A small container of lumpy potatoes is all that remains of Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday.
Christmas promoters have been trying to overtake Thanksgiving for years. We had just finished counting our Halloween candy when one radio station started playing Christmas music 24/7 and an eager neighbor revealed an impressive display of Christmas lights.
In stubborn protection of Thanksgiving, we refused to hang our outdoor lights during the many calm and balmy November days. It wouldn’t be Christmas if we didn’t have to prop a ladder on icy sidewalks and wrestle with frozen lights in a brisk December wind.
So, our home was all gourds and leaves for our Thanksgiving gathering that included 11 adults and 7 children—a manageable number yet big enough to feel like a party.
I have a habit of underestimating these tasks and feeling more confident than I should. “I’m keeping it simple,” I tell myself. “Just the basics.”
I delegated the pies and stuffing, and a friend at work inspired me with a promising recipe for the most memorable turkey ever: a champagne turkey.
I’ve tried many methods for cooking gobblers – the bag, the deep fryer, soaking in brine. All have left me wanting. Surely, the champagne turkey would end my search. I looked forward to satisfied looks and glowing praise from guests after the first juicy bites of this succulent, flavorful turkey touched their lips.
My Food Network mentor, the Barefoot Contessa, inspired me to stay up late on Thanksgiving Eve to prepare the bird. Just like her, I would be ready in advance, a carefree host calmly offering my guests refreshing holiday drinks and laughing gaily with them rather than sweating in the kitchen.
At noon, everything was progressing as planned. Just a few more details and I would join the guests. I put the turkey in the oven in preparation for a 3:30 meal, fried bacon for salad, sautéed mushrooms for gravy and cleaned up the kitchen.
Two hours had passed so I checked the bird. The meat thermometer didn’t even register a temp. Weird. I turned the oven up to 400, poured myself a Kir Royale and went to work on more “final” details. Then I cleaned the kitchen.
At 3 p.m., the temperature had only advanced a few more degrees—so much for a 3:30 dinner. I poured myself a different champagne concoction and stole turkey drippings to make the gravy. Then I cleaned up the kitchen.
At 4:30 p.m., our kitchen looked like a bunch of college boys had been living in it for a month. The stove, island and counters were filled with prepared food or dirty pans. Every serving bowl and spoon we own was in use. And the turkey barely registered 150 degrees.
At this point, I decided guests could either suffer salmonella or have Thanksgiving dinner without turkey. Their choice.
I stomped downstairs and transferred title for the turkey to my husband. He retracted the recliner and dryly suggested we could order pizza (to the chuckles of all our guests.)
I threatened him with the sharp end of the meat thermometer.
He pulled the bird out of the oven, began carving it and declared, “Oh, it’s done. This is definitely done.” It wasn’t as dry as turkey jerky, but let’s just put it this way. There wasn’t any leftover gravy.
Thanksgiving is still my favorite holiday, but I’ve officially resigned as cooker of holiday meat. Santa, please bring my husband a new meat thermometer. I don’t want to eat pizza on Christmas Day.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Observations from the bleachers of the 2010 election
The election is over. North Dakotans, and most Americans, are sighing with relief. No more ads.
We’re all too familiar with the template:
Dark, sinister music plays. An ominous voice relates a list of dreadful misdeeds or characteristics. “This bad guy supports putting oil wells on stage at Medora’s Burning Hills Amphitheater.” “That bad guy votes with Satan, I mean Nancy Pelosi, 97 percent of the time.”
Cue bright, cheerful music and a upbeat voice expressing meaningless platitudes. “But ‘good guy’, he’s respected and trustworthy. He’ll hold the line on spending, care for seniors and bring home the bacon. He’ll ignore special interest groups -- except of course yours (wink wink).” He will. Honest. Believe me -- I’m a nameless person with a trustworthy voice being paid to say this.
The scripts are so dim and predictable it’s laughable. Campaign staffers even mock them.
I love politics, but today’s political landscape is discouraging. Leadership of our nation seems to have been reduced to an NFL football game, a perpetual rematch of Vikings versus Packers.
Rival teams struggle for field position, develop their strategies and occasionally steal plays from each other. Commentators scrutinize every fumble or touch down. The pundits, cheerleaders and a dwindling group of fans devour it. But a growing mass of spectators tunes it out.
Politics is supposed to be about policy. We elect people to develop laws that significantly affect our lives.
But political campaigns today, at least the part that reaches most people, are rarely about policy. It’s about personality. In order to simplify messages into 30-second ads, political parties and consultants brand the personalities involved.
In 2008 Bush was the “bad guy” roped around Republicans like a noose. This year, the Republicans copied this play and choked Democrats with Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid.
Political consultants advocate strongly for these and other negative tactics. “They work,” they argue, and go back to writing talking points. I’ve long accepted this rational, but the endless assault of attack ads in North Dakota’s Congressional race – sometimes three or four in a row – left me wondering why. Why is this an acceptable?
I could give my kids Dramamine every night to make them sleep rather than struggle through the bedtime routine. I could start smoking to lose weight. We could open a new credit card and charge a family trip to Hawaii to help make winter more tolerable.
All of these tactics would solve the problems at hand, but that doesn’t make them responsible or smart.
So it is with negative ads – those that go beyond pointing out someone’s record to degrade their personality. “Be a man!” one recent North Dakota ad condemned. Maybe this “works” but it’s seriously undermining our political process.
Political consultants need to chart another path. Candidates must insist on it. The rest of the responsibility belongs to us. You know, we, the people.
Rather than relying on 30-second ads to inform us, we must invest some time, just a modest amount, to understand the background and experience of candidates. How are they qualified for the positions they want and where do they stand on issues that matter deeply to our American way of life.
The Internet is full of resources to do this. Think of it like making your own fantasy football team of political leaders.
Peace has returned to the airwaves for now, but it’s temporary.
Cue eerie music and creepy voice. “… We’ll be back … ”
The next election is just around the corner. Dare we hope it’s more positive?
We’re all too familiar with the template:
Dark, sinister music plays. An ominous voice relates a list of dreadful misdeeds or characteristics. “This bad guy supports putting oil wells on stage at Medora’s Burning Hills Amphitheater.” “That bad guy votes with Satan, I mean Nancy Pelosi, 97 percent of the time.”
Cue bright, cheerful music and a upbeat voice expressing meaningless platitudes. “But ‘good guy’, he’s respected and trustworthy. He’ll hold the line on spending, care for seniors and bring home the bacon. He’ll ignore special interest groups -- except of course yours (wink wink).” He will. Honest. Believe me -- I’m a nameless person with a trustworthy voice being paid to say this.
The scripts are so dim and predictable it’s laughable. Campaign staffers even mock them.
I love politics, but today’s political landscape is discouraging. Leadership of our nation seems to have been reduced to an NFL football game, a perpetual rematch of Vikings versus Packers.
Rival teams struggle for field position, develop their strategies and occasionally steal plays from each other. Commentators scrutinize every fumble or touch down. The pundits, cheerleaders and a dwindling group of fans devour it. But a growing mass of spectators tunes it out.
Politics is supposed to be about policy. We elect people to develop laws that significantly affect our lives.
But political campaigns today, at least the part that reaches most people, are rarely about policy. It’s about personality. In order to simplify messages into 30-second ads, political parties and consultants brand the personalities involved.
In 2008 Bush was the “bad guy” roped around Republicans like a noose. This year, the Republicans copied this play and choked Democrats with Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid.
Political consultants advocate strongly for these and other negative tactics. “They work,” they argue, and go back to writing talking points. I’ve long accepted this rational, but the endless assault of attack ads in North Dakota’s Congressional race – sometimes three or four in a row – left me wondering why. Why is this an acceptable?
I could give my kids Dramamine every night to make them sleep rather than struggle through the bedtime routine. I could start smoking to lose weight. We could open a new credit card and charge a family trip to Hawaii to help make winter more tolerable.
All of these tactics would solve the problems at hand, but that doesn’t make them responsible or smart.
So it is with negative ads – those that go beyond pointing out someone’s record to degrade their personality. “Be a man!” one recent North Dakota ad condemned. Maybe this “works” but it’s seriously undermining our political process.
Political consultants need to chart another path. Candidates must insist on it. The rest of the responsibility belongs to us. You know, we, the people.
Rather than relying on 30-second ads to inform us, we must invest some time, just a modest amount, to understand the background and experience of candidates. How are they qualified for the positions they want and where do they stand on issues that matter deeply to our American way of life.
The Internet is full of resources to do this. Think of it like making your own fantasy football team of political leaders.
Peace has returned to the airwaves for now, but it’s temporary.
Cue eerie music and creepy voice. “… We’ll be back … ”
The next election is just around the corner. Dare we hope it’s more positive?
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
In admiration of little boys
My husband and daughter were gone last weekend, so my boys, five and seven, invited a buddy to sleep over. Oh for a hidden camera to preserve the spirit of these three boys who exist for one purpose: to squeeze the life out of every waking minute.
Sports consumed them for the first couple hours. Sammy exploded into the house to report that he had hit a baseball all the way to our porch window. He seemed surprise by my response. “Did you break it?” What an irrelevant thing to ask a five-year-old after the biggest hit of his life.
Later, they took over the swing set – not swinging or sliding or using any of the accessories for their intended purpose, of course. The ladder was on the ground. They spun the horse in circles, wrapped the swing around the top bar, and scaled all the walls except the one intended for climbing – the rock wall.
I dragged them on a short errand to my parent’s house. There they found a jumper and invented a wrestling/jumping/basketball game, the spontaneous rules of which they each understood perfectly.
The promise of pizza and pop drove them bonkers, and effectively bribed them away from the jumper. While they waited for their gourmet meal, they waged a Nerf gun War of Terror in our basement. Their impressive arsenal of arms includes a crossbow, pistols, rifles, lasers and even an automatic weapon that delivers Velcro-tipped bullets at an alarming force.
I find them in every corner of our house including, most recently, the bottom of my purse. I fully expect to walk into a meeting someday with a bullet dangling from the back of my jacket.
As we concluded our perfect meal, the clock struck 7:30. The October sky was already dark.
“How’d you like to go for a night walk?” I asked.
All six eyes widened and sparkled and the boys burst forth with a collective, “Yaaahh!” For a moment, they looked at me sideways in disbelief, as if I had just offered them an endless supply of Laffy Taffy and three uninterrupted hours of Wii.
As we prepared for the walk, one of them said, “You know, there’s been a lot more crime here lately.” The others solemnly agreed. They grabbed a flashlight and armed themselves. Not with weapons from the Nerf cache -- that would be foolish. “We’d lose the bullets, mom.”
No, they grabbed a device dreaded by all hardened criminals: rubber bands. We set out -- our loyal chocolate lab and a fearless band of rubber-band-bearing boys -- unafraid of any danger we might face at dusk in Bismarck.
For the entire 20-minute walk they discussed various plans of attack should we encounter “night robbers.” Wrestling, shooting them in the eyes and knocking them where the sun doesn’t shine were the most popular schemes.
Fortunately, we made it home without incident. After a competitive game of Sorry Sliders and their favorite creatures-of-the-desert book, they had consumed the day’s final drops of life. The three tireless tykes were tuckered out.
I kissed them and left them with their rubber bands and bullets to defeat the bad guys of their dreams.
Little boys -- marvels of energy, courage, curiosity and competiveness. Sadly, these qualities don’t always conform to the designs of modern childhood. Still, let us nurture not suppress the best of these traits so our future men might fulfill their potential to lead, defend, love and live life to the fullest.
Sports consumed them for the first couple hours. Sammy exploded into the house to report that he had hit a baseball all the way to our porch window. He seemed surprise by my response. “Did you break it?” What an irrelevant thing to ask a five-year-old after the biggest hit of his life.
Later, they took over the swing set – not swinging or sliding or using any of the accessories for their intended purpose, of course. The ladder was on the ground. They spun the horse in circles, wrapped the swing around the top bar, and scaled all the walls except the one intended for climbing – the rock wall.
I dragged them on a short errand to my parent’s house. There they found a jumper and invented a wrestling/jumping/basketball game, the spontaneous rules of which they each understood perfectly.
The promise of pizza and pop drove them bonkers, and effectively bribed them away from the jumper. While they waited for their gourmet meal, they waged a Nerf gun War of Terror in our basement. Their impressive arsenal of arms includes a crossbow, pistols, rifles, lasers and even an automatic weapon that delivers Velcro-tipped bullets at an alarming force.
I find them in every corner of our house including, most recently, the bottom of my purse. I fully expect to walk into a meeting someday with a bullet dangling from the back of my jacket.
As we concluded our perfect meal, the clock struck 7:30. The October sky was already dark.
“How’d you like to go for a night walk?” I asked.
All six eyes widened and sparkled and the boys burst forth with a collective, “Yaaahh!” For a moment, they looked at me sideways in disbelief, as if I had just offered them an endless supply of Laffy Taffy and three uninterrupted hours of Wii.
As we prepared for the walk, one of them said, “You know, there’s been a lot more crime here lately.” The others solemnly agreed. They grabbed a flashlight and armed themselves. Not with weapons from the Nerf cache -- that would be foolish. “We’d lose the bullets, mom.”
No, they grabbed a device dreaded by all hardened criminals: rubber bands. We set out -- our loyal chocolate lab and a fearless band of rubber-band-bearing boys -- unafraid of any danger we might face at dusk in Bismarck.
For the entire 20-minute walk they discussed various plans of attack should we encounter “night robbers.” Wrestling, shooting them in the eyes and knocking them where the sun doesn’t shine were the most popular schemes.
Fortunately, we made it home without incident. After a competitive game of Sorry Sliders and their favorite creatures-of-the-desert book, they had consumed the day’s final drops of life. The three tireless tykes were tuckered out.
I kissed them and left them with their rubber bands and bullets to defeat the bad guys of their dreams.
Little boys -- marvels of energy, courage, curiosity and competiveness. Sadly, these qualities don’t always conform to the designs of modern childhood. Still, let us nurture not suppress the best of these traits so our future men might fulfill their potential to lead, defend, love and live life to the fullest.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Searching for Life's Easy Button
My daughter wants to learn how to play guitar. We are thrilled about this so two years ago we bought her a cute half-size instrument, found a wonderful young teacher and added guitar lessons and practice to our schedule.
That was the easy part. Everything since then -- not so easy. She quickly discovered that, while the gear and the lessons can be purchased, the skills to play a guitar cannot. Whenever the struggle comes to a head, she insists tearfully, “No mom. I don’t want to quit. I just don’t want to practice.”
Oh, how I can relate. I have a long list of aspirations – playing the guitar, speaking Spanish, writing a book, learning to knit. But somehow I lack the time, focus and probably the passion to make them a reality.
One of the inconvenient truths about life is that we can buy a lot of things to make our time on Earth easier – self-cleaning ovens, drive-through food, automatic sprinklers, remote car starters, and any number of “I” items (I-phones, pods, pads, tunes, books).
But most of the things in life worth having can’t be bought or gained through a short cut. Apple doesn’t offer an I-PerfectMarriage, I-MedicalDegree, I-ScratchGolfer.
Nowhere is the lack of convenient shortcuts more evident than in parenting.
Our youngest is struggling a bit to adjust to pre-school. On the first day, a spiffy new pair of shoes was enough to inspire him through the door. But the novelty of the new shoes has long since worn off. Lately when I drop him off he wraps his arms and legs around me like a spider monkey and insists he’s staying with me.
Removing a nimble five-year-old who is clinging to your back with all four limbs is impossible to do gracefully while wearing high heels and carrying a giant pink purse. Especially when, in my heart, I want to stay with him, introduce him to friends and keep him comfortable.
Would my presence ease his transition or rob him of an important chance to learn how to make friends and adjust to new situations on his own? Oh for an I-ParentingDecisionMaker to tell me.
For parents, every day is a replay of “to do or not to do.” Should we confront the mean friend on our child’s behalf, protect them from a bad teacher, buy them what they want, restrict their access to TV or video games, say no to junk food and soda, lobby a coach for more playing time?
When should we intervene and when should we leave them to fight their own battles and learn their own lessons? Where’s the “easy button” to help us find this delicate balance?
Our instinct is to make things easy and comfortable for our kids, to fix their mistakes and protect them from bad consequences. But good things rarely come easy or without effort. Convenience doesn’t build character.
The best and most loving approach might very well be to let them struggle through some hard times, learn to deal with pain and disappointment and hopefully gain the confidence, compassion and strength of realizing they can.
For kids and adults alike, money can’t buy a shortcut for that
That was the easy part. Everything since then -- not so easy. She quickly discovered that, while the gear and the lessons can be purchased, the skills to play a guitar cannot. Whenever the struggle comes to a head, she insists tearfully, “No mom. I don’t want to quit. I just don’t want to practice.”
Oh, how I can relate. I have a long list of aspirations – playing the guitar, speaking Spanish, writing a book, learning to knit. But somehow I lack the time, focus and probably the passion to make them a reality.
One of the inconvenient truths about life is that we can buy a lot of things to make our time on Earth easier – self-cleaning ovens, drive-through food, automatic sprinklers, remote car starters, and any number of “I” items (I-phones, pods, pads, tunes, books).
But most of the things in life worth having can’t be bought or gained through a short cut. Apple doesn’t offer an I-PerfectMarriage, I-MedicalDegree, I-ScratchGolfer.
Nowhere is the lack of convenient shortcuts more evident than in parenting.
Our youngest is struggling a bit to adjust to pre-school. On the first day, a spiffy new pair of shoes was enough to inspire him through the door. But the novelty of the new shoes has long since worn off. Lately when I drop him off he wraps his arms and legs around me like a spider monkey and insists he’s staying with me.
Removing a nimble five-year-old who is clinging to your back with all four limbs is impossible to do gracefully while wearing high heels and carrying a giant pink purse. Especially when, in my heart, I want to stay with him, introduce him to friends and keep him comfortable.
Would my presence ease his transition or rob him of an important chance to learn how to make friends and adjust to new situations on his own? Oh for an I-ParentingDecisionMaker to tell me.
For parents, every day is a replay of “to do or not to do.” Should we confront the mean friend on our child’s behalf, protect them from a bad teacher, buy them what they want, restrict their access to TV or video games, say no to junk food and soda, lobby a coach for more playing time?
When should we intervene and when should we leave them to fight their own battles and learn their own lessons? Where’s the “easy button” to help us find this delicate balance?
Our instinct is to make things easy and comfortable for our kids, to fix their mistakes and protect them from bad consequences. But good things rarely come easy or without effort. Convenience doesn’t build character.
The best and most loving approach might very well be to let them struggle through some hard times, learn to deal with pain and disappointment and hopefully gain the confidence, compassion and strength of realizing they can.
For kids and adults alike, money can’t buy a shortcut for that
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Fall is Here
I did something last week that I haven’t done for months -- wore long pants running. I hated to take this step and debated trying to ignore the thermometer, but the previous day found me shivering in white capris and sandals that I naively wore in protest to the changing temps.
Let’s face it. Fall is here.
A few weeks ago I was celebrating the best summer ever. But the air today is altogether different. The undertones are undeniably cool and the dominoes of a new season are beginning to tumble. New routines, responsibilities and hobbies one-by-one shut the door on summer and transition us gently (please oh please gently, and slowly) into winter.
It begins with clothes. Fall means jeans and sweatshirts, and for women especially the return of socks. Wool, corduroy or “Russels” are clearly premature at this point, but cotton is much too breezy. Denim and fleece are just right.
Food also takes a major turn. Fall means soup and chili – the easiest comfort foods. I miss having these no-fail options to turn to in the summer when the clock strikes six and we realize the dinner angels forgot to bless our home with food or inspiration for it.
Fall means the return of school routines. Amen and hallelujah. Parents everywhere are celebrating this.
Don’t get me wrong. I treasure the freedom of summer, but enough is enough. Our kids were beginning to sound way too much like Sponge Bob and Patrick. They stayed up late, played all day and ate so many freeze pops I began to worry their teeth might take on the brilliant rainbow hues of these cheap treats.
So long freedom, hello 8:15 bedtimes and two glorious hours of mostly quiet adult time. One of these days I might actually watch a television show or balance the checkbook again.
Fall also means the end of potted plants and their incessant need for water. I’m sick of ours, and secretly hope for a freeze so I can quit watching them slowly die from neglect. Don’t tell, but I’m cheating on them already anyway. I noticed some very attractive pumpkins at the farmer’s market the other day. The dainty pink petunias that brought me joy all summer will soon be withering in the garbage can, replaced by rough and ruddy hay bales and gourds.
Finally, fall means new hobbies. My poor hips and bunions are begging me to return to the lap pool, something I just can’t do until the snow flies and temperatures plummet. Golf clubs will soon be replaced with shotguns. And Sunday afternoons will find families and friends gathered together for the great (and often futile) tradition on these Northern plains: cheering for the Vikings or Packers.
Welcome fall! Enter slowly, make yourself at home, and please stick around for a while. I have lots of jeans to wear.
Let’s face it. Fall is here.
A few weeks ago I was celebrating the best summer ever. But the air today is altogether different. The undertones are undeniably cool and the dominoes of a new season are beginning to tumble. New routines, responsibilities and hobbies one-by-one shut the door on summer and transition us gently (please oh please gently, and slowly) into winter.
It begins with clothes. Fall means jeans and sweatshirts, and for women especially the return of socks. Wool, corduroy or “Russels” are clearly premature at this point, but cotton is much too breezy. Denim and fleece are just right.
Food also takes a major turn. Fall means soup and chili – the easiest comfort foods. I miss having these no-fail options to turn to in the summer when the clock strikes six and we realize the dinner angels forgot to bless our home with food or inspiration for it.
Fall means the return of school routines. Amen and hallelujah. Parents everywhere are celebrating this.
Don’t get me wrong. I treasure the freedom of summer, but enough is enough. Our kids were beginning to sound way too much like Sponge Bob and Patrick. They stayed up late, played all day and ate so many freeze pops I began to worry their teeth might take on the brilliant rainbow hues of these cheap treats.
So long freedom, hello 8:15 bedtimes and two glorious hours of mostly quiet adult time. One of these days I might actually watch a television show or balance the checkbook again.
Fall also means the end of potted plants and their incessant need for water. I’m sick of ours, and secretly hope for a freeze so I can quit watching them slowly die from neglect. Don’t tell, but I’m cheating on them already anyway. I noticed some very attractive pumpkins at the farmer’s market the other day. The dainty pink petunias that brought me joy all summer will soon be withering in the garbage can, replaced by rough and ruddy hay bales and gourds.
Finally, fall means new hobbies. My poor hips and bunions are begging me to return to the lap pool, something I just can’t do until the snow flies and temperatures plummet. Golf clubs will soon be replaced with shotguns. And Sunday afternoons will find families and friends gathered together for the great (and often futile) tradition on these Northern plains: cheering for the Vikings or Packers.
Welcome fall! Enter slowly, make yourself at home, and please stick around for a while. I have lots of jeans to wear.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Bidding Farewell to the Best Summer Ever
I’ve been cyber-stalking my 26-year-old niece all summer. She has a Facebook album titled, “The Best Summer Ever – 2010.” It’s loaded with pictures of her and other beautiful Denver singles camping, climbing mountains, attending outdoor festivals and generally celebrating the freedom of their age and singleness.
In late July I realized young people in the Rockies don’t have a monopoly on the “Best Summer Ever.” We’ve had a pretty amazing summer too, kids and all, right here in North Dakota. So, I started my own “2010 The Best Summer Ever” Facebook album.
I’ve only uploaded a few photos so far but I’ll get to that, perhaps in 2023 when my kids graduate. Meanwhile, here are some highlights of our Best Summer Ever.
Medora: Quaint, safe and carefree, my kids fell in love with Medora. They were enchanted by the musical, especially the gunfight at the finale of course. The collection of toys at the Doll House and the Old West playground also proved entertaining.
But most impressive to them was their ability to walk everywhere in this spiffy little town, from one end to the other, without a single care. We did this several times. They never once asked for a water park.
Downstream Campground: This must be one of the nicest campgrounds in the state, and it provided the perfect backdrop for a legendary travel video that I’ll upload on the state tourism site just as soon as I finish it. Right after the “Best Summer Ever” album.
Fort Union. Historical interpreters bring this rather modest attraction alive. My kids hauled firewood in exchange for arrowheads, watched a metal smith make tools and ate cornbread cooked over fire in a cast-iron skillet.
In its day, Fort Union was a major trading post, carrying fabric, tools, beads, sugar, paint and many other imports from America and Europe. Fort Union was North Dakota’s first Wal Mart. Who knew?
Lake Isabel, Fourth of July: Sunny, hot weather set the stage for a glorious day of swimming, tubing, eating, watching fireworks and learning how to water ski. Our friends keep urging us to buy a cabin there. Why would we do that, we wonder, when we have an open invitation to hang out at theirs?
Rounding out the “Best Summer Ever” memories in North Dakota are a picture-perfect day on Lake Sakakawea, Raging Rivers, biking the trails in Bismarck, Junior Zookeeper and Sleepy Hollow art camps, Bismarck Baseball League, wine cruises on the river and a garden bursting with herbs and veggies.
My only regret is that two good weeks of summer, probably the most pleasant, remain but the kids are already back in school and we’re forced to behave as if summer is over.
Let’s change this goofy school schedule. Meanwhile, plans are underway for The Best Summer Ever Part II, 2011, featuring the Fargo Air Show, the Peace Gardens, Lake Metigoshe, canoeing down the Little Missouri, camping at Jamestown Reservoir, Frost Fire Theater and much more. I love this state.
In late July I realized young people in the Rockies don’t have a monopoly on the “Best Summer Ever.” We’ve had a pretty amazing summer too, kids and all, right here in North Dakota. So, I started my own “2010 The Best Summer Ever” Facebook album.
I’ve only uploaded a few photos so far but I’ll get to that, perhaps in 2023 when my kids graduate. Meanwhile, here are some highlights of our Best Summer Ever.
Medora: Quaint, safe and carefree, my kids fell in love with Medora. They were enchanted by the musical, especially the gunfight at the finale of course. The collection of toys at the Doll House and the Old West playground also proved entertaining.
But most impressive to them was their ability to walk everywhere in this spiffy little town, from one end to the other, without a single care. We did this several times. They never once asked for a water park.
Downstream Campground: This must be one of the nicest campgrounds in the state, and it provided the perfect backdrop for a legendary travel video that I’ll upload on the state tourism site just as soon as I finish it. Right after the “Best Summer Ever” album.
Fort Union. Historical interpreters bring this rather modest attraction alive. My kids hauled firewood in exchange for arrowheads, watched a metal smith make tools and ate cornbread cooked over fire in a cast-iron skillet.
In its day, Fort Union was a major trading post, carrying fabric, tools, beads, sugar, paint and many other imports from America and Europe. Fort Union was North Dakota’s first Wal Mart. Who knew?
Lake Isabel, Fourth of July: Sunny, hot weather set the stage for a glorious day of swimming, tubing, eating, watching fireworks and learning how to water ski. Our friends keep urging us to buy a cabin there. Why would we do that, we wonder, when we have an open invitation to hang out at theirs?
Rounding out the “Best Summer Ever” memories in North Dakota are a picture-perfect day on Lake Sakakawea, Raging Rivers, biking the trails in Bismarck, Junior Zookeeper and Sleepy Hollow art camps, Bismarck Baseball League, wine cruises on the river and a garden bursting with herbs and veggies.
My only regret is that two good weeks of summer, probably the most pleasant, remain but the kids are already back in school and we’re forced to behave as if summer is over.
Let’s change this goofy school schedule. Meanwhile, plans are underway for The Best Summer Ever Part II, 2011, featuring the Fargo Air Show, the Peace Gardens, Lake Metigoshe, canoeing down the Little Missouri, camping at Jamestown Reservoir, Frost Fire Theater and much more. I love this state.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Early in our marriage, I often whined when Mike’s work took him away from home overnight.
He had little patience for my complaints. “People leave their families and ship out to sea for 10 months at a time,” he insisted. “That’s hardship. This is not. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Growing up the son of an airman, Mike lived in a half dozen different places. He then served in the Navy and traveled the globe for six years on a Naval oiler, which apparently is even less glamorous than it sounds. Despite being young, single and childless, he struggled with the loneliness of long assignments at sea.
A few weeks ago, the last of the 650 North Dakota soldiers who served in Kosovo as part of a multi-national NATO peacekeeping mission returned home. Bismarck’s own Brig. Gen. Al Dohrmann commanded the force, which included troops from six countries and was the largest single deployment of the North Dakota National Guard since the Korean War.
It was not as dangerous an assignment as some have been, but it was long and affected many. These folks were separated from their spouses, children, parents and friends for nearly a year. Three hundred forty three days away from their own beds, fridges, hobbies, cars, bathrooms, blankets and affection of any sort from their family and friends.
They left behind 485 children. Included among the soldiers were mothers (uff da); a few parents of newborn babies (ugh); and at least 12 soon-to-be-dads with pregnant wives (ouch).
I suspect everyone in North Dakota knew someone who was deployed. We had three friends on the mission, and witnessed up-close the sacrifices these military families make in service to our country and world. The solo parents at home coordinated the first day of school and the last, umpteen practices and parties, holidays, trips, birthdays and milestones. They consoled, advised and disciplined alone.
I calculated conservatively that just one of these moms managed more than 900 family activities and events while her husband served in Kosovo. Everything from the mundane (dental appointments) to the monumental (a 60th anniversary) was up to her.
Meanwhile, the guardsmen lived in small, no-frills rooms, spent Christmas with fellow soldiers and missed countless daily moments with their family.
According to the North Dakota National Guard, our guard has mobilized more than 3,500 soldiers and 1,800 airmen since 2001. About 150 North Dakota guardsmen are currently serving overseas. We can all be proud of the fact that North Dakotans volunteer for service in the guard at a rate that’s more than four times the national average.
Military service is more than a job -- it’s a way of life that demands sacrifice from the whole family. Where would be today without people who are willing to make this sacrifice? It’s a disturbing thought.
Welcome back KFOR 12 service men and women. Thanks to you and your family members for not only believing in peace and freedom, but for undergoing real hardship to help maintain it.
He had little patience for my complaints. “People leave their families and ship out to sea for 10 months at a time,” he insisted. “That’s hardship. This is not. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Growing up the son of an airman, Mike lived in a half dozen different places. He then served in the Navy and traveled the globe for six years on a Naval oiler, which apparently is even less glamorous than it sounds. Despite being young, single and childless, he struggled with the loneliness of long assignments at sea.
A few weeks ago, the last of the 650 North Dakota soldiers who served in Kosovo as part of a multi-national NATO peacekeeping mission returned home. Bismarck’s own Brig. Gen. Al Dohrmann commanded the force, which included troops from six countries and was the largest single deployment of the North Dakota National Guard since the Korean War.
It was not as dangerous an assignment as some have been, but it was long and affected many. These folks were separated from their spouses, children, parents and friends for nearly a year. Three hundred forty three days away from their own beds, fridges, hobbies, cars, bathrooms, blankets and affection of any sort from their family and friends.
They left behind 485 children. Included among the soldiers were mothers (uff da); a few parents of newborn babies (ugh); and at least 12 soon-to-be-dads with pregnant wives (ouch).
I suspect everyone in North Dakota knew someone who was deployed. We had three friends on the mission, and witnessed up-close the sacrifices these military families make in service to our country and world. The solo parents at home coordinated the first day of school and the last, umpteen practices and parties, holidays, trips, birthdays and milestones. They consoled, advised and disciplined alone.
I calculated conservatively that just one of these moms managed more than 900 family activities and events while her husband served in Kosovo. Everything from the mundane (dental appointments) to the monumental (a 60th anniversary) was up to her.
Meanwhile, the guardsmen lived in small, no-frills rooms, spent Christmas with fellow soldiers and missed countless daily moments with their family.
According to the North Dakota National Guard, our guard has mobilized more than 3,500 soldiers and 1,800 airmen since 2001. About 150 North Dakota guardsmen are currently serving overseas. We can all be proud of the fact that North Dakotans volunteer for service in the guard at a rate that’s more than four times the national average.
Military service is more than a job -- it’s a way of life that demands sacrifice from the whole family. Where would be today without people who are willing to make this sacrifice? It’s a disturbing thought.
Welcome back KFOR 12 service men and women. Thanks to you and your family members for not only believing in peace and freedom, but for undergoing real hardship to help maintain it.
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