LDKBox

The start of my day consists of looking at the dog as I sit in my chair thinking about making the first cup of coffee for the day.   I manage to start the computer.  I reach over and release the dog from his little dog home and send him outside for the first of  many trips in and out during the day.  I don’t mind doing it but sometimes Ellen does get a little put out.  I laugh when she talks to the dog and she tells him how much she dislikes him.  Through it all the little dog is affable and completely unaware of any one in this house disliking him.  Poor little dog if he only new…?

With the dog in the backyard the house is mine to do with as I please.  Coffee will be ready soon.  The computer is up and running.  The words of the pages that I review fill my brain with images of the world.  I read much and feel smaller in the eye’s of the world each time.  Feeling insignificant yet knowing that I am important for some reason.  Ok, don’t  press me on this one….  I do feel important.  But in an insignificant way…?  Ya, there you go… that is better.

It appears that my  moods are getting better each day.  I surely feel stronger everyday.  I unpacked my truck yesterday from the Boy Scout’s weekend.    I completed it in one day.  I wasted most of the day procrastinating and still completed the project before Kellen returned from school.  It is three days in a row that I have made a post.  It is a record if my recent past is any barometer.  With better moods hopefully… will be better posts…?  I am thinking that the world will be a little more upbeat for me this year.  I know I like breaking records and with continued posting I could break a record every day.  See… something positive is already coming out of this.

Today I will repack for the next weekend of camping.  I will re-season the cast iron cookware.  Re-pack all the sleeping bags.  Wipe down all the camping chairs and place them in their individual canvas bags.  When I get done with each of these tasks it will be near a record.   Now that I am typing on my blog I am near a record.  When my life is one day  longer  I am near a record.  I am such a lucky fellow to be near a record.

Comments (0) Oct 12 2010

It was important for me to receive so many emails today  from friends to help my inner feelings.  I am at a mental low today.  Getting these emails from friends and family is a real life preserver.

I received a call today from friends in Alaska.  They are about 45 or so.  Worked with him for years and respected his ability to handle equipment.  He in turn thought the same of me.  Not many ever hands let me know that they appreciated my abilities so we became mutual admirer’s.  He always smiled when he saw me coming onto the job site with my tractor and trailer.  He told me once that my skills were over looked.  Hey, why wouldn’t I like this guy.  Seriously,  it was good to work with someone that appreciated what you did for them to make their job easier.

Today I received a call from his wife, Shelly.   John had contracted  cancer sometime in 07.  We had been in communication with each other periodically.  I called a couple of times while they were out.  I knew that they were doing something important so thought nothing of the return call left unanswered.  Both of us were sick and fighting cancer.  John and I  had a special bond for we were both blessed with a child after almost giving up on that particular possibility for a myriad of reasons.

It was a good story until today.  Shelly,  John Mills wife,  called me today to inform me that John had passed away on November 3, 2009 in Oklahoma City at a cancer treatment facility.  She spoke well of the facility and staff.  She that John was a trooper right up until the end.

He fought hard and still lost.  I don’t fight at all and I keep getting better.  He leaves a wife of twenty years and a five or six year old daughter.  I am sad for their loss.  Yet I am humbled that this family would consider me in their hour of grief.  I hate it and I love it.  I need to get some help to get a grip. I cannot say that we were close but I can say that he respected me as I did him.  He was  good man.  Take a moment to remember this man as my friend,  for he was…. in construction terms ..”A Real Hand”  and I hope someday someone will say the same for me.  May he rest in peace.

Comments (0) Nov 06 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