Over the last 6 years, one thing I have learned is that blood isn't the only thing that makes you family. I have been fortunate to have more than tripled the size of my family over that time under that logic. Merriam-Webster even has varying definitions of family, ranging from the usual sharing of a common ancestor to sharing common convictions or affiliations.
The point is, you don't have to be related to someone to call them your family. Whoever you associate with, who when they're in pain or suffering you share in their pain and suffering, and when they are joyful you share in their joy, that is your family. Sometimes non-blood relations are closer than blood relations. Sad to say, but this can be true.
Everyone needs family of any kind; going through this death sentence called life alone is a special kind of torture one must never subject themselves to. If we aren't going to make it out of this adventure alive, we might as well enjoy the ride in he company of others.
Yesterday marked the second year since my Grandma left to go dance with Jesus. I was blessed to have her in my life for 30 years, even if at times I didn't make the most of those 30 years. I think we are still in that "lost" phase, where the loved one is taken and we're still trying to figure out how we're going to move on with our lives. The phase where nothing seems right and the realization that nothing will be the same again is still prevalent.
The thing about family is it's always evolving. Marriages, births, deaths, meeting new people...like the weather in Wisconsin, it is constantly changing. And we are all family with God as our Father.
Just up the road from where we are staying in Alabama there is a pond in a city park. I'm not sure if it's teeming with fish or not, but suppose it is. They will forever be relegated to that pond, that will be all they know of existence. They won't know that there is so much more water to explore. And anthropomorphically speaking they'd probably be fine with that. Some people are like that too. They stay within the confines of their city or state, and they are perfectly fine with that. I'm very thankful I was blessed with the ability to travel and venture outside my city walls (if you knew my city you'd know the Department of Transportation built a bypass that is effectively a modern day "Great Wall" of sorts) and see more of the beautiful world God created. I was afforded the opportunity to immerse myself in Southern culture, even developed my own accent that'll likely stick with me for about a week. It was the first time in 6 years I have been able to travel out of state; incidentally enough to the same place, this time with a wife and kids.
Side note: a twelve hour road trip with an almost 3 year old is basically signing away a percentage of your sanity.
Friday, July 29, 2016
Sunday, July 17, 2016
In Which I Take Stock of my Monkeys
Something happened almost two weeks ago. Due to the potential audience of my blog posts, suffice it to say that this event caused me to take a step back and take stock in my current "situation" and "position", as the words "undisclosed" and "no transfers" got tossed around. Bob Cratchit was threatened with this after he vocally subscribed with Scrooge's nephew Fred regarding Christmas. I think that's eloquent enough...
I must admit, I've sort of grown comfortable in my current position. I finally have a supervisor who I like and appreciates me for my work, I've been given the permission to work from home and love every minute of it, but the volatility of the industry has me wondering. For one thing, it has me wondering "What next?" Not as someone going through constant trials and then having another trial come upon them and shaking their fists heavenward and shouting "what next", but as in career-wise, what is the next step?
Currently I am pursuing and am halfway to attaining, an AA in General Studies with a Concentration in Business. After that I will be following that up with a BA in I-Don't-Know-Yet. But I haven't looked at the market in a while, so to speak. However, that would mean giving up the chance to get these degrees - at least, the chance to get them at no cost to me.
Taking stock of the situation, taking stock of my position, taking stock of my...location. What if some awesome job opportunity presented itself in, say, Oregon? Well for one, I would never know because I haven't been out there looking, but I hear that Oregon is one of the 10 states where the job market is exploding. Am I really so tied to Wisconsin? Who knows...that BA is a ways off yet, thinking 2-4 years away. And we just went through the whole moving fiasco...only to find ourselves right back in the city we were intending to leave a year ago...
It once again makes me go back and "dust off history" (consider further my last post, In Which History Gets Dusted Off). That post I focused on Paulina, who traversed the Eastern United States in an effort to find her sister, Anna. Whereupon finding her, stayed with her and lived with her and her husband and family until meeting my great great grandpa, Frank. Now I think of Frank's side of the story. While I don't know the schematics of it all, Frank came here to avoid being forced back into the Austrian Army due to lack of Draft Card, which I'm sure being forced back into the Army was the least of the potential punishment...but that's neither here nor there. The fact is, sometime around 1901 he came here. Landed I'm sure in New York City where Paulina found herself just a year previous, and as a hard-working, (probably) liberal-minded (The Google tells me through Wikipedia that typically, Austrian immigrants as well as Polish were of the liberal persuasion) 30-something single Catholic, I can only assume traversed the country as well just trying to attain a job to sustain himself.
History has shown me that my individual family roots had come to this country (excluding perhaps the English Colonial ancestors) due to either religious persecution or a better opportunity to escape the constant war and strife of the European scene at the time...almost reminiscent to today's America, but that's another blog post. I seem to be developing a theme of "Piecing Together History", as it were.
Anyhoobastank (credit to Wheezy Waiter for introducing that word into my life, seriously check out his channel it's amazeballs) it makes me wonder, not to sound like Adam Levine, what it was that brought Frank ultimately to Iron Mountain, Michigan. And even more than that, what took him in such a short time from Iron Mountain all the way to Milwaukee, Wisconsin? Nowadays that's about like an 8 hour trip, I can imagine it taking probably thrice as long in the early 1900s. Was it the influx of German and German-esque immigrants to the Milwaukee area? Although Chicago would have sufficed as well...what was it that took them precisely to Milwaukee?
So now, four generations later, I find myself in similar shoes, so to speak. No, I'm not contemplating fleeing the US Army (they wouldn't take me even if I wanted them to), but I find myself a hardworking, liberal (sorta)-minded 30-something Catholic wannabe (albeit married with children), asking myself is my current city the best location and is my current position the best position for me to have at this very moment in time?
The answer remains to be seen. As the scientists put it, "Further research is needed." The job market in Wisconsin is stagnant at best. Like Frank, however, I have family here, although his was admittedly possibly smaller than mine is at present, he had family that he left in Michigan to remove down to Milwaukee. It was for a job that my father removed us from Milwaukee to my current city. Is the perfect well-paying job just waiting for me in some place like Bend, Oregon (had to say that just for the name), and I'm too focused on what I'm doing now to catch it? Could it be that there's life outside of Wisconsin? Those last two statements are facetious but you get my drift.
As to the monkeys referenced in the title, it is too soon to discuss one of them; suffice it to say I took one important step to remove it from my back. Tomorrow the recipients should receive their correspondence and responses may or may not come. But the ball is officially out of my court, not that it was even ever in my court to begin with...but were it kicked over there, I've returned it back to the opposing side. The Collective Soul album title "Hints, Allegations and Things Left Unsaid" comes to mind. I took care of those, and await the results. Albeit not one of my monkeys, I've also begun writing letters to my grandfather, because it dawned on me that I cannot get down to where he lives (a little over an hour away) as frequently as I'd like to, and even when I do, I can't fill him in on everything going on in our lives, because so many other people are doing so. As he is not online, I've done the next best thing (and some would argue, including myself, an even better thing): written correspondence. Summation - there is something to be said about a hand-written letter.
The other monkeys are my vehicles. Let me preface by saying being in an upside down car loan sucks. However, being that the Teacher has allowed us to climb further out of a debt hole by utilizing it, I can only see it as being a friendly if not annoying monkey on my back, not one that is doing me harm. And while climbing out of a debt hole using more debt doesn't seem to make logical sense, it's more of a consolidation thing than it is a debt thing. That being said, it still sucks. Especially when the vehicles now need more work in them than they are worth. It will take some thrusting to get these monkeys off our backs,
Time - on its resume, it would have to include professional healer of wounds, single entity in which futures and fortunes are told, and flight extraordinaire (at someone else's fun expense).
I must admit, I've sort of grown comfortable in my current position. I finally have a supervisor who I like and appreciates me for my work, I've been given the permission to work from home and love every minute of it, but the volatility of the industry has me wondering. For one thing, it has me wondering "What next?" Not as someone going through constant trials and then having another trial come upon them and shaking their fists heavenward and shouting "what next", but as in career-wise, what is the next step?
Currently I am pursuing and am halfway to attaining, an AA in General Studies with a Concentration in Business. After that I will be following that up with a BA in I-Don't-Know-Yet. But I haven't looked at the market in a while, so to speak. However, that would mean giving up the chance to get these degrees - at least, the chance to get them at no cost to me.
Taking stock of the situation, taking stock of my position, taking stock of my...location. What if some awesome job opportunity presented itself in, say, Oregon? Well for one, I would never know because I haven't been out there looking, but I hear that Oregon is one of the 10 states where the job market is exploding. Am I really so tied to Wisconsin? Who knows...that BA is a ways off yet, thinking 2-4 years away. And we just went through the whole moving fiasco...only to find ourselves right back in the city we were intending to leave a year ago...
It once again makes me go back and "dust off history" (consider further my last post, In Which History Gets Dusted Off). That post I focused on Paulina, who traversed the Eastern United States in an effort to find her sister, Anna. Whereupon finding her, stayed with her and lived with her and her husband and family until meeting my great great grandpa, Frank. Now I think of Frank's side of the story. While I don't know the schematics of it all, Frank came here to avoid being forced back into the Austrian Army due to lack of Draft Card, which I'm sure being forced back into the Army was the least of the potential punishment...but that's neither here nor there. The fact is, sometime around 1901 he came here. Landed I'm sure in New York City where Paulina found herself just a year previous, and as a hard-working, (probably) liberal-minded (The Google tells me through Wikipedia that typically, Austrian immigrants as well as Polish were of the liberal persuasion) 30-something single Catholic, I can only assume traversed the country as well just trying to attain a job to sustain himself.
History has shown me that my individual family roots had come to this country (excluding perhaps the English Colonial ancestors) due to either religious persecution or a better opportunity to escape the constant war and strife of the European scene at the time...almost reminiscent to today's America, but that's another blog post. I seem to be developing a theme of "Piecing Together History", as it were.
Anyhoobastank (credit to Wheezy Waiter for introducing that word into my life, seriously check out his channel it's amazeballs) it makes me wonder, not to sound like Adam Levine, what it was that brought Frank ultimately to Iron Mountain, Michigan. And even more than that, what took him in such a short time from Iron Mountain all the way to Milwaukee, Wisconsin? Nowadays that's about like an 8 hour trip, I can imagine it taking probably thrice as long in the early 1900s. Was it the influx of German and German-esque immigrants to the Milwaukee area? Although Chicago would have sufficed as well...what was it that took them precisely to Milwaukee?
So now, four generations later, I find myself in similar shoes, so to speak. No, I'm not contemplating fleeing the US Army (they wouldn't take me even if I wanted them to), but I find myself a hardworking, liberal (sorta)-minded 30-something Catholic wannabe (albeit married with children), asking myself is my current city the best location and is my current position the best position for me to have at this very moment in time?
The answer remains to be seen. As the scientists put it, "Further research is needed." The job market in Wisconsin is stagnant at best. Like Frank, however, I have family here, although his was admittedly possibly smaller than mine is at present, he had family that he left in Michigan to remove down to Milwaukee. It was for a job that my father removed us from Milwaukee to my current city. Is the perfect well-paying job just waiting for me in some place like Bend, Oregon (had to say that just for the name), and I'm too focused on what I'm doing now to catch it? Could it be that there's life outside of Wisconsin? Those last two statements are facetious but you get my drift.
As to the monkeys referenced in the title, it is too soon to discuss one of them; suffice it to say I took one important step to remove it from my back. Tomorrow the recipients should receive their correspondence and responses may or may not come. But the ball is officially out of my court, not that it was even ever in my court to begin with...but were it kicked over there, I've returned it back to the opposing side. The Collective Soul album title "Hints, Allegations and Things Left Unsaid" comes to mind. I took care of those, and await the results. Albeit not one of my monkeys, I've also begun writing letters to my grandfather, because it dawned on me that I cannot get down to where he lives (a little over an hour away) as frequently as I'd like to, and even when I do, I can't fill him in on everything going on in our lives, because so many other people are doing so. As he is not online, I've done the next best thing (and some would argue, including myself, an even better thing): written correspondence. Summation - there is something to be said about a hand-written letter.
The other monkeys are my vehicles. Let me preface by saying being in an upside down car loan sucks. However, being that the Teacher has allowed us to climb further out of a debt hole by utilizing it, I can only see it as being a friendly if not annoying monkey on my back, not one that is doing me harm. And while climbing out of a debt hole using more debt doesn't seem to make logical sense, it's more of a consolidation thing than it is a debt thing. That being said, it still sucks. Especially when the vehicles now need more work in them than they are worth. It will take some thrusting to get these monkeys off our backs,
Time - on its resume, it would have to include professional healer of wounds, single entity in which futures and fortunes are told, and flight extraordinaire (at someone else's fun expense).
Friday, July 8, 2016
In Which History Gets Dusted Off
Every once in a while, usually once or twice a year, the Genealogy Bug strikes me. Part and Parcel with my myriad of psychological issues is that I will obsess over something for a few hours, days, sometimes up to a couple weeks, before moving onto the next obsession. It's fun, you should be jealous. If I have to have OCD, I'm glad to have it paired up with ADD so I can obsess about a new thing each day...or week, as it were.
Anyhoobastank...so in retrospect, I feel like I have discussed this before, I'm not sure when. A quick search of my blog tells me it was the entry Without Shoes and Without Regard, in which I discussed grieving and the loss of my Grandma. You can read that entry here. That's right, I get real time up in this.
I've learned a lot from my family's history, if even some of that was contrived by my own at times hyperbolic fashion. (I may or may not have just clarified for myself today what the word hyperbole means and wanted to use it in a sentence)
Starting with my Great-Great Grandmother, the Matriarch of the Family, as it were. The stories throughout the family that I've heard, I mean, I can't decide which one I like better between my Great-Great Grandparents, who were the originators of my family in America, more specifically, Upper Michigan at first (before settling in Milwaukee, my hometown). Here is what is known as fact, with only little assumptions made (the hyperbole comes in later): Frank was in the Austrian Army in say the 1880s-1890s. The story goes, you had to have your draft card renewed, or certified, or updated every year. He lived in a small town in far southern Austria...basically a Sound of Music hike across the Alps from Slovenia...but at that time was probably part of the Tyrannosaurus Austria-Hungary Empire Rex...but I digress...and the bigger city of the area was likely Klagenfurt, or Villach, one of the two. Anyhoobastank, Frank's employer said that he would take his draft card to get certified and then bring it back to him. En route either there or back, Frank's employer lost his draft card. If you were caught in Austria at that time without your draft card, so I understand it, you were thrown back into the Austrian Army. Which apparently was the last thing Frank wanted, because he hopped a boat for America. I do not know where he landed, or even what he did from the time he made landfall, if you will, in 1901 to when he married Pauline (more on her in a moment), in 1903 in Iron Mountain, Michigan.
Pauline, on the other hand, was presumably 17 when she "made landfall" in New York City in 1900. According to my grandfather, there was a rumor (or otherwise unconfirmed story that perhaps itself might have been hyperbolic) that Pauline's father....well, wait. Let me back up a second and say what I know. Pauline's father was a traveling salesman, and he had another daughter two years Pauline's senior, who was already in America. Whether or not they knew where, I do not know. I assume based on what I'm about to say, that they did know that Anna was in Iron Mountain, Michigan. Here's the possible hyperbole: while it is true that John, the father, was a traveling salesman, what I am assuming here is his wife, Pauline's mother, died in childbirth. What I know is that she died and John was to raise Pauline as a single father in 1880s Austria-Hungary, as a traveling salesman. The rumor was he was going to drown her in the river. Nobody knows if that is true, but regardless, at the tender age of 17 she boarded a boat in Le Havre, France, headed for New York City, where she arrived on the scene in March of 1900. Census records taken in June of 1900 do not place her anywhere, and I do not know of her whereabouts at that time but picture if you will: you are 17, in a strange land, not knowing the language but knowing that somewhere in this expansive country (wherever Iron Mountain, Michigan is), waits your sister. The only one who knows you. Your mission is to find your sister, and given the sad shape of roads in the early 1900s, I can definitely see how it would take multiple months to traverse the Eastern half of this country to find your sister, deep in the coal or iron ore mines of the Northwoods of Michigan.
I think you can see where I embellish the story just a tad...but still totally plausible.
Fast forward 40 years. My grandparents are born, all growing up in the time of the Great Depression. One grandparent is living in a multi-family home, where many of the apartments are inhabited by members of her family, a large...and I mean Polish Catholic Large...family on the East Side of Milwaukee. One grandparent was born into a family who, at the time of the 1940 Census, was at least 1 year out of a job and was working for the WPA. There's where I'm concentrating now. My Great Grandma had to make do with a little to serve her family...and she taught my Grandma a lot, so I've come to understand, when she married my Grandpa. I even remember toys she'd make for me, 40 years after the Depression, made out of old wooden thread spools strung together, and rattles out of two detergent caps twisted together. She was a very resourceful lady.
There is a theory that states that some memories can be transmitted through DNA. I would subscribe to this theory, as especially from the period of time of 2013 to early 2015, I had to do just that...or at least a modern version of just that. One pot meals were basically a staple. Buttered noodles were a commonplace dinner. But we never went hungry, and we were never without the necessities. We just made do with what we had.
On the other side of the spectrum, I had a grandparent who lived with her parents and brother, who lived with the grandparents on her mom's side - something that hits home.
As I've learned in school doing some economics projects, is that the economy is cyclical. Maybe that gives credence to the "history repeats itself" mantra. It may not have obviously hit in my parents' generation, and maybe not in my generation, but for my kids' generation we have the Great Recession of 2008, and while it was in no way as bad as the Great Depression was, it still was a big economic downturn. But we survived. Just like our grandparents.
If I've learned anything from this economic downturn it is that frugality can save your family from the brink. You may have to make some unconventional decisions, decisions that other people will look at you like you're mad, but in the end - and this is the important part - with faith in God, you can trust that He will surely guide the way.
That's not to say I had perfect faith throughout this trial, or anything that would even resemble something saint-worthy. There were plenty of times that I wanted to (and sort of did) throw my hands up in the air (and not wave them around like I just didn't care) and ask the Teacher why this wasn't on the test, why such a lofty exam, like this seemed like final exams 2 weeks into the term. I knew (and still know) that He doesn't give us more than we can handle, but it truly seemed to be too much, and that's all I will say about that. Yet even through all that, the Teacher showed me just how much He is in control, and he took me on an amazing journey of faith in the process, something I will talk about in a future post.
The Teacher is always silent during a test...
However I feel like this may have been an open-book test, in that I had and still have, history to draw off of. The lessons of my forefathers, be it learned or transmitted somehow, find themselves in the passenger seat...wait okay that is a bad reference, because I was going to say waiting for my perusal, but it is not safe to read and drive. But I think you get the point.
Anyhoobastank...so in retrospect, I feel like I have discussed this before, I'm not sure when. A quick search of my blog tells me it was the entry Without Shoes and Without Regard, in which I discussed grieving and the loss of my Grandma. You can read that entry here. That's right, I get real time up in this.
I've learned a lot from my family's history, if even some of that was contrived by my own at times hyperbolic fashion. (I may or may not have just clarified for myself today what the word hyperbole means and wanted to use it in a sentence)
Starting with my Great-Great Grandmother, the Matriarch of the Family, as it were. The stories throughout the family that I've heard, I mean, I can't decide which one I like better between my Great-Great Grandparents, who were the originators of my family in America, more specifically, Upper Michigan at first (before settling in Milwaukee, my hometown). Here is what is known as fact, with only little assumptions made (the hyperbole comes in later): Frank was in the Austrian Army in say the 1880s-1890s. The story goes, you had to have your draft card renewed, or certified, or updated every year. He lived in a small town in far southern Austria...basically a Sound of Music hike across the Alps from Slovenia...but at that time was probably part of the Tyrannosaurus Austria-Hungary Empire Rex...but I digress...and the bigger city of the area was likely Klagenfurt, or Villach, one of the two. Anyhoobastank, Frank's employer said that he would take his draft card to get certified and then bring it back to him. En route either there or back, Frank's employer lost his draft card. If you were caught in Austria at that time without your draft card, so I understand it, you were thrown back into the Austrian Army. Which apparently was the last thing Frank wanted, because he hopped a boat for America. I do not know where he landed, or even what he did from the time he made landfall, if you will, in 1901 to when he married Pauline (more on her in a moment), in 1903 in Iron Mountain, Michigan.
Pauline, on the other hand, was presumably 17 when she "made landfall" in New York City in 1900. According to my grandfather, there was a rumor (or otherwise unconfirmed story that perhaps itself might have been hyperbolic) that Pauline's father....well, wait. Let me back up a second and say what I know. Pauline's father was a traveling salesman, and he had another daughter two years Pauline's senior, who was already in America. Whether or not they knew where, I do not know. I assume based on what I'm about to say, that they did know that Anna was in Iron Mountain, Michigan. Here's the possible hyperbole: while it is true that John, the father, was a traveling salesman, what I am assuming here is his wife, Pauline's mother, died in childbirth. What I know is that she died and John was to raise Pauline as a single father in 1880s Austria-Hungary, as a traveling salesman. The rumor was he was going to drown her in the river. Nobody knows if that is true, but regardless, at the tender age of 17 she boarded a boat in Le Havre, France, headed for New York City, where she arrived on the scene in March of 1900. Census records taken in June of 1900 do not place her anywhere, and I do not know of her whereabouts at that time but picture if you will: you are 17, in a strange land, not knowing the language but knowing that somewhere in this expansive country (wherever Iron Mountain, Michigan is), waits your sister. The only one who knows you. Your mission is to find your sister, and given the sad shape of roads in the early 1900s, I can definitely see how it would take multiple months to traverse the Eastern half of this country to find your sister, deep in the coal or iron ore mines of the Northwoods of Michigan.
I think you can see where I embellish the story just a tad...but still totally plausible.
Fast forward 40 years. My grandparents are born, all growing up in the time of the Great Depression. One grandparent is living in a multi-family home, where many of the apartments are inhabited by members of her family, a large...and I mean Polish Catholic Large...family on the East Side of Milwaukee. One grandparent was born into a family who, at the time of the 1940 Census, was at least 1 year out of a job and was working for the WPA. There's where I'm concentrating now. My Great Grandma had to make do with a little to serve her family...and she taught my Grandma a lot, so I've come to understand, when she married my Grandpa. I even remember toys she'd make for me, 40 years after the Depression, made out of old wooden thread spools strung together, and rattles out of two detergent caps twisted together. She was a very resourceful lady.
There is a theory that states that some memories can be transmitted through DNA. I would subscribe to this theory, as especially from the period of time of 2013 to early 2015, I had to do just that...or at least a modern version of just that. One pot meals were basically a staple. Buttered noodles were a commonplace dinner. But we never went hungry, and we were never without the necessities. We just made do with what we had.
On the other side of the spectrum, I had a grandparent who lived with her parents and brother, who lived with the grandparents on her mom's side - something that hits home.
As I've learned in school doing some economics projects, is that the economy is cyclical. Maybe that gives credence to the "history repeats itself" mantra. It may not have obviously hit in my parents' generation, and maybe not in my generation, but for my kids' generation we have the Great Recession of 2008, and while it was in no way as bad as the Great Depression was, it still was a big economic downturn. But we survived. Just like our grandparents.
If I've learned anything from this economic downturn it is that frugality can save your family from the brink. You may have to make some unconventional decisions, decisions that other people will look at you like you're mad, but in the end - and this is the important part - with faith in God, you can trust that He will surely guide the way.
That's not to say I had perfect faith throughout this trial, or anything that would even resemble something saint-worthy. There were plenty of times that I wanted to (and sort of did) throw my hands up in the air (and not wave them around like I just didn't care) and ask the Teacher why this wasn't on the test, why such a lofty exam, like this seemed like final exams 2 weeks into the term. I knew (and still know) that He doesn't give us more than we can handle, but it truly seemed to be too much, and that's all I will say about that. Yet even through all that, the Teacher showed me just how much He is in control, and he took me on an amazing journey of faith in the process, something I will talk about in a future post.
The Teacher is always silent during a test...
However I feel like this may have been an open-book test, in that I had and still have, history to draw off of. The lessons of my forefathers, be it learned or transmitted somehow, find themselves in the passenger seat...wait okay that is a bad reference, because I was going to say waiting for my perusal, but it is not safe to read and drive. But I think you get the point.
Sunday, July 3, 2016
The Shortness of Life - Thoughts From Park Falls, WI
In true vlogbrothers fashion, I am plugging in to write a post from Park Falls. I may end up finishing it at home, due to service on my cell not to mention battery life.
Everyone and I mean everyone needs recreation. A great theologian Taylor Marshall outlines how to go on vacation and truly re-create, or rather, BE re-created. It doesn't matter how or where you do it, I am just by nature (and perhaps transmitted memories via DNA) attracted to the Northwoods of Wisconsin. My family hails from Iron Mountain. Anyboobastank, it used to be that I was sort of biased towards Minocqua and Lac du Flambeau, as far north as Mercer. But there is something to be said about the Northwoods as a whole. Park Falls is about a half hour 45 minutes to the west of Lac du Flambeau.
In the years since I've met my wife and had begun coming to Park Falls over the Fourth of July, I've come to see that everything north of US Highway 8 in Wisconsin is considered Up North, and there's treasure to be had and recreation to be had everywhere. I used to want to own property in the Minocqua-Lac du Flambeau area but now...anywhere will do. Just property. Then a camper. And we can drive the camper and park it on the property and camp for a weekend. Just get away.
Life is short. Too often we say "some day". And then we get older and those "Some days" turn into "I wish". I will not be a victim to that kind of guilt. Cancer has been spreading like wildfire amongst my family and friends lately, and I myself am getting some suspicious moles looked at. Can't really afford it, based on my awesome insurance "coverage" (sarcasm intended), and I still keep second guessing myself if I'm (to make a pun here) making a mountain out of a molehill...but with my luck I'll let it go and it'll be something. I'm already prepared to go in there and find out it's nothing. But what if...what if I woke up tomorrow and had cancer of the something else?
That's why while we're up here I'm doing the most I can with my kids, and myself. I just got back from kayaking across the lake in a fashion hat would make my cousin who works with a rowing team proud. I've taken numerous trips out on the kayak and paddleboat with the kids even if it's just out to the bay and back. You just never know if this will be your last time.
I got so close to a loon. Like within a two kayak distance. I probably scared the living crap out of it, as it started doing its wailing call and getting up and flapping its wings. Those of you who know me, know that I have a strong affinity for the Common Loon. Aside from being a self-professed loon (although not of the avian kind), I have the bird tattooed to my right forearm. It is my number one favorite bird, next to cardinals and red winged blackbirds.
Nelson Mandela said "There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered." Next year, there might...no strike that, there will be some alterations, one way or another (I'm gonna find you I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha). No but seriously, I say that every year I come to the Northwoods.
I think the first thing to get should be a camper. Camper first, then the property. Anywhere north of highway 8 is good for me!
And wouldn't you know it, I put sunscreen on and my shoulders still got burned.
Everyone and I mean everyone needs recreation. A great theologian Taylor Marshall outlines how to go on vacation and truly re-create, or rather, BE re-created. It doesn't matter how or where you do it, I am just by nature (and perhaps transmitted memories via DNA) attracted to the Northwoods of Wisconsin. My family hails from Iron Mountain. Anyboobastank, it used to be that I was sort of biased towards Minocqua and Lac du Flambeau, as far north as Mercer. But there is something to be said about the Northwoods as a whole. Park Falls is about a half hour 45 minutes to the west of Lac du Flambeau.
In the years since I've met my wife and had begun coming to Park Falls over the Fourth of July, I've come to see that everything north of US Highway 8 in Wisconsin is considered Up North, and there's treasure to be had and recreation to be had everywhere. I used to want to own property in the Minocqua-Lac du Flambeau area but now...anywhere will do. Just property. Then a camper. And we can drive the camper and park it on the property and camp for a weekend. Just get away.
Life is short. Too often we say "some day". And then we get older and those "Some days" turn into "I wish". I will not be a victim to that kind of guilt. Cancer has been spreading like wildfire amongst my family and friends lately, and I myself am getting some suspicious moles looked at. Can't really afford it, based on my awesome insurance "coverage" (sarcasm intended), and I still keep second guessing myself if I'm (to make a pun here) making a mountain out of a molehill...but with my luck I'll let it go and it'll be something. I'm already prepared to go in there and find out it's nothing. But what if...what if I woke up tomorrow and had cancer of the something else?
That's why while we're up here I'm doing the most I can with my kids, and myself. I just got back from kayaking across the lake in a fashion hat would make my cousin who works with a rowing team proud. I've taken numerous trips out on the kayak and paddleboat with the kids even if it's just out to the bay and back. You just never know if this will be your last time.
I got so close to a loon. Like within a two kayak distance. I probably scared the living crap out of it, as it started doing its wailing call and getting up and flapping its wings. Those of you who know me, know that I have a strong affinity for the Common Loon. Aside from being a self-professed loon (although not of the avian kind), I have the bird tattooed to my right forearm. It is my number one favorite bird, next to cardinals and red winged blackbirds.
Nelson Mandela said "There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered." Next year, there might...no strike that, there will be some alterations, one way or another (I'm gonna find you I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha). No but seriously, I say that every year I come to the Northwoods.
I think the first thing to get should be a camper. Camper first, then the property. Anywhere north of highway 8 is good for me!
And wouldn't you know it, I put sunscreen on and my shoulders still got burned.
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