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I woke up this morning thinking of a long time friend from my youth.  He was a very smart and talented guy.  He really was very philosophic.  Give him a beer, a bar, and some locals of the town and he would soon have everyone in stitches.  Together, Jerry and I had many conversations about farming, local politics, and family.  In one of those conversations it had been mentioned about the responsibility that parents endure for the shaping of a human mind.  When this information came to the fore I did not have any children.  I admit that I was wishing and hating all at the same time for Jerry’s lifestyle.  I am now in Jerry’s spot just 30 years later.  My thoughts run parallel to Jerry’s musings during the 70′s.  Mostly,  we have kids as the common denominator.  I remember this quote from Jerry as if it were said  a minute ago.  He said, “It is a heavy responsibility to mold a child’s mind.”  Who would of thought that a thirty year old quote from a deceased friend of my youth would be the topic of the day for my blog?

Shaping a child’s mind, body, and soul can be daunting, demanding, and challenging.  Yet the return yielded by the investment into a child’s body, mind, and soul  are off the charts.  My friend Jerry was a very smart man.  I went to school with him.  Some things you can’t hide and Jerry being smart was one of those things.  Now I,  on the other hand,  while not being dumb I can honestly say no one ever said that I was tooooo smart either.  This morning I really relate to what Jerry was trying to convery to me.  If Jerry can question his own abilities on shaping his own child’s life then surely I may,  as well.  

Last night my son”s chest was congested.  His stomach was a little upset and he was feeling  over all.  pretty bad but not bad enough to lay down during the day when it was play time but  bad enough to make it uncomfortable breathing when he found the lights off and it was time to go to bed in his room.  He ended up sleeping with us last night.  He couldn’t sleep in his room.  It took 30 seconds after the lights were turned out in our room and he was asleep.  There was no doubt that his breathing was difficult.  One could hear the congestion as he coughed and sniffeled.  I fell asleep worried about the health of my son.  I found it very difficult to rest last night.  Consequently I arose earlier than usual.  With in minutes Kellen was in the kitchen with me.  Sitting in the kitchen with my son on my lap is an experience that will never to be equaled.  He felt so bad physically and was very comforted as we sat for a moment with my arms around him while  at the kitchen table.  The feeling is a culmination of giving, sharing,trusting, caring, and loving the one your with.  If I could bottle it I would.  For I would be a millionaire  monetarily immediately.  I will non the less be content with being a millionaire mentally.  The experience of bonding with my son can not be anything other than priceless. 

My son woke up this morning rubbing his eyes.  He always triesto rub the sleep away.  As he entered into the kitchen he padded through the entry with an accumstomed gate of an experienced dirt hand heading to his dozer to start his shift on the road crew.   As he plopped down unto my lap.  (Notice I said down…he is almost as tall as his Mother) We both had a deja vu’ moment from the previous nite.  As he hugged me he whispered in my ear,”Thanks for taking care of me, Daddy.”     PRICELESS!   Need I say more?

Comments (0) Sep 09 2009

Sardine.  One would not think that this word would be used to convey pleasure.  Whether it was pleasant or unpleasant.  To me it would naturally convey a picture of a small fish packed in a can that smells horrendous or a large school of sardines swimming in the water.  Well,  today I am going to talk about words and how they were used in my world as a youth.  Suffice it to say I will mainly focus on the words of my Father.  I wish that I could say that I heard these words used on for other people but alas I am sad and happy to say that it was me that I really believe was the impetus in his choice of words.  Mostly I say this because of a comment made by a sibling some years back.  It has to do with a conversation about who in the family seemed to get the most spankings.  Of course it was me.  the part that I want to focus on was when I said that I seem to remember getting the most spankings of all the brothers and sisters.  My sibling replied without any rancour, “And….Why do you think that is, Kirk?”  As a realist, I deduced from this that I seemed to be a bit more bent on not changing so I needed to be coaxed more than most. 

 There are other words that hit the play list often in terms of my life.  Sardine just was the tip of the iceberg.  Another term that I heard often was, “I never seen the beat.”   Some times that was a statement.  Sometimes it was spoken plaintively. And sometimes it was an exclamation.  All said in a series of three.   Just imagine a kid that really does not understand what is going on and is really just having some fun but for some inexplicable reason whatever I was doing seem to break as I was doing it.  Now also picture my Father viewing this as he approaches me.  I know he was shaking his head the moment that he saw me.  Why else would he walk towards me.  To tell me,  that he never saw the beat?  The first time it was said he is almost smiling because some where in his head it seems funny.  The problem continues to grow when I fail to stop when he approaches me.  Thus changing the tone of his voice to stern.  A sure sign that anger was soon forthcoming.  The third time it is said, “I never seen the beat!!!” is said with anger while he is grabbing me by the arm to get my attention.  My Father said, “What were you thinking?”   It does not matter what I was doing it was something that did not need to be done.  I answered. “I dunno.”  

Another of his favorite words was pip.  Not my everyday word for sure but I remember him using it often and even more surprising is the fact that I can remember a person named Shorty who was an order cattle buyer that my Father used when he purchased feeder cattle for his feed lot that my Father described  as a real pip.  How may pips have you known in your life?  In my life’s definition book,  which I see clearly in my mind’s eye, there is always a picture of Shorty.  In this version pip it is a good thing.  Other times pip would be used as an expletive.  Not a good thing.  It is not that my Father did not use words to express his feelings.  He was a very good communicator.  What I find interesting is the use of certain words. 

When I was six years old we had a gentlemen that had retired from farming but still hired out as day labor with my Father.  His name was Pete and he always called me Cork.  I had heard of a corker from my Dad but I had never been called a corker.  But on this day going down memory lane I remember now why Pete called me Cork.  It is because the day that he arrived I over heard my Father introduce everyone to Pete.  Pete asked my Father who the little boy was on the lawn near the cob house next to the shop where everyone had gathered?   My Father simply stated the I was his youngest son and that I was a real corker.  So from that day on Pete called me, the little boy on the lawn near the cob house next to the shop where everyone gathered, Cork.  All because my Father had given me the dubious title of a real “corker.”  Funny how the picture of Shorty as a pip and the picture of what a corker looks like in my mind’s eye differ in clarity.  Ha! IT is my story and I am stickin to it.

My Mother was very proud of the fact that her husband loved her and their children very much.  She also said that she  had never seen my Father drunk.  Although it one would be hard pressed to say that after a trip to Ashton Steak house where Floyd and Mabel Halstensen would often travel together to have a dinner out.  While there I can remember both,  Floyd and my Father,  slamming down some small whiskey sours as fast as the bartender ould make them.  To a limit of three before dinner and one after dinner drink.  Watching my Father enjoy these drinks one would never guess that he never got drunk.  He simply enjoyed it.  He often told me that if liking to drink means to get drunk than he would be drunk all the time.  Yet because he liked it he never abused alcohol.  Thus my Mother could always be proud.  

She also was proud of the fact that my Father did not use curse or swear words.  But if you had heard the tone of the words Sardine, Pip, and corker one would readily admit that they were real rip snortin words that have every bit as much bite as the worst swear words ever to have been heard.  So maybe my Father did not swear but……..He never saw the beat… either!!!  LOL!

Comments (0) Sep 07 2009

I completed a conversation with a long ago friend of my youth yesterday evening.  When I hung up the phone I felt as if I had just left the physical prescence of that individual.  When hanging up the phone I was feeling very connected.  Roots comes to my mind.  Good roots.  Roots back to my very first memories.  Usually that is the province reserved for family.   Few friends are given tickets to this show.  There are…I am happy to write… a select few that make the show.  Now don’t go thinking that I am an elitist.  I most certainly am not.  I am sure that there are friends in all of  the readers lives that have made it into their inner circle.  Friends that start from no where and end up some where on our life’s charted course.  I am talking about a friend who is a friend because they are… and always have been… there.  As if they were family. 

In the course of the conversation we reminisced aboutold times.  About the music and laughter.  The memory of how we felt at the time.  Both of us coming to the realization that what we remember does not necessarily show the real feelings of the individual at the time.  Suffice it to say we both put on a good front.  I mentioned how frightened I was whenever I would sing alone.  Still am for that matter but not as much as I once was.  Then my friend mentioned her part in this memory.  She could not find the ending notes.   She stated to me, “I was so embarrassed.”  I said, “No one knew except for her.”  I was there…I did not know…?  She said the same thing to me about my being frightened. 

It is these memories that make the people that we become.  It just so happens that this friend has always been there.  Arguably out of site but not out of mind.  I remember years back seeking her out to say hello.  Heck,  maybe it was a chance meeting on a street but I do remember talking with her on a street corner and getting all the lowdown in thirty seconds or less.  I left that meeting  a happy man.  It is funny how,  when you need to know something, how little one really needs to feel satisfied.  What was I going to change?  Nothing of that I am sure that we can all agree.  At least at that moment. 

I spoke of roots, family, and friends earlier.  These roots start in the womb of our mother.   Family continues the growth of our roots.  The interaction of friends through our lives is part of our roots as well.  These roots are our foundation in life.  A foundation of trust.  I am lucky.  My family is a trustworthy bunch.  I lucky in my friends as well.  I have implicit trust with my phone friend.  She has introduced to me a voice of reason and kindness.  A voice of patience and goodness.  this voice happens to be her significant other.  Without regard to that aspect I know that I would feel the same about this individual simply because my roots(i.e. my Friend Ruth) said he was a good guy.  I guess this is God’s natural way of networking.  Networking on a foundation of trust spread through the roots of our life.  Using the memories of our life to know who and what to trust. 

I am glad that my friend introduced me to a new voice.  He sounded very trusting.

Comments (0) Aug 24 2009