The time that is given

This is an obviously delayed post, late is more like it, but nonetheless, I thought I’d say something about the new year and what it means to me.

Well, to begin, I am not one of those people who believe in making new year’s resolutions. It’s just not something that works for me. I find that most of my life-events happen right around the fall. I don’t necessarily know why, they just do. And when they happen, THAT’S when I like to make my “resolutions”. If you could ask anyone who knows me they would tell you that I am NOT a planner. Unfortunate or not, I react to stimuli, and am constantly readjusting in order to make things work a little more smoothly. Continue Reading »

This is an old post that somehow just didn’t make it to the board…

Just returned from a vacation in Germany over the girl’s fall break. We were gone for 9 days, October 17 through the 26th, and let me tell you, what a blast. But I deviate, this isn’t really about the trip, although I’m sure that I’ll write a few memories down as I make my clumsy way through this posting. Continue Reading »

I had an interesting thought this morning while I was reading a blog from a fellow grognard… What if you absolutely knew what happened after death? I mean not “believed” you knew… but actually knew. How would you live your life? Would you do things differently? Why?

I suppose I ask because death has been a frequent visitor lately. My father’s not doing well and I’m not sure that he’s long for this mortal coil. It makes you stop and think, and take stock of things.

Is death like stepping through a door? I’m not sure that’s a good analogy but if you think about it, it’s pretty apropos.  You know where you “are” right before you step through that door. You “think” you’re pretty sure where you’re going to be after you step through the door, but you’re not certain. Does it matter though? You’re going to step through that door and whatever happens, happens. Should “knowing” change how you’re living today? Do we ever really know what’s going to happen? No. It’s the human condition. We can NOT see into the future.

So I guess that the old addage, live for today, holds some water.

Scotty and I went up and rode Golden Gate State Park on Saturday…

Yeah, I got a kitchen pass, which was really cool, so Scott came and picked me up and off we went. Ascending to greatness at the crack of noon. (best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry…)

Oh, but let me preface this, I got a new bike. Yeah, a new Intense Spider XVP. The old Santa Cruz Superlight just gave up the ghost. I was experiencing some odd tire rub in the back during some of my spring rides. I couldn’t figure it out for the longest time and tried every conceivable “fix” that I could think of. Nothing worked.

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Juli and I were having a conversation last night regarding the future. Or more aptly, a future. Imagine for a second the scenario where corporations have much more control of the government than the individual for which it was originally created. Sort of a present day robber baron atmosphere. Add to that a rapidly changing climate, a people so dependent upon fossil fuels that they’d quite likely whither and die should the source run dry, a population growth rate that’s straining the limits of an already overburdened ecosystem, new and improved diseases, and a looming worldwide food shortage. Continue Reading »

Early morning telephone calls are always troubling, and this one was no exception. My 95 year old grandma just passed away in her sleep last night.

She was quite literally the glue that kept my family so close. Always so warm and loving, she made everyone who stepped through her door feel as if they were the most special person in the world. Bayfield became a magical place, not only because so much of my childhood had been spent there, but because of her, Helen LeBeau.

I took friends there, Fish, Wayne, and eventually a girl friend, Juli, who ended up becoming my wife.  They all spoke of Bayfield as a magical place and always asked after my grandma…even decades later. It’s a testimony to her spirit. She was a woman who bore the family upon her wide shoulders with pride.

One of her truest joys were her grandchildren and great grandchildren. Every year, after a long cold Canadian winter, as the snows began to thaw, she’d perk up in preparation of our yearly gathering in the summer. When she was able she’d start baking pies and freezing them, knowing that hungry grandsons would be descending upon her in a few short months. It was the highlight of her year, that time when the family coalesced and everyone was in one place.

The memories of those times are like warm little gems, embedded in my soul. If you could see it, my soul might appear as a king’s crown, aflame in that resplendence. I’m a very lucky guy. My grandma loved me and that grandma was Helen LeBeau.

“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

J.R.R. Tolkien

Strange that the title of this blog is a JRR Tolkien line taken from Lord of the Rings, about death and our role in life.

This is a sad way in which to christen a blog, but a friend of mine just passed away and I’d like to write a little something about the person…maybe as a type of catharsis, but more so as a way to commemorate his life. To let his children get a bit of a glimpse into who Lance was from a grown up’s perspective.

Now the strange thing is that I wasn’t all that close to Lance Melting. In fact, it’s his brother-in-law, Jason, that I am very good friends with. But I can tell you, Lance’s passing is a tragic loss. He was one of the few truly gentle souls.

I can’t say with any degree of certainty that I’ve ever met a more gentle person than Lance Melting. He was always sincere in his life. Respect and integrity radiated from him at all times and it was always a joy to shake his hand to say ‘hello’. In a mad world, Lance was a beacon of sanity.

If I had to tell his children one thing about their father that they might not know, it would be that Lance always had a smile and a warm word for me, a person who was nearly a stranger, but always treated as a friend. And that is a rare gift.

Lance Melting…You shall be missed.