Once bitten, twice shy

The last time Dick Crawford parked his car at our house, he returned to find a shattered windshield, the victim of a wildly errant golf ball. Yesterday, his insurance company would be pleased to know, we found our chastened visitor cautiously snugging his car safely against our garage door, out of harm's way. We live, we learn.

Sunshine!

Our daughter, Marcy, painted this "Sunshine" acrylic for a realtor to use in a Minneapolis house staging starting tomorrow. Nice, huh?

Honor Roll

Thirty-three classmates were honored in this Memoriam at the recent 50th Reunion of the Alexandria Jefferson High School Class of 1965.

At the shack

Wayne and MaryAnn were at their hunting shack near International Falls this weekend. We got these photos and a note from Wayne:

We are past the color peak up here but this maple is holding on and showing off. Note the cool hollow logs. (at right) They make for a very interesting fire when they are stood up in the fire pit. Came in from the woods on Sunday morning. Too warm.

Season finale?

A gorgeous day (claimed by meteorologists to be in the Top 10) inspired an intimate neighborhood gathering on the tarmac tonight, with beverages and discussions of everything from a grandchild serving on the Navy Ship "Comfort" to favorite movies. . . and the neighbors who were not in attendance tonight. Midway through the evening, Vance and Lisa drove in from a holiday in Mexico where they had celebrated a birthday with friends. We were jealous. . . until they said they had to get back to work tomorrow morning.
People who keep track of these things say that today, Oct. 11, was the latest tarmac event ever.

On changing dipsticks, operating systems

About that much on the spiral dipstick.

Ordinarily Wes Anderson would be settling in to a relaxed Saturday afternoon watching collegiate football, anticipating that 3 p.m. Merlot allowed on special days. Not today. The missus sez they're going on a road trip to see the mother-in-law, so plans have changed. Prudently, he checked the oil in the family Chevrolet before heading out, but "You know, Stan, I just can't read that doggone dipstick. Now that they've got it all twisted in a spiral and then there are three dots on it. You can't tell what you're looking at."
A quick trip to Hennen's Shell solved that, the boys told him all about the new and improved dipsticks and told him it said he was three quarters of a quart low. Not sure how he resolved that.
We don't much like change here at Abbey Point. Leave well enough alone. Good enough is good.
The pushy folks at Apple computer have been prompting Stan for at least a year now that it was time to change his operating system to something called "El Capitan." They call it an upgrade and promise it will be free and easy and it will make things better. Stan takes a different view.
But yesterday he finally succumbed to the pressure, and with trepidation and dread, at 9 a.m. agreed to make a change to "El Capitan."
After skipping over the legal agreement that gives Apple privileges heretofore reserved exclusively for next of kin, the download began. It looked promising, mentioning things like 28 minutes left and offering a pause button, but then the screen turned cold, locked up the keyboard and displayed nothing but the Apple logo and a bar that was 90 percent filled.
That was it. . . for 18 hours.
By 6 a.m. today, El Capitan had finally wedged itself into the computer, and the keyboard and screen were active again, but the list of horribles has yet to be completed. Nothing is the same, it's all different, and some things aren't even there any more. Email is broke; notes are lost.
We don't like the new operating  system. We don't like El Capitan at all.
A kind and patient gentleman with advanced degrees and years of experience in the digital world has volunteered to consult and advise tomorrow and help make things right. We're grateful.
In the meantime, the folks at Apple are already prompting again. Updates are available. Time to make some changes. Free and easy and better.

Ribbon cutting at newspaper office

The leadership team of Southwest News Media hosted a community gathering and ribbon-cutting at their new offices in Savage. It's the old newspaper company Stan used to run, reincarnated in a glitzy warehouse setting where employees busily continue to keep the local communities informed using new digital media applications. . . and good old newsprint as well.

The mayor of Savage was there and announced that one of the newspapers, the Savage Pacer, was named by 60 percent of residents as their primary source of local news. The founder of that newspaper is seen above, Laurie Hartmann, on the far left.
Inside, visitors were treated to turkey sandwiches, desserts and cold beverages and got a good look at what a progressive newspaper office looks like these days.
Also in attendance were Jim and Carrie Becker (right). Jim was the controller of the parent newspaper company for decades.

Still the Fun Class, fifty years later

We'll add more photos when Lorlee Bartos, class photographer, gets around to sending them.

Organizer Beverly Roers Korkowski  with
Mary Anne Hibbard Estenson

About 150 of us, which is half of the Alexandria Jefferson Senior High Class of 1965, gathered for a 50-year reunion last night. Our memories were sharp because we all had name tags with our senior pictures on them.

Barbara Kloehn Pyle, who attended a one-room country school and had the same teacher and only one classmate for eight grades before being told to report to town school in a dress, emceed the program at the Alexandria Golf Club. (Yes, that's where Tom Lehman learned to golf, sometimes barefoot.)

Thirty-three classmates have died, a beautiful book and display memorializing them drew admiration in the lobby. A couple dozen veterans, all from the Vietnam era, were called upon to identify themselves and their branch of service -- a highly unusual honor for this formerly overlooked group of men, many drafted against their will to serve in an unpopular war. Being thanked for any military service became fashionable only after the first Iraq war.

Statutes of Limitation on Certain Acts of Hooliganism and Desecration have apparently run out after 50 years, as responsible miscreants willingly admitted to here-to-fore secret deeds. Classmates were finally freed to shake their heads and fingers at naughty boys and girls for everything from toilet paper on statues to granite tombstones in the high school courtyard.

Emcee Barb Kloehn Pyle, with Charley Stark and
your blog host in yet another selfie.

As the emcee ticked off the many achievements and notables of the Class of 1965, she also included our convicted murderer, perhaps to keep us humble.

When Walter Cronkite announced the death of John F. Kennedy, we all heard the news over the same intercom. Barbara was in Mr. Morrison's History Class and she remembered the tears and the sounds of wailing from classrooms down the hall. Mostly she remembers what Mr. Morrison did for her that day and was able to thank him 52 years later when she saw him at the Douglas County Fair:

After about 10 minutes of shock and fear of the unknown, Mr. Morrison stood up and said: "Yes, the president is dead, but Vice President Lyndon Johnson will be sworn in as our new president. You are going to be alright."

Other teachers were lauded as well. We all looked down on Mr. Madson. But that was only because he was short, not because he didn't care. He had insisted on seeing BOTH of Barb's parents when he felt she could do better in biology. He just assumed two parents, she mused, an unusual assumption these days.

Later, as usual, numerous members of the Class of 1965 came over to say what a great teacher Erling Rolfsrud was. They recall his methodical drills in ninth grade English that had served them well over the years, avoiding embarrassment with misplaced modifiers and dangling participles in correspondence, writings and speech during various professional and personal endeavors. Erling's son is left to simply acknowledge the expressions and thank his father's former students for their earnest comments.

Jean Huberty lost her high school yearbook and had somehow acquired a brand new one. She spent the evening getting it autographed. Again. One classmate boldly scrawled: "To the cutest girl in the class!" And why not?

The class has six sets of twins. That's unusual, but even more so, one set has a last name of Kloehn, which is pronounced "clone." There are the usual number of cancer survivors and victims and hip and knee replacements. One hip replacement did not go well, which is unusual, as the patient promptly broke her leg, but gamely attended last night with a cane.

Not satisfied with Barb's official class summary, Tom Ellis rose to give a minority report. Barb had totally omitted mentioning Seegar's, he complained, the worthy basement pool joint just a block from junior high, where a ninth grader could smoke three cigarettes over lunch hour and still get back to class. The "hour" was really only about 22 minutes, so this was an achievement in itself. The enterprising proprietor of the smokey haven, realizing that his noon rush wanted more than mere chips and pop, thoughtfully boiled hot dogs behind the bar, and sold them for 25 cents each. Tom's mother gave him $5 a week for lunch money, so this was enough to cover meals and a pack of cigarettes.

Tom reeled off the names of Seegar's lunch hour regulars as the audience helped along, lest anyone be left from the roll. Sadly, none of the honorees attended last night, but, it was hastily noted, not because of lung cancer.

Mr. and Mrs.  Benson
Fifty years later.

Classmates Mark and Karen Benson were there from Wisconsin, they have already celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. . . which (gasp) occurred well before their 50th high school graduation anniversary. Their marriage appears as rock-steady as ever.

Almost all were born in 1947, the same year the first dynamite blast tore into the South Dakota mountain containing a statue of Crazy Horse. Three generations of the same family have carved the mountain and recently a spokesman said the job would be done by 2047, taking exactly 100 years for its completion. Looking out over the audience, Barb issued a challenge.

"Let's all get together for the dedication!"

By the looks of this robust group of healthy fun-seeking boomers, a lot of them are going to make it.

Attendees included:
Anderson, Brad; Anderson, Doug; Anderson (Roers), Judy; Anderson (Helie), Ruth; Andres (Feda), LaVonne; Bartos, Lorlee; Benson, Mark & Karen (Schjei); Bettin (Zimmel), Marlene; Bey, Russ; Bird (Meyer), Karen; Black (Arendt), Mary Jane; Blanchard, Judy; Braunschweig, Charlie; Carlson (Johnson), Jane; Davis (Seppanen), Judy; Deleski, Jerry; Drexler, Joe; Eastlund, Van; Ellis, Tom; Estenson (Hibbard), Mary Anne; Evans, Linda; Faber, Hank; Faust (Josephs), Kathy; Forster, Peter; Froemming, Steve; Gilbertson (Olson), Bonita; Hagemeister (Schultz), Kathy; Hanson (Widstrom), Paula; Helie, Bob; Hendricks (McCarthy), Diane; 

Herdan, John; Hillemeier (Salt), Jeri Lee; Hilsenhoff (Anderson), Kaleen; Howe, Mike; Hurley (Erickson), Sharon; Johnson, Greg; Kiehne, Tom; Kloehn, James; Kloehn, John; Kochie, Rob; Korkowski (Roers), Bev; Kuhne, Tom; Lagergren (Koubsky), Jeanette; Lanigan, Jerry; Ley, Louie; Linnes (Hartung), Beverly; Lommen (Spellman), Lynne; McPhee (Olson), Marilyn; Miller (Bakke), Cathy; Mithun (Marquette), DiAnn; Navratil (Meyer), Wanda; Nokes, Paul; Obert, Tom; O’Brien (Hoffman), Diane; Olson, Larry; Overly, David; Owens (Collins), Patty; Peterson (Nelson), Dorothy; Peterson, Patricia; Putzka (Pederson), Betty; Pyle (Kloehn), Barbara; Rolfsrud, Stan

Schmidt, Greg; Schroeder (Hanson), Gail; Schulke, Gary; Seltz (Graves, Sue; Serie, Dave; Skadsberg (Sherry), Kathy; Sly (Froemming), Ramona; Stark, Charlie; Steinmetz, Robert; Stramer (Nack), Sherryl; Sundblad (Anderson), Joyce; Thornton, Lonnie; Tobolt (Dokken), Betty; Toenjes, Tom; Trousil (Tvrdik), Bernice; Trousil (Dynda), Marlene; Trushenski (Bartholomew), Sharon; Van Kempen, Ellen; Wachter (Huberty), Jeanne; Wachter (Unger), Nancy; Widstrom (Wadsworth), Terrie; Williams, Darrell.

Bringing in Jennifer Lane

Your sidewalk representative made a quick tour of the neighborhood this morning and files this report. The sparkling fall weather supports a flurry of activity, each day marking stunning progress given the highly mechanized activity that has rendered the shovel and spade obsolete.

The extension of city utilities down Jennifer Lane required absolute trust and coordination this morning as a worker at the bottom of a trench signaled the operator of a massive bucket that is big enough to crush him and his entire family tree with a single swipe. The collaborators successfully found the stub end of the city water main and delicately prepared a comfortable bed for its upcoming marriage with the new pipe.

Your inspector was joined by an honest-to-goodness inspector from the City of Shakopee, who appeared to approve the procedure.
Mid-November appears to be the goal for completion of much of this activity; gorgeous weather is foretold for the near term. After that, if the hurricane hits the East Coast, we'll receive the usual dowsing a few days later.
The massive trenches photographed this morning should be closed by then.