Memories of my first trip to Paris as a young soldier, with several friends, wherein we fall in love with the City of Lights, and inadvertently almost invent parkour.
After many years on home brew hiatus, my son Jon and I have begun brewing beer together, now that he has finished his arduous post-grad studies and has time for something other than work.¬† We have managed to brew two batches of beer so far, and a third is nearly finished conditioning.¬† We have made all of the mistakes one can make starting out, but thankfully all of the beers are drinkable.
Growing up, football and basketball were my favorite sports. I played plenty of tackle and touch football, on teams and with friends and family.¬†Yet later as parents, when our boys played high school sports, my wife and I did not allow them to play tackle football: ¬†We felt¬†that with the amount and severity of injuries in football, the risk was too high. Given the recent revelations of long-term injuries in football, the question can be asked anew: ¬†Would we have let our children play football today, or more urgently, would we want our grandchildren to play football today?
Glenn Jaeger passed away recently. Glenn's father Nick married my grandmother Edna Wiebe after my grandfather died. Getting to know Glenn and Carol was one of the blessings of that union for me. We moved into the neighboring school district just before my senior year in high school, and Glenn and Carol took me in that last year to allow me to finish high school where I had started. They treated me so kindly, much more kindly than an obnoxious teenager might expect.
When I was growing up, my father taught us a little ditty from his Mennonite boyhood:
Dar war ein Mann in Tode Loch,
Und kein er sahe Mann,
Und im dem letzen Stunden,
Hat er das Alpenkreuter gefunden.
Play the Alpenkr√§uter song (vocals and piano)
It was a charming little tune, and I would sing or hum it on the off occasion during my youth. At no time did it occur to my father to translate or to explain the song, nor did it occur to me to ask. I suppose sometimes the music is captivating enough. Some time in my teens, my curiosity was finally aroused regarding its meaning and perhaps its place in Midwestern Mennonite culture, so . . .
Day 7 of the Cycle Oregon 2012. Riding with old friends in Southern Oregon. In which every adventure must come to an end. We finish our journey, starting from Klamath Falls and arriving back where we started in Bly.
Day 6 of the Cycle Oregon 2012. Riding with old friends in Southern Oregon. In which we ride from Ashand to Klamath Falls, starting with a 12 mile climb up Dead Indian Memorial Highway. Tim was back in the saddle, and we enjoyed a leisurely ride.