What a glorious day...

There are all kinds of calls one can get in a day--telemarketers, wrong numbers, prayer chain requests, neighbors, friends, but the best call I have received in a very, very long time came yesterday when my son called to tell me he was sitting there looking at our grandson!!

I'm sure you've all had one of those calls that evokes pure emotion, whether it be tears, an uncontrollable swelling of pride in your chest and a lump in your throat, or (as in my wife's case) an uncharacteristic session of jumping around and cheering while at work.

Well, that call came on Monday at about 12:00 or so. Quinn Douglas made his entry into our lives and I must admit, I had a bit of a tear in my eyes when he told me that all three of them were healthy and doing just fine. The newest chapter of our lives is now unfolding. Thank you, Lord.
You know, one can work all their life, thinking they are getting ahead, saving money, buying "things," trying to build an inventory of friends and experiences, and it only takes the birth of a little baby to blow away

all that other stuff and return a sense of focus to life.

Needless to say, this was a great day. It was our dog's 12th birthday. When she took sick a while back, we didn't think we would have her here for this date. Later that evening, I walked down to the pond and threw a lure in -- caught the biggest bass in the pond on the first cast, and had witnesses (the neighbors were there talking about Quinn's arrival). I probably should have gone out and bought a bunch of lottery tickets but I didn't. After all, hadn't I already received the biggest prize one could ever hope for.

“A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on.” (Carl Sandburg)

Hooah

Amber waves of grain...

This week has been an interesting time around here. Kurt, who rents the land behind our house, began to harvest his wheat crop. Well, actually, he started the other night, making a couple of passes with the combine until it got too humid and damp.

That was funny 'cause Pam and I and one of the neighbor families happened to be sitting around the fire ring when he came up for his first pass. It was a sight worthy of an old time, wild west sideshow-- cutter bars whirling, headlights aglow, spewing chaff everywhere in a big rolling, clanking, pulsing cloud of dust. Bailey, our dog, knowing her role of protectoress of the homefront, lit out after this big dragon, barking and demanding to know what made it think it could come around her territory acting like that. We all had a good laugh, especially when she did her business there, started wagging her tail and strutted back to the fire with that "Look you guys, I guess I showed him who is boss around here" look in her eyes. It would stay on it's side of the fence if it knew what was good for it.
Today, in the daylight, she wasn't interested in it at all. She had fought that fight and won. She did, however, give its partner in crime (the tractor with the straw rake) a piece of her mind when it came raking up the straw into rows for bailing.

We all had fun watching her guard her territory. But I couldn't help thinking of our son, Doug, knowing how he would suffer if her were here. He has a terrible time with allergies and while he might have enjoyed the laugh too, he certainly would have been paying for it.

I wonder where this wheat will end up -- in a bakery, in a gas tank, in some foreign country ...

"The true harvest of my life is intangible -- a little star dust caught, a portion of the rainbow I have clutched." (Thoreau)

Hooah

Road Trip, Part 4...

Well, the golf was done and we were off to a cruise on the muddy Muskingum River aboard the Lorena Stern Wheeler. I know that seems like a strange way to arrange the parts of the name, but that was the way someone titled the boat when it got it's license from the Coast Guard and that is the proper way to address the boat.

What a beautiful afternoon for a cruise. I spent a lot of time as a young man on the Muskingum, running a ski boat up and down those waters. I also took my dad's pontoon boat out quite a bit when he and I would go fishing. In fact, Dave B. (when he was the 1SG) and I took a bunch of soldiers in our reserve unit down about 30 miles of the river in canoes one summer weekend, hunting down terrorists wanting to take over southern Ohio via the Muskingum.

When we were about 30 minutes out of port, when the Captain asked us us if we wanted to take a turn at the wheel. Every time I took some one with me when I went flying, I always let them fly the plane once we were off the ground and on our way, so I thought this would be way cool. What a blast.

Right away I thought back to the heyday of stern wheelers and who would be piloting boats up and down this river in the days of Twain and the like. The Lorena had a whole wall of pictures of stern wheelers from long ago. Some of them were destroyed by the ice in the winter -- crushed by ice flows, and some were destroyed by flooding. However, many of them were blown up by explosions of their boilers. Not much worry of that on this boat, but just the same, it was fun being in control of a 60-ton stern wheeler. Not many people can say that happened in their life.

By the way, Dave (blue shirt-right) was really in his element. He was in the Navy before he enlisted in the Army, but I doubt he ever got anywhere close to driving his boat (ship) in the Navy. Notice the ear to ear smile he has on his face.

So, reader, as you can tell, we had a great time on this road trip. I discovered two people on the boat who worked with my dad and they talked very highly of him. That certainly made my day. We got to play golf at two pretty nice courses, ate at a pretty fair eatery, and got to renew friendships on a leisurely cruise on a river boat. All in all, I would say this was a keeper.

“Go often to the house of a friend; for weeds soon choke up the unused path.”

Hooah

Road Trip, Part 3...

Following a good breakfast at Bob Evans, four of us: (Dave - right - fellow victim of the sloped fairways at Longaberger, Dave -- below - my former Command Sergeant Major who has been mentioned many times in these articles [remember L.O.S.T.], and Bob -- right/below -another retired army buddy who used to be our cook and was the HQ Company 1SG for a time) all headed off to Eagle Sticks Golf Course in South Zanesville.

As I said, having been to Longaberger the previous day, and

knowing Eagle Sticks was also in the top 100 golf courses in the USA per Golf Digest magazine, I was looking forward to another challenging, scenic and relaxing day of golf (I don't know how golf can be relaxing and challenging either, but it sounded like a good idea.).

I think this turned out to be a tale of two entities. The clubhouse underwhelmed me. I've certainly seen worse, but my expectations were pretty high for this one. Overall, I would have to say this was just another building. Also, I wasn't all that impressed with the pro shop people -- they were civil, but didn't go out of their way to make us feel welcome. The course, however, was another story. It was very pretty, well laid out and made extremely good use of the terrain features (you knew some Army terms would creep in at some point, didn't you). While the club house rated a C at best, the course was an A-. I think one thing that soured me on the staff was the three groups sitting at the 10th tee when we got there to make our turn. It seems someone decided that since they had leagues that evening and started them in a shotgun start (we're talking 11:00 turn) they would run everyone else from 10:00 on off the back!?! Local rules are fine, but that caused us to literally hit and run on the last hole (that's why I shot a 90 -- bogied the last hole -- really) because we were supposed to be some place at 1400 hrs.

Oh, well, two good courses and I really did shoot better on this one than the first (only 1 lost ball too).

Next year's trip will have to go some to top these two, but we're willing to take that risk!

Since bad shots come in groups of three, a fourth bad shot is actually the beginning of the next group of three.

Hooah

P.S. In case you didn't spot it, I want to point out something. I don't know how I managed to play golf to any level of respectability when I was with these three -- Dave M. and Bob are left-handed, and Dave B. is naturally left-handed but plays golf right-handed because his dad told him no golfer of any repute was ever left-handed. We probably could have used a therapist as a caddie.

Road Trip, Part 2...

After a beautiful day of golf, our next stop was to visit an old friend and Army buddie, my former Command Sergeant-Major, Dave. He is a good guy, and we were able to go out to dinner with him and his wife, Dreama.

We went to a very nice restaurant called Zac's. It is located in an old building that used to be a bank, I think. Anyway, the inside takes on the look of a New York style eatery. The food was very good.

Following this, we went to a microbrewery that just opened in an old factory building where my dad worked and where my brother and I earned summer/college money. The city of Zanesville has been rebuilding and renewing some of these old buildings, putting in things like this brewery, art studios, dance studios, and condos. The area appeals to young people and really adds a different look to these old, potential eye sores. They have been doing a lot to try to modernize the downtown area. The beer was pretty bad, though.

Anyway, I was able to drive around some that afternoon and evening revisiting this old friend I used to call home. In some aspects this town has really changed. It's amazing how easily memories come shooting back. So-and-so lived down this road; this was the spot where the old Northside Beach used to be (the site where my wife and I first met back in high school -- boy did she look good in that two-piece) (it's now a Lowes and no sign of water or sand); here's where I used to live and here's the world-famous "Y Bridge." Old memories, most of them good ones, bits and pieces of an earlier life -- yep, this was a good trip.

“No memory is ever alone; it's at the end of a trail of memories, a dozen trails that each have their own associations.” (Louis L'Amour)

Hooah

Waiting for the rain to stop...

I know I have been remiss in doing some writing lately. However, if you are familiar with Ohio summers you know that pop-up storms can really ruin a day of golf or fishing or canoing, so one has to get them in when he can. June saw some pretty nice days here, but of late we've been getting into the pop-up storm cycle.

They're not so bad during the day, but at night they can be troublesome, especially for our dog. If you know anything about labs, you know they go spaz when storms come. Well, the other night, we got a storm and Bailey lit out for the basement door. The storm didn't seem that bad, but she knows it's cooler down there, she doesn't see the lightning and she almost doesn't hear the thunder. Down she went.

We kinda left her down there for a while and forgot about her. I thought I had better check on her between innings of the Reds game, so down I went. Guess where I found her? Under a table in the furnace room. Is this a smart dog or what!! She gave me that "Why aren't you two down here too." look.

She stayed down there, under that old table for a couple of more hours, waiting for the storm to pass, and then she walked upstairs, wagged her tail, and seemed pretty proud of herself. What a dog.

“If dogs could talk, it would take a lot of fun out of owning one.” (Andy Rooney)

Hooah