Blueberry Sacrament

Making a blueberry crisp is like a southern Michigan tea ceremony. The act of "eating dessert” can be secondary to following the steps from a grandmother's recipe. Kids hover at the kitchen door in anticipation and ask, "How long before it's ready?" It's one of many rituals -- a sacrament that blesses the summer.

Momentary Rodeo

A typical range report reads something like: “Except for the Magpul polymer magazines and the Vortex SPARC red dot optics, my AR-15 was stock. I shot 500+ rounds of Hornady FMJ without any failures-to-fire or failures-to-eject. I did get a few jams with Brown Bear 5.56, but you’ll get that with Russian ammo.”

Some range reports read a little different.

After a month of 11-hour days, Friday feels like it should be a vacation day and I take it. I put my boys Sigmund and Gaston in their car seats (that would be, the Sig Sauer and the Glock secure in a padded range bag, a Christmas present from Jill). After a Starbucks stop to charge my cylinders with a medium blackeye, I drive east on State Road 38.

Windows down and a blue midsummer Indiana sky, I'm wheeling past farm implement dealers, well-maintained barns, and corn growing strong. Zac Brown and Toby Keith loud on the radio, it occurs to me that the older I get, the more I like country music.

SATC 2: A 30-Second Review

The 250 females in attendance seemed to enjoy it. Me and the other two guys in the theater had our hats pulled low, trying to avoid being placed at the scene.

For thematic content, I actually preferred "Brokeback Mountain"; at least it had cowboys, country music, and a decent story.

Liza Minnelli as a religious figure, a character named "Rikard Spurt" (with helpful character dialog to explain this pun should it be over your head), and four aging fashionistas in danger of either being sold into white slavery or scooped up and stoned by the mutaween.

Wait for DVD.

Alicia, Diane, and Audrey

The reading list for Diane’s sixth-grade history class included books on World War II and the Holocaust. Diane wondered why each year her students always seemed to pass over “Alicia: My Story,” the autobiography of Alicia Appleman-Jurman.

As a nine-year-old Jewish girl in 1939 Poland, Alicia Jurman saw her father and three of her four brothers disappeared, to find out later they had been killed by the Nazis. Alicia’s 17-year-old brother Zachary took up with the Polish resistance, was betrayed by a “friend” and was hanged in front of the police station, his body left dangling at the end of a rope as an example to others who would resist. Alicia and others crept back to the police station in the dead of night, cut Zachary’s body down, and buried him in a Jewish cemetery.

This Guy Named George

A dead thermostat has taken Deke’s oven out of service. He calls around for replacement parts and finds they’re not cheap. For what they're asking, he may as well go ahead and fork it out for a whole new oven.

But Christmas is coming, and Deke has priorities. Mira’s list has “a telescope” right there at the top. "It doesn’t have to be fancy, Santa," she writes. "Just so I can see craters on the moon."

Deke finds one at Wal-Mart. A big lens and an aluminum barrel. Not a toy and definitely a solid piece of gear. Into his shopping cart goes the box: blue and black and the size of a dollhouse, with “Meade Telestar” stamped on the side. Deke will need to put this one on the Visa.

Houseboat Lessons Learned

Debrief and After-Action Report
Dale Hollow Lake (KY/TN)
14 to 17 May 2009

• If you pack more than two tee-shirts for a four-day excursion, you’re probably overplanning.

• While we all love wheat bread, rye bread, Wonder Bread, pumpernickel, french bread, Kaiser rolls, sub rolls, hamburger buns, hot dog buns, and bagels – bringing 15 cubic feet of bread is just overkill.

• A head-nod to “diversity” on the houseboat can be accomplished by having at least one Prius-driving vegetarian on board.

• Late arrivals will suck hind teat on rack selection. A related lesson is that anyone who says “comfortable foldout bed” is already a liar.

Ice Fishing, Risk, and Chili

Ice fishing in mid-February requires some special gear:  a gas-powered auger to drill your fishing holes; a half-dozen tip-ups to signal northern pike or walleye on the end of the line; layers of Thinsulate and Gore-Tex, heavy Carhartt overalls, Sorel cold-weather boots, Eskimo mitts, and a warm balaclava.

Another item that comes highly recommended is the good will of your wife. This is especially true if you're planning your ice-fishing adventure over Valentine’s Day weekend. If you've carefully nurtured this good will, your wife may not only forgive your absence on this Hallmark holiday, but may also send you off with sincere good wishes and a big pot of homemade chili for you and your buddies.

Frat Party

I rested on a gurney as Genevieve drew on my groin with a Sharpie: the straight lines and hash marks and crosshairs that would serve as a radiation target.

She used gauze and athletic tape to pull my personal bits to one side, clearing the range for target acquisition. The region south of my belt buckle looked like a drunk conventioneer’s necktie at closing time.

“A guy usually has to go to a fraternity initiation or a bachelor party to get this kind of treatment," I said.

Genevieve giggled, but nervously, as if she didn’t know whether she should.

25 Things

1. I have a brother who’s a fighter pilot, a brother who’s the stadium voice of the Colts, a sister who does work for Special Olympics and raises cool kids, a brother who’s an actor, and a brother who builds things and has the nicest house of us all.

2. I have a total of 249 skydives. On jump number 79, I had a malfunction that required me to chop away my main and ride down on my reserve. From my logbook: “I was scared – but not panicky. I was placing my faith (& my life) in that GQ Security X210R reserve chute. Seeing that white reserve canopy blossoming over my head was one of the most beautiful sights ever. When I landed, I ran over and grabbed Mark [[the rigger who’d packed my reserve]], kissed him square on the mouth, then went out and bought him a case of Bud Dry.”

3. I was born in Wisconsin, and we moved from there when I was very young. I have very little recollection of Janesville, so I must find some other excuse for my abiding love of cheese.

4. My mom has been a fan of Dennis Kucinich, went to DC to work for Ralph Nader, and did all the get-out-the-vote stuff that qualifies her as a dedicated Obamaphile. How she gave birth to six staunch conservatives remains a mystery.

Aisle Lighting

I handed Laura a copy of her own first novel and she asked, “Do you have books?”

My thought was, “Sure I do. There’s a big stack on my nightstand, several in the back of my car, many shelves of… wait…. She wouldn’t be asking THAT! What was the question?”
“I beg your pardon?” I said.

“Have you published?” she asked. “Have you published books?”

“Oh, I see. I’ve published some things. Not books," I said. "Not yet.”
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A book-signing is a fine way to spend a cold January afternoon. Hearing a visiting writer talk about her books, her background, her practice.

As a reader, I’d always known the sensation of the room melting away when being absorbed, enfolded, into a well-told story. As a writer, I know the feeling of having written something true, wondering “where did that come from?” and feeling a pulse of something that's probably an endorphin, but feels like spirit.

Maestro

My first real-live writing gig came from Hank Nuwer, then editor at "Arts Indiana" magazine. Hank agreed to let this beginning writer do a piece on four Indiana artists and the person each considered to be their most important mentor. The headliner in Hank's quartet was Maestro Raymond Leppard, conductor of the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra.

Eras can be labeled "BC", Before Christ, or "AD" for Anno Domini. This particular point in the sweep of time might have been called "BG," as in "Before Google."