Baxter Book Signing

Hope to catch up with some old friends and meet new ones tomorrow Friday, June 26, at Baxter Book World  where I’ll be signing copies of my books from 11:00 to 1:00. Directions: http://www.bookworldstores.com/showLoc.php?id=84

MY UPCOMING EVENTS

These are my scheduled book events for the next month. If you’re in the area, drop by and say hi!

June 26, Baxter, MN, Book World from 11 to 1.

June 27, Grand Rapids, MN, Village Books from 1 to 3.

July 11, Alexandria, MN, Book World from 12 to 2.

July 25, Olivia, MN, Nester Park, Corn Capital Days 9 to 5.

FATHERS’ DAY

Fathers’ Day is a natural time to reflect on good ol’ dad, what kind of a person he was, what kind of a father he was.

If I had to describe my dad in one adjective, I would choose “hardworking” because that’s what he did, worked hard. My dad was born in 1913, one of six children. His parents were  farmers and ran a dairy. As the custom of many farm boys, his childhood was cut short. After he graduated from eighth grade, he stayed work on the family farm.

He met my mother when he delivered milk to the convent where she worked. I’m sorry I never asked what she did for the nuns, whether it was cooking or cleaning, or both. He bought his grandfather’s house in town across the street from the Catholic church and drove out to help on the “home place” for several years until he purchased a farm of his own.

In his lifetime, he not only farmed, but he and his  brothers ran a trucking business, transporting cattle for local farmers to the St. Paul Stockyards, and also sold feed for Hubbard. He never got rich on any of his enterprises, but he provided for his family.

I remember a few family yearly vacations with my cousins to Lake Carlos by Alexandria. There’s a photo of my dad and us kids by an Itasca State Park sign, which I have no memory of. I looked to have been about three in the picture. When I was in my early teens he took my older sister, mom and  I to Duluth, then across northern Minnesota down through Hackensack. I remember  Hackensack because I left my new red transistor radio in the motel. I thought that I’d never see it again, but they sent it back to me.

When my older brothers, Dave and Dick, were upstairs fighting, wrestling around on the floor, all my dad would have to holler up is, “Want me to come up there with the belt?” He never had to.

Dad worked six days a week, from early morning until dark, as farmers did in those days. He had his supper long after we kids were fed at the six o’clock whistle. He had big hands made strong from years of physical labor, and in later years walked bent with back and knee pain.

When he retired, he gave himself permission to enjoy himself. He bought a fishing boat and found a friend that would fish with him frequently, and he played cards every morning with his friends downtown.

That man could sleep! I think it was because he worked long, hard hours. We took countless pictures of him sleeping in his recliner. If you were sitting in it when he wanted to use it, all he would have to do is gesture and you moved. I have a fond memory of dad  reading the “funny papers” to me while I sat in his lap on Sunday mornings.

He loved a good political discussion or talking things farm related with his brothers or neighbors. When I grew into an adult I enjoyed hearing his insight into topics of conversations.

I don’t remember him telling me that he loved me or that he was proud of me. But I saw it in the tears welling in his eyes when he saw me in my wedding dress, or when I graduated from college.

My dad wasn’t perfect, but  I always knew if I needed his help, he would be there for me. Early I seemed to know the most important part of being a father was being someone  the family can count on.

I miss my father terribly.

FATHERS AND KIDS

Early in our marriage my husband found a quote by John Wooden:  “The best thing a father can do for his children is love their mother.”  He believes strongly in the truth of this statement and throughout our years of rearing two children practiced this philosophy. Tim would openly express his love and respect for me, would never let our children disrespect me, and always had my back and helped me set firm boundaries. His good example taught them not only that their parents should be respected, but how a spouse should be loved.

While in the parenting years, Tim was a  loving father, always ready to teach the kids the valuable lessons of life: how to love nature, how to have fun, how to do repair and assemble items, the value of keeping fit through exercise, how to do yard work and help around the house. He just didn’t speak of these things, he practiced what he preached, and was an excellent model. I can see his influence in how my adult children are living their lives.

When I married Tim forty-five years ago, I thought I knew what kind of a man he was, but at twenty-three I now know  I had no idea what kind of a father he would become. I got lucky.

June Author Events

June author events:
June12- St Cloud Art Crawl 5 to 9
June 19 – Detroit Lakes Book World, 1 to 3
June 20 – Park Rapids Beagle Books 11 to 1
June 26 – Baxter Book World, 1 to 3
June 27 – Grand Rapids Village Books, 1 to 3

CONVERSATIONS WITH ME MYSELF AND I

ME: Whoa! (Jumps off scale)

MYSELF: Give up chocolate and wine and you wouldn’t weigh that much.

I: Don’t be silly. I can’t  live without chocolate and wine. Seriously.

ME: Man, this line is sooo slow!

MYSELF: You picked it. Why do you always choose the slowest one?

I: I pick the cashier that looks like he/she won’t steal my debit card information.

ME: Look at those pretty chocolate cupcakes! A little sweet treat for after dinner!

MYSELF: You might as well plaster it on your thighs and fast-circuit the process.

I: I wish I could shut MYSELF up.

ME: Oh, look at these cute swimsuits! I need a new one.

MYSELF: Go ahead try them on. Heh heh heh. You know how you love to try on suits, see yourself in a three way mirror. Heh heh heh.

I: Forget it. I’ll wear my old one. Where’s that chocolate?

Bleeding Heart

A few years ago I planted a Bleeding Heart for its nostalgic value. My mother had one, its clusters of heart shaped flowers so enticing to me as a small child I popped them in my mouth and ate them…or so I was told. Every spring when the green shoots pop, I anticipate the blooms: strands of tiny pink hearts spreading like necklaces  across the foliage. The sight of them and their distinct smell of the leaves zip me back to my childhood and to thoughts of my mother and her love for flowers.

Mom tended two large rectangular gardens in our backyard, which was actually a side yard. In the  larger garden, she planted vegetables: flavorful tomatoes for fresh eating and canning, green beans, cucumbers and dill for the best pickles around, and rhubarb for pies, torts, and jams. In the smaller garden closer to the street she grew flowers: among them shrub roses, poppies, tulips, zinnias, petunias, and geraniums.

Mom used to take cuttings of her geraniums and placed them in cans and wintered them in the  upstairs windows of our house across the street from the Catholic School.  The single cutting magically turned into full geranium plants  blooming  while the ground was frozen covered with snow. Once when I visited her, she showed me illustrated letters one of the teachers had her class write to her about the flowers in her windows. It pleased her so. That was a nice thing for that teacher to do.

So now, I surround myself with plants which remind me of my sweet mother:  her Christmas cactus, (It’s well over fifty years old), shrub roses, tulips, petunias, and bleeding hearts.

Bleeding Hearts

Midge Bubany, Author

Citizen Law Enforcement Academy: Week 3

Jessica Ellis Laine: Citizen Law Enforcement Academy: Week 1

Jessica Ellis Laine’s blog about the Citizen Law Enforcement Academy: Week 1.