Blog

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My wife and I use a term for people who share the same birthday as us. We call them “birthday buddies.” The term applies to everyone, but feels more fun when a birthday buddy is also a celebrity.

 

When we come across a celebrity buddy, we do some research to find out how much we’re alike.

 

 

I looked over at my mom in her lawn chair and her eyes were closed. I glanced at my dad in his chair. His eyes were closed, too, as he faced the sky, tears leaking from behind his eyelids. Music floated up the aisles across rows of seats from the stage below to where we were picnicking on manicured grass. The singer was Tony Bennett. He was performing at Ravinia, the outdoor music theatre in Highland Park, Illinois outside of Chicago.

 

 

Red squirrels get a bad rap. But I’ll admit their reputation is somewhat justifiable. They steal seed from bird feeders, ransack garden sheds, invade garages and bully grey squirrels. I’ve also noticed they get kind of mouthy during deer season, pealing off shrieks of staccato chirps while I try to sit quietly waiting for deer. I can only imagine how many times they’ve blown my cover.

 

 

I made the appointment with the veterinary clinic, then turned off my cellphone. After months of struggling to make the right decision, reality sank in and nausea overwhelmed me. Our husky Lupin and I had twenty minutes left in our life together.

 

It was a home visit and Dr. Chip stepped into our kitchen. Lupin had always taken a shine to Chip. As soon as she saw him, she plastered her ears back and went all a’shiver.

 

 

A turtle the size of a dog bootie laid motionless on the snow-covered trail. Small as it was, it caught the attention of the musher driving her dog team toward the next checkpoint in the race. Soon, other turtles like it appeared, dozens of them.

 

And the musher began to weep.

 

She was concerned about returning the turtles to water and the safety of their homes.

 

 

Every so often I find myself biding time behind the steering wheel of an outfitter shuttle parked at an entry point to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. It’s kind of like a police stakeout to nab the perp. The shuttle and I lay back and become part of the scenery. The difference is that I’m there to pick up people returning from paddling trips in the wilderness.

 

If those groups are behind schedule, waiting can last a while.

 

 

My dad played professional baseball before I was born. When I eventually arrived, I was a captive audience for the colorful stories he’d gild about his career in the minor leagues. As a kid, I was enamored. But over time, my enthusiasm waned and I began questioning the credibility of those stories. Luckily, I experienced a resurgent perspective after coming upon some old news clippings by writers who’d seen him on the ballfield.

 

 

 

Detailed woodwork and intricate craftsmanship are signatures of heirloom furniture. I think of antique dressers, designer headboards and ornate dining tables.

 

I don’t think of couches. They aren’t like that. They wear out. Rare is the beloved couch that’s been handed down for generations. Once they go south, there’s no return short of spendy restoration.

 

 

I made a purchase that was like a puppy following me home. My investment was a brand-new, eight-horsepower outboard motor. Honestly now, it was insistent that we spend our lives together. Oddly, our relationship began with a flaw from the factory that immediately saved me two-hundred bucks over the counter. Then it became priceless over its lifetime.

 

The flaw was a cosmetic hiccup—the motor’s cover was mislabeled. Instead of reading eight-horsepower, it said six-horse.

 

 

I spit into a test tube then sent it through the mail to a laboratory somewhere. When returned, the analysis would supposedly tell me about my ancestry. I don’t profess to know a lot about science nor do I wish to. I’m a words person. I find more fun in bewilderment about how the physical world works.

 

But I’d been having hunches that my family’s recollections of our history had gone awry. I was told English and German were the dominant influences.