The WGOM

I'll be heading off to North Dakota in a couple of hours to my parent's place for the weekend. My Dad, Butch, and my mother, Mrs. Butch (I didn't think of that for this site. One time this guy from my hometown showed up at my apartment when I was in college. It was late at night after the bars had closed and a bunch of us were still having fun. This guy was almost 30 -- he was a friend of the guy that was dating my sister. Well, anyways, he was talking with me and he asked, how's Butch? Pretty good, I replied. How's Mrs. Butch. And I laughed. My mother may be married to my Dad, but, she's not exactly a Mrs. Butch.) are throwing a party for all of my siblings and their families. It should be fun. After the jump, a few words about Butch and Mrs. Butch.

Click here to continue reading Butch and Mrs. Butch are Throwing a Party...

My parents were pretty young when they got married and I was conceived on that night or shortly thereafter, bounding into the world right about 38 weeks after the wedding -- right on time. My Dad was 22 when I was born and my mother was still a teenager -- she wouldn't reach 20 for another couple of months. She was also the 2nd oldest of eight kids. My Dad was the youngest of three kids and his sister -- seven years older than him was killed when I was a young boy in a horrific car accident that claimed three of her eight children as well -- and she was nine months pregnant. My Dad's brother lived in another small town in North Dakota, but they weren't that close, really, and so my experience with uncles and aunts was really focused on my mother's side of the family.

My mother grew as one of five girls and three boys. I remember several of them as teenagers -- or younger. But, as the years have passed, my bonds to my uncles and aunts has been diminished. I rarely see most of them anymore -- some are so far away that half a decade can pass between visits. Such is life, I suppose. Word came to me on Saturday night that the uncle who was most remote, furthest away and most rarely seen, passed away at the age of 54 from lung cancer. The timing, if not the result, was quite surprising, as he was only recently diagnosed. We believed, based on reports from his doctor that he was not going to pass so quickly, but doctors don't always know everything, I guess.

My uncle Lou was an interesting guy. He was very intelligent and held an advanced degree in a technical field. He was witty and charming and well-read. He was kind and funny and goddamn it, he hated George W. Bush. Lou was a gifted musician, although he apparently abandoned his gift when he reached adulthood. I remember listening to him play the piano, he was really very talented. I loved my uncle for who he was.

Uncle Lou lived a tough live. He battled demons -- he had had drug problems and alcohol problems off and on throughout his life. He never actually worked in his field of education, and spent a couple of decades working as a clerical type in a hospital. He was also gay. This caused consternation among some people in the family -- some people didn't understand his "choice". I don't believe that it was a choice at all. It was clear that Lou was different from most people that I knew. Different, yes. But, bad? No. He was a good man. A few years back, apparently a partner of his died. I heard from my mother or somebody that this had happened. But, I'd never heard from him that there was ever anyone in his life that he regarded as someone special. Apparently, he felt uncomfortable, or it wasn't accepted to talk about such things in the family. I don't know which. I do know that my devout Catholic mother expressed her misgivings about the proclamations of the evil of homosexuals. Funny, when it's your little brother who's one of the evil ones, that kind of talk just doesn't ring true.

Lou would call my mother every day, practically. He'd call at 6 in the morning, which was 4 in the morning where he was. WTF, Lou? Mom said he was scared. Scared of dying alone out there. Mom wanted and hoped to bring him back here for another visit when his treatments took hold, but that never happened. Her sister did go out to see him this week, sensing that maybe now was the time. So, Lou had at least some family with him the week he died.

The last time I saw him, he was a broken down old man. Old! In his early fifties. The cough. Still smoking, even though he couldn't stop the cough. Oh my God. It was heartbreaking. It was obvious that he was going to die young. He was killing himself, one Marlboro at a time. There was no diagnosis of cancer then, but how could it not be coming? The answer, it was coming.

The great thing that religion sells is Hope. Hope of life eternal. Lou met with a priest before he died. This made my mother happy, and I'm hoping that he's in a better place now.

RIP, LMH.

When Lucy told me a while back that she was pregnant again, my first reaction was, man, I have a lot of work to do. I need to clear my office out of that last bedroom, move BabySBG's stuff into the guest room and move the guest room down into what was the office. There's painting to do and just so many preparations. Things were falling into place.

Lucy and I were each 40 when we got married. We had hoped for two kids, although we both knew that maybe that was going to be difficult. Two? At our age? Well, BabySBG came along quickly enough -- we were married 23 months when she was born. She is such a great baby, healthy, cute as a button, so physically active and alert. What a joy she is for us.

And then, so quickly after she was born, Lucy was pregnant again. Two kids: just what we wanted. The plan was working out. I started working out every morning, packing the bag at 5:00AM, driving to the gym (located in the building where I work), and getting in shape. I wanted to be trim when this second one was born. Plus, at my age, I need to take care of myself, what with two little kids -- I can't be checking out at 50. So, working out was part of the daily routine and things were happening. I could feel myself getting in shape -- clothes were not so tight, and people were noticing. I have been working on names -- joking with Lucy that if it's a boy, he would be Xerxes Zachary and we'd call him "XZ". Xerxes Zachary, try saying that ten times fast. It doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.

I have been thinking recently about how this time around was so much different. The first time is just something so new and scary. I worried about my wife, I wondered how the baby would be, I wondered how my life was going to change. This time, though, I wasn't worried. You know, we've done this thing before.

To hear the doctor tell us today that our unborn child is dead left me numb. I was just taking this pregnancy for granted. Lucy had mentioned to me a couple of weeks ago that she didn't feel pregnant. She's kind of a worrier, but I told her, call the doctor's office. They reassured her... things were fine. Well, things were not fine, as we found out today. Things were not fine. Things had gone horribly wrong. I didn't want to believe it. When the doctor didn't hear the heartbeat, it never clicked in my head, something's wrong. When she ordered an unplanned ultrasound today, again, I'm oblivious. Lucy was worried, I was not. It wasn't until the doctor actually said it that I had any clue that things were amiss. I just didn't think it was possible, I guess. But, it was possible and it did happen.

Our doctor was so nice to us. She was empathetic and caring. She gave us a book to read about miscarriages. I opened it up when I got home and I found out how common this really is. There are about 800,000 miscarriages a year in the United States. That's 2200 a day. There's 2200 women out there today in this country going through the pain of a miscarriage. One of them is my wife. Tomorrow there will be 2200 more. And so on. I know people who have multiple miscarriages. My brother told me this morning about someone who had nine before they finally got a baby. My brother in law told me that his mother had five before she had her two kids. It's a part of life, it's a part of so many people's lives. That is the way things are. It's no fun, though, that's for sure. Sometimes we forget that life can be hard.

There's a school of thought about when you tell people that you are expecting a child. Most people wait longer than we did. Both Lucy and I could not contain our excitement -- we just had to tell people. Now we have to tell people this. Maybe, if there's a next time, we'll keep it to ourselves a little longer. I don't know. We are who we are.

For years when I was single, I worried that I would never have a child of my own. BabySBG was and is a dream come true. She's our little miracle. When we got home from the doctor's office, she sat in her high chair and smiled and babbled as she ate her lunch. I thought about how great it is to have her with us. Because, as well as it went with her, it doesn't always turn out that way.

Thursday, as you may recall, was my birthday. As the day wore on, I was excited about the prospect of a nice birthday dinner at home with Lucy and BabySBG and kind just enjoying the day. I left the office about 5:15 and headed home. On the way home, my dad called. I answered the phone and he immediately started singing Happy Birthday. At the end, I said, you must have the wrong number... and he bought it! I said, no Dad, it's me, thanks! Enjoying the day. Anyway, I was talking with Dad as I drove east on Highway 62 and just as I crossed the Cedar Avenue bridge, I heard a noise that I recognized as coming from a flat tire. Shit.

Now, it was pretty cold out, but I figured that ten minutes of changing the tire would be a little uncomfortable, but not the end of the world. So, I got the baby spare out along with the jack and that jack handle/tire iron that you get nowadays. You know, the one with the socket that pivots on the end. You can fold the socket into itself and the socket is contained within a little bracket. It's a nice enough little tool.

Anyway, I was on the left hand side of the road and the flat tire was the left front. I jacked up the car, removed the lug nuts and I COULD NOT BUDGE THAT DAMNED TIRE. It would not move. Furthermore, when I grabbed the tire, I felt steel belts along the inside edge. Oh crap.

So, I called my dad and asked him what I should do. He suggested using the tire iron to beat on the tire. I did that, I kicked it and all I managed to do was bend the bracket so that the socket was stuck in the bracket, rendering the tire iron/jack handle unusable. Great. Now I've got a car jacked up with the lugnuts off the flat tire in front and I have no way of getting the tire off, tightening the lug nuts or lowering the jack.

Here's my tire iron with the socket snugly fit into its bracket

So, I call my wife and ask her for the number of the Tires Plus in Eagan. Now, there's also a Firestone store there, but they are crooks, as I have documented before. I asked them if they could come out and help me, but they said, no, they were busy and couldn't spare anyone. But, they referred me to Mark's Towing. Remember that name. Mark's Towing of Eagan, MN. They specialize in fucking over people who are stranded on the side of the highway in freezing cold.

I called Mark's Towing and told them that I was stranded on Crosstown and asked them if they could pick me up and tow my car to Tires Plus in Eagan. The woman I talked to said, yeah, sure. I asked how much and she said $75. I asked how long before they would get there and she said 20 to 25 minutes. I said, I'm in the car. She said that they would be right there.

Forty five minutes later, I called Mark's Towing again. I talked to some guy and I asked him where they were. He said that the truck had to go out and fix a tire at the airport and then he would be over. I said no, you are coming here right now. And he said, we have to help as many people as we can. I said, no you don't, you promised that you would help me and that you would come right out. (He's not the government, he entered into an oral contract with me and was now in breach of contract.) He said, I don't know what she promised you. I said, I'm telling you what she promised me. She promised me 20 to 25 minutes! I told him that since he hadn't lived up to his end of the bargain, I wanted a discount. He said that he couldn't do that. That's not surprising as he also couldn't live up to his word. I mean, if you tell someone in sub-freezing temperatures that you are going to show up right away, you had better show up right away! He said, why don't you just catch a ride home and we'll pick up your car later. What a jerk! I was plenty pissed off, so I told him that I might call the Attorney General's office and tell them how he does business. He said go ahead. That was an empty threat, but what I really intended to do was write this post so that when you Google Mark's Towing in Eagan, MN, this page comes up at the top of the list. And it does. And the blurb under the link says, "But, they referred me to Mark's Towing. Remember that name. Mark's Towing of Eagan, MN. They specialize in fucking over people who are stranded on the side..." So there, Mark's Towing in Eagan, MN, how do you like it? There's just so many ways this could have been handled. When I first called, they could have told me that they were busy (like say, the guys at Tires Plus) and it was going to be two hours or whatever, instead of saying we'll be right there. Or they could have told the guy with the tire it's going to be a while or whoever else they had hired on with. I could then been able to try someone else. When I called back, they could have apologized. They could have said, "l'll knock $20 off for your trouble." But, no. He didn't care about, you know, doing the right thing for a guy that relied on his company's promise. He just thought fuck it, I'm gonna make as much as I can by overpromising and leaving folks hang out to dry. Or freeze, as the case may be. What am I going to do, sue? Good luck with that. So, I hung up and called Lucy to see if she could find another towing company, one not run by assholes.

Just then, my savior arrived. It was a MNDOT guy and his truck said, I believe, Freeway Incident Team. I got out of my car, thinking it was the towing company (of course it wasn't them, they wouldn't show up for hours), but was relieved to see a state guy. He asked me what the problem was and I told him. He said, I know the problem. He got a rubber mallet out (and I'm buying a couple of those this weekend, one for each car) and pounded the tire right off. He told me that the salt causes the wheel to bond to the hub. He broke it free and changed my tire. He was an older guy, a retired Navy lifer and just as friendly as could be. I tried to tip him, but he told me that he wasn't allowed to take tips. I called Mark's Towing and canceled the tow, saving myself $75 (and probably more, since they apparently were in the business of not keeping their word and, based on this review, I'm probably right about that). A lot of people believe that the public sector can't do anything right and that the private sector is the only way to do things. Well, let me tell you. The private sector is filled with people like Mark's Towing in Eagan, who only care about maximizing profits without regard to the people who are paying them. By contrast, our Navy lifer was an example of service being provided by the public sector. Government's not perfect, but it isn't necessarily evil. Thank you, State of Minnesota. You really helped me out on Thursday night, and I appreciate it. Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that the state should get into the business of towing cars (and hey, there's problems at MNDOT as anyone with access to a newspaper or the local news knows). But, what I am saying is that the attitude of state bad, private sector good is just a little too simplistic. A public servant like this Navy guy should be appreciated. He was doing his job and was cheerful and competent. And honest. I wish he'd have taken my money, but my respect for his integrity went through the freaking roof. When I fill out my tax return this year, I'll feel a little better about the state return. Having those guys out there keeping things moving is worth a few extra bucks, especially if I don't have to pay rude, contract breeching pricks like the folks over at Mark's Towing in Eagan, MN.

So, I drove over to Tires Plus and I got two new tires for the front. The one that was flat was badly worn, and it was clear, given the relatively low number of miles on the car, that the wheels were out of alignment, so I authorized an alignment. It was 7:30 by the time I got to Tires Plus and they said 45 minutes. So I called Lucy, who had prepared an absolute feast (Ribs and sauerkraut, mashed potates, Swedish meatballs, a delicious Pasta dish and a birthday cake that said "Happy 43rd Birthday, SBG" -- okay, she bought the cake, but the point is, it was there for me). I told her that I wouldn't be home until about 8:30. She was understandably upset -- she'd worked hard and she wanted to spend my birthday with me -- but this was the way it was.

The birthday cake's still uneaten.

I walked over to Caribou Coffee and got myself some hot chocolate. I asked if they had birthday specials and they said, "free drink with a coupon". Well, I didn't have a coupon, but they gave it to me anyway. I had a little lemon poppyseed bread, too, as I was getting hungry and I sat in there for about 45 minutes. I then walked back to Tires Plus, only to find that they hadn't even started on my car yet. Oh boy. I suspected when I walked over to Caribou that that might be the case -- they looked pretty busy. So, they overpromised, too, but at least they didn't leave me stranded on the side of the road somewhere. Well, some time after 8:30, the guy working there told me that there was no oil on my dipstick. What? I suppose I should check my oil more often than I do. And I suppose now I will do that when I fill with gas. But, the car has never been low on an oil change, so I was just assuming that it wasn't leaking or burning oil. The guy said that he'd change the oil (it was time) for $16.95. Good price (and $10 less than their regular price -- a discount? compared to Mark's Towing in Eagan, MN, these guys were business of the year!), so hey all's well.

At 9:15, they were done.

One wheel was severely out of alignment (damned potholes, fix them with my tax dollars!). Plus, they couldn't change my oil, because my drain plug was stripped and was loose. The last place that changed my oil was Valvoline on Cliff Road in Eagan, MN. They apparently effed up the drain plug. Can anybody provide decent service (other than that Navy lifer who works for MNDOT)? I used to change my oil all the time when I lived in ND -- it's not that hard to put a drain plug in! And Tires Plus did not have a replacement one to sell me! For Chrissakes! I must be living in automotive service Hell! So, they topped off my oil and sent me home. I arrived at home more than four hours after I left work, beaten down by a bad tire, bad service, and bitter cold. I had a couple of ribs, but the rest of the feast went into the refrigerator and will be leftovers.

Happy Birthday to me.

My dad turned 65 years old yesterday. I've always thought of Dad as a young guy, but I suppose there aren't all that many young 65 year olds out there. What I mean is that the age difference between him and me isn't very big. I'll be 43 in just over a month -- he was just 22 when I was born.

My parents were young when I was born and I know that there were struggles, but I've always appreciated having young parents. When I was a kid, Dad was always ready to go out and play catch and he really had a lot of energy to spend with us. I wonder how I'll be when BabySBG is 10 or 15 -- I'm 42 years older than her.

Dad's retired now, kind of. He still works a couple of parttime jobs to bring in a few bucks here and there. He started out as a barber, but making that work in SBGville was just about impossible, so he had to go take a job in the factory. He went to work every day for 32+ years, making Bobcats until he didn't have to anymore. He didn't have sick leave, so I remember more than a few times when he went to work with the flu. He'd be sick all day long, welding and then come home and go to bed. He needed to make that day's pay for the family. He's also a proud union man -- he was an officer in his local for at least 20 years. He was well known among the regional union committees and well-respected. I spent a lot of years working as a salaried employee at Bobcat and I worked with management over there. Those guys were in an adversarial relationship with the union guys and they didn't like the union. But, without fail, I was told that Dad was the one guy that they respected above all others. Hell, I heard more than once that I had a ways to go to match the old man. Dad could have been a helluva good lawyer -- he's got great negotiating skills and he's passionate. I doubt he'd have enjoyed some aspects of it, but he's got some natural gifts that would have come in handy.

Dad took most of his vacation to do farm work in the fall. He still does that. It's something that he loves to do. He's never really had much time off -- but as a kid we still got to those Twins games every summer. That was important.

I'm proud of my dad. He worked hard, but he always had time for his kids, even when we became adults. I talk to my dad a lot. Some days, I just want to shoot the breeze and other times, when life is tough, it's just good to hear his voice, whether I've decided to talk about what's bothering me or not.

I think my dad has a lot of talents. He's a fantastic barber, even though it's been 35 years since he did it for a living. Over Thanksgiving, we were back in SBGville and I got him to give me a haircut. Lucy said the other day that I should have him do it all the time, because no one else gives me as good of a haircut. He's darned good. He was a fast son of a gun, too. Even when I was in high school, I could never out sprint the guy. He high jumped 5'8 (he's 5'10) back before every body did the Fosbury flop -- he rolled over that height. Pretty impressive.

Plus, my dad was an accomplished musician. When he was a kid, he played the organ and gave performances by himself. He never plays anymore, but several years ago, he got the organ from his mother and he got on the organ, I got on the piano, and we played together. I know he hadn't played in 30 years, but man, he was good. I don't know why he didn't keep playing, he had great talent.

He loves riding the Harley Davidson. Every year he heads out to Milwaukee to ride with his union buddies. His buddies out there know a thing or two about Harleys -- they make 'em after all. One time Dad was out there with his guys on some charity ride. Mike Holmgren was riding too. Holmgren wasn't meeting the people, but he got word that my dad had come from ND for the ride. So, he made an exception -- and my dad got a picture of Holmgren shaking his hand. Holmgren's one big dude -- he dwarfed old Butch. Then, there was the time that Dad headed down to Sturgis by himself. I took several pictures of him on his bike before he left and as he drove away. Afterwards, I brought the pictures over to show him. He was pretty happy to get those pictures and it was only then that I told him that I took the pictures because I wasn't sure he was going to make it back. He roared with laughter at that one.

Here's to you, Dad. Still working hard at 65, enjoying life, and hanging tough.

Last year, about this time, Lucy and I traveled to Wisconsin to attend a wedding anniversary party for Lucy's godmother -- 50 years. We met up with Lucy's parents that day and it was a shocking and sad day for both Lucy and me.

Lucy's mother has cancer. She's been living with the disease for a very long time. Over twenty years ago, she got breast cancer and had a double mastectomy. She was able to beat back the monster into remission, but some time later, she got lung cancer and had part of one of her lungs removed. Nasty. But, once again, she was able to tame the beast.

I met Lucy about 5 1/2 years ago. When I met her, her mother had another recurrence of cancer, this time in her bones. She hasn't beat it back this time. When we saw her back in October of 2006, she looked terrible. She was as white as a ghost and couldn't walk ten feet without needing to rest. I've seen cancer before (who hasn't really) as both of my grandmothers succumbed to it and my one grandmother had bone cancer. When I saw my mother-in-law, I thought, oh boy, she won't make it to see BabySBG, who was due in April. She was getting blood transfusions on a regular basis -- her body wasn't producing enough red blood cells. A grim sign.

A funny thing happened on the way to the birth of our first daughter. My mother-in-law's doctors got her on a new drug and she reversed the decline. I was stunned by this development, but of course, very happy as well. She made a remarkable come back and she was able to see her very first grandchild be born. Honestly, I didn't think it would happen, but it did. By the summer, my mother-in-law had a normal hemoglobin level. She felt as good as she had in years. Months and months went by between transfusions. I know the drugs did the work, but I also think the determination to see that granddaughter didn't hurt. BabySBG is very important to my mother-in-law and you might say she's a lifesaver.

The terrible thing about cancer is that it can be relentless. As fall came, she started to not feel good again. And soon it was time for more blood transfusions. Today was one of those days. Lucy had asked to come down and be with her, but her mother always told her not to come. Finally, Lucy just went today. She showed up unannounced with the crown jewel of our family, BabySBG.

Lucy told me that the room her mother was in was extremely depressing. She had to sit in there for seven hours while she received four pints of blood, that makes 39 in all. I'm sure that she dreaded the day. Much to her surprise, though, she got to spend the day with the most beautiful baby she's ever seen. When I talked to her tonight, she was upbeat and couldn't stop talking about our little girl. BabySBG is quite a sociable baby, she loves people and seems to explode with happiness whenever she sees anyone new. Today, she had a job to do, and she did it with great skill. A dreary and terrible day was made much better. A day of drudgery was turned into a day of joy. BabySBG is the cure for what ails you.

I am not stupid -- I know that this blood transfusion stuff isn't good. But, she's also back on medication and maybe she'll pull out of it again. When I think of what she's been through and how she's hung in there, I can never doubt her will to carry on. You can be sure of one thing, though. There's gonna be more BabySBG sightings in Winona. She's got to keep Grandma going.

The Cure for What Ails You

If you haven't already, but you want me to, tell me how many $20 tickets you want for the September 22, 2007 game.

If you have e-mailed me or responded to the last post, I have you down as committed. That means you, Andrew, Scot, E-6, Gleeman, CarterHayes, Will (I am assuming), Banjo(?). Seth, are you in? Nick? Statfreak? Anyone else interested? Did I mention Gleeman will be there? You had better sign up! I'll be buying TIX soon!

I'm sorry that I've been neglecting the WGOM, but this moving business can be time consuming and everything. First some stuff on the convention and some other stuff.

I want to get the SBG Convention figured out within the next couple of days. I would like to order $20 seats ahead of time. I have three vouchers left for the $20 seats and I would have, as a door prize, a pair of free tickets for the game. So, you'd have to buy a ticket, but if you win, you would be reimbursed. I also bought a copy of the 1965 World Series SI with Zoilo Versalles on the cover. I want to read it, but I also want to give it away as a door prize. So, there are the three door prizes. If anyone else wants to contribute a door prize, feel free to do so.

If you are absolutely in, send me an e-mail at stickandballguy at hotmail dot com. I would like a firm commitment and a promise to pay me for tickets (and I'll send you my address so that you can pay me ahead of time, which I would certainly appreciate). I'll order the tickets on Friday. A list of renegers will be posted at the WGOM. You don't want to be on that list.

Below the jump, I've got some details about the move and a few Twins thoughts.

Click here to continue reading Cooking with Gas, er, Charcoal...

It's early Saturday morning and I should be sleeping, but I'm keyed up about the day. We took possession of the house last night about 6:00 PM and I brought a couple of loads of kitchen stuff over in the Explorer so that Lucy would have an opportunity to work on something on Saturday while I loaded up the truck. The previous owner of the house left the place in beautiful condition. Everything was clean, the rugs were vacuumed the hard wood floors were polished, the place was wonderful. She also left a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator. What a nice lady she is. It was really fun to be in the house.

We were in the kitchen putting a few things away when we heard a knock on the door. The guy across the street had come over with a six pack of Sam Adams as a "welcome" gift. He was a very friendly guy -- he coaches grade school football, is a mechanical engineer (UND grad -- he gave me a good natured ribbing when he found out I was an NDSU guy), and was extremely friendly. Wow, that was nice.

Mom and Dad came down last night and Dad is going to help me load up stuff today. We have movers coming on Monday to finish the job -- they are going to move furniture and so forth, but I'm getting the boxes and miscellaneous stuff to minimize the cost of the operation. It'll be a long day, but we are looking forward to it.