Kakahead

Another Turkey Day at the Hansen House. Can’t believe the holiday season here already! All that slaving over the turkey hot dog casserole… and of course the obligatory mac and cheese. Maybe some cream corn and of course you need a few cans of cranberry sauce stacked up in the middle to give that elegant appearance. Then the dessert trays: all those Twinkies to unwrap and place “just so” on the pizza platter… And OH!! Not to forget the Hostess Sno-Balls and Moon Pies. Kool-Aid in fancy plastic cups… you know, the see through kind. A feast fit for a champion cow pie flinger!

HUH?? Oh wait, maybe that was the dream I had after those liverwurst sandwiches.

But seriously folks… I’m a very fortunate human. So long as I keep that thought foremost in my brain, life is really very good. I get annoyed at all the commercial hoopla this time of year. However, I’m getting much better at practicing the principle: “accept the things I cannot change.” I do my part in contributing to the family gift pile, but more importantly Thanksgiving kicks off a string of “gratitude days” for me. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m grateful most of the time. But the holidays have a way of digging up memories of days long gone; and I get pretty mushy this time of year. We’ve had the good fortune of spending Thanksgiving at our dear friend Ruthie’s. Holy Moley that girl can cook. Of course this marks the second Turkey Day without our dear friend (her hubby) Lew. We all miss him terribly but enjoy Brussels sprouts made specially in his honor. When Lew was still here, he and Ruthie were over for dinner and I had prepared Brussels sprouts for dinner. I asked whether he liked them, and he used an expletive to describe his feelings: “F*%$ NO!!” Hence the honorary dish has been dubbed FN Brussels Sprouts; and we all get a nice chuckle while we fondly remember our beloved Lew.

This year our daughter, son-in-law and grandson when to the “other grandma’s” for dinner. I reminded my wife “we need to share nice ya know…” So the day after Turkey Day I’ll make dinner for everyone in our immediate family. Believe it or not, I love that stuff. I do the whole shebang: turkey (duh), bread stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, veggies, pie. All from scratch except the pie crusts. I’m just too lazy for that monkey business. This year it was pumpkin pie made from hubbard squash (punkins didn’t make it in the garden this year) with real whipped cream; and also “bluederberry pie” with vanilla ice cream. That’s right… bluederberry. It’s my nickname for pie with three cups of blueberries and one cup of elderberries. Pretty darn wonderful stuff.

The ritual of preparing all the stuff gives me lots of time to reflect. My Darling Honey Pie Beautiful Girlfriend Wife Person has been cranking the Christmas music since just after Hallowe’en; but I prefer quiet when I’m “in the zone.” Cook, reflect… cook, reflect. And now that we are “getting up there,” in our fifties… we have much to reflect on, we’ve had lots of loss in our lives already. Both of us have lost parents, family, and friends. Seems like yesterday we were caring for my Aunt Joyce, who has since gone to be with her son who died way too early from alcoholism. Just like his daddy. My mom and dad are both gone, my beautiful girlfriend’s mom is gone, well you get the picture.

Anyway, we reflect not only on how lucky we are, but on how fortunate we were to have all these people in our lives. And in our own little way they were all honored through dinner. Grandma Hansen’s stuffing and “stuffin’ muffins,” Grandma Bunny always had sweet pickles out for munching. Figs and dates (my mom again), Cousin John’s china and glasses, Aunt Joyce’s potato masher. Memories of my dad cutting the turkey… “forcing” the kids to talk on the phone to relatives. “We gotta call grammas and grampas,” we remind them. They respond with a groan. “Too bad!! It’s Thanksgiving!!” Typical kids. Even though they are adults now, they would rather sit like bumps on a log and watch the tube than actually communicate with anyone. Especially while in a “food coma.”

We are truly lucky humans. Plenty to eat, good jobs, cars that actually work! Pretty luxurious stuff when you think about it. I sincerely hope all you turkey eaters out there had a simply marvelous Thanksgiving. And I just hope that you are as blessed as we are.

Every year around this time, it’s the same thing.
Idiots with weapons go traipsing about in the woods and
fields, looking to kill anything that even remotely resembles
a deer.  Before the season opens, these dimwits seem
intrigued with the fact that 1.5 billion candle power
spotlights will actually light up a field and blind a bambi
or two that are trying to graze in peace.  I’m sick up and
fed with this.  I want my yard back.

We live in a semi-rural area, and the deer do quite well
here.  It’s not at all uncommon to see tracks in the back of
our five acre plot where Mama, Papa, and Baby Deer have been
moving around.  Very nice, ya know??  Deer are our friends,
except of course when they’re trying to dive into our car as
we book down the expressway.  Been there.  Done that.  Not
good.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to eat venison.  Yummy stuff,
youbetcha.  I smear it in my hair with gravy and noodles.
Maybe a little mashed potatoes on my eyebrows.  A pea or two
in my belly button.  Now that’s a party!!  But I just don’t
have it in me to kill them anymore.  I am a WUSSY.  Got one
when I was 14, and I haven’t hunted since then.

Yeah, yeah, I know we need hunters, or deer will
overpopulate.  No natural predators in these parts.  We
exterminated all of them long ago.  Just to make sure, we
also stole most of their habitat.  That oughta fix ‘em.  Dang
those wolves and cougars anyhow.  What rights do they have,
just because they were here first??

I know first hand about this vanishing habitat stuff.  We moved to
Wisconsin from Long Island, New York when I was twelve years
old.  While I was growing up, there were lots of woods in our
neighborhood.  Pretty cool place to live.  Long Island isn’t
like that anymore.  Sure, they still have the trees, but
most of the forests were flattened by dozers years ago.

The same is happening in Michigan.  Big sadness for me.
Everybody wants a house in the woods, and so many are being
built that the woods are beginning to vanish.  And with the
woods goes the habitat, so the predators don’t have a chance.
But deer (and other critters) have learned to adapt to this
and are eating people’s gardens for dessert.

Again, I don’t have a problem with hunting, per se.
It’s the idiots I have trouble with.  Have to give my Dad
credit.  When he started us hunting in Upstate New York all
those years ago, he was a stickler for safety and for clean
kills.  In between hunts, he made darn sure we were good
enough shots to hit what we aimed at.  His philosophy was
quite simple, really:  don’t shoot till you can get a clean
shot, and DON’T SHOOT TILL YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS.

Pretty silly, huh??  I remember reading a story in the paper
years ago about a “hunter” who called 911 to report a person’s head
stuck in a window with a bullet hole in it.  Police
investigation revealed a mannequin, and the “bullet hole” was
a price tag.  Boy, we got one sharp “hunter” there!

Something infests the brains of all too many who march
out into the hunt.  My grumpy old neighbor, who would shoo the
kids off his land each summer, figured it’s ok to put his
boot tracks all over mine come November.  Oh, and those
stupid shiners I mentioned earlier.  It’s illegal for them to
shine near residences.  They don’t care.  And then, there’s
the happy mixture of weapons and alcohol and other drugs.
Now there’s a healthy combination!  And in the Podunks of the
Northwoods, you even get the stores that cater to these
simpletons.  I have actually seen with my own eyeball things
a big flashy-light sign on a convenience store: “BEER, WINE,
AMMO.”

Y * E * A * H !!!   Makes me proud to be an American!!

Ok, ok.  I’ll get off the soapbox.  If I stay on it too
long, I just start thinking of weird things “hunters” should
do with soap.  Something other than washing.  Ok.  I admit
it:  yes Rebecca (or Robert) there really ARE real hunters.
They know what they’re doing, only shoot when the odds are
great for a kill, and actually understand that they should
not shoot each other.  They even hunt legally!  They ask
permission before they hunt on my land!  They hunt because
they enjoy Nature, and that includes a deep respect for it.
They eat what they kill.

Thankfully, our son-in-law is a prime example of a responsible hunter. Just aren’t nearly enough of those around.

I want my yard back.  Can you tell?

For a little over 6 years now, I’ve been a “happy” commuter… 56 miles one way to work. “Happy” is in quotes as a wee bit of sarcasm. Sure, I’m grateful I have a job, and after all there’s light at the end of the tunnel. In March of 2011 my friend Ray will retire from the Muskegon plant and I will take his place. My commute will dwindle from 56 miles down to 15 miles. For “inspiration” (more sarcasm) I’ve added a countdown clock to my Firefox web browser. Only 503 days, 1 hour, 32 minutes, and 8 seconds until March 31, 2011 !!

But who’s counting…

Anyway, often I’ll seize the opportunity to take some quiet time. Meditation if you will. I turn the radio off and reflect on what I’m grateful for; and then ask The Great Committee In The Sky for guidance. Then of course I’ll turn to technology for a diversion. Maybe I’ll play a CD or a cassette tape (my car has both!). Call me a dinosaur if you like… I actually said I listen to cassettes!!!

Oh God Oh God… So yes I’m a dinosaur and I’m not afraid to admit it. So there. I’m one of those weirdos who thinks paying for satellite radio and / or cable TV is a waste of money. There’s lots of stuff still available for free, and yes, we actually use a TV antenna for our viewing pleasure.

When the recorded music is done maybe I’ll tune in something on FM. Much of my FM listening revolves either around NPR or music. NPR is great for staying informed, but when I hear all the reports about war and suffering I get a really heavy heart. So when I’d rather hide on the harsh realities of the world I seek out some good old rock ‘n roll. Unfortunately most commercial radio stations seem to have their music selections stuck on AC/DC, Bob Seeger, and Lynard Skynard. WAY too much repetition. WAY too much repetition. WAY too much… well you get the idea.

On the other hand, you have AM radio. Say what??? Anyone besides me remember AM radio?   May sound like a silly question, but with all this “subscription addiction” (satellite radio, cable TV, etc.) lots and lots of people are amazed to “discover” AM radio.  AM is short for “amplitude modulation,” which is the oldest method of adding audio to a radio signal so it can be broadcast. The technology dates back to 1906, which is why many radio hobbyists refer to it as “ancient modulation.”

AM radio was pretty much all we had available for music when I was a kid. It’s like an old friend; and I’m very thankful that it doesn’t seem to be going away any time soon. We live in an area where Chicago stations come in all day long, and I still find myself clinging to ancient stations with only 3 call letters.  WGN (720 on your AM dial) is one of my favorites… those kids seem to have a great time being on the radio and they make me laugh.

Now that winter is knocking at the door that means I leave the house when it’s dark outside. And of course, it’s pretty much dark again when I get home. Something magic happens to the AM radio band after the daylight goes bye bye: SKIP. Skip is a very old radio term that describes when radio waves are bounced off the earth and into the sky and back down again. Kinda like skipping a stone across water. And it’s especially prevalent on the AM band between dusk and dawn. Sure the AM radio is plagued by noise and fading, but there are many high powered stations that provide reliable listening over a very wide geographical area.

In my professional opinion, this boils down to just plain fun. Even though I really detest the long drive, I do enjoy frolicking about on the AM radio band. For example: I recently tuned to 540 AM on the way to work and was listening to the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) out of Regina, Saskatchewan. A mere 1000 miles away!! Never bothered to check down on that part of the dial before. So my friends I invite you to give this very old medium a whirl. You just might accidentally have some fun! There are lots of listings on the internet for AM radio stations if you care to check out other areas of the country and / or the world.

I leave you with a very short list of stations that are pretty easy to pick up between dusk and dawn, especially if you are here in the Midwest:

650 WSM Nashville, Tennessee (Check out the Grand Ole Opry on Saturday Nights!)

700 WLW Cincinnati, Ohio

720 WGN Chicago, Illinois (Home of the Chicago Cubs! Lots of other entertaining stuff too.)

740 CFZM Toronto, Canada (Wonderful music variety, excellent sound quality.)

750 WSB Atlanta, Georgia

760 WJR Detroit, Michigan

770 WABC New York, New York (This was a big rock ‘n roll station when I was a kid growing up on Long Island, NY. Mostly talk now, ah well)

780 WBBM Chicago, Illinois (All news all the time.)(I use this station for an “alarm clock” when I take a nap in my car at lunch)

830 WCCO Minneapolis, Minnesota

840 WHAS Louisville, Kentucky

880 WCBS New York, New York (News Radio.)

890 WLS Chicago, Illinois

990 CBW Winnipeg, Manitoba (CBC Radio)

1020 KDKA Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (One of the oldest stations on the dial.)

1040 WHO Des Moines, Iowa

1060 KYW Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

1130 WBZ Boston, Massachusetts

1140 WRVA Richmond, Virginia

Take care and Happy Listening!

I’m here to say, that for me, there is no better stress relief than writing and / or reading nonsense. Well, there probably are other remedies for stress warts, but nonsense is a good for me one of those good ones.

Things.

Things include chocolate, the wonder drug of the universe. Chocolate is so doggone good it ought to be illegal. But someone wisely made it into candy long ago, so now it is completely acceptable in foot smelling contests and the 23rd Annual Rhubarb Flinging Derby. I often cover things with chocolate. My car is brown and slimy as a direct result of this behavior. This is a bit strange when it gets really warm outside, because as I approach expressway cruising speed I get brown globs of mugg that splook the windshield. This challenges my dexterity at times, because I often stick my whole face out the window for chocolate catching. I never enjoyed bug covered chocolate before this very time!!

STrEsS has a VERY ugly pair of pajamas that reeks of GIANT, TWELVE-TOED MONKEY SNAKE ENDOCRINE GLANDS. And believe me, that’s pretty darned green and fluffy! Now I know a fossil hunter when I hear one, and if you don’t put that stink bomb away right now I’ll sell you a brown leather bedpost at the crack of noon! Do you understand me?? Good golly, I hope not.

Now that you’ve sampled the goat raisins, you are ready to progress to the next step: wonkling. Wonkling can be very stationary and exquisitely mobile. Use something to do a task, throw it in the air, and use it no
more. This is the way of the stationary wonkler. Change lanes abruptly, apply heat to an iron molecule, and shake your hair until the electrons fall off. This is the way of the mobile wonkler.

Wonkle like you’ve never wonkled before. That will show them!! I find deep fried owl toes a most enjoyable snack while driving heavy whipping cream through the vegetable cemetery.

And now for the shaming:

Do you use toothpaste for tire repair? Of course not!

Do you slurp fried chicken through a cheese grater?? I hope so!!

Do you walk to school or carry your lunch?? Absolutely!!

Does cat fur remind you of candles made of Jell-O?? If so, you are my kind of pleeb!!

Remove this teleprompter from your jailing list.

Do it today.