Magical Morning

 

 

 

Happy Birthday Tripp and Julie!

Holiday Rant #185

I try hard not to let myself get bogged down by holiday angst or pettiness. But . . . not the easiest thing to do. Take this afternoon, for instance. I get home from work and remember that my first obligation is to free up the mailbox . . . again. The poor thing has been held hostage by snow terrorists for weeks on-end this winter, the upshot of which is we may not get our mail. I grab my trusty shovel and dig in.

After the township plow has had its way with the snow in the road, it's not quite as fluffy and light as it may have been while falling. Such was the case today. I worked at it for about 15 minutes and was making great progress until . . . SNAP! my trusty shovel broke off right at the base of the shaft. Alas, I don't have a spare shovel so that's all I can do today.

On my way back to the house, I look up to find that the string of lights that I put up YESTERDAY is dark over 30% of its run. Now where's the justice in that? I realize that I only paid $6.99 for the damn thing (300 lights, roughly $.02 per light BFD!), but I don't want the cheapest price I can find. I'm fine with paying $50 if I get something that will work for the next 10 years. I'll never understand the rationale for the lowest possible price. Never.

OK, so my next challenge is trying to find a way to secure the holiday card cum tip for the newspaper carrier to the mailbox referenced earlier. Yesterday I placed it in the slot for the paper and in the dark, he missed it. Tonight I thought I'd tape it to the box. The box being plastic and all, and the temp being below freezing, that didn't work either. I finally grabbed some push pins and used a hammer to pound the pins through the envelope into the plastic. Now unless some joy rider sees it in the middle of the night and lifts it, my guy should get his just reward. I need this guy to be happy since the daily newspaper is holy to me. I know most of the world doesn't get that anymore, but whatever.

I'm 45 minutes into my evening and striking out on every front. However, I'd just come from meeting two friends at a local watering hole and learned that one was leaving tomorrow to meet up with his extended family in the UP (Michigan) and he was SOOO excited. The other was glowing about his two weeks in Ireland last month and the fantastic music he heard in the country pubs. They tell me that the English pubs are dying, but apparently they're getting on famously in Ireland. At any rate, my little domestic problems pale compared to folks enjoying their families and their cultural exchanges with new friends. That's what counts after all.

The US Air Force Academy

The tablecloths are vinyl

One of my sidetrips during our recent visit to Colorado Springs was to the Air Force Academy. The outing was part of the conference I attended and focused on the operational side of the base, although we did visit the chapel, which is spectacular. We started the tour with a VIP briefing in the Visitors Center and then proceeded to Mitchell Hall, the location where the cadets eat their meals. The dining area is a massive room that allows all 4,500 cadets to eat at the same time. Breakfast and lunch are mandatory meals and dinner is optional.

All 50 state flags are displayed

Our tour guide pointed out that the meal periods last 20 minutes from the time the cadets are seated until they're dismissed. I'm not sure how the staff accommodates cadets with special dietary needs or even if they do. Seems like that would be an additional challenge that would be difficult to meet. The building was undergoing a serious renovation during our visit in an effort to revamp the kitchen and make the entire complex ADA accessible. We were told that they were in year three of a six year project. Oy.

The weather that afternoon deteriorated rapidly into something not desireable. What they said was, "This is the worst day this year to visit the Air Force Academy." Oh well. I kinda felt like Eeyore and hoped it wasn't evident on my face. I had been looking forward to this time for weeks and wasn't going to be discouraged. We just had to duck in and out of cover during the first snow storm of the season.

The Air Force Academy Chapel is striking in its design and place against the foothills. It was designed by Skidmore Owings and Merrill of Chicago during the 1960s. The main floor houses the Protestant Chapel, but the lower level houses a Roman Catholic Chapel, a Jewish Synagogue and a Buddhist Meditation Chapel. All of them are unique and striking.

I seem to be having trouble with the slideshow above. If it fails to start for you, go to my Picasa album to view it.

As we were leaving the Chapel and being urged to "get on the bus", I came upon a memorial to the Academy graduates who have been killed in action. This is a surprisingly short list given the tens of thousands of cadets who have matriculated since 1956. However, one of the names is intimately familiar to me. Lt. Stephen H. Gravrock was like an uncle to my sister and I when we were in high school and hearing of his death in 1972 was a surreal experience. Still is.

On the flip side, my cousin, Tom, entered the Academy several years later and has had a stellar career as a pilot and base commander. I tip my hat to both of these fine men.

Bookstores That We Love!

Twin Citians: remember the Hungry Mind Bookstore? How about Baxter's Books? Gringolet? Odegaard's? Perine's? Savran's? Ruminator? Even the name Shinder's brings a tear to some eyes, I guarantee (mine included)! The book departments at Powers and Dayton's were meccas at one time. None of these stores exist anymore.

The Tattered Cover Bookstore in Denver still has two locations from which to serve customers. What a luxury!! The original store moved several years ago to an address on Colfax Avenue. But our destination last week was in the Loop: the LoDo store across the street from Union Station. There aren't many bookselling venues left anymore that are quite as exotic.



There's a full Children's Department on the first floor as well as a cafe. There's a large event space on the second floor which is booked for most every night of the next month. Joyce Meskis and her staff received an Award of Merit in 1998 for Design from the Western Region of the American Institute of Architects for renovating this great facility. The LoDo store originally was the C. S. Corey Mercantile Building.

The Twin Cities still have a number of excellent independent booksellers, but the critical mass that existed in the last decade of the 20th Century is non-existent and won't ever come back. We're grateful for Wild Rumpus and Majers and Quinn in Minneapolis, and Common Good Books, Micawbers, and the Red Balloon in St. Paul. But the loss of those stores mentioned at the top is worse than sad, it's a tragic cultural loss for our state.

October Concert Weekend

Every fall for the past few years, the weekend closest to Halloween has been filled with music for me. I play my horn in the Carleton Symphony Band, the Cannon Valley Regional Orchestra (CVRO) and occasionally for Sunday services at a local church. This often leads to tight scheduling and this year was the craziest yet.

The Carleton Band concert was Friday night. The concert theme was "Music of the Uncanny." We played Robert W. Smith's "The Divine Comedy" in four movements: Inferno, Purgatorio, Acension, and Paradiso. What a fantastic piece of writing and a joy to play. So dramatic! We also performed Wagner's "The Ride of the Valkyries", but the most bizarre piece we did was the Prelude to Franz Waxman's score for the 1935 film "The Bride of Frankenstein." It was really fun and made more so by projecting the film above the heads of the orchestra synched with the music. I know it's not a novel concept, but it still was a hoot.

Randy Ferguson playing Vivaldi

On Saturday morning, I had rehearsal for the Sunday church gig (Reformation Sunday) and Saturday night was the first of two CVRO concerts, this one at the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour in Faribault. The CVRO concert was titled "A Concert of Healing" and was designed to celebrate the centennial of the Northfield Hospital. We performed two orchestral pieces, Beethoven's "Egmont Overture" and "Variations on a Theme by Joseph Haydn" by Johannes Brahms. There were three works that featured soloists, a Vivaldi "Concerto for Guitar in D Major", "Four Serious Songs", by Brahms, and "The Lark Ascending" by Ralph Vaughan Williams.

I can't remember the last time we had two basses

We reprised the CVRO concert on Sunday afternoon in Northfield and had a nice crowd for that as well. However, by the time we broke the stage down and returned the various pieces of equipment to their homes in town, I was beat. When your organization doesn't have a permanent location and doesn't own everything it needs to put on a show, life is replete with extra work. The risers go back to St. Olaf, the timpani go back to the UCC church and the truck goes back to Northfield Rent'n'Save. Whew!

That said, the performance by Gail Nelson in the Vaughan Williams piece was worth all the effort of the weekend. It was sublime. A flawless rendition both days. Kudos to Gail!

Go to a Conference, Take Part in a Spectacle

I went to Florida last month and attended a fall conference in one of my business worlds. The CBORD Group has its annual User Group Conference in October each year and moves it around the country to keep it interesting. This year we went to Orlando. However, the location isn't the reason for this post.

The reason I'm blogging about the conference was the Tuesday event billed as "Fire and Ice". I really had difficulty making sense of this theme, but came to understand that if you wore denim trousers and then added red shirts and/or shoes and rhinestone whatevers, that you would fulfill the goal of the planners. OK, I guess. I didn't do any of those things, but they didn't turn me out at the door, which was good, because my dinner depended on making it through this activity.

the organizers

When we walked into the ballroom (not a small number of people, not a small room), we learned that we were entering an Iron Chef-like competition. There was a ton of noise, lots of machine-generated fog and a loud, pounding soundtrack. We were directed to tables and handed aprons. Each table group was a team and was distinguished by the type of apron it received. My group had an apron that would have been appropriate at a duck hunting expedition and we were immediately dubbed  "Team Camo".

the scene

Each team had a "chef" who was tasked with delegating assignments (some, not all, actually were chefs; I never found out whether our guy was). My assignment was to take a large pan to the "pantry" and grab anything that I thought we could use in creating gastronomic delights. I saw others at the pantry with lists, but I was on my own about what to procure. It wasn't until I returned to my team that I learned that three others  had the same assignment and preceded me back to the table. I felt a little undervalued.

The challenge was to create 10 discrete dishes in 30 minutes that would then be objectively judged by some unknown group of culinary experts. I got to make an appetizer with chicken, black beans, yellow peppers, garlic, and cilantro.

Team Camo

The action became really intense with lots of peeling, chopping, and dicing, followed by throwing the results into saute pans and adding oil, broth, or thickening agents to achieve the desired outcome. Sweat and beer flowed in equal amounts. It seemed a little out of place for team members to come by with trays of Bud Lime or wine glasses (did that happen in real restaurants?), but we didn't argue, we just emptied the trays.

There were folks with stop watches and other time-keeping devices who kept urging us to step up the pace. How many dishes were complete? Five? Seven? Not enough! There was a platform onto which we needed to place the finished delicacies and there were still several empty spots. Hurry!

As the 10th item was being placed on the rack, it was clear that the event was moving into the next phase. I was expecting the team of "judges" to begin making the rounds and soon after that, we'd be able to taste the finished products, not only of our team, but of the others as well. I was really hungry and looking forward to that phase. Instead, we were quickly ushered into the adjoining room and told that the results of the judging would follow shortly.

the guy who knew what to do

The room we entered was another large ballroom that was set for dinner for about the same number of folks in our room. We soon learned that we had been mildly duped. No judging was ever going to take place. We'd generated all of that frenetic activity and no one was going to taste the items that we'd created. In fact, all of the food was going to be thrown out. As we sifted through that knowledge, we started to realize that it was probably just as well. Folks were remembering that they witnessed serious cross-contamination of knives and cutting boards and that no one actually was seen sampling what they were doing. You can't possibly know if what you're seasoning is any good without tasting it!

my effort

As much as we were disappointed at experiencing a slightly altered evening, we enjoyed our dinner and felt satisfied that we'd given it our best shot. We did good going along for the ride. Call me up if you have a vacancy at your next culinary competition. I do a mean pantry grab.

This is Your Final Warning

There may be some of you besides me out there who have meant to practice changing a tire on your vehicle, but just haven't quite gotten around to it yet. Others of you may never have located the tire iron, jack and spare on your newer ride and would be under some stress should you be called upon to perform this in the dark or under harsh conditions. Well, with the clock ticking on the remaining days of fall, those of you in the northern climes like me might want to put this task a little higher on the priority list. I'll tell you why.

The trusty Tacoma

Here's my trusty steed, the feisty Tacoma PreRunner. Circumstance forced me to confront my lack of preparedness one Saturday in September. I awoke to the reality of a flat tire on the rear wheel, driver's side. In the seven years I've owned this vehicle, I've never changed a tire, never even practiced the maneuver.

The tri-partite crank

I needed to consult the owner's manual to even locate the tire-changing tools that come with the vehicle and learned that they're behind the passenger side rear seat (I've got the double cab model). what I found is a 36" long crank device that's required to lower the spare from the chassis to the ground. The spare is held in place with a steel cable that you unwind to release it and wind to secure it. The tool that you use comes in three parts which are held together by two set screws when assembled. It's looks mildly clever at first, but is not intuitive to use and falls apart easily (at least it did for me).

The all-important hook

The hole

The business end of the tool is shaped like a shepherd's crook and needs to articulate with a screw head that's between the chassis and the top of the spare tire which is completely invisible to the poor sap who needs to see it (me). You have to insert the tool into the tiniest of openings just above the rear bumper.

The unappreciated spare

Still with me? OK, so I've got the device assembled, I've inserted it into the hole, and I need to crawl under the truck and get my head above the spare tire to see the place I've got to dock the hook. (I'm grateful that it's not 10 below and I'm not lying on snow and ice.) I lower the tire to the ground and find that I need a hammer to break the corrosive bond that has secured the bracket at the end of the cable to the spare's wheel. That step accomplished, I discover that the spare is inflated ! (always a concern in this endeavor).

I figure I'm now on the downhill side of this task. I jack the rear axle up and successfully remove the lug nuts, much more easily than I anticipated. An hour has elapsed and I'm nearly giddy with my progress since I've got about another hour to shower and drive to a musical gig that I'm scheduled to do five miles away. And just when I think I've got it in the bag I reach a stalemate. I cannot budge the wheel on the truck. I can't get it to move; it's just like it's been welded in place. If I pound on it or pull too hard, I'll probably pull the truck right off the jack, maybe onto me. Not a good plan.

In the end I had to call a taxi and Monday morning I had to have the truck towed to the shop to ask the pros for help. What a letdown. I did get more practice using the dreaded crank, though, as I had to put the spare back into its resting spot and stow the gear for the next time (which I hope doesn't come soon).

You might want to heed my advice on this one. I'm just sayin'.

The Sounds of Fall in Our Neighborhood

There are two sounds that define fall in the rural midwest: shotguns and combines. Listening to farm machinery is a year-round reality for us, but in the fall, combines are the implements of the hour. Our little acre is surrounded on four sides by farmland and like 95% of the cropland in the midwestern states (maybe it's 99%, I'm not sure of the exact percentage of tillable acres involved), we see two crops in rotation: corn and soybeans. This year, we had beans planted on three sides of us, west, north, and east.

The neighbors started harvesting beans on Wednesday this past week and they're wrapping up that part of their harvest today.  Bean harvesting involves the use of a blade attachment on the front of the combine that looks like a stern-powered steamboat paddlewheel and progresses very quickly. There's a lot less chaff to deal with than there is with corn. In addition beans dry much more rapidly than corn and the timing of the harvest is heavily dependent on the amount of moisture in the grain.

The corn harvest will get underway any day now. Corn is always the last crop to be harvested, but it might be delayed a little longer than usual this year in south central and southeast Minnesota due to the historic rainfall that occurred on September 22 and 23 (5" - 11" of rain in 24 hours, depending on the specific location). So far, the weather in October is ideal for harvesting, higher than average temperatures, zero precipitation, and virtually no wind. Usually, farmers play a cat-and-mouse game with the weather during corn harvest and when their backs are up against the wall (an impending snowstorm for example), they often run their combines late into the night. Sometimes they have the benefit of a full moon, but they've always got seriously intense floodlights on their machines. They might not have to use the full 24 hours this year, we'll see.

I believe I mentioned shotguns at the top. We're about half way through the bird hunting season. The dove hunt and the grouse hunt began in September. Waterfowl season (ducks and geese) started a couple of weeks ago and pheasant season starts next Saturday. What that means is that every Saturday and Sunday from September 1 until Thanksgiving, we get awakened by shotgun blasts that sometimes sound like they're no more than 100 yards away. Each volley is usually at least 6 rounds and the action starts whenever sunup occurs (right now it's 7: 20) and lasts until 10 or 11. After almost 20 years, it's just part of the rhythm of the seasons.

I don't know about turkey hunts except that you can shoot them sometime in the fall and the rest of the time you just have to be careful if they cross the road in front of you.

So You Want to Own a Business?

Luke throwing the zzza's at Pie-Fection

This is a rumination on the challenges of owning and/or opening your own business, staying sane, and perhaps surviving (if you're lucky). It's possible to open a business and fail and stay sane. It's possible to open a business and survive and stay sane. It's also possible to open a business, survive, and go insane. There are no doubt other possible outcomes stemming from these variables. The point is, opening a business anytime is a crap shoot and doing so in the 21st century is anything but predictable and never a guarantee of success.

I've worked in retail most of my adult life and I've opened or managed more than a dozen different bookstores during my career. I've taken multiple concepts from planning to construction documents, to construction, to grand openings. I've also had to close multiple stores due to changing economic climates or changing financial environments affecting my companies. None of these projects happened without hiccups and all of them required enormous amounts of energy and long hours, hours way beyond anything that was ever budgeted. However, I never had to provide the capital to get these projects completed or lose the capital if any of these projects failed. In other words, everything that I did, I did with other people's money, not mine.

I've raised a lot of money in my time, money to fund organizations, money to fund ongoing programs, and money to fund one-time efforts. It's been gratifying to be able to help grow the financial resources of non-profits and other philanthropic enterprises. If you have it, share it is my mantra. But I've never had to put my personal funds or funds that I've raised based on my personal integrity at risk in a business venture. That is a huge difference of experience. I personally have been sheltered from risk and liability in the business sector.

Jon pouring some nice white wine

This week I had the distinct pleasure of dining at a restaurant founded and run by my wife's nephew, Luke Fernbach, and his business partner, Jonathan Diaz. I've previously shared in their adventure vicariously through email and Facebook, but it's a decidedly visceral experience to actually walk through the door, order a meal, sit down and consume it. What a trip! The product I received was exactly the one I ordered and so was the one ordered by my table mate.

I ordered a Pie-Fection custom  9" pizza and a couple of sides and they were delivered on time as promised. Mine was a white crust with pesto, chorizo sausage, sun-dried tomatoes, chunks of mozzarella cheese, two kinds of olives, and a drizzle of oil and garlic prior to firing. Mmmmm! Besides good eatin', it was also fun  to witness the diverse group of young people who gathered to commune and dine in a fun social environment that they had clearly visited before and returned to many times. Observing this interaction gave me a lot hope for the future of our society.

These guys work 14 hour days, 7 days a week and they've been doing that since they opened ???? months ago. They've got a great staff and all of them work well together, but the burden of success is on four shoulders, Luke's and Jon's. I salute them and wish them the best outcomes they can achieve. They're doing something I never even attempted and I hope it all works out for them. I know that they would appreciate the support of anyone living in the Orlando area or traveling there anytime soon.

Luke Fernbach and Jon Diaz, proprietors

Pie-Fection: Pizza Salads Pasta

The Care Center for Geriatric Pets

We have been petless now for about 18 months. Prior to that there was always at least one animal in our home for over 15 years, sometimes two or three. In the latter days of our pet life we felt more like trustees or caregivers than mentors or partners in recreational pursuits. We basically assisted our aging friends in their transition from this world into some other form of matter.

We've had a wide range of pets: feline, canine, rodent, amphibian and reptile. Fish, too. However, the recurring classifications were feline and canine. And in the geriatric phase, our home sheltered three dogs and one cat. Oliver was the king both because he was the oldest and also because he didn't take shit from anyone. He was not the first to go either, but the penultimate. Oh, by the way, Oliver was a cat, THE CAT, if you asked him.

Sally was our first dog. We got her as a pup and she was tiny at the start, clearly the runt of the litter. We didn't know what we had for awhile, but soon we learned that we had acquired a manic animal. Sally was the dog that thought she was a bird. At least that's what it sounded like to us. Who knows what she thought? She was pretty much always ecstatic, no matter what was going on or who was around. It was hard to see her age, because spiritually, she kept her sunny disposition right up to the end. It must have been frustrating for her to have to slow down.

 

Sally in her last year

Duke (the second dog) had two lives with me. I got him from the Humane Society for my kids one Christmas back in the late 80s. Several years later, Duke and I parted due to circumstances beyond his control. In one of the stranger twists of familial interweaving, Duke and I renewed our acquaintance when he came to spend his golden years with us. It actually was a kick to have him around again and to enjoy his serious weirdness. He was a German Shepherd, Basset Hound mix. Try to picture that! He gave the impression of perpetually running downhill due to the irregular length of his two pairs of legs. Duke was a hoot.

Our most recent and last canine was Pepper. We accepted Pepper as a mercy mission, not as a deliberate choice. Pepper was my sister's dog and when she was unable to keep her after a move, we took Pepper in. Pepper was a sweet animal that we came to enjoy after learning to accommodate her challenges. She was stone deaf and nearly blind. The deafness was caused by ear infections when she was young and I believe the visual challenges were simply the result of aging. Pepper left us in the spring of 2009 and we've been petless ever since.

And yet . . . the (im)petus for this post is the appearance of an (im)pish stray kitten that adopted us in the late summer. It's an adorable creature, but we can't take it in because more than one of our family has significant feline allergies. We don't want to mess with that. However, we do occasionally think about getting into the pet arena again, especially since some of our children are actively doing that. Regardless of what we do in the future, our history with our animal mates is a strong force in family lore. Anyone care to give a home to this kitty? Winter is coming on.

The recently acquired friend

                                                                                                                                                                    

A September Flood in Minnesota?

Even landlocked schlubs like me are pretty attuned to hurricane season. Mid-August to the end of September is the window of time that invites hurricanes into the south Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico. Otherwise, severe weather in other regions of the country are usually not a problem at this time of year.

In 2010 we seem to have turned natural tradition on its head . . . at least in Minnesota. On Wednesday evening in Northfield it started raining and it rained all night and into the following day. It rained HARD. It didn't stop raining until 4:30 or 5:00 on Thursday afternoon. We're told that the accumulation was somewhere between 5.5 and 7 inches. Superficially, that seemed innocent enough. However, that same level of rainfall and more happened over a wide portion of south central and southeast Minnesota and given what we know from experience about rivers, it guaranteed that the next several days could get quite interesting at best and at worst, devastating.

Communities south and west of us received 8-10 inches of rain in the same 24 hour period and all that water fed into the Straight River and the Cannon River, waterways that directly affect Northfield. Within hours the water level in downtown Northfield began to rise and by 4 or 5 a.m. on September 24 it was reaching record levels. I took pictures at about 8:30 a.m. and the power of the river was not only stunning, it was terrifying. I've lived in Northfield for a significant percentage of my days on the Earth and I can tell you that since 1956, there's never been an event like this. There was a major flood in 1965, but it didn't hit as hard or as fast as this one. I don't think it crested as high either. And as I write this at 8 p.m. on Saturday, the river is still moving at the same manic clip (7-8,000 cubic feet per second) at roughly the same height (25+ feet). I can't even comprehend the total volume of water that has passed through Northfield in the last 48 hours. It would constitute a good-sized lake.

The Ames Mill Dam is nearly irrelevant

The Minnesota National Guard took up positions last night to maintain a perimeter and moved folks back about 100 yards from the water on both banks from 2nd St. to the HWY 3 bridge. Businesses fronting on Bridge Square and Water St. on the east bank and businesses on Water St. on the west bank were closed today. The Tavern Restaurant is going to serve breakfast at the Grand on Sunday morning because they've been forced to suspend operations in their location in the Archer House.

Sandbagging to protect the west flank of the Archer House

The devastation is actually much worse in other communities. Whole blocks are underwater in Owatonna and roads are overrun or washed out in many locations. The governor has declared a state of emergency in 34 counties and will most likely call a special session of the legislature to provide relief to the affected areas. Zumbrota is an especially hard-hit community. We're fortunate that no one has been seriously injured nor have there been any fatalities that I know of.

The forecast for the next seven days is for above average temps and lots of sun so when the river level begins to fall the land can start to dry out, but it's gonna be a slog for days to come. And that's when we can start to retrieve the thousands of sand bags that were thrown down yesterday and help the property owners downtown clean up and reopen. Our work has only begun.

A Summer Revelation: Get a New Mouthpiece!

I've been playing trumpets and cornets for a long time, but I've never had anyone tell me to try a different mouthpiece in pursuit of a better performance. I sorta feel like an idiot for not figuring out for myself that it might make a difference, but that's my story. I began to get a clue about the gap in my knowledge (after all these years, just exactly how many of these so-called "gaps" are there?)  this past summer when mates in the community band started jabbering about the different mouthpieces they used. That's when I started hearing about "backbores" and "cup" sizes and "rims" and other minutiae. The thing of it is,as I've since learned, all of that stuff really matters.

I became curious and started to google the web for information. For the past seven years my trusty, everyday mouthpiece has been the Bach 7C. I've got a Bach 10C in my case for some unknown reason and it's been a reassurance of sorts, but I've never actually used it (and owning it wasn't the result of a conscious decision!). The Bach 7C was part of the original purchase and I never thought another moment about whether it was the right one for me or if something else might have been better.

In the search process I discovered two websites by James Donaldson,  The Trumpet Gearhead and The Schilke Loyalist. Here I found advice on choosing the right trumpet, cornet, mouthpiece, mute, and several other dilemmas facing the trumpet and cornet amateur. Donaldson acknowledges that many trumpet players begin their study with the Bach 7C mouthpiece. Sound familiar? When the student is ready to advance beyond the beginners level, he highly recommends Schilke mouthpieces and in particular, the Schilke 12A4A as a strong and satisfying "everyday" mouthpiece. So that's what I purchased.

 

I actually bought a couple of Yamaha mouthpieces with which to experiment, but I haven't found the time to play them yet, because the moment I put the 12A4A in my horn I was smitten. I haven't had that kind of revelatory experience in a long time. I suddenly could play stronger in both the lower and upper ranges. It was visceral! I find that I'm not missing as many notes as I usually do (particularly in the upper ranges), I don't get fatigued as quickly as I'm used to, my sound is brighter and bigger, and I'm hearing myself better. It's a phenomenal change.

I haven't had a chance to do any ensemble work with the new mouthpiece yet, but that will happen soon. In the meantime, I'm beginning my horn life anew and hoping to proselytize on the subject of mouthpieces. This is too good to keep to oneself.

                    

 

It's Just Like a Styrofoam Cup

The bike pros have been telling me recently that a fella needs a new lid every 3-5 years. Even though I'm on my third helmet, the updates so far have all been serendipitous. I bought the first one sometime in the 80's when it became apparent (at least to me) that these tools weren't just for time-trialing freaks, they could actually prolong your life in certain circumstances (the likes of which I didn't want to experience, thank you very much). That was my Rhode Gear Darth Vader helmet. The second one I bought when it was clear to me that the first one was beginning to look a little odd and antiquated. The third one wasn't even the result of a conscious decision on my part to abandon the second one, but was a gift from my forward-thinking and two-wheel companion daughter.

As I was gearing up for the Defeat of Jesse James Days Bike Tour, I had two different bike professionals alert me that wearing a helmet that wasn't going to crack into multiple pieces upon impact was important and asked me if I knew how old my current helmet was? 3-5 years is the max, that's what they said. They said "when they're done, they're kind of like frozen styrofoam cups: if they're too old, when they hit the ground hard, they're going to shatter, not protect." Whoa, that wasn't what I signed up for.

So what should I do about it? I could go with the fine offerings from Giro and Bell, which is what all the pros do. The Giro Ionos is a fine helmet and when I tried it on I was sold. However, I hesitated. That's when I first learned about the Lazer line of helmets. I found them because of my catalog buddies at World Cycling Productions. They declaimed the Lazer as the "Best-Fitting Helmet Ever." I still didn't budge. Actually, at this point I was kind of paralyzed. I didn't want to make a mistake I might regret five minutes after I made  my choice. During the Jesse James Bike Tour I used the services of Mill Town Cycles to correct a chain slip that was annoying me, and I received confirmation of the assessment from the folks at WCP. Yes, the Lazer is the best helmet, hands down, of anything out there, according to Ben Witt of Mill Town Cycles.

Well, that kind of talk spoke volumes to me. After the ride and a shower, I trotted right down to Faribault and picked me up one o' them Lazer's. I've used it on a couple of rides so far and I have to admit: I've never worn anything on my head as comfortable as this. My latest life lesson was a confirmation of the wisdom of speaking personally to another human being in the process of making a decision.You can't go wrong with that strategy.

I actually wanted a yellow Lazer, but Ben didn't have one in stock and I didn't want to wait. Red was my second choice and I'm very happy with my purchase. It's going to get a real workout in a couple of days. Chequamegon here I come!

Musical Mania

For some reason (I'm sure I'll remember it one of these days) our household has been gripped by "Musical Mania" for weeks now. We've been renting and re-running movie musicals until we can't see straight. Besides the many fantastic performances and creative concepts, we've been stupified by the enormous number of movies that qualify for consideration and review. We thought we'd seen 'em all!

As a case in point, over the past weekend we watched "Brigadoon", the Gene Kelly/Cyd Charisse fantasy by Loerner and Lowe about a little Scottish town that time forgot and that we just happened to stumble upon. Neither my mate nor I had seen the movie before, but we were both sure we knew what that plot was about. Our ideas were contradictory and yet in the end, neither of them was correct. It was enjoyable nonetheless. The sight of Van Johnson tap dancing is really sweet and I didn't know that Liza Minnelli's dad Vincente, directed the movie. There's all kinds of connections to make.

Another show that neither of us had seen before was "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers." Besides enjoying the preposterous nature of the story (what musical isn't based on a preposterous premise?), we realized that one of the actors, Russ Tamblyn, played a major role several years later as Riff in "West Side Story." Unless you do this kind of retrospective exercise (or you have an enormous memory bank), you might not make connections like this.

We've seen "Hair", "Carousel", "Showboat", "Flower Drum Song", "South Pacific", "Oklahoma",  "My Fair Lady", "West Side Story", "Brigadoon", "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers", and "Yankee Doodle Dandy". In our queue we have "Oliver", "State Fair", "Damn Yankees", "The Unsinkable Molly Brown", "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat", "Rent", and "Godspell". I guess we could watch "Fiddler on the Roof", "The Music Man", "Sound of Music", "Phantom of the Opera", "Paint Your Wagon" and "Bye Bye Birdie" again, but maybe we can postpone those since we've seen them countless times. Our copy of "Funny Girl" wouldn't play after multiple attempts. Ghrrrr!

                                                    Mitzi Gaynor in "South Pacific"

We'd appreciate any suggestions from the audience. What have we missed?

The Shelf Life of Blogs

This is my second attempt at blogging. The first was a few years back and lasted for about six months until I either got distracted or lost interest. I don't recall the reason I stopped. That effort was focused on the public sector, particularly physical community infrastructure and why things did or didn't happen on a particular project. You can still read it if you're interested, it's called "How Come? If You Don't Ask, You May Never Find Out."

Now that I've begun another blog, I wonder how long I'll stick with it. This one's going to be more personal, but I'm not sure if that will be a better motivator for blog longevity yet. It's only been a couple of weeks. I know there are folks who have multiple blogs, but I don't know how they have the stamina for it. Some probably get paid for their work, but most probably don't.

I'm curious if there are any data that examine the average shelf life of a blog and estimate how many inactive blogs there are in the blogosphere. Conversely, what blogs have endured the longest? I know there are several bloggers in Northfield that have been at it for seven or eight years or longer. That's impressive.

If I really get rolling, maybe I'll pick up "How Come?" again and shine a light of some more recent projects. Or maybe not. After all, that bench on Lincoln Parkway is still there looking as forlorn as ever. It hasn't been repaired yet nor has it been painted.

Searching in the Past for Family Connections

I spent several vacation days this past summer exploring the stomping grounds of my Minnesota ancestors. My mother's people settled in the west central part of the state, her mother's folks in Dawson and her father's folks in Madison. I visited the area many times as a child, but didn't really get a feel for the intensity of the connections until now.

My first stop was the Lac qui Parle Historical Society in Madison where I was able to locate newspaper obituaries of many of my kin and also identify the relevant cemeteries in the county. Between all the members of my family in the county, we were major land owners. My mother's uncle, Sam Holtan, owned a farm that was larger than 500 acres, probably the largest single holding in the county at the time. None of these properties passed down more than a generation.

I appreciated the opportunity to visit the graves of my great-grandparents, Hansine and Nils Tryggeseth and my great-great-grandparents, Johanna and Ingebrit Lindeseth. I felt as though I've known these folks my whole life, but finally got the chance to actually meet them. It was a little strange, but very powerful. It took me about 45 minutes to actually locate the Lindseth's. Their headstones were completely covered by an overgrown bush. I had to hack away a number of branches before they were easily visible. It was worth the effort.

T-6 for JJBT and T-13 for the Chequamegon

OK, so if you're interested, we're counting down the days until the two biggest cycling events on this boy's calendar. Well, excepting for Le Tour de France, Giro d'Italia, the Tour of California, etc. No, we're not talking spectator sports now, we're talking "let's clip in and get 'er done". It's 6 days until the Jesse James Bike Tour in Northfield and 13 days until the Fat Tire 40 which starts in Hayward, WI and ends in Cable, WI.

My first Jesse James ride was in 2003 when I managed the 30 mile ride. I've since done a 60 and three century rides. I can't remember why, but I missed the 2009 event. This year, I'm planning on doing another 60 since I really haven't gotten enough miles in the saddle so far to do a century. My daughter and I did the MS 150 in June from Duluth to White Bear Lake, but that was almost three months ago and I haven't kept up the pace.

Actually, the more pressing personal need is to be ready for the Chequamegon 40 in two weeks. This is a fat tire race that's half on the Birkebeiner Ski Trail and half on the gravel roads of Wisconsin. It's a serious challenge and I'm hoping to make up time on my PB of 4:30:03. That's really not very fast, but you have to have something to shoot for.

Paul, Nick and Dan get ready for the 2009 Chequamegon 40

Today I set out on my training run in the rain, because I missed the 2008 affair (a real washout) and since I've never ridden in inclement weather, I thought I should get a little practice time in during conditions that weren't ideal. It turned out to be a very enjoyable ride, lots of grit and splash and slippin' and slidin'. Fortunately, the temperature was quite comfortable at about 66. What kind of unnerved me was the amount of sand that got into the cassettes and the derailleurs. It made a fairly unpleasant sound and made me wonder whether I needed to do something to clear it out. I need to give my brother-in-law a call. He'll know.