it,
Did I, too,
Open your heart almost to breaking?

I've been thinking a lot lately about my relationship with my father and how things have three boys hug me and kiss me and tell me all kinds of stuff (some of which I probably don't want to hear). I don't remember saying much to my Dad that didn't absolutely have to be said, or listening to much that he said. Conversation just to converse was non-existant.

But then I remember that at least I've still got a father. The dad's of all of my friends from high school and early college are gone. Heart attacks. Diabetes. Emphysema.

My old Dad, who is hardly the picture of health, just keeps on going. He drinks a little too much beer, and watches a little too much football, and still can't carry on much of a conversation, but he's there, and I just need to grow up and spend some time with him before he's not there.

When I read McGrath my heart just about breaks because I know the love of my children, and I know I felt it for him, and he probably for me. Do I have it in me to ask him that question?

Friday, August 12, 2005

First whine

An experiment without all the scientific trappings. I hope to get some stuff on here that people who know me want to see, and the rest of us might find interesting/entertaining/useful.