We've been in our present home about two months now and we're getting better acquainted every day. This morning I got better acquainted with our crawl space. To get there, you walk down a half flight of stairs, then you get on your hands and knees and crawl forward. From the floor to the floor joists down there, you have three feet of space for creeping. Where there are ducts, the space is reduced by 8 inches. For much of the space, you have to crawl backwards to get out. It's probably not a comfortable place to visit if you have claustrophobia.
Wednesday, Nov. 1, was cold and windy as I drove along the lake's edge. Then just ahead of me, flying low, was a bald eagle. You can't miss the adult bald eagle. They are mainly brown with distinctive white heads (not bald) and white tails; they're huge birds. There's something about a bald eagle that makes you sit up and pay attention. I'm not superstitious (knock on wood) but I'm aware of the vague concept that sighting a bald eagle is a sign of good fortune to follow. After all, Native Americans considered them spiritual messengers between gods and humans.
I just read that Barack Obama, former president, has been called for jury duty in Chicago. Obama owns a home in Chicago and one in Washington, D.C. Obama said, "Ok, I'll serve." You may think that everybody would be thrilled to have Obama on their jury. Not so fast. I can imagine one case where one lawyer would do almost anything within the rules to keep him off the jury.
Do you believe in ghosts? As a kid growing up in Garrison, North Dakota, I did.
My dad told me to hustle. My dad has been gone now for 37 years, but I still remember his advice. Note, I didn't say my dad taught me to hustle, only that he told me. I'm not sure if I ever learned. My dad knew how to hustle. Circumstances dictated that he had to drop out of school after the 9th grade. He didn't talk about it, but I know it was a huge regret to him. Even during the Great Depression, when education was out of reach for so many, it made a big difference.
In a rare moment of sharing a private family discussion, I will allow a peek into the top questions being considered between Eartha and me in our home this week. I'll name the top five and discuss one.
We have just left home and moved to another house, but not another home. Yet. It takes more than four walls and a roof to make a house a home. We lived in the home we just left (five days ago) for 24 years, 10 months, 4 days and 18 hours. The movers completed hauling the furniture at 6 p.m. and the clock on the wall of that home stopped running at 6:30. It's little battery died of a broken heart. But we're not leaving the clock behind. We've brought it along (haven't found it yet) and will give it a new battery and start all over.
This article is being written on a rainy, gloomy morning. The rain is needed, but the gloom is not. I am thinking about two older adults with serious health problems and one younger adult with a serious problem of depression. Their names are off the record here and off the record in private discussion. They represent many with serious physical and mental health problems.
When I was growing up, the county dump was a place where big boys went after dark with .22s, big flashlights and spotlights and shot rats scrambling over the garbage munching on corn cobs, melon rinds, rotten vegetables and anything else they could scrounge. Rats will eat almost anything and they prefer to eat after dark to avoid predators. The city dump was a perfect smorgasbord for the dirty creatures.
I reported to you earlier that Eartha and I are in the process of making a move. A downsizing move. Reducing our footprint, as it were. We're moving from a roomy home with a big yard to a condo with almost no yard. Why? There comes a time. Everybody who has moved or downsized knows the trauma and offers sympathy. But that's no help.