As I come to the close of these writings I wanted to do one that is just a little different. This one is going to kind of go all over the place but perhaps you can get the flavor of some fond and fun memories of some interesting times. You might think this strange. But here it goes. I had one friend say they liked some of the stories about the Dutch days and this even has a little of that.
About 25 years ago we moved from Lansing to Holland. One of the nice things that happens on the drive from Lansing is that a little after you get past the Hudsonville exit you start coming down a hill and the next thing you see are the lights of Holland and Zeeland. I am not sure why but for me this has always been kind of a special and welcoming view that happens on I-196. Occasionally there is a cop parked on the downside of that hill but other than that it is a nice experience.
What I have done over the years as I make this drive is reflect on things. It is my tradition to make this drive bring back memories. Here are a few. I recall as a young kid going around the town of Pella, Iowa with my grandfather. He was amazed upon our return from the Netherlands that we could speak the Dutch language. He would take me around the town and when he would see one of his friends he would want me to demonstrate this skill. Because the town had a tradition of Dutch heritage many of the people spoke enough of the Dutch language to be dangerous but it was kind of a mix between English and Dutch. I think you might call it Yankee Dutch. When you are a little kid you are just not always sure how to act and what to say. It seemed a little annoying to me that I was being dragged around and asked to speak Dutch to everyone we encountered. I soon learned that none of the people knew Dutch well enough to really know what I was saying. After a couple of these forced conversations the third lady got something like this. U hebt een veer in uw hoed en u vergat em het poeder vit de barsten in uw gesicht schoon te maken. (You have a feather in your hat and you forgot to clean the powder out of the cracks in your face.) I am not sure this lady understood this but I have worried about it now for about 50 years. She did say "Oh how cute" so I hope to this day she did not quite get it.
My Grandfather on my mothers side always had an interesting kind of logic. He directed several choirs and had some decent musical talent. He would take my brother and I around with him when we were there and have us sit and listen to these practices. At that time it was popular for some churches to locate the organ in the rear of the church and he did not like this. He would always say that if God wanted the organ in the back of church he would have put our ears on our head the other way around. He had this and a lot of other sayings like this and when you are a kid it kind of makes some sense. He was worried about gun control but did not own a gun. He somehow was worried that the Chinese were going to invade Pella and he was concerned that with gun control there would be nothing to defend the town. He was worried about a parachute invasion. On another front he was very kind. If he would drive past a Dairy Queen and see a kid outside without an ice cream cone he would stop and buy him one. I was always kind of fun to spend some time with him. I still do kind of chuckle whenever I see an organ in the back of a church.
When Deb and I moved to Holland it still had some things that reminded me of Pella. People would complain about the traffic and to us there was none. The first night we moved here we were hungry and went to eat at the OBI. We did not have much cash and the place, to our surprise, did not take credit cards. The owner told us not to worry about it. Just take the bill home and the next time we came in pay him. I recently had to have a knee replaced and still today the cafe of at Zeeland Hospital sometimes is not attended and you just leave your money on the counter near the register. It has really been a wonderful place to raise a family. People around here who have never lived in another place might not appreciate it to the full degree that we do. But then again maybe they do. At least they have never moved away.
Some years ago now the music director at our church came up with the idea of having a concert with four Grand Piano's. I think Deb has never considered herself in the league with some of the other players who played that night but she worked on it for hours in our house and took her place at one of these instruments. I think she was a little nervous but I was really proud that she dared to take this on and as that concert went on that night I let the music soak in to my soul. Later she and Ross would play in our living room. Once in while Alden would play his horn and Mieke would sing. In years gone by I would play (or try to play) my trombone with them. In whatever direction the present issue of this cancer takes us, the memories of these moments will never fade. We did argue on more than one occasion. Ross whould say "To you guys time is just a magazine". We never went on the road. It has always been a home full of music and I have Deb to thank for this. It has been a good life and she has been a good wife.
I conclude now these writings. But before that happens I want to thank some people. I thank our friends who have taught us something about Christian love and concern. I thank our relatives who have both endured these stories and provided some of the material for many of them. Also, their outpouring of support during these past months. I thank my own children who have expressed in a unique way their love for their mother in a way that is generally not done as meaningfully during normal times. But most of all I thank Deb. She has faced what she does now with a courage that is second to none. She values life to such a high degree that she will do anything to have it continue. At the same time she has told me many times that she does not fear death. She is a strong women and in whatever course this present event leads she is confident that the outcome will be one that she is able to endure. 36 years and counting and hoping for many more.
Ik genoot ervan u te schrijven en id wil u laten weten dat er zelfs in de stormen van het leven altijd enn beetje humor te vinden valt. Goede dag en moge God u allen zegenen. (I enjoyed writing to you and I want you to know that even in the storms of life you can always find a little humor. Good day and may God bless you all.)
Stan the Man, Next time a few pictures and then on to something else. I will keep you posted.................
Thanks for reading!!!!!!!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Eureka, here is one about Mieke
This is the 27th Post since I started these. Turns out there is some sibling rivalry going on. Each one of the kids has told me that if I write about them to make sure it is better than the last one. Lots of blogging pressure for me. I am going to finish them at the 30th post. I am thinking about doing some more writing after that, on another subject. Truth is I have enjoyed doing these things. I am somehow going to copy them and keep them in a binder for our family and someday somebody might get them out and enjoy some of the stories.
Before I get to Mieke allow me to tell about a sad event that happened in between Alden and Mieke. In earlier writing, I talked about the events surrounding the birth and deaths of our first two babies. But now there was a test they could during the pregnancy do to determine if the baby could survive. We had decided to try again. Somehow at an earlier point we pictured raising 3 children. So it was with anxious anticipation that Deb and I traveled to the doctors office to get the ultrasound that would determine the outcome. You can kind of tell in the room when the technicians are doing the test what is happening. In this case things got real silent. I think they save the news for the doctor to give you but things here did not look good right from the start. We were told that because of our history with 2 other children with the same condition any children with the same condition had no chance to survive. It was decided at the 4 1/2 month point to induce labor and end the pregnancy. There were two memorable events with this. The body is not ready to go in to labor and the drugs they use are strong. At one point I became very worried. Debs temperature was very high and I will tell you of all the events she has had to endure this one was the very hardest. I remember it taking about 6 hours and at one point I was worried she might not survive. Soon after the baby was born they allowed me to hold the baby which fit neatly in the palm of my hand. It was amazing to me how developed the fetus is at this point. No movement and no life but still a part of a creation process that is truly amazing. We named the baby Grant and donated his body to U of M for medical study. In the same cemetery that we used for the others there is a nice board with a large number of plaques listing names of similar circumstance births. On that plaque is the name of Grant Hoksbergen. I will tell you that when events like this happen you do not always know what to do but you feel you must do something. Every 4-5 years as we are traveling by that area we stop and find the graves and this plaque. The tears are gone now but the memory of these days will never go away. As I report these things it seems like just yesterday. I do think when you endure events such as this it makes one more thankful when things go well.
About 2 years later we found ourselves at about the 4th month point of Deb's final pregnancy. The test were done, we knew it was a girl and that she was OK. Somehow Deb and I were watching the Indy 500. We are not racing fans so I have no idea why we were watching. It always seems to me that watching a couple of hours of left hand turns gets a little old. The guy who was winning was named Arie Luyendyke. He was from the Netherlands and had never won before. The ABC camera was watching him go around the track and as the end was getting close they would show his wife holding a clipboard and writing down his lap count and position. Her name was Mieke. I had never heard the name before but I asked Deb how she liked it. The name grew on us. Shortly thereafter I saw in the paper a picture of a Zeeland girl by the name of Mieke. I called that girl and asked her if she liked her name and she said she did. Mieke it was. She hung around in the womb for several more months and then on November 13 was born in what the easiest and least stressful of all of our birth events (at least for me). Now the job of raising two boys and a girl. I know it does not work out this way for all families and I am sensitive to this. At the same time we are thankful for this mix and might I say thankful for a special relationship that Deb and Mieke have always had.
In the early days of Mieke's history it started to become apparent that a passion for two things were surfacing. First was a strong like for crafts. Anything that had to do with beads, boards, strings, ornaments, decorations and the like, started to appear in any area we would give her in the home. With this a strong love for the Christmas season. Sometimes it all got a little hard to keep track of as one project after another was somewhere in mid-stream. And then in the later years as a teenager a strong love for children. We had a girl in our neighborhood that babysat for Mieke in the early years. Her name was Leah and I think Mieke learned this art from her. Mieke stays real busy. She is now in her last year of an education major at Hope and has a real passion for teaching. She seems to never tire of being with children and when they are with her I think they all learn something. The other day she was busy with many things and I offered to take care of one of her charges for a couple of hours. He was a nice kid and wanted me to read for him some books. I have always read to our kids and always made up a page right in the middle of the story and somehow put them in the story. Our kids always liked this and after a while knew when this was going to happen. I read for him several books. After a little while he looked at me and said "I just cannot figure out how I got in all of these books". After a while he started catching on and I think he liked the pages he was in. When he comes over now he wants a story. He is a cute little kid who now resides inside of some of the stories of the childrens books at our home. Just like all kids who come over.
You know this post about Mieke would not be complete without mentioning a couple of more things. In the Bible is a verse about we becoming the "salt of the earth". In this sense Mieke has always been salty to a higher degree than all other members of the family. She is always willing to verbalize her faith and is confident enough to introduce others to it in a very nice way. She loves music and participates whenever she can in leadership of music at our church with both adults and children. Whoever encounters her is going to find a person that has faith beyond what the average person is able to have. Several years ago I attended a play she was in. In that play was a guy that I could kind of sense had some of those same qualities. He was playing a big dumb guy in that play but it turns out he is anything but that. Other than the fact that he is a Packer fan we have enjoyed the relationship they have had now for 3 1/5 years. Can't wait for him to come over. My guess is that this relationship will go forward and you could not find a couple of parents more happy about the whole thing.
P.S. I wrote this on Thursday morning and was going to post it sometime on Friday. On Thursday night we were invited to Aaron's parents home and were sitting on their back porch. Mieke and Aaron walked up and she had a nice engagement ring on her finger and they told us about their plans to become married. Thinking about sometime next fall. A couple of happy kids and 4 happy parents. What a day!!!!!!
From sadness to gladness. I guess that this post is one of those......Whatever it is please know that the storms of life also bring with them some moments to be thankful and to realize that there can be some humor in the middle of it all..........Till next time........3 left.
Stan the Man
Before I get to Mieke allow me to tell about a sad event that happened in between Alden and Mieke. In earlier writing, I talked about the events surrounding the birth and deaths of our first two babies. But now there was a test they could during the pregnancy do to determine if the baby could survive. We had decided to try again. Somehow at an earlier point we pictured raising 3 children. So it was with anxious anticipation that Deb and I traveled to the doctors office to get the ultrasound that would determine the outcome. You can kind of tell in the room when the technicians are doing the test what is happening. In this case things got real silent. I think they save the news for the doctor to give you but things here did not look good right from the start. We were told that because of our history with 2 other children with the same condition any children with the same condition had no chance to survive. It was decided at the 4 1/2 month point to induce labor and end the pregnancy. There were two memorable events with this. The body is not ready to go in to labor and the drugs they use are strong. At one point I became very worried. Debs temperature was very high and I will tell you of all the events she has had to endure this one was the very hardest. I remember it taking about 6 hours and at one point I was worried she might not survive. Soon after the baby was born they allowed me to hold the baby which fit neatly in the palm of my hand. It was amazing to me how developed the fetus is at this point. No movement and no life but still a part of a creation process that is truly amazing. We named the baby Grant and donated his body to U of M for medical study. In the same cemetery that we used for the others there is a nice board with a large number of plaques listing names of similar circumstance births. On that plaque is the name of Grant Hoksbergen. I will tell you that when events like this happen you do not always know what to do but you feel you must do something. Every 4-5 years as we are traveling by that area we stop and find the graves and this plaque. The tears are gone now but the memory of these days will never go away. As I report these things it seems like just yesterday. I do think when you endure events such as this it makes one more thankful when things go well.
About 2 years later we found ourselves at about the 4th month point of Deb's final pregnancy. The test were done, we knew it was a girl and that she was OK. Somehow Deb and I were watching the Indy 500. We are not racing fans so I have no idea why we were watching. It always seems to me that watching a couple of hours of left hand turns gets a little old. The guy who was winning was named Arie Luyendyke. He was from the Netherlands and had never won before. The ABC camera was watching him go around the track and as the end was getting close they would show his wife holding a clipboard and writing down his lap count and position. Her name was Mieke. I had never heard the name before but I asked Deb how she liked it. The name grew on us. Shortly thereafter I saw in the paper a picture of a Zeeland girl by the name of Mieke. I called that girl and asked her if she liked her name and she said she did. Mieke it was. She hung around in the womb for several more months and then on November 13 was born in what the easiest and least stressful of all of our birth events (at least for me). Now the job of raising two boys and a girl. I know it does not work out this way for all families and I am sensitive to this. At the same time we are thankful for this mix and might I say thankful for a special relationship that Deb and Mieke have always had.
In the early days of Mieke's history it started to become apparent that a passion for two things were surfacing. First was a strong like for crafts. Anything that had to do with beads, boards, strings, ornaments, decorations and the like, started to appear in any area we would give her in the home. With this a strong love for the Christmas season. Sometimes it all got a little hard to keep track of as one project after another was somewhere in mid-stream. And then in the later years as a teenager a strong love for children. We had a girl in our neighborhood that babysat for Mieke in the early years. Her name was Leah and I think Mieke learned this art from her. Mieke stays real busy. She is now in her last year of an education major at Hope and has a real passion for teaching. She seems to never tire of being with children and when they are with her I think they all learn something. The other day she was busy with many things and I offered to take care of one of her charges for a couple of hours. He was a nice kid and wanted me to read for him some books. I have always read to our kids and always made up a page right in the middle of the story and somehow put them in the story. Our kids always liked this and after a while knew when this was going to happen. I read for him several books. After a little while he looked at me and said "I just cannot figure out how I got in all of these books". After a while he started catching on and I think he liked the pages he was in. When he comes over now he wants a story. He is a cute little kid who now resides inside of some of the stories of the childrens books at our home. Just like all kids who come over.
You know this post about Mieke would not be complete without mentioning a couple of more things. In the Bible is a verse about we becoming the "salt of the earth". In this sense Mieke has always been salty to a higher degree than all other members of the family. She is always willing to verbalize her faith and is confident enough to introduce others to it in a very nice way. She loves music and participates whenever she can in leadership of music at our church with both adults and children. Whoever encounters her is going to find a person that has faith beyond what the average person is able to have. Several years ago I attended a play she was in. In that play was a guy that I could kind of sense had some of those same qualities. He was playing a big dumb guy in that play but it turns out he is anything but that. Other than the fact that he is a Packer fan we have enjoyed the relationship they have had now for 3 1/5 years. Can't wait for him to come over. My guess is that this relationship will go forward and you could not find a couple of parents more happy about the whole thing.
P.S. I wrote this on Thursday morning and was going to post it sometime on Friday. On Thursday night we were invited to Aaron's parents home and were sitting on their back porch. Mieke and Aaron walked up and she had a nice engagement ring on her finger and they told us about their plans to become married. Thinking about sometime next fall. A couple of happy kids and 4 happy parents. What a day!!!!!!
From sadness to gladness. I guess that this post is one of those......Whatever it is please know that the storms of life also bring with them some moments to be thankful and to realize that there can be some humor in the middle of it all..........Till next time........3 left.
Stan the Man
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Jungle football
The animals in the jungle were playing a game of football one day. The game was going along pretty good except for one thing. The alligator would flip the ball off of his tail and the giraffe would catch it in his mouth in the end zone. The game was kind of being wrecked by the rhino. Every time the other team would kick off the rhino would catch the ball on his horn and lumber down the field and none of the animals could take him down so he would score every time. It was just not a fair game. The second half started and the alligator team kicked off and the rhino caught the ball and started to lumber down the field. At the 50 yard line the rhino came down in a heap. The refs helped the animals off the pile and at the bottom they found a centipede. He had a smile on his face and it was obvious he had made the tackle. The monkey, who was the coach, asked the centipede where he had been the whole first half. He told the coach, " I was still tying my shoes" .
Marlin Vis told this story before his first sermon he preached at our church. He has an amazing way of illustrating his sermons with a story that for me would make the sermon stick in my head. For me this was right up my alley. He talked that morning about getting in the game. He encouraged our congregation to not sit in the locker room and tie shoes but to get in the game of life and church and to start moving forward.
I think Marlin kind of thought of me as a strange duck. He would occasionally ask me for an opinion on something and I would always ask him if he wanted to know something about how I really thought or if he wanted me to say something that would make him feel good. I find this an interesting question for all of life. I find that most people want to hear what will make them feel good and are not all that interested in the truth. I have learned that many questions are always answered with yes. Do you like the way I look in this dress? Do you think these shoes match this outfit? Did you like the way I handled that meeting with our kids teacher? Do you think I am right in the controversy we are having with our neighbor? Yes, yes and more yes. Sometimes no is the answer. Are you noticing that my face is getting more wrinkles? Are you seeing that my hair is turning a little gray? Do you think that so and so's relationship has more spark than ours? No, no and more no. On some things the truth is not always the best option. Ever been with someone who is brutally honest? Most of them do not have many friends. I have always thought that Fox news has an interesting version of the truth. I never knew that the news they bring was meant to be taken all that seriously. It seems to me to be a bit one sided and it has some venom mixed in with it. Always thought the truth is kind of far away when I watch the stuff they put out there. But then again are any of us that different. The truth is always illusive.
With Marlin you could go to the truth but it would always take a few days for both of us to get over it. I am not sure we ever saw eye to eye but I always loved the way he would illustrate his sermons. He was a solid thinker and a true man of faith. I do recall at one point I asked he and his wife Sally to come out on a boat we owned. Our kids were still young and a couple of weeks previous we had been out. While we were going out of the channel one time a huge yacht was coming in. One of the boys asked me why we had such a small boat in comparison. I told the boys that the only reason anybody would need a boat so large is if they had a short.......... At this point I got a look from Deb that would kill a normal man. I changed what I was going to say to thumb. Sure enough when we went out with Marlin another one of these 56 footers came past us and one of my boys told Marlin that the guy that owned the thing must have a couple of short thumbs. Marlin figured this out right away. He told me he could see I was teaching my boys well in the ways of this world.
It was interesting that about eight weeks ago now that we had the post surgery meeting with the doctor who is handling Deb's case. He is around 60 and it seems to me he is a real pro. When Deb had her surgery which was expected to go 4 hours I kind of knew that when the call came in that they were done in 2 hours it might not be good news. When he met with our family he came in the room and told us about the tough nature of the case. We wanted to have something positive to grab on to but it did not work this way. He just brought forward the facts and very frankly they were not good. The next morning he came up to Deb's room and told us he had stopped by his office that morning and he had looked in the file of a case he had that was very similar. He told Deb that case had taken place some years previous and the lady was still living. He said "I thought about it last night and I did not have one thing positive to say to you guys but I wanted you to know about this case." Then his assistant told us while they were explaining chemo procedure that we had just joined a club to which nobody wants to be a member. I gotta tell ya now that this thing has been tough. On the other hand we are starting to see some signs and learn of more and more people who have risen above the disease and are still on this side of the ground. Deb is a real fighter and I will assure you that if it can be done, she will do it.
A lady crossed the border of one of the communist block countries every morning on a red motorcycle. She was searched each morning. The saddlebags, the backpack, her pockets and purse were all searched. She would return each night on a different crossing. The guards were absolutely convinced she was smuggling something. Each day they would intensify the search and could find nothing. After many months they were so exasperated that they offered to let her have immunity if she would just tell them what she was smuggling. She looked them in the eye and told them it was easy. She said she was smuggling motorcycles.
Marlin used this story to say that some things are so obvious and right in front of your eyes as it relates to the faith. Everyone should be able to see them. He had a good sermon that day. What is in front of us right now are two facts. One is the fact that the disease Deb faces right now is serious. The other is that it can be overcome and we want to tell you all that we appreciate very much the expressions of love and support that you all have extended. We want to tell you now that the red motorcycle in our lives is the warmth and care that the people that surround us have shown.
Thanks to all.................Got a good post for next time......It is about a young lady by the name of Mieke.....And folks it will not be boring................Till then....
Marlin Vis told this story before his first sermon he preached at our church. He has an amazing way of illustrating his sermons with a story that for me would make the sermon stick in my head. For me this was right up my alley. He talked that morning about getting in the game. He encouraged our congregation to not sit in the locker room and tie shoes but to get in the game of life and church and to start moving forward.
I think Marlin kind of thought of me as a strange duck. He would occasionally ask me for an opinion on something and I would always ask him if he wanted to know something about how I really thought or if he wanted me to say something that would make him feel good. I find this an interesting question for all of life. I find that most people want to hear what will make them feel good and are not all that interested in the truth. I have learned that many questions are always answered with yes. Do you like the way I look in this dress? Do you think these shoes match this outfit? Did you like the way I handled that meeting with our kids teacher? Do you think I am right in the controversy we are having with our neighbor? Yes, yes and more yes. Sometimes no is the answer. Are you noticing that my face is getting more wrinkles? Are you seeing that my hair is turning a little gray? Do you think that so and so's relationship has more spark than ours? No, no and more no. On some things the truth is not always the best option. Ever been with someone who is brutally honest? Most of them do not have many friends. I have always thought that Fox news has an interesting version of the truth. I never knew that the news they bring was meant to be taken all that seriously. It seems to me to be a bit one sided and it has some venom mixed in with it. Always thought the truth is kind of far away when I watch the stuff they put out there. But then again are any of us that different. The truth is always illusive.
With Marlin you could go to the truth but it would always take a few days for both of us to get over it. I am not sure we ever saw eye to eye but I always loved the way he would illustrate his sermons. He was a solid thinker and a true man of faith. I do recall at one point I asked he and his wife Sally to come out on a boat we owned. Our kids were still young and a couple of weeks previous we had been out. While we were going out of the channel one time a huge yacht was coming in. One of the boys asked me why we had such a small boat in comparison. I told the boys that the only reason anybody would need a boat so large is if they had a short.......... At this point I got a look from Deb that would kill a normal man. I changed what I was going to say to thumb. Sure enough when we went out with Marlin another one of these 56 footers came past us and one of my boys told Marlin that the guy that owned the thing must have a couple of short thumbs. Marlin figured this out right away. He told me he could see I was teaching my boys well in the ways of this world.
It was interesting that about eight weeks ago now that we had the post surgery meeting with the doctor who is handling Deb's case. He is around 60 and it seems to me he is a real pro. When Deb had her surgery which was expected to go 4 hours I kind of knew that when the call came in that they were done in 2 hours it might not be good news. When he met with our family he came in the room and told us about the tough nature of the case. We wanted to have something positive to grab on to but it did not work this way. He just brought forward the facts and very frankly they were not good. The next morning he came up to Deb's room and told us he had stopped by his office that morning and he had looked in the file of a case he had that was very similar. He told Deb that case had taken place some years previous and the lady was still living. He said "I thought about it last night and I did not have one thing positive to say to you guys but I wanted you to know about this case." Then his assistant told us while they were explaining chemo procedure that we had just joined a club to which nobody wants to be a member. I gotta tell ya now that this thing has been tough. On the other hand we are starting to see some signs and learn of more and more people who have risen above the disease and are still on this side of the ground. Deb is a real fighter and I will assure you that if it can be done, she will do it.
A lady crossed the border of one of the communist block countries every morning on a red motorcycle. She was searched each morning. The saddlebags, the backpack, her pockets and purse were all searched. She would return each night on a different crossing. The guards were absolutely convinced she was smuggling something. Each day they would intensify the search and could find nothing. After many months they were so exasperated that they offered to let her have immunity if she would just tell them what she was smuggling. She looked them in the eye and told them it was easy. She said she was smuggling motorcycles.
Marlin used this story to say that some things are so obvious and right in front of your eyes as it relates to the faith. Everyone should be able to see them. He had a good sermon that day. What is in front of us right now are two facts. One is the fact that the disease Deb faces right now is serious. The other is that it can be overcome and we want to tell you all that we appreciate very much the expressions of love and support that you all have extended. We want to tell you now that the red motorcycle in our lives is the warmth and care that the people that surround us have shown.
Thanks to all.................Got a good post for next time......It is about a young lady by the name of Mieke.....And folks it will not be boring................Till then....
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Pastors, Presidents and Residents
One of the interesting things that has been with us all of our lives is the influence the pastors of our churches have had on us. Let me in a moment talk about that. First another observation.
I have always had large interest in presidential politics. I am not sure all that much changes from president to president. Small percentage changes in unemployment, small shifts in the way foreign policy is handled, small shifts in the polls in the like/dislike approve/disapprove ratings. It seems to me that every president goes along pretty good for about a year and then people start to get mad about something. Ratings go down, news guys are quick to point out that "he is in trouble" and then when the next election comes everybody votes. It is usually close and the next guy comes in with all the new ideas and the machine goes down the road at about the same speed and looks about the same coming and going. I am thinking that the machine these guys are driving is perhaps a little bigger than they know how to steer. Other than the fact that you get a nice airplane I often wonder who in their right mind would want that job? Seems to me it is a head of gray hair waiting to happen.
Back to pastors. In contrast to presidents, pastors have a good chance of changing lives. I know a little about this because I grew up in the home of a pastor. At that time pastors did not have large staffs. Nowadays most of these churches have a pastor for about everything. Preaching, youth, caring, music, administration, addiction and evangelism, campus etc. are all covered by another pastor. When my dad started, one guy did it all. When you are a kid in one of these pastor homes you learn some things. By the nature of the calls that come in you can hear enough to know that we live in a world that has a broken dimension to it. It seems to me that one of the other problems with pastoring is that when you decide to become a pastor you are going in to a field where the problem resolution can be very difficult. Another thing is that every 7 days you find yourself in front of a large group trying to explain something that really does not have a definitive explanation. Plus you always have a nut or two (or more) in your audience that think they know a little more than you do about the subject. I think my dad went to school for 8 years to learn how to do this job. He took it all pretty seriously but at the same time had a good sense of humor. He would once in a while get in a little trouble. On one Sunday morning we had a large sewer project going on right in the parking lot of the church. On the way to church he wondered if he should say something about it. The hole was about 30 feet deep. So before church he did announce it. He said "if a kid falls into that hole we will help the parents fish him out. If an adult falls in I want you to know that the Bible says that you are not to drag your ox or your ass out of a hole on Sunday". I think the point did get across.
He and his dad (my grandfather) always kind of had an earthy dimension to them. I am not sure it fit precisely with a conforming christian profile. I have them to blame for a lifetime of using a little "salt" in my dialect. That way I can transfer the sin. I first learned the art of non-conformance when I was just a little kid. When we would travel back to Pella my grandfather, Isaac, would take us fishing on some farm ponds in Iowa. We would fish for bullheads. I caught a nice fish who had swallowed the hook deep enough so that nobody could get it out. My Grandpa held that thing up and announced to us that the hook was so deep he could see it coming out of the rectum. He used a term for this this that started with A and had two syllables. Once the ice was broken on this term we learned a few more new words during the day. We could not wait to get home and tell Grandma the new vocabulary we had learned while fishing. She cooked those fish for dinner and after the opening prayer we thought it might be a good idea to tell her about all the new things we had learned that day. She would often speak in a broken Dutch especially when she did not think anybody else could understand. She told him "u bent ouder in de kerk en nu hebt u uw gaat kleinkindren hebben die enkel als u spreken". (you are an elder in the church and now you are going to have grandchildren that talk just like you do.) He kind of lowered his head in what I thought at first was a moment of shame. Then out of the corner of his eye he winked his left eye at me. There are some family moments you never forget.
When we moved to Holland we used the yellow pages and noticed that we had the choice of 52 CRC and/or RCA churches that we could choose from. It was a literal gold mine of liturgical livation. I suggested to Deb that we go to one every week in one year and then pick one out. At that time Deb would sit in our living room and play the piano. She did have a way of making religious music have a certain kind of rock and swing to it . As the tunes floated out the screen door we saw a man standing at our front door. He was good looking guy that I thought could be a Mormon but there was only one of him. He announced himself as a neighbor and noted that he had heard some music coming out of the home. He said "I do not want to sound bold because I just met you guys but I could sure use some help from somebody who knows how to play the piano". A slightly puzzled look came over Deb's face. I think she was also thinking she might be in for a gig at the local Later Day Saints outfit. He went on "my name is Dave Breen and I am the pastor of Beechwood Reformed and I need some help from a piano player that is willing to play with our children's choir". Seeing my visits to 51 other churches disappear in front of my eyes Deb agreed to do this. I said to Deb "are you nuts", we talked about this we were not going to get so involved the first week we are here. Deb told me that she liked this guy. I mean who else would have the fortitude to do something like that 3 days after we move in. Dave Breen just had this way with people and to this day our families have interacted with each other in a special way. When Deb was diagnosed he was a huge help to us as he himself has had a battle with cancer over these past years. From a pastor perspective he has served 2 large churches in between his tenure as our pastor. I think he might read these so let me say thanks to both Dave and Linda.
I think as pastors go so go the sons. I think it is the required job of every pastors offspring to let their parents know that a little bit of the devil still does exist in the world. Their young son went missing one day. Many of the neighborhood people were involved in the search. Hours later we found him in the backseat of their car and when he emerged I think his motivation was to engage in a large game of hide and seek with he the only one knowing we were playing. I do recall the large relief when he was found and I do recall the scolding when things all came out. I think Dave's sermon the following Sunday was on "Love and Justice".
It was shortly thereafter that we had a teenager sitting on our front porch. He spoke with an accent. It turns out that he had signed out to be an Opare with a local family and for different reasons things were not working. He asked if he could stay a night or two as he made arrangement's to go back to Denmark.
Deb and I talked this over and this guy also had kind of a likable quality to him. His name was Morten. We thought that if we paid him 50 bucks a week he could help us in the home and do some baby sitting. We did have him do some of this but it kind of ended up that we gained some experience with teenagers and what we might expect in the future with our own children. Let me just say that his domestic skills were not very well developed. Deb left for work one morning and had carefully explained for him to put a tray of fish in the oven at 5. She did not tell him to remove the cellophane.
The fish that night had a slightly plastic flavor. Deb had a bad day that day. I do remember him apologizing to her for this. I also recall Deb telling him that sorry was not good enough. As we ate our fish dinner that night at Russ's I can only think of what Deb told him on the way home. She told him that by the time he went back to Denmark she would teach him how to run a home. The next day I was leaving for work. I saw a car going down Ottawa Beech road in reverse. It had no driver but it did have a kid in the passenger seat that looked very much like Alden. Morten had stopped at the local gas station and had forgotten to put the car in park before entering the store to pay. When he came out the car was gone. Somehow this car lodged up against a curb about a quarter mile down the street. As we face the situation we do today this is one of the reasons I believe in miracles. Everybody was OK.
That night I talked more with Deb. We talked about how to best handle the situation. Deb suggested that it might be a valuable experience for him to live with us for a year. She used that year to love him like a son and train him in the ways of running a home. Today he owns a couple of companies and I think is a multimillionaire. He is married and does some of the cooking. When he puts the fish in the oven he always remembers to garnish the edges and remove the cellophane. He came back to visit us once and we still communicate via email.
When he was here we took him to church with us. Dave Breen was preaching a sermon. He made one of the points and he looked up in the balcony where we and Morten were sitting. Morten had kind of stayed out late the night before, he was a little groggy. We had trouble getting him up that morning and were a little late. Dave was talking about how a Christian family works. He looked up in the balcony and stopped his sermon and he said "Morten, this goes for you too". I am not sure Morton understood all of this back then. I do know that Dave Breen has never given up on anybody. Somewhere in the dictionary is the word evangelism and next to it a picture of the pastor who knocked on our door about 25 years ago.
I have a few more things on pastors for the next time......For now I am wondering how I got on all these topics in one post but I will let it stand with the idea that we all know there is a little humor in every storm...................Till next time...
Stan the Man
I have always had large interest in presidential politics. I am not sure all that much changes from president to president. Small percentage changes in unemployment, small shifts in the way foreign policy is handled, small shifts in the polls in the like/dislike approve/disapprove ratings. It seems to me that every president goes along pretty good for about a year and then people start to get mad about something. Ratings go down, news guys are quick to point out that "he is in trouble" and then when the next election comes everybody votes. It is usually close and the next guy comes in with all the new ideas and the machine goes down the road at about the same speed and looks about the same coming and going. I am thinking that the machine these guys are driving is perhaps a little bigger than they know how to steer. Other than the fact that you get a nice airplane I often wonder who in their right mind would want that job? Seems to me it is a head of gray hair waiting to happen.
Back to pastors. In contrast to presidents, pastors have a good chance of changing lives. I know a little about this because I grew up in the home of a pastor. At that time pastors did not have large staffs. Nowadays most of these churches have a pastor for about everything. Preaching, youth, caring, music, administration, addiction and evangelism, campus etc. are all covered by another pastor. When my dad started, one guy did it all. When you are a kid in one of these pastor homes you learn some things. By the nature of the calls that come in you can hear enough to know that we live in a world that has a broken dimension to it. It seems to me that one of the other problems with pastoring is that when you decide to become a pastor you are going in to a field where the problem resolution can be very difficult. Another thing is that every 7 days you find yourself in front of a large group trying to explain something that really does not have a definitive explanation. Plus you always have a nut or two (or more) in your audience that think they know a little more than you do about the subject. I think my dad went to school for 8 years to learn how to do this job. He took it all pretty seriously but at the same time had a good sense of humor. He would once in a while get in a little trouble. On one Sunday morning we had a large sewer project going on right in the parking lot of the church. On the way to church he wondered if he should say something about it. The hole was about 30 feet deep. So before church he did announce it. He said "if a kid falls into that hole we will help the parents fish him out. If an adult falls in I want you to know that the Bible says that you are not to drag your ox or your ass out of a hole on Sunday". I think the point did get across.
He and his dad (my grandfather) always kind of had an earthy dimension to them. I am not sure it fit precisely with a conforming christian profile. I have them to blame for a lifetime of using a little "salt" in my dialect. That way I can transfer the sin. I first learned the art of non-conformance when I was just a little kid. When we would travel back to Pella my grandfather, Isaac, would take us fishing on some farm ponds in Iowa. We would fish for bullheads. I caught a nice fish who had swallowed the hook deep enough so that nobody could get it out. My Grandpa held that thing up and announced to us that the hook was so deep he could see it coming out of the rectum. He used a term for this this that started with A and had two syllables. Once the ice was broken on this term we learned a few more new words during the day. We could not wait to get home and tell Grandma the new vocabulary we had learned while fishing. She cooked those fish for dinner and after the opening prayer we thought it might be a good idea to tell her about all the new things we had learned that day. She would often speak in a broken Dutch especially when she did not think anybody else could understand. She told him "u bent ouder in de kerk en nu hebt u uw gaat kleinkindren hebben die enkel als u spreken". (you are an elder in the church and now you are going to have grandchildren that talk just like you do.) He kind of lowered his head in what I thought at first was a moment of shame. Then out of the corner of his eye he winked his left eye at me. There are some family moments you never forget.
When we moved to Holland we used the yellow pages and noticed that we had the choice of 52 CRC and/or RCA churches that we could choose from. It was a literal gold mine of liturgical livation. I suggested to Deb that we go to one every week in one year and then pick one out. At that time Deb would sit in our living room and play the piano. She did have a way of making religious music have a certain kind of rock and swing to it . As the tunes floated out the screen door we saw a man standing at our front door. He was good looking guy that I thought could be a Mormon but there was only one of him. He announced himself as a neighbor and noted that he had heard some music coming out of the home. He said "I do not want to sound bold because I just met you guys but I could sure use some help from somebody who knows how to play the piano". A slightly puzzled look came over Deb's face. I think she was also thinking she might be in for a gig at the local Later Day Saints outfit. He went on "my name is Dave Breen and I am the pastor of Beechwood Reformed and I need some help from a piano player that is willing to play with our children's choir". Seeing my visits to 51 other churches disappear in front of my eyes Deb agreed to do this. I said to Deb "are you nuts", we talked about this we were not going to get so involved the first week we are here. Deb told me that she liked this guy. I mean who else would have the fortitude to do something like that 3 days after we move in. Dave Breen just had this way with people and to this day our families have interacted with each other in a special way. When Deb was diagnosed he was a huge help to us as he himself has had a battle with cancer over these past years. From a pastor perspective he has served 2 large churches in between his tenure as our pastor. I think he might read these so let me say thanks to both Dave and Linda.
I think as pastors go so go the sons. I think it is the required job of every pastors offspring to let their parents know that a little bit of the devil still does exist in the world. Their young son went missing one day. Many of the neighborhood people were involved in the search. Hours later we found him in the backseat of their car and when he emerged I think his motivation was to engage in a large game of hide and seek with he the only one knowing we were playing. I do recall the large relief when he was found and I do recall the scolding when things all came out. I think Dave's sermon the following Sunday was on "Love and Justice".
It was shortly thereafter that we had a teenager sitting on our front porch. He spoke with an accent. It turns out that he had signed out to be an Opare with a local family and for different reasons things were not working. He asked if he could stay a night or two as he made arrangement's to go back to Denmark.
Deb and I talked this over and this guy also had kind of a likable quality to him. His name was Morten. We thought that if we paid him 50 bucks a week he could help us in the home and do some baby sitting. We did have him do some of this but it kind of ended up that we gained some experience with teenagers and what we might expect in the future with our own children. Let me just say that his domestic skills were not very well developed. Deb left for work one morning and had carefully explained for him to put a tray of fish in the oven at 5. She did not tell him to remove the cellophane.
The fish that night had a slightly plastic flavor. Deb had a bad day that day. I do remember him apologizing to her for this. I also recall Deb telling him that sorry was not good enough. As we ate our fish dinner that night at Russ's I can only think of what Deb told him on the way home. She told him that by the time he went back to Denmark she would teach him how to run a home. The next day I was leaving for work. I saw a car going down Ottawa Beech road in reverse. It had no driver but it did have a kid in the passenger seat that looked very much like Alden. Morten had stopped at the local gas station and had forgotten to put the car in park before entering the store to pay. When he came out the car was gone. Somehow this car lodged up against a curb about a quarter mile down the street. As we face the situation we do today this is one of the reasons I believe in miracles. Everybody was OK.
That night I talked more with Deb. We talked about how to best handle the situation. Deb suggested that it might be a valuable experience for him to live with us for a year. She used that year to love him like a son and train him in the ways of running a home. Today he owns a couple of companies and I think is a multimillionaire. He is married and does some of the cooking. When he puts the fish in the oven he always remembers to garnish the edges and remove the cellophane. He came back to visit us once and we still communicate via email.
When he was here we took him to church with us. Dave Breen was preaching a sermon. He made one of the points and he looked up in the balcony where we and Morten were sitting. Morten had kind of stayed out late the night before, he was a little groggy. We had trouble getting him up that morning and were a little late. Dave was talking about how a Christian family works. He looked up in the balcony and stopped his sermon and he said "Morten, this goes for you too". I am not sure Morton understood all of this back then. I do know that Dave Breen has never given up on anybody. Somewhere in the dictionary is the word evangelism and next to it a picture of the pastor who knocked on our door about 25 years ago.
I have a few more things on pastors for the next time......For now I am wondering how I got on all these topics in one post but I will let it stand with the idea that we all know there is a little humor in every storm...................Till next time...
Stan the Man
Thursday, September 29, 2011
A while since I've seen this file
For a period of time in our lives Deb and I had fun listening to Garrison Keillor. For those of you that have not been exposed to him he does a radio program called a Prairie Home Companion. He is about 70 now and has written lots of stories. Many of them are about a fictional town by the name of Lake Wobegon in Minnesota. On several occasion I have played him and written a radio program and performed it with other people. I think the times I have done this have been for different church gatherings. Last Sunday somebody asked if I could find one of these old writings.
Upstairs in a file I have poems, stories, plays and just about every other crazy thing you can think of that I have written and read or performed over all of these years. I kind of retired from this about 10 years ago. What happens is that when you do something like these you get kind of sick of them by the time you read them or perform them. For this reason I got in to the bad habit of writing these on the way to the event and this started to cause some family arguments. Deb would always have to drive and I would be furiously writing. Another problem is that she would often worry that I would go a little over the line and that some church guy or lady would be offended. Most of this stuff went pretty well, a couple of disasters, but I will tell you when you do anything like this you take this risk. I did just get them out and read some of them and I must confess found myself laughing a little at a few things I had forgotten. Now that is really sick, laughing at your own junk.
I want to share one of these old things It was written in the year 2000. At that time "rap" was popular. The church was having some sort of social event around Valentines day. Some of the stuff may not be understood so let me frame it just a little. There was a large concern that at the turning of the clock of the year 2000 that computers were going to shut down all systems. People were buying stuff to make sure they had supplies after the turn of the clock. Paper, travel, food and everything else seemed to be part of the concern. The writing is a dialog between myself and a volunteer from the audience. I had Jackie DeGroot come up and help with the reading. Then Norm Donkersloot supply the rap beat with mouth sounds. (We had practiced this and he knew how to do this) There was a little kid by the name of Illian in Cuba that was getting some press. Jerry Falwell was complaining about a kids cartoon called the Telletubies saying they were gay. We were designing a new sanctuary for the church. Our pastors were Marlin Vis and Larry Terlouw. The dialog is talking abut the possibility that the world will be OK but the church might get kind of messed up with Y-2-K problems. I lost the first page of this thing so let pick it up here. The first page told about some of the preparations people were making to deal with the coming disaster.
It is I who think in a more optimistic tone
Some body will forget the bills I own
Y-2-K will make us politically serene
Let me tell you now exactly what I mean
Clinton is not telling no more lies
Russ's is still selling lots of apple pies
The Telletubbies even have all gone straight
Jerry Falwell seems to feel just great
Monica has learned to hang on to here duds
Clinton and Starr have become great buds
Saddam will make a trip to the USA
All this will happen in Y2K
But do not believe everything you hear
Now we come out with our greatest fear
Beechwood Church is what make us nervous
Without our computer how we gonna run our service
The young at heart will forget how to bake (our churches old people group)
They will want draft beer like Our Lady of the Lake (local Catholic church with a beer tap)
The pastor sermons would all be deleted
The finances will all be depleted
The orchestra would find a part for another tuba (we had three tubas at that time)
Missions would bring Illian back from Cuba
Marlin and Larry won't know who is preaching
Childrens worship won't know who is teaching
And what we gonna do we will surely fail
If we can't send everyone all that mail
We will all walk around like a bunch of clones
When our bell tower starts playing some rolling Stones
No more music we will need to plagiarize
We are all going to have it all memorized
Marlin will start preaching one hour sermons
Bonhoffer quotes will all be in German
Church will be dull just plain no fun
No more quotes from William Willomont
Our church nurse will announce her new plans
To give every man free prostate exams
You see this is really a terrible virus
The bulletins will all be printed on Papyrus
Our new Sanctuary designed on Nova-gate
Will end up looking like an apple crate
Nothing happened it was just a big dud
The whole thing went by without a thud
Lake Mac's a little low a huge water loss
Soon maybe the Israelites will be able to cross
Not much else to mention nothing left to say
Does anyone remember this thing called Y-2-K
Sorry to the readers out there who do not know much about Beechwood but I thought some of this stuff might bring back some memories about what was going on at that time. How about next time some pretty crazy stuff........I will pack away the old stuff and tell you about some new........Thanks for reading.......
Stan the Man
Upstairs in a file I have poems, stories, plays and just about every other crazy thing you can think of that I have written and read or performed over all of these years. I kind of retired from this about 10 years ago. What happens is that when you do something like these you get kind of sick of them by the time you read them or perform them. For this reason I got in to the bad habit of writing these on the way to the event and this started to cause some family arguments. Deb would always have to drive and I would be furiously writing. Another problem is that she would often worry that I would go a little over the line and that some church guy or lady would be offended. Most of this stuff went pretty well, a couple of disasters, but I will tell you when you do anything like this you take this risk. I did just get them out and read some of them and I must confess found myself laughing a little at a few things I had forgotten. Now that is really sick, laughing at your own junk.
I want to share one of these old things It was written in the year 2000. At that time "rap" was popular. The church was having some sort of social event around Valentines day. Some of the stuff may not be understood so let me frame it just a little. There was a large concern that at the turning of the clock of the year 2000 that computers were going to shut down all systems. People were buying stuff to make sure they had supplies after the turn of the clock. Paper, travel, food and everything else seemed to be part of the concern. The writing is a dialog between myself and a volunteer from the audience. I had Jackie DeGroot come up and help with the reading. Then Norm Donkersloot supply the rap beat with mouth sounds. (We had practiced this and he knew how to do this) There was a little kid by the name of Illian in Cuba that was getting some press. Jerry Falwell was complaining about a kids cartoon called the Telletubies saying they were gay. We were designing a new sanctuary for the church. Our pastors were Marlin Vis and Larry Terlouw. The dialog is talking abut the possibility that the world will be OK but the church might get kind of messed up with Y-2-K problems. I lost the first page of this thing so let pick it up here. The first page told about some of the preparations people were making to deal with the coming disaster.
It is I who think in a more optimistic tone
Some body will forget the bills I own
Y-2-K will make us politically serene
Let me tell you now exactly what I mean
Clinton is not telling no more lies
Russ's is still selling lots of apple pies
The Telletubbies even have all gone straight
Jerry Falwell seems to feel just great
Monica has learned to hang on to here duds
Clinton and Starr have become great buds
Saddam will make a trip to the USA
All this will happen in Y2K
But do not believe everything you hear
Now we come out with our greatest fear
Beechwood Church is what make us nervous
Without our computer how we gonna run our service
The young at heart will forget how to bake (our churches old people group)
They will want draft beer like Our Lady of the Lake (local Catholic church with a beer tap)
The pastor sermons would all be deleted
The finances will all be depleted
The orchestra would find a part for another tuba (we had three tubas at that time)
Missions would bring Illian back from Cuba
Marlin and Larry won't know who is preaching
Childrens worship won't know who is teaching
And what we gonna do we will surely fail
If we can't send everyone all that mail
We will all walk around like a bunch of clones
When our bell tower starts playing some rolling Stones
No more music we will need to plagiarize
We are all going to have it all memorized
Marlin will start preaching one hour sermons
Bonhoffer quotes will all be in German
Church will be dull just plain no fun
No more quotes from William Willomont
Our church nurse will announce her new plans
To give every man free prostate exams
You see this is really a terrible virus
The bulletins will all be printed on Papyrus
Our new Sanctuary designed on Nova-gate
Will end up looking like an apple crate
Nothing happened it was just a big dud
The whole thing went by without a thud
Lake Mac's a little low a huge water loss
Soon maybe the Israelites will be able to cross
Not much else to mention nothing left to say
Does anyone remember this thing called Y-2-K
Sorry to the readers out there who do not know much about Beechwood but I thought some of this stuff might bring back some memories about what was going on at that time. How about next time some pretty crazy stuff........I will pack away the old stuff and tell you about some new........Thanks for reading.......
Stan the Man
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
There is a Story in the Fire
Last Saturday afternoon I decided to attend an event at the local library. It was put on by a pro author and it was very well done. She was famous and she was a teacher, a PhD in writing. In the seminar she talked about perfecting writing by using a system. She talked about the purpose of writing and some common mistakes people make. Questions like, are you writing for others or for yourself? What do you want your style to be etc. etc. I went back after the class and read a few of these blogs and was kind of sad to find that
I really am not able to identify any style. I am not sure I am doing these for myself or others. The next time I sat down to write I got kind of stuck thinking about all this stuff. Perhaps the only style I can identify is what I might call the "drip method". This is a style that was not even one she had on the page. What happens is that as thoughts come to mind, my fingers move and words kind of drip out on to the page. I will leave the pro writing to others but for now I want to tell you a little about Alden. At least let me get a little creative and reverse the order. Here it goes.......
Ever had an interesting night? One that you can immerse yourself in. A moment that makes you feel something that you are just not able to feel at any other time. We kinda had one of those nights last weekend. My son Alden had a big party "gathering" at his home in Grand Rapids. He had invited one of the more interesting groups of people. The kitchen was full of foreign languages. A pork was being roasted and a couple of turkeys. The food was plentiful and people just kept showing up. And oh yes he did have a few "milkshakes" on hand. People would come and go, they would flow in and out. I nice fall night that fit in between the raindrops and just kind of worked out. His buddy Todd had loaned to him a portable fire pit and his father in law, Walt, had brought down a few sticks of wood. As they burned and moldered in to the night air I sat there and watched them. For about ten minutes I watched the flames and it was during this time that I thought of our son Alden. Please permit me to relay a few moments of our experience and life with Alden.
It was just two weeks before that my son invited me to spend a day of fishing with him on the Pier Marquette River. Over the years he has adopted this hobby and now he really knows what he is doing. He has a good friend, Dave, that owns a boat and shares his passion for fishing. We started at 7 in the morning and quit at 8 at night and we hooked about 40 of the strongest fish (large Salmon) I have ever encountered. Watching these guys handle this river (and Alden's inexperienced fishing father) was one of the neater happenings I have been involved in.
It was not long before that that we attended a wedding. It was held in the small town of Leeland. My Dad performed the ceremony, my son Ross and daughter in law did the music and Alden and Mary had a wonderful wedding celebration. As I watched the fire last night I recalled these events and kind of saw them over again. Alden and Mary were now together and for us that was a dream. Her family put on a nice wedding. It was a cold day in August but the warmth of the wedding event overcame the cold day.
It was just 2 1/2 years before that. We had a bunch of young people came to our house for dinner. At that time Alden and 4 girls came over. It was on this night that I said to Alden. "There is one person at that table that is really special. I have two words for you, marry Mary". He did not listen all that much but it did work out this way after several year of them insisting that they were just friends. That night and still today Mary has the attribute of being one of the easiest people to be around that we have ever known.
It was not long before that Alden was competing for the Golf Title of the State. I had always planned to caddy for him some day in the US Open. I could kind of see he and I receiving the trophy. He would kind of hold it up and he would point out that his father told him about how to do his grip and stance. It did not work out this way but I still think it could have. I am not sure if he liked the game of golf all that much. I will tell you that when he wants, he can really play the game. But I think he did it more for me than for him. He now spreads his time out between many other endeavors.
It was not many years before that that we were picking out his name. We had a guy who went to our church and his name was Alden. I said to Deb, I really like that name and I like the guy. He ran a large bank and I wanted to choose this name for our new son. Alden is now known by some as Talden. He stands about 6'5". He looks a little like the man we named him after.
It was just shortly before that. We sat in an office and reviewed his ultrasound with a doctor. The doctor told us our new son would most likely be OK His birth took place on December 10, 1983. I came down to the nursery that night and there was one kid who was holding his head up above the bed and trying to look around. He looked like he was going to be quite a man. As I watched the fire in his back yard last night, I visited with our family and Mary's family. In think one of the reasons he went to all the work is so that his Mom and I could share this time with all the family and friends. A good time was had by all.
And allow me the next time to tell you about another move, another place, a few more stories and a little more about how there can be some humor in the storms of life.... Until then...............
Stan the Man
I really am not able to identify any style. I am not sure I am doing these for myself or others. The next time I sat down to write I got kind of stuck thinking about all this stuff. Perhaps the only style I can identify is what I might call the "drip method". This is a style that was not even one she had on the page. What happens is that as thoughts come to mind, my fingers move and words kind of drip out on to the page. I will leave the pro writing to others but for now I want to tell you a little about Alden. At least let me get a little creative and reverse the order. Here it goes.......
Ever had an interesting night? One that you can immerse yourself in. A moment that makes you feel something that you are just not able to feel at any other time. We kinda had one of those nights last weekend. My son Alden had a big party "gathering" at his home in Grand Rapids. He had invited one of the more interesting groups of people. The kitchen was full of foreign languages. A pork was being roasted and a couple of turkeys. The food was plentiful and people just kept showing up. And oh yes he did have a few "milkshakes" on hand. People would come and go, they would flow in and out. I nice fall night that fit in between the raindrops and just kind of worked out. His buddy Todd had loaned to him a portable fire pit and his father in law, Walt, had brought down a few sticks of wood. As they burned and moldered in to the night air I sat there and watched them. For about ten minutes I watched the flames and it was during this time that I thought of our son Alden. Please permit me to relay a few moments of our experience and life with Alden.
It was just two weeks before that my son invited me to spend a day of fishing with him on the Pier Marquette River. Over the years he has adopted this hobby and now he really knows what he is doing. He has a good friend, Dave, that owns a boat and shares his passion for fishing. We started at 7 in the morning and quit at 8 at night and we hooked about 40 of the strongest fish (large Salmon) I have ever encountered. Watching these guys handle this river (and Alden's inexperienced fishing father) was one of the neater happenings I have been involved in.
It was not long before that that we attended a wedding. It was held in the small town of Leeland. My Dad performed the ceremony, my son Ross and daughter in law did the music and Alden and Mary had a wonderful wedding celebration. As I watched the fire last night I recalled these events and kind of saw them over again. Alden and Mary were now together and for us that was a dream. Her family put on a nice wedding. It was a cold day in August but the warmth of the wedding event overcame the cold day.
It was just 2 1/2 years before that. We had a bunch of young people came to our house for dinner. At that time Alden and 4 girls came over. It was on this night that I said to Alden. "There is one person at that table that is really special. I have two words for you, marry Mary". He did not listen all that much but it did work out this way after several year of them insisting that they were just friends. That night and still today Mary has the attribute of being one of the easiest people to be around that we have ever known.
It was not long before that Alden was competing for the Golf Title of the State. I had always planned to caddy for him some day in the US Open. I could kind of see he and I receiving the trophy. He would kind of hold it up and he would point out that his father told him about how to do his grip and stance. It did not work out this way but I still think it could have. I am not sure if he liked the game of golf all that much. I will tell you that when he wants, he can really play the game. But I think he did it more for me than for him. He now spreads his time out between many other endeavors.
It was not many years before that that we were picking out his name. We had a guy who went to our church and his name was Alden. I said to Deb, I really like that name and I like the guy. He ran a large bank and I wanted to choose this name for our new son. Alden is now known by some as Talden. He stands about 6'5". He looks a little like the man we named him after.
It was just shortly before that. We sat in an office and reviewed his ultrasound with a doctor. The doctor told us our new son would most likely be OK His birth took place on December 10, 1983. I came down to the nursery that night and there was one kid who was holding his head up above the bed and trying to look around. He looked like he was going to be quite a man. As I watched the fire in his back yard last night, I visited with our family and Mary's family. In think one of the reasons he went to all the work is so that his Mom and I could share this time with all the family and friends. A good time was had by all.
And allow me the next time to tell you about another move, another place, a few more stories and a little more about how there can be some humor in the storms of life.... Until then...............
Stan the Man
Thursday, September 22, 2011
May I Paint a Picture?
The next time I write I want to detail our story of the birth of our second living son Alden. I must tell you that this time I feel a little down in the dumps. Deb had kind of a tough day today. She fell asleep watching the Tiger game. The score is tied 2-2 and for her to fall asleep when it is this close lets me know that she is hurting and tired. Please allow me to tell a few things that I recall from the early days of my life. I am sure we all have some stories. Here are a few of mine. I want to frame this by saying that some of the readers of these stories have commented on my vivid memories of these events. Let me describe it this way. I used to play a trombone. It was nothing more than a bunch of work for me. I had a hard time coming in at the right place. I played for a short time in a small orchestra with Ross. One time I looked over and observed how he handled this. He made it seem easy. I asked him one time how he did this and he told me that when they set a piece of music in front of him he sees it like a picture. I never saw music this way but somehow there are some things in my life that have kind of embedded a picture in my mind. They seem to never go away. This post is about several of those pictures.
My dad was awarded a scholarship to study at the Free University of Amsterdam and our young family packed our belongings in 55 gallon drums and set sail on a ship called the USS Amsterdam. In those days airplane travel was way more expensive and not all that safe. I remember the trip to be about 6 days. I vaguely remember the Statute of Liberty as we sailed out and then a reasonably pleasant trip of what seemed to a small kid, a pretty big ocean. The arrival in Rotterdam and the trip to Amsterdam are forgotten but the trip up to our sixth floor apartment in an old movie type elevator is still with me. Then the walking trip the next morning to a Dutch school about 6 blocks away. Standing outside with about 100 other kids with our dad holding the hand of 2 really scared American boys. In the Dutch language the name for a female teacher is Juffvrouw and the name for a bicycle is "fiets". (pronounced feets) The kids looked down the street and a few started to alert us. "Hier komt de Juff." (pronounced yuff) Most of the bikes had a little assist motor on the front wheel so they called them a "bromfiets." In other words a bike that went brom. (pronounced brum) De-Juff was smoking a cigarette and popped the front wheel of the bromviets over the curb. She jammed the thing in a bike rack and looked at my dad and asked "Ben jij de vader de Amerikannse yougens dat ik de leraar worden" (Are you the father of the American boys of which I am to be the teacher.) My dad said ya. Then he asked he asked de-juff "Ken je engles?" (Can you speak English) and she said ya. Now I want to tell you that the word "ya" was all she knew. The next thing I knew my brother and I were sitting in a room with about 30 kids in Kortabroek (short pants) and listening to de-juff teach the lessons.
It is amazing that when young people are exposed non-stop to a foriegn language. It only takes about 3 weeks to learn what is going on and about 6 weeks to be talking it in the house. I do recall that at the front of every desk was a "inktpot." A small pot of ink about 1/12" in diameter and 3"s deep. You would dip your pen in these things and write your assignment. Somehow one day I had a tooth come out and it found its way to the bottom of the inktpot and de-juff had to fish it out. She told me "you drop geen tanden meer in deze inkt pot en ze blijven op de bodem" (you drop any more teeth in here and they stay in the bottom.) I could go on and on but these are a few of the events. I can still see like a picture. I have a bunch more but I will not bore you with them.
We were there for about 2 years. By the time we were done we spoke in Dutch and thought in Dutch. On the way home on the USS Rotterdam we ran in to a large Atlantic storm. Seeing this from the eyes of a 9 year old I can recall the sea and the sky became one (all black) and I can see the bow of the boat totally being submersed in one Atlantic wave after another. My dad did not think we would make it home and he still talks about this up to this day. The crew of the boat was worried as well. It was on the inbound way to the New York harbor that I do recall sighting the Statute of Liberty. I now understand the feelings of people who immigrated to this country years ago on equipment even smaller than we sailed on. The November trip was 14 days and I have since never put my foot on a boat longer than what would go out for a one hour trip on Lake Michigan.
Harry Truman was once criticized for saying the word crap in some of his news conferences. He told the media that it had taken his wife 14 years to get him to use this word over the one he had used before. When we got back to the States I found myself in the classroom of the best teacher I have ever had. I think 50% of all my learning was done in this room. His name was Mr Browning. I think all of us get about three real good teachers in our lives and for me he was a the top of the list. I had to write a paper on geology one day and he handed it back the next with a big fat D on the top right hand corner. I looked at the grade and somehow used the original Harry Truman version of the word crap. I found myself at the blackboard about three hours after class writing 100 times these words. "I, Stanley Hoksbergen, a judicious young member of the species homo-sapiens have committed a grievous error in the area of social conduct. This error involves the slander and disregard of human emotion and proper human behavior and relates to the use of a four letter word that has never belonged in the dialect of intelligent human beings." I wrote that baby out 100 times.
I can still see it like a picture.....When I am in a better mood.....When Deb is feeling a little better let me write the next chapter.......Until then let the words you use be all good ones....
Stan the Man
My dad was awarded a scholarship to study at the Free University of Amsterdam and our young family packed our belongings in 55 gallon drums and set sail on a ship called the USS Amsterdam. In those days airplane travel was way more expensive and not all that safe. I remember the trip to be about 6 days. I vaguely remember the Statute of Liberty as we sailed out and then a reasonably pleasant trip of what seemed to a small kid, a pretty big ocean. The arrival in Rotterdam and the trip to Amsterdam are forgotten but the trip up to our sixth floor apartment in an old movie type elevator is still with me. Then the walking trip the next morning to a Dutch school about 6 blocks away. Standing outside with about 100 other kids with our dad holding the hand of 2 really scared American boys. In the Dutch language the name for a female teacher is Juffvrouw and the name for a bicycle is "fiets". (pronounced feets) The kids looked down the street and a few started to alert us. "Hier komt de Juff." (pronounced yuff) Most of the bikes had a little assist motor on the front wheel so they called them a "bromfiets." In other words a bike that went brom. (pronounced brum) De-Juff was smoking a cigarette and popped the front wheel of the bromviets over the curb. She jammed the thing in a bike rack and looked at my dad and asked "Ben jij de vader de Amerikannse yougens dat ik de leraar worden" (Are you the father of the American boys of which I am to be the teacher.) My dad said ya. Then he asked he asked de-juff "Ken je engles?" (Can you speak English) and she said ya. Now I want to tell you that the word "ya" was all she knew. The next thing I knew my brother and I were sitting in a room with about 30 kids in Kortabroek (short pants) and listening to de-juff teach the lessons.
It is amazing that when young people are exposed non-stop to a foriegn language. It only takes about 3 weeks to learn what is going on and about 6 weeks to be talking it in the house. I do recall that at the front of every desk was a "inktpot." A small pot of ink about 1/12" in diameter and 3"s deep. You would dip your pen in these things and write your assignment. Somehow one day I had a tooth come out and it found its way to the bottom of the inktpot and de-juff had to fish it out. She told me "you drop geen tanden meer in deze inkt pot en ze blijven op de bodem" (you drop any more teeth in here and they stay in the bottom.) I could go on and on but these are a few of the events. I can still see like a picture. I have a bunch more but I will not bore you with them.
We were there for about 2 years. By the time we were done we spoke in Dutch and thought in Dutch. On the way home on the USS Rotterdam we ran in to a large Atlantic storm. Seeing this from the eyes of a 9 year old I can recall the sea and the sky became one (all black) and I can see the bow of the boat totally being submersed in one Atlantic wave after another. My dad did not think we would make it home and he still talks about this up to this day. The crew of the boat was worried as well. It was on the inbound way to the New York harbor that I do recall sighting the Statute of Liberty. I now understand the feelings of people who immigrated to this country years ago on equipment even smaller than we sailed on. The November trip was 14 days and I have since never put my foot on a boat longer than what would go out for a one hour trip on Lake Michigan.
Harry Truman was once criticized for saying the word crap in some of his news conferences. He told the media that it had taken his wife 14 years to get him to use this word over the one he had used before. When we got back to the States I found myself in the classroom of the best teacher I have ever had. I think 50% of all my learning was done in this room. His name was Mr Browning. I think all of us get about three real good teachers in our lives and for me he was a the top of the list. I had to write a paper on geology one day and he handed it back the next with a big fat D on the top right hand corner. I looked at the grade and somehow used the original Harry Truman version of the word crap. I found myself at the blackboard about three hours after class writing 100 times these words. "I, Stanley Hoksbergen, a judicious young member of the species homo-sapiens have committed a grievous error in the area of social conduct. This error involves the slander and disregard of human emotion and proper human behavior and relates to the use of a four letter word that has never belonged in the dialect of intelligent human beings." I wrote that baby out 100 times.
I can still see it like a picture.....When I am in a better mood.....When Deb is feeling a little better let me write the next chapter.......Until then let the words you use be all good ones....
Stan the Man
Monday, September 19, 2011
Low notes and High notes
I am going to start this post with a low note and I am going to end on a high one. I am not sure that all of these qualify that much for the humor theme. Please let this one float someplace in the middle. It has some storm and some sun.
It seemed that is was not long before we had to go through another event of losing an infant. It was pretty much the same way it happened before. In those days they did not have the testing that they do now. Although Deb and I remained optimistic that the pregnancy of our second child had some good signs it was also true that there were some concerns. This time a little girl was born and we named her Megan Leigh. A life of about 3 ½ hours was all that we had. Somehow we were a little more prepared. We conducted a family service and buried the baby right next to Jason Brandon, our first. In a way the emotion of the event hit us even harder than the first time. In addition to the sadness of the loss was the fact that evidence brought forward the thought that we may not ever have children. Allow me to share an event that at the time of its occurrence did not seem comfortable to me. We had a small family funeral. The baby was prepared and displayed in a small casket. Deb’s father again helped us with this. Deb asked her dad if she could hold the baby. He expressed that this is a common occurrence and request from mothers who have experienced such a loss. Deb spent some time doing this. I mention this now for only one reason. In the event that any of the readers experience a similar loss either as a parent, grandparent or friend, please know that this is a common emotion and can assist in the grieving process for a mother. It meant a lot to Deb to be able to do this. Many years have gone by and it still hurts to relay the events but this is how it all took place.
Thereafter, we went through some pretty extensive genetic testing and the results indicated that 1out of 2 children we would have would have this condition. Given these odds and the history of our case it was decided to attempt one more time. We did find out about some test that could be performed in the earlier stages of pregnancy. We also found that U of M had a doctor who was experienced in this area. At around the 4 month point of the next pregnancy, and after many test, he consulted with us and I recall what he said. He told us that he could not insure that our next baby would be healthy but he could tell us that it did not have Potters Syndrome as did the 2 previous. It was with quiet and anxious anticipation that Deb went through the last 5 months of the pregnancy and the day finally arrived for the trip to Sparrow Hospital
We were anxious enough that even the slightest hint of a contraction sent us down the road to the hospital. (maybe more accurate to say I rather than we) The first time was a false alarm but the next night we had the real deal. I took my place in the chair as Deb by this time was used to me not being very effective in the baby bearing business. I remember her saying to me “you sit there and you watch while I have this baby”. She has always been a very strong person as she endures medical events of any kind. This remains true today. It was not very long and appeared what looked to be a strong baby. A few anxious seconds after birth came one of the most blood curdling cries I had ever heard. With it came what I think still today remains one of the most happy moments of our lives. Seconds later Ross Nathan was placed in Deb’s arms. Tears flowed down Deb’s cheeks and mine to the point that I suggested to her that we did not want to drown this baby before we got to take him home. I was struck by the joy of the event in contrast to the sadness from before. A few days later we were on our way home to the country house in Mason. We stopped on the way to see my dad in his church office and a few other people who had grieved with us over the past events. All in all a good day for a couple of parents who appreciated it at the very highest level that appreciation and thankfulness can go. That Sunday when the birth was announced, the River Terrace Congregation (who had supported us very nicely) broke in to a round of applause. I will never forget it.
I sat in the room with Ross and watched him in the crib that first night. I wanted to make sure the whole thing was real. Every hour or so I would wake and make sure he was OK. I do remember that first night he pretty much slept through the night. He seemed slightly annoyed when I would nudge him a little to make sure he was OK. I think he was a little tired from being shown around all day. For the most part he was a good baby. It was not long before Deb could get out with some of her friends and it was during those times that a transformation from being a good baby to one that was a little bit more of a pain would take place. About the only thing that would appease him was going for a ride in the car. I put him in the car seat and drove quite a few miles that first night when I had the full responsibility. Over the tenure of his infancy we had quite a few car rides. He did like his food source reasonably close by.
Fast forward a little to a couple of other Ross highlights. When he was two years old I found a little bike. I still have it hanging in our garage today. It had training wheels. It was not very long and those training wheels had vibrated a little higher and it was not very long after that they never touched the ground when he rode the thing. So it was pretty early that he had his “wheels” and he had to be watched pretty closely. It was not many years after that, about the 5th grade, that we borrowed a cornet from Deb’s brother Ken. We noticed that along with all of the other stuff that little kids do that this cornet was out of the case and being played in our living room quite a bit. We never had to ask him to practice. Some years later he would sit and play for hours in a wingback chair we had. We gave him that chair the other day to have at his home. It was just this past weekend that Deb and I sat in DeVos Hall and watched him perform with the GR Symphony. Some things just have a way of working out and this has been one of those things.
Allow me next time to share another highlight……It will involve another car seat and a move at last to the city…..Till then…..
Stan the Man
Saturday, September 17, 2011
The bird and the bees and the flowers and the trees
We started to get a used to living in the country in Mason, Michigan. It was a 5 acre property with a pond. The guy we bought it from was a forestry prof at MSU and the place had about every type of tree that Noah had remembered to throw in the back of the ark. As he showed us the place he had to give a little history on each one and after about 3 hours of this tour I was not sure I needed to know that much more about trees. Anyway, we did settle in and started to learn how to live out there. A popular TV show at that time was the show "Green Acres" and this place kind of had that feel right down to the pig Arnold Ziffle which I will tell you about in a moment. Some of the neighbors would raise a few animals and I was never sure if these things were pets or if they would once in a while be replaced as the original pets found their way to the dinner table. The guy from 2 doors down came over one day and asked I if I had seen one of his pigs that had escaped from his pen. I asked him for the description. Mostly black with a white spot on the side, about 200 lbs and a curly tail, was what he could remember.
That night Deb and I heard a huge commotion outside. A bunch of dogs barking (or coyotes), then a really loud screech and then silence. With no ideas what had happened we left the next morning for a 3 day trip someplace. Upon our return we noticed the most awful smell right when we got out of the car. I looked around a little but saw nothing. The next morning the smell was bad enough that you could notice it inside the house. I looked outside and there was something big floating in our pond. It did have a white spot and by this time had experienced the fate of all animals who reside deceased in water for several days. This thing was really big now.
I went down to get the neighbor and reported that I thought I had maybe found his pig. He came over to check it out and looked at the thing for a while and after some thought reported that he did not think this was his pig. I said "Terry that has got to be your pig. It has a white spot and everything. I could use a little help getting this thing out of the pond." He told me that he could tell it was not his pig because his had a tail that was more curly. After a short argument about how it might be possible that the tail could lose some curl after 3-4 days in the water, he left for home and I was left with the chore of digging a pretty good sized pig grave on the property. The act of using my lawn tractor to get this thing out of the pond and in that grave was not one of my finer moments. Deb watched the event from the house and I think might have started to formulate some thoughts about how long we might want to stay in the country.
Given the flowers and the trees that were on this place, plus a nice orchard, I somehow came up with the idea that having a bee hive might also be a good idea. I might suggest that if any of the readers are interested in this that some experience is needed. Working with another beekeeper would be a good thing. The way this works is that you get a white hive with all sorts of contraptions on the inside for the bees to store the honey. Then your order a few things to protect your hands and head and you order 2-3 pounds of bees. When they arrive you put your stuff on and dump the bees in the hive. Thinking and picturing bees from all around coming to join yours is what I sort of had in mind, but this is not how this works. Your bees start living in the hive and the queen lays a bunch of eggs. Some of the bees go get pollen, some build stuff in the hive to make things more comfortable. Some of them work on fertilizing the eggs and in my hive some must have been assigned to sting the guy that owns the hive. Every month or so you are supposed to open the hive and extract the things they put the honey on and do a few other housekeeping things to keep the bees happy. The method you use to make this possible is to introduce some smoke in the hive. They give you a bellow looking thing that you put some leaves in, light them, and blow a little smoke in the entrance. This somehow makes the bees docile and lets you work on the hive for about a half hour. I think the first time I did this I must have worked the bellows a little to much and along with the smoke were some flames. By the time I was done with this thing these bees were a little mad. I noticed that some of the bees had wings that were a little exposed to more than normal heat and a few of these things were walking around in the bottom of the hive. I had the only walking bee brigade in the county. I finally got better at it and over time got to the point of feeling somewhat experienced at the thing.
My Dad came over one day and wanted to see how this all worked. We put the bee stuff on him and he started to open and look at the hive. I was going to talk him through what to do. Some where along the way he jarred something that alarmed the bees. Of the 50,000 bees in the hive about 49,000 were soon swirling around his head. When dad put the bee suit on he had neglected to tie rubber bands around the pant cuffs. I saw a few low flying bees fly into this area. A certain amount of panic had set in but I told dad to stand still and I thought things would be OK. I soon heard a load OUCH and then about two more and soon he was running around the yard yelling and slapping his legs. I am not sure what he preached about the next morning but I do know it was preached with abut 12 big welts up and down his legs.
Deb was up at the house watching the whole thing and pretty soon I looked over and she was laying on the ground. I was worried that a few stray bees had made their way over there and she was hurt but when I arrived she was laughing so hard she could not stand up. When she did compose herself she asked if we were having fun yet and it took her a while to recover and wipe the laughter tears away. She did find some salve to help my dad recover from about 12 bee stings and the next time he was over she told him how glad she was to see him because we needed some more help working on the bee hive.
By the time the whole ordeal was done we got about 2 jars of honey. We put the jars up on the shelf and would often speculate as to the value of those jars. I do know that break even point was around $100 each. That is about what it cost to go see a big name comedian. And even the best pro comedian could not have made Deb laugh so hard, so maybe it was worth it. She walked around the house for a couple days humming "Let me tell you bout the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees---and a thing called love". I asked her to stop it, but the tune by now was in her head...she said.
We moved to the city where we belonged. By the way, moved there with three of us. I get to tell you abut that the next time....The birth of a son.... this time with good results.....and a few moments of laughter in the adventure....Until then.........................
That night Deb and I heard a huge commotion outside. A bunch of dogs barking (or coyotes), then a really loud screech and then silence. With no ideas what had happened we left the next morning for a 3 day trip someplace. Upon our return we noticed the most awful smell right when we got out of the car. I looked around a little but saw nothing. The next morning the smell was bad enough that you could notice it inside the house. I looked outside and there was something big floating in our pond. It did have a white spot and by this time had experienced the fate of all animals who reside deceased in water for several days. This thing was really big now.
I went down to get the neighbor and reported that I thought I had maybe found his pig. He came over to check it out and looked at the thing for a while and after some thought reported that he did not think this was his pig. I said "Terry that has got to be your pig. It has a white spot and everything. I could use a little help getting this thing out of the pond." He told me that he could tell it was not his pig because his had a tail that was more curly. After a short argument about how it might be possible that the tail could lose some curl after 3-4 days in the water, he left for home and I was left with the chore of digging a pretty good sized pig grave on the property. The act of using my lawn tractor to get this thing out of the pond and in that grave was not one of my finer moments. Deb watched the event from the house and I think might have started to formulate some thoughts about how long we might want to stay in the country.
Given the flowers and the trees that were on this place, plus a nice orchard, I somehow came up with the idea that having a bee hive might also be a good idea. I might suggest that if any of the readers are interested in this that some experience is needed. Working with another beekeeper would be a good thing. The way this works is that you get a white hive with all sorts of contraptions on the inside for the bees to store the honey. Then your order a few things to protect your hands and head and you order 2-3 pounds of bees. When they arrive you put your stuff on and dump the bees in the hive. Thinking and picturing bees from all around coming to join yours is what I sort of had in mind, but this is not how this works. Your bees start living in the hive and the queen lays a bunch of eggs. Some of the bees go get pollen, some build stuff in the hive to make things more comfortable. Some of them work on fertilizing the eggs and in my hive some must have been assigned to sting the guy that owns the hive. Every month or so you are supposed to open the hive and extract the things they put the honey on and do a few other housekeeping things to keep the bees happy. The method you use to make this possible is to introduce some smoke in the hive. They give you a bellow looking thing that you put some leaves in, light them, and blow a little smoke in the entrance. This somehow makes the bees docile and lets you work on the hive for about a half hour. I think the first time I did this I must have worked the bellows a little to much and along with the smoke were some flames. By the time I was done with this thing these bees were a little mad. I noticed that some of the bees had wings that were a little exposed to more than normal heat and a few of these things were walking around in the bottom of the hive. I had the only walking bee brigade in the county. I finally got better at it and over time got to the point of feeling somewhat experienced at the thing.
My Dad came over one day and wanted to see how this all worked. We put the bee stuff on him and he started to open and look at the hive. I was going to talk him through what to do. Some where along the way he jarred something that alarmed the bees. Of the 50,000 bees in the hive about 49,000 were soon swirling around his head. When dad put the bee suit on he had neglected to tie rubber bands around the pant cuffs. I saw a few low flying bees fly into this area. A certain amount of panic had set in but I told dad to stand still and I thought things would be OK. I soon heard a load OUCH and then about two more and soon he was running around the yard yelling and slapping his legs. I am not sure what he preached about the next morning but I do know it was preached with abut 12 big welts up and down his legs.
Deb was up at the house watching the whole thing and pretty soon I looked over and she was laying on the ground. I was worried that a few stray bees had made their way over there and she was hurt but when I arrived she was laughing so hard she could not stand up. When she did compose herself she asked if we were having fun yet and it took her a while to recover and wipe the laughter tears away. She did find some salve to help my dad recover from about 12 bee stings and the next time he was over she told him how glad she was to see him because we needed some more help working on the bee hive.
By the time the whole ordeal was done we got about 2 jars of honey. We put the jars up on the shelf and would often speculate as to the value of those jars. I do know that break even point was around $100 each. That is about what it cost to go see a big name comedian. And even the best pro comedian could not have made Deb laugh so hard, so maybe it was worth it. She walked around the house for a couple days humming "Let me tell you bout the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees---and a thing called love". I asked her to stop it, but the tune by now was in her head...she said.
We moved to the city where we belonged. By the way, moved there with three of us. I get to tell you abut that the next time....The birth of a son.... this time with good results.....and a few moments of laughter in the adventure....Until then.........................
Thursday, September 15, 2011
A moment of gratitude that has changed our attitude
Permit me to take a moment and explain just a few things in what will be a different type of post than I have done in the past. When I first started these I thought of about 30 events that might be worth reporting most of which had intertwined, along with the event itself, a note of humor within them. Although it might seem strange to use the dimension of humor right now, it is true that when anything like the present circumstances happen within a family, a sense of despair and sadness may be the only emotion that deserves mention. At the same time much of the history of our lives have brought laughter and I just thought it might be right to talk about some of that now as well. Deb says sometimes to visitors "let's not talk about cancer", so even though it is the main issue at hand I can first hand testify that the mind has to dwell in some other areas as well. That is the attempt here along with some recording of these stories so that our grandchildren can know that grandpa and grandma had some interesting stuff happen to them and that their grandma was kind of a neat person.
You may have wondered in my last title "twist and turns that have some burns and learns" what was meant? I think everyone can figure the twist part. The death of our newborn was for sure a twist of fate that we did not expect. The burn part is about a feeling that comes over you when something like this happens. You just feel kind of cheated or as though you have been burned. How about the "learn" part? Well, that is the part that I want to talk about in this post.
It seems to me that whenever a tough thing occurs, there comes with it a chance to learn some things and change some things. With the short term lives of our babies one learns firsthand the level of hurt that goes with that. The response to similar things that happen to other people are done in a more meaningful way. We have a nurse friend, Char Nash, who used to organize a service each year at Holland Hospital for parents who have experienced the loss of a newborn child. Each year about 30-40 gathered at this service and a time of memory and loss is shared. Deb is now a nurse on the Boven Birth Center and is able to care for people who have had this experience in a very different way than people who have not experienced it. When we know of someone in the community who goes through this we do what we can to offer to help them.
On a level we could never have imagined, let me relay one more element of learning that has taken place. It was about six weeks ago now that Deb started to feel some discomfort in her abdominal area. As this started to increase we worked at moving up some standard medical appointments she had. On August 1 she had a morning ultrasound and by 1:00 PM of that day she was informed that some real problems were present. 3 days later, more test and deeper problems. One week and one day later a surgery and a meeting with the surgeon that did not bring good news at all. Then some glimmers of hope and some stories of people in the same situations who have lived. But here is the real learning that has taken place. In a time that could be truly dire, our friends and family have surrounded us and helped us. As I write this, Karen is downstairs talking with Deb. She has attended some of the doctor meetings (she is a nurse) to help us discern what was said and help us determine the best course of action. I mention her name because she is downstairs now but so many have helped at a level that we could not have imagined before. The risk of mentioning everyone leaves the possibility of leaving out someone so I am not going to do that now. So what is the learning?
The learning has come by knowing how much it has meant to Deb and I as this has unfolded. Correspondingly, we hope if any one of our friends or family suffer tough times that we can in some way return the favor. We know now how much it means. A card, a prayer, a visit, a flower, a meal, a gift, a memento or just about anything and everything that lets you know that somebody has taken the time to think of you has a meaning beyond what we could only imagine before. For me this is the learning. In the future my response to people is going to change because of it. I must tell you a common emotion I previously had is that people need time to recover, leave them alone. Might be true in the early days of a problem but it does not stay true for very long.
3 weeks ago I was just learning what a blog is. I thank all of you who follow. I want to return to the more normal stuff next time but I want to use this time to thank you all......By the way, I do have one to tell next time about the birds and the bees..........but it is not what you might think......It was real birds and real bees.
Thanks again to everybody, even the readers of this that just want to read and hear a little bit about humor in a storm..............
Stan the Man
You may have wondered in my last title "twist and turns that have some burns and learns" what was meant? I think everyone can figure the twist part. The death of our newborn was for sure a twist of fate that we did not expect. The burn part is about a feeling that comes over you when something like this happens. You just feel kind of cheated or as though you have been burned. How about the "learn" part? Well, that is the part that I want to talk about in this post.
It seems to me that whenever a tough thing occurs, there comes with it a chance to learn some things and change some things. With the short term lives of our babies one learns firsthand the level of hurt that goes with that. The response to similar things that happen to other people are done in a more meaningful way. We have a nurse friend, Char Nash, who used to organize a service each year at Holland Hospital for parents who have experienced the loss of a newborn child. Each year about 30-40 gathered at this service and a time of memory and loss is shared. Deb is now a nurse on the Boven Birth Center and is able to care for people who have had this experience in a very different way than people who have not experienced it. When we know of someone in the community who goes through this we do what we can to offer to help them.
On a level we could never have imagined, let me relay one more element of learning that has taken place. It was about six weeks ago now that Deb started to feel some discomfort in her abdominal area. As this started to increase we worked at moving up some standard medical appointments she had. On August 1 she had a morning ultrasound and by 1:00 PM of that day she was informed that some real problems were present. 3 days later, more test and deeper problems. One week and one day later a surgery and a meeting with the surgeon that did not bring good news at all. Then some glimmers of hope and some stories of people in the same situations who have lived. But here is the real learning that has taken place. In a time that could be truly dire, our friends and family have surrounded us and helped us. As I write this, Karen is downstairs talking with Deb. She has attended some of the doctor meetings (she is a nurse) to help us discern what was said and help us determine the best course of action. I mention her name because she is downstairs now but so many have helped at a level that we could not have imagined before. The risk of mentioning everyone leaves the possibility of leaving out someone so I am not going to do that now. So what is the learning?
The learning has come by knowing how much it has meant to Deb and I as this has unfolded. Correspondingly, we hope if any one of our friends or family suffer tough times that we can in some way return the favor. We know now how much it means. A card, a prayer, a visit, a flower, a meal, a gift, a memento or just about anything and everything that lets you know that somebody has taken the time to think of you has a meaning beyond what we could only imagine before. For me this is the learning. In the future my response to people is going to change because of it. I must tell you a common emotion I previously had is that people need time to recover, leave them alone. Might be true in the early days of a problem but it does not stay true for very long.
3 weeks ago I was just learning what a blog is. I thank all of you who follow. I want to return to the more normal stuff next time but I want to use this time to thank you all......By the way, I do have one to tell next time about the birds and the bees..........but it is not what you might think......It was real birds and real bees.
Thanks again to everybody, even the readers of this that just want to read and hear a little bit about humor in a storm..............
Stan the Man
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Twist and turns that have some burns and learns.
I am going to share in this writing a few moments of deep emotion and pain. I might go back a little later and pick up another Jackson story or 2. My responsibilities at work had changed and found a need to move to Mason, Michigan. My primary responsibility for my company was to sell tools to Oldsmobile and living closer to Lansing was important.. For some reason we bought a place out in the country on 5 acres and I will tell about that later as well. Seems like Deb and I are more city people and we had a few interesting things happen out there that might have within them some smiles, but for now a different direction. Oh yes, and did I mention that sometime during this transition and or shortly thereafter evidence presented itself that there might be more than 2 of us in the house.
I think my job was going pretty well at that time and we had a little money in the till. We drove down to Kalamazoo and went to a place called the Emporium with some of the neater antiques I had ever seen. We spotted a black walnut baby bed with hand carved wooden spindles and bought that thing for $750. One of the largest splurge moves we had ever made. Deb had set up the baby room in a way that we thought that crib in there would be worth it. As I think about it today I wonder if it would have passed regulations for safety, but people just did not think about that so much back then. At that time there was something called Lamaze class. It was some kind of class that taught people who where pregnant to breath in a way that having a baby did not hurt as much. The husband would grab an ankle or something and create a pressure point and he would be the coach for the whole affair. I can recall being in a room with a bunch of other couples and practicing for this. I do recall thinking over and over that no matter how the breathing was done and how the husband held on to the ankles or wrist that this was a deal that was gong to hurt. It was lucky for me that Deb has a huge pain threshold and even when the big moment came she told me to go over and sit in the corner and let her have this baby. She has born 6 children, not had one drug, not let out one scream and has done the whole thing like it might be in a book someplace.
Those of us that do not know us that well can do the math. We have three children and 6 pregnancies. The sad part is that 2 of the babies died a short time after birth (about 3-4 hours) and the third pregnancy was taken at around the 5 month point due to the fact that test were available to determine that the outcome was assured. The condition is known as Potters Syndrome which is underdeveloped kidneys that are not able to sustain life. Turns out that genetically, 1 out of every 2 children we would have would have this condition and that is exactly how it has worked out. Needless to say we were crushed and not totally prepared for this. I can recall that shortly after the birth of, Jason Brandon, things not looking right at all. The baby did cry a little but the look on the faces in the room and the rush to bring the babe to a different area had the look of trouble all the way. It was just a short time that a doctor was in the hall with me telling me that we have a big problem here and it was a short time thereafter that a pediatrician informed me that there was no chance for life beyond a few hours. One of the more touching events I have ever witnessed is that Deb did have the chance to hold this infant for about 1/2 hour while he was still living. As breathing became more difficult I watched the baby pass away a short time later in an incubator. You know I do not really intend to pull on the heartstrings here but this is how it did happen. Life in this case was 4 hours. To make sure I have this right I am reading a typewritten (before computers) report and it is just interesting how they did things then compared to now. The result however remains the same. It is an infants kidneys that produce the amniotic fluid and the lack thereof caused some additional issues as it relates to the condition of the baby. As I read this report now, lots of problems.
I am not sure we really knew what to do. I do recall Deb's Dad being out of the country. I recall a scratchy voice from a distant country in the days of old phones, telling me to call Pete LeBetz who was a Polish funeral home director in Jackson and also a friend of his. The plan was to have Deb's Dad return and help us deal with all of the issues including a service of some sort. I went to Lansing that night to tell my Mom and Dad what had happened. Late that night I returned to Jackson and I rang the doorbell of that funeral home. It was late!
Pete answered the door and we sat down at his kitchen table. I think that with infants this small, before they are prepared for burial, they are placed in a solution that helps preserve the body for the choice the parents might choose for burial. He made a cup of instant coffee and eventually got around to asking me this question. He said, I have been waiting for my doorbell to ring because I thought you might come in here tonight. You want to see that baby, am I right? I told him that that is what I was there for. He told me this, and I will never forget it. He told me that I would be better off if I thought for the rest of life as my first son being a beautiful baby. But that it would be a mistake if I asked him to see the baby now. You know something? Deb and I never saw that baby after he died, we do not have a picture and she was not able to attend the event of the burial of that baby. We are thankful that Deb's Mom and Dad did tenderly and lovingly hold and dress that little guy for the casket. I will forever thank this man for handling this in this way. My memories of Jason Brandon are good ones. In his own way he put up a good fight
On the drive home I thought a little about life, it's upturns and downs. I wondered a little about the Catholic Nurse who told me that we needed to get a priest on the scene soon to help this babe pass to heaven. And then I thought of something strange. I thought about the odds of the scene repeating itself somewhere around the globe to a family that had not held to Christian background. All of the questions related to humans destiny in situations like this. Interesting questions. Every once in while a get them out again and think about them. My hope is that someday I will somehow be reunited with these children that never had the chance to live for more than a very short time.
Will you please allow me the next time to share a little more about this. It kind of has a little more. I know it is sad but it is somehow important to me to report it. Until then.............stay with me..... Thanks...
Stan the Man
I think my job was going pretty well at that time and we had a little money in the till. We drove down to Kalamazoo and went to a place called the Emporium with some of the neater antiques I had ever seen. We spotted a black walnut baby bed with hand carved wooden spindles and bought that thing for $750. One of the largest splurge moves we had ever made. Deb had set up the baby room in a way that we thought that crib in there would be worth it. As I think about it today I wonder if it would have passed regulations for safety, but people just did not think about that so much back then. At that time there was something called Lamaze class. It was some kind of class that taught people who where pregnant to breath in a way that having a baby did not hurt as much. The husband would grab an ankle or something and create a pressure point and he would be the coach for the whole affair. I can recall being in a room with a bunch of other couples and practicing for this. I do recall thinking over and over that no matter how the breathing was done and how the husband held on to the ankles or wrist that this was a deal that was gong to hurt. It was lucky for me that Deb has a huge pain threshold and even when the big moment came she told me to go over and sit in the corner and let her have this baby. She has born 6 children, not had one drug, not let out one scream and has done the whole thing like it might be in a book someplace.
Those of us that do not know us that well can do the math. We have three children and 6 pregnancies. The sad part is that 2 of the babies died a short time after birth (about 3-4 hours) and the third pregnancy was taken at around the 5 month point due to the fact that test were available to determine that the outcome was assured. The condition is known as Potters Syndrome which is underdeveloped kidneys that are not able to sustain life. Turns out that genetically, 1 out of every 2 children we would have would have this condition and that is exactly how it has worked out. Needless to say we were crushed and not totally prepared for this. I can recall that shortly after the birth of, Jason Brandon, things not looking right at all. The baby did cry a little but the look on the faces in the room and the rush to bring the babe to a different area had the look of trouble all the way. It was just a short time that a doctor was in the hall with me telling me that we have a big problem here and it was a short time thereafter that a pediatrician informed me that there was no chance for life beyond a few hours. One of the more touching events I have ever witnessed is that Deb did have the chance to hold this infant for about 1/2 hour while he was still living. As breathing became more difficult I watched the baby pass away a short time later in an incubator. You know I do not really intend to pull on the heartstrings here but this is how it did happen. Life in this case was 4 hours. To make sure I have this right I am reading a typewritten (before computers) report and it is just interesting how they did things then compared to now. The result however remains the same. It is an infants kidneys that produce the amniotic fluid and the lack thereof caused some additional issues as it relates to the condition of the baby. As I read this report now, lots of problems.
I am not sure we really knew what to do. I do recall Deb's Dad being out of the country. I recall a scratchy voice from a distant country in the days of old phones, telling me to call Pete LeBetz who was a Polish funeral home director in Jackson and also a friend of his. The plan was to have Deb's Dad return and help us deal with all of the issues including a service of some sort. I went to Lansing that night to tell my Mom and Dad what had happened. Late that night I returned to Jackson and I rang the doorbell of that funeral home. It was late!
Pete answered the door and we sat down at his kitchen table. I think that with infants this small, before they are prepared for burial, they are placed in a solution that helps preserve the body for the choice the parents might choose for burial. He made a cup of instant coffee and eventually got around to asking me this question. He said, I have been waiting for my doorbell to ring because I thought you might come in here tonight. You want to see that baby, am I right? I told him that that is what I was there for. He told me this, and I will never forget it. He told me that I would be better off if I thought for the rest of life as my first son being a beautiful baby. But that it would be a mistake if I asked him to see the baby now. You know something? Deb and I never saw that baby after he died, we do not have a picture and she was not able to attend the event of the burial of that baby. We are thankful that Deb's Mom and Dad did tenderly and lovingly hold and dress that little guy for the casket. I will forever thank this man for handling this in this way. My memories of Jason Brandon are good ones. In his own way he put up a good fight
On the drive home I thought a little about life, it's upturns and downs. I wondered a little about the Catholic Nurse who told me that we needed to get a priest on the scene soon to help this babe pass to heaven. And then I thought of something strange. I thought about the odds of the scene repeating itself somewhere around the globe to a family that had not held to Christian background. All of the questions related to humans destiny in situations like this. Interesting questions. Every once in while a get them out again and think about them. My hope is that someday I will somehow be reunited with these children that never had the chance to live for more than a very short time.
Will you please allow me the next time to share a little more about this. It kind of has a little more. I know it is sad but it is somehow important to me to report it. Until then.............stay with me..... Thanks...
Stan the Man
What to do with Mr. Blue
After a few years of selling construction equipment in the Detroit area a decision was made to change jobs. Deb and I purchased a nice little ranch home in Jackson, Michigan. The reason I am sharing a few prices in these blogs is that as I think about them now it is amazing to me at how prices now are so different. The house was $33,000 and the payment was $323 per month and that included the taxes. I am going to look for a picture of it and try to post it. It was a nice place and we were proud of it. I started to learn firsthand that along with some other nice talents Deb possessed was flair for decorating and some fun things she knew how to do in that area. We soon had kind of a cool place. She was finishing up a nursing school (in Detroit) so I lived in the house the first 3-4 months and she would drive to Jackson on the weekends. I can still recall listening for a Volkswagen tooling down the street. Could not wait for weekends.
We had gained some good experience over the past years in Detroit at learning how people from varied backgrounds talked and lived. Deb has never liked jokes that have ethnic flavor. She will once in a while laugh at one I (used to) tell but she soon catches herself and some type of reprimand will soon follow. Over the years I have diminished my inventory of humor that falls in this category. It is true that for some reason one of the picked on ethnic groups of that day were people of Polish descent. I do agree with Deb that if a large amount of jokes about any group of people are told to often it is easy to build up bad feelings.
But this guy that lived next door to me was hard to ignore. He was Polish but he had a huge list of jokes but they were all about Dutch people. I pointed out to him that I thought his ethnicity was supposed to be the chosen “picked on”. He said he knew this but just changed Polish to Dutch in all the jokes and thought they were funnier this way. We did have a nice relationship with them but I did feel at times he could do some stuff that I will put in the “incredibly stupid” category. He had to go to Chicago quite often for business. On his return one night he was telling me that he was in a large traffic jam and could not find a “comfort station” which he needed to find desperately. I asked how he solved this problem he told me that he had elected to pee in his shoe and pour it out the window. I asked him, what shoe? And he told me his left one. I said you mean the one you are wearing right now. And folks this was it. I walked with him out front to where his car was parked and pointed out various ashtrays and containers that could be removed from the vehicle. I am not saying in total desperation and all other options expired I would not do this. I am saying I would retire the shoes and not tell anybody about it.
Have you ever seen the show “Tool Time”? In that show Tim, the main character, has a backyard friend and they meet over the fence and solved life’s problems. I had a guy like that behind us in Jackson. His name was Mr. Blue Mr. Blue was about 70 and seemed a bit frustrated with life. He had owned a company for years and did not have enough to do now that he was retired. Plus his wife was a bit a nag. He was so used to being his own boss at work but he had one now at home. He taught me about wife school. He maintained that all women attended a secret school about 1 year after marriage and learned how not to like some things about men. He had a unique way of expressing himself and I think did not really know many people of my age. Some of the advice he gave was a little nuts but he always had kind of a twinkle in his eye and he did have some wisdom. He also would ask me how I would handle some things and was particularly interested if I had any thoughts on how he could make Mrs. Blue more subservient. Never really sure I was able to help him much on that one. He did have a nice lawn though.
The next time I am going to share with you a time of emotion and sadness that we experienced in our lives. All storm and no humor as they say………..but it would just not be right to not have some recording of those days…..Thanks for listening……..
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