Generations

Opa is German for Grandpa.

My Opa’s name was John,  one of 13 children, 8 boys and 5 girls.  He grew up farming with horses.

His influence on my life still casts a shadow.

In his prime, he stood  6 foot 2, weighed  240 pounds.  One of the gentlest,  soft heart-ed  men you would ever meet.  I heard it said more than once, there was not a person Grandpa didn’t get along with.  That’s probably where I get some of my disposition.  There were a couple of times however  he didn’t get along with everyone.

(Keep in mind he was a farm boy in his early twenties.) He and several of his brothers loved to wrestle in their haymow.   One Saturday afternoon   he stopped by  Heyen’s general store to collect a donation from Bill the  store owner.  Five  young men  were hanging around outside the store waiting for a  dance to begin.    Opa  said “hi”   but they ignored him.  Grandpa told me later, some of the locals didn’t like the  Germans.  As he walked out of the door a few minutes later, that’s when things got “interesting”

”As I came out the door of the store someone hit me from behind, the next thing I knew I had 4 or 5 guys piling on top of me.  After the initial surprise I got  up swinging. By the time I was done the last boy had run to his car and was crying like a baby.”

Life lesson from the farm  : Mess with the bull, you may get the horns.

Sara Groves sings a song  titled Generations.  One of the verses go like this: “Remind me of this with every decisions  Generations will reap what I sow  I can pass on a curse or a blessing     To those I will never know “

Powerful words.

Got time for a second short story?

When my dad (Opa’s oldest  son) began  attending  country school, (age 5)   he was teased mercilessly by one of  the other kids about his last name.  His name was Munk.   “monkey, monkey monkey”   It got to the point where dad didn’t want to go  to school.  Either the teacher didn’t know what was happening or refused to deal with it.

Opa said to me, “I made an appointment with the teacher and told him,  ” My son does not want to come to school. His name is Munk, not monkey.   Either you deal with it here at school or I will go to the father (of the bully) and beat the @%$# out of him.”   End of discussion. 

That’s all it took.    The teasing stopped.   I always wondered about that threat. Why was he going to beat up the dad?

Personality wise, I am a lot like my Opa.    I hate conflict.   Sometimes, because of the  world in which we live, we don’t have to go looking for trouble,  sometimes trouble comes looking for us.  At that moment, I  have a choice…get the tar beat out of me or stand  my ground.

If you have time, check out this clip by Sara Groves.  It puts a lump in my throat every time I watch it.

(You’ve been warned)

PS I posted this blog post on my other blog as well this morning.  My apologies to those of you that read both.  I try  not to do that too often  but this one seemed like the perfect post to celebrate Fathers Day and the end of  writers’ block.  I have posted this one in the past so you may have seen it before.

PSS

Thank you MJ and Writewild  for weighing in on the previous post on writers block.   I am feeling  better   Much better. DM

A little something to let you know I’m still alive and well. DM

This first clip is just three minutes long.  It will make your day.

This next one is on

the topic of vulnerability.  Let me know what you think. DM

Grandma was wrong

Picture of me at work yesterday….20 feet in the air/ living the dream ….my dream that is;-)

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“Oh Doug.. You were such a good student…I really hoped you would go to college.”  grandma said when she found out her eldest grandson was NOT planning to go to college..instead, I had decided to follow in my dad’s foot steps and work in construction.

There was disappointment written all over her face..

I felt bad.  Not until she was dead and gone did I appreciate where she was coming from.  Not until I had children of my own, watched them make life choices  that would affect them  long term… in ways they didn’t understand…then I was finally able to understand my grandma’s concerns…

But Grandma was wrong.

There is more to life than money.  A meaningful life  has nothing to do with material things…

I have a couple of friends who are making 2 and 3 times the amount of money  I do but hate their jobs….

They have full benefits, a 401 K… and they are quick to talk about what they want to do when they retire.

No thank you.

Quoting my dad now...”The word retirement is not in my vocabulary”

(Dad just turned 80 this past year and is still active in construction)

Last week I stopped @ Loes to buy a new  skill saw.

Good morning”  I said to a woman about my age.   She looked tired.

“How are you?” I asked…”(It was about 7 AM..she was  checking inventory)

“I wish I were home” she  replied.

I felt for her..  Her life was not her own.  There were bills to pay…only God knows the series of life decisions and circumstances that have brought her to this place in life….

Last April I was invited to speak at a jobs fair for high school students.

Started by sharing a quote that has cast a long shadow over my life :

“Do what you love and you will never have to work a day in your life.”

Don’t just settle for a job where you punch the time clock.

You may have to work @ a job  (or three) where you  “punch the time clock” in order to get where you really want to be….

but don’t stop there.. God didn’t create you to be a mindless worker ant ..unless that is what you really love to do.

I remember the pressure I felt  in school trying to figure out what I wanted to do once I graduated.   A real part of me thought I should  be a vet…that was until Mr Guard pulled me to the side one day in the guidance office  and  “suggested ” my grades indicated I probably couldn’t handle vet school.  I know he was only doing his job..but “dream killer” comes to mind  when I think of that conversation.

(years later I built a house for a vet/ told her my story, to which she replied, “Doug, if you really wanted to be a vet,one way or the other, you could have done it.  I didn’t make it the first time or two when I applied to vet school either..if you want it bad enough, you could have done it”)

Two  of my daughters , have  the desire to be a wives  and mothers.

Period.

I remember being @ the ripe old age of 20, having the strongest desire (nesting urge?) to settle down and start a family.

So  I did.

Best decision I ever made.

Pop culture today  mock those kind of  dreams…and I’m here to tell you, pop culture is full of #@$%%.

(that’s  German for incorrect…I’ve been using more German in my blog posts lately  you may have noticed )

If truth be told, pop culture is wrong on just about everything it promotes.
“We’ve  got a form of brainwashing going on in our country.”  Morrie sighed.  “Do you know how they brainwash people?  They repeat something over and over.And that’s what we do in this country.  Owning things is good.  More money is good.  More property is good.  More commercialism  is good.  More is good.  More is good. We repeat it – and have it repeated to us – over and over until nobody bothers to even think otherwise.  The average person is so fogged up by all this, he has no perspective on what’s really important anymore….

from the book Tuesday’s with Morrie.

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If there is more to life than money…what do you think that “more” is?

What in your life brings you satisfaction?

What would you tell the person who is up to their eyeballs in bills, who feels stuck in a dead in job they hate?

DM

If you were my daughter, if you were my son…

Had a little drama on my other blog last night.

A mother  recently left a comment on a blog post sharing about the heartache she has been going through with an older son….well, Son got onto the computer that was still logged onto my post  her comment  was still visible.

He was not a happy camper.

Having personally experience 18 years of parental hell myself, ( it started when our oldest was about 14..and is only just now tapering off 19 years later as child #4 is finally getting his bearings)  I have some perspectives on parenting I wish I could have tapped into so many moons ago.

So for what it’s worth, if I had the opportunity to sit down and talk with this distraught mother (and her slightly dysfunctional son)  here is what I would tell them…

First to the Young man.

I would sit across the table , look him in the eyes and  say.. ” It’s time you grow up.   You need to move out and get a place of your own.  It’s going to be tough…financially and every which way..but the truth is, you do not appreciate what your parents have been doing for you  and you  need an  attitude adjustment.  I might (might have) considered letting you stay here a little longer if you had been willing to play by the rules of our home..but as it is, the drinking, smok’n and blatant disrespect for your mama is the last straw…. You need to be out by the end of the week.  period.”

“Mom…I know you love your little cub.. you love him dearly..unfortunately, at this point, he doesn’t feel it. and he will continue to disrespect you and break your heart until he comes to his senses.  and that may take getting to the end of himself.    When that finally does happen. he’ll be back and you’ll have a new son.”

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Parents..(especially moms) have a tendency to short circuit the natural consequences of of poor life choices ..the result is, our children continue to flop and flounder and get into all sorts of heartbreaking  situations…heartbreaking.  and we keep bailing them out... you need to stop.  if they get busted, let the natural consequences of their choices  unfold…period.

When I was in the middle of it all, there was a time when I felt like an elephant was stepping on my chest…the stress and pressure was crushing.  I told someone yesterday, I felt like I went through an emotional wood chipper.

I am not the same dad I was going into the parenting gig, 30 plus years ago.

I’ll never forget the time I sat across the table from my 14 yr old daughter who I had just brought home..she’d ran away for 3 days, had no intention of coming home..( I knew where she was, it was just a matter of reeling her in)…

I sat across the table looking @ her …anger, defiance rebellion,contempt written all over her face

She was our strong willed one….that rebelliousness needed to be broken… to break the rebellion but not break the spirit..  you can do it..in fact, if you don’t you will never have real peace…  so I gave her two options…put her in a girls school, or spend a week @ my cousins and his family..(which she really , really did NOT want to do either,for reasons I am not @ liberty to tell you)…. It was a watershed moment in our relationship.  She is still a strong willed young lady.  Yea, we went through a lot more after that, but @ least she knew if push came to shove, I was not going to back down.

I taught a high school shop class for a year…I discovered the same dynamics that made for healthy relationships with my older children also made for healthy relationships in the class room with a group of rowdy young men…

First they needed to know who was in charge…call it what you want, respect/ fear..maybe a little of both…

Secondly…love..they needed to feel that I genuinely liked them… and I did..

Once in a while, they would test me just to see if I was still in charge….

Here’s how it works in Realville :

teacher first- friend second..

Parent first- friend second.

boss first/ friend second.

Feel free to do otherwise   DM

 

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This post is still in a rough draft form, but wanted to post it, so I could get some initial feedback. DM

Whoops, Duuuu’s , and Oh fiddle sticks

I  had to return a 10 ft section of plastic 4 inch PVC pipe last week to Theisens.  When the cashier rang up the transaction, I noticed she had accidentally rang up a 4 inch splicer instead of 4 inch pipe.  Simple mistake.   She had to call her supervisor over to override the transaction, which in my mind was no big deal.  She apologized to me and said, that was the first time in 6 months she had made that type of mistake.   I told her, “heck”,  I try to make at least one mistake every day..just to stay in shape.” 

She didn’t know what to say.

My point was, she was being way too hard on herself, and needed to lighten up just a wee.   I had watched her wait on another customer before me, and could tell she was “wound tight”

wound tight:  hard to live with/ perfectionist/never makes mistakes.

Last night our son was lamenting on the fact he had bought a used set of Disney books off his sister for $50, thinking he could re-sell them for $200.00…He found out, they might be worth $25.00.. Oh well

I told him about the time I got caught up in a bidding war on e-bay for an “original” Grant Wood water color.

The picture went from $1600 to over $3200 the last 30 minutes of the auction, and when the dust all settled, I won

I knew that if it were an original, it was worth 3 times that amount.  After we received the picture, I took it to an art appraiser, who informed me it was NOT an original Grant Wood…and might be worth a couple of hundred dollars…tops.

Side note…we did not have $3000 of discretionary money just laying around…..It came from a line of credit which made the whole thing that much more painful.

Why is it we tend not to tell other people our screw ups but are more than willing to talk about our successes?

I could tell my son felt much better about himself when he heard his dear old dad had dropped a couple of thousand dollars he couldn’t afford to loose

That picture I had paid $3200  it lay around here for a couple of months…but it was sending out some bad vibes. .long story short, I relisted it on E-bay and sold it for $400.00   (do the math if you haven’t already

“Tuition”

That is what I call those life experiences…I paid $2800 in tuition to learn I am weak willed when it comes to auctions…the best thing I can do is stay as far away from  high stakes auctions  as I can.

I’ll tell you one more story and call it good..

In 2007 I was asked to general contract a home for someone with a beautiful lakeside view.   The neighbors in the area were none to happy about this new home blocking their views of the lake.  Oh well…

The day we were scheduled to dig the basement, things were really hectic and crazy on the job site.  It was my responsibility to calculate the finished depth of the basement.  After the wall was poured, I started second guessing my calculations,  realized I may have made a 2 ft error  and the house might be sticking out of the ground 2 ft higher than it was supposed to…@ which point, I just knew the neighbor across the street was going to take me to court and have me tear out the wall and re-dig (that would have easily been a $25,000 to $30,000 error)…When I was able to finally  re-check my numbers  I discovered I  had NOT made a math mistake and swore I would never let someone pressure me when it came time to do important math calculations on the job.

Lesson learned :  NEVER ever be in a hurry when it comes to math calculations when building a house.

OK it’s your turn…tell me a story about one of your screw-ups…. (or more)

you need to do this..

it will be good for your soul    DM

And then they were gone.

I woke up this morning  thinking about something I’d seen a year ago at work.

I was framing a garage on  the J. Johns farm that week.

Just to the east of the garage was a large pasture.  Probably 75 to 10o acres.  There was a small creek cutting diagonally through the pasture.  If you were a cow, that would have been paradise.  Steve Leytem (another farmer)  had a small herd of beef cattle grazing the field.  Once a day, he would stop by with a tractor and feed wagon, to supplement what they were getting off the field.  He had 4 or 5 long wooden bunks in the middle of the field, as soon as the cattle could hear the tractor coming down the road they would head to the feed bunks.   Cows are not stupid.

One morning when we arrived at the job, I noticed several gates  set up close to the feed bunks…not all the way around mind  you just on 2 sides.  Cows can be skittish like that…..introduce something new in their environment, and they get nervous.

Steve dumped the feed into the bunks like normal, and within just a few minutes, the herd, overcame their fear of the gates,  crowded up to the feed bunks and that was that.

Two days later I noticed more gates had been set up..this time they were on 3 sides of the feed bunks…

Same  thing happened…when the cows heard the tractor coming down the road they got excited, ran over to the feed bunk area, but weren’t quite sure what to think of this new section of fence…eventually their desire for feed overcame their fear of the unknown and life was back to normal.

When we got to work two days later, there was an eerie silence in the field.

all of the cattle were gone.

They’d been loaded up.

I looked over @ the feed bunk area and it was completely surrounded by cattle fence…one last panel had swung open…to accommodate the cattle truck that had backed up to the enclosure.

The cows never saw it coming.

One minute they were free, the next, they were gone.

I’m tempted to tell you about the fences I see being set up right now in our country.

Not physical fences, mind you but just as real.

I can see them and  want to stay as far away from them as I possibly can.

Problem is, most of the herd doesn’t seem to care.

Sarlacc’s Among us

A Sarlacc

Jason and I were talking about the  people  in our lives who” suck the energy out of us”  on Friday.

He has a neighbor lady who comes over to their house every couple of weeks and whines about her husband, whines about her health, whines about life…

“I know exactly what you’re talking about” he said, when you talk about an “energy sucker.”

“When I used to work @ Acme Rental, there were a couple of women who were like that.

I coined a term for them.

I called them  “Sarlaccs”

“How did you come up with that?” I said with a smirk.

Remember the Star Wars Movie…Return of the Jedi?  There was a scene where Jabba the Hut was going to throw Luke into a pit in the desert where he would  slowly have the life sucked out of him for   10,000 years?”

That pit was  called the “Sarlacc”

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Doesn’t seem very loving to call someone a “sarlacc” I can just hear someone say..

Well,  talking for 3 hours nonstop and not having any interest in what the other person has to say isn’t very loving either.

I can’t for the life of me see Jesus standing there for 3 hours while someone droned on and on about all their problems.

My wife has tended to be one of those people who will allow that “energy sucking person” to go on and on.  She has  not known how to get disentangled from the “monologue” without being rude…..whether it’s on the phone or in the flesh.

But she’s getting better.

We’ve had to do some roll playing, and an occasional pep talk.

As I survey the landscape of my life,  there are  (7) Sarlac  personality types in my general orbit.

I refuse to get trapped in the same room with any of them.

6 out of the 8 are men.

I can’t change them.

And they are just as needy  at the end of any monologue…notice I keep using the word monologue..you don’t have a conversation with a Sarlacc.

When I was younger, I thought if I  invested a little time and TLC in Dave’s life, I could help get him back on track spiritually.

Lots of active listening and lots of chocolate milk…

At the time we were living next door to the county care facility. Dave was just a couple of years older than I.  He wasn’t retarded so I wasn’t quite sure what a young man like that was doing living in the county poor house.

We would get together every Monday night for an hour or two while Dave sucked me dry….all in the name of ” love.”

He never changed.

He was an opportunist

Last I knew, he had been charged with doing some inappropriate things with a couple of minors.

I still have a soft spot in my heart for hurting broken people so I’m not completely jaded

One of the Sarlacc’s in my life invited us over for dinner…It’s probably been   7 or 8 years ago now.

talk talk talk

talk talk talk.

Even after I said we had to leave , it was another 45 minutes before we were able to get to the car.

Do you think I’ll ever go to their house again for a meal?

Not on your life.

Do you have any “sarlacc” people in your life?

Do you have any pointers on how to relate to them without completely shutting them out ?

Is it genetic?

Is it just the fact they are completely self centered and  love to hear themselves talk or is there more to it?

It’s that time of year again…

You could hear them coming.

Geese.

It was a crisp Fall morning, The leaves were turning ,  Dean and I  were putting sheeting on a  12/12 pitch roof of  a  $750,000.00 house.

A Kodak moment.

We watched  as the formation flew over us, low enough to throw a rock at…

plop,plop, plop…

goose dung on his shoulder and hat.

Now  it was really a Kodak moment.

Ever since, whenever geese are heading our way, I will  say to whomever is with me…“Hurry, they’re coming!  Look up,  you might get some “geese candy”.    It hasn’t happened since, but I’m always hoping.

Several years ago this same Dean and I were trying to put felt paper on a new roof in the dead of Winter.

The wind was howling,  wind chill was below zero.

it was crazy we were even on a roof.

Finally,  we decided to head for the basement and warm up.

There was an unventilated LP heater hooked up.   It  felt SO GOOD.

1/2 hour later,  we went back on the roof to finish.  The two of us  started giggling like a couple of little girls, the tears were running down our faces.

We decided that we must have been “gassed.” ;-0

Everything was funny.

We could barely hold on to the roll of paper w/o the wind ripping it our of our hands.  The extreme cold. The fact we’d just about been gassed. Everything.

My wife read to me a proverb the other day that said  ”A cheerful heart has a continual feast”  

She said it reminded her of me.

I have a “help wanted” add in the paper this week…. Here’s  what a “DM” “help wanted add looks like:

 Help wanted.  Could turn into full-time.  General construction.  Prefer someone with NO experience.  Must be able to read tape measure, climb, have valid driver’s license and GOOD ATTITUDE.

If I’m going to spend  8 hours of  my day with you, the last thing I want  is  to work with someone who has a dark cloud overhead.  If you think you fit the qualifications, drop me a note.  I have been known to hire women in the past.

 

Enough for now, time to set some cement forms.   Thank for reading along!  DM

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I originally posted this in 2007.  I was rooting around in the archives this afternoon…there are over 400 posts there..figured some of my newer readers may have never read this one before so I decided to do a little editing and re-post it.  I really may be looking for some help btw..won’t be running an ad in the paper but it looks like I have quite a bit of work coming in the next couple of months..so, if you’re feeling the urge to work in construction…don’t hesitate to ask…you don’t know if you don’t ask DM

Parents in pain

This post is written to the Christian parent who finds themselves dealing with a prodigal child (or children).

Dear fellow parent,

As I sit  here this morning, our children range in age from 32 down to 25.  The last 17 years have felt like I’ve chopped my way through the Amazon jungles on foot.  Many, many times I felt lost, did not have a clue as to where I was at or if I were even heading in the right direction .

I have to tell you, once the overt rebellious stuff started happening, I realized there is are overly simplistic and   naive  schools of thought in the Christian camp about our children and  how to keep them from wallowing in all of the crap this world has to offer.

You can do it all right…not try to jam your faith down their throat,  be an approachable parent, willing to own up when you’re wrong,  involve them in good activities,  try your best to help them find good friendships, and avoid the bad ones, participate in youth programs, church, even send them away to  a Bible school…do it all, and  there is NO guarantee, they will still not chose  to shack up with some looser of a boyfriend or, binge drink till they black out...week after week.….

Then what are you going to do?

Nag?

preach ?

take them for counseling?

Second guess yourself?

….if only I had been more firm when I first noticed  she had a strong will!

Why didn’t I do a better job of looking into _________________(fill in the blank)

What do you do with the anger?  Because at some point,  besides feeling afraid for your dear child, there’s a good chance you’re going to be angry about something that has happened…maybe their blatant disrespect or sass, …maybe at someone they “love” , or are running around with…

What

To

Do

About

The

Anger???

As I sit here this morning 2 of our 4 children are still sexually active outside of marriage. (at least I’m 95% sure they are, they’d never tell us that is the case, but  it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to  connect the dots…

So, what is my role in their life, and what is my attitude with them as they continue to make choices that will bring them emotional pain, not to mention some STD or unplanned child, etc?

What do I do with the stuff  you feel?

Biggest help has been finding another parent that “get’s it” and rant together.

Nothing wrong with ranting.

Second thing… I can’t emphasize this strongly enough…

Nagging does not work

Getting angry with them does not work

See, deep down, they feel conflicted…and second thing..it’s not about you,  if sure feels like it is, I know but it’s not…it’s between them and God…

And at the end of the day, God has got to be the one to reel them in, and he is able.  I’ve seen it twice now..and there is a good chance they will have even more spiritual depth than their parents when it happens.

Keep the lines of communication open

Resist those  temptations to draw a line in the sand and say..if you do ________________,  then I’m through trying….

Nope, best thing you can do, is to find another adult and unload.

Couple of final thoughts…

If you kids do happen to turn out, right, don’t be to quick to take the credit..

I’m sitting here 17 yrs into the crisis called parenting older teens and I still have my joy, the kids still love to come home for visit,  2 out of 4 have found their way back spiritually, and the wife and I still love each other…nobody said parenting was a walk in the park.

Drop me a note if you need to talk.   DM

Old Cheese

“Society is commonly too cheap.  We meet at very short intervals, not having had time to acquire any new value for each other.  We meet at meals three times a day, and give each other a new taste of that old musty cheese that we are……certainly less frequency would suffice for all important and hearty communications…”

from his essay on solitude  Thoreau

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“I missed you” my wife told me this morning.

Music to my ears.

She just got back from spending 3 days with a good friend who is grieving the loss of her son.

Things have been a little tense (stale?) around here, lately so I chuckled and  and mumbled something about being “good fresh cheese/ and not stale musty cheese”

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There is a rhythm to relationships…

all relationships…

friendships,  family relationships, even Internet blogging relationships…

reminds me of  this verse from Ecclesiastes:  “There is a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing…”

I (had) a friend who used to stop by to chat.

He would stop by on  Sunday afternoons.

I noticed I started to get this knot/ uptight feeling in my gut Sunday afternoons.
I would feel a nap coming on, and  think….hummm, it’s been 3 or 4 weeks since my friend had last stopped…I wonder if today he’ll pop in….

These would not be 30 minute visits,  they would last for a couple of hours.

Things finally came to a head.

One Sunday, we were getting ready to leave for a birthday party…Wife and I were scurrying around, I still needed to shave…

This friend pulls into the driveway, I meet him at the door, he steps into the kitchen, I say to him...’Today’s probably not a good day for a visit…I need to get ready for a party,”

he replies…“Go ahead and get ready…”

he continues to stand there, looking like he has no intention of leaving….

It ticked me off.  Can’t remember what I said after that, but it took some additional coaxing for me to help him connect the dots, that now was not going to work, and he would have to leave…

We have another friend, whom we see  3 or 4 times a year….tops

We’ve been known to close down a Starbucks on more than one occasion…reminds me of those days when I would sit for hours engrossed in a deep conversation with someone on a Saturday night in a bar….it would feel like we were in a bubble, and the people  and noise all around us were not really there.

As I thought about this second friendship and the frequency of our getting together’s , I  said to the friend who had a hard time connecting the dots when it came time to leave

.“I  would prefer we just  together every 6 to 8 weeks..”

(My thought was, in this other friendship,  which I dearly enjoy, we can go 8 to 12 weeks between visits, then getting together only every 6 to 8 seems more balanced with the rest of my life)

He took it well enough I thought at the time…. I said maybe we could do a little more communicating via e-mail…

(side note : I have not seen or heard from him again, as of this writing it’s been about 30 weeks.. ..I’ve called, e-mailed and sent him a note, oh well, )

What I was experiencing in this relationship is not uncommon…. it is part of being human.

When the knot in my stomach would start and I would have these thoughts about   not being a “good friend”. this verse would pop into my head:

“Let your foot be seldom in your neighbor’s house, lest he have his fill of you and hate you.”                           from the  book of Proverbs 25:17

yep, that pretty much summed up what I was feeling…

(boy am I on a roll this week..two verses in one blog post )

So here’s to all of us who enjoy  interacting with people…

Sometimes less is better.

Even in the world of cheese…it’s all about timing.

ps if you’re ever looking for a gift ideas for me… I love swiss cheese DM