Election

One year ago many were aghast at the presidential election results as they unfolded.

I remember staying awake wondering how I was going to tell my daughter the news. She’d studied the election and had come to support Hillary even though she couldn’t vote.
There were some pretty strong emotions the day after. Tears. Sadness. Anger.
And I remember coming back to this idea, “Looks like we’re going to have to fight harder than we thought for what is right.”

Progress. Positive change. Moving forward. Whatever you want to call it doesn’t come easy. Nor does it comes swift. It takes persistence and patience. There will be setbacks. There will be defeats and frustration and anger and “Fuck this bullshit it is not worth my god damn fucking time and I am a fool for ever having invested any of myself in the cause.”
That passes.
The veil lifts.
Anger is replaced by determination and frustration is replaced by courage previously unknown. We do not learn who we are through triumph. We learn who we are through defeat.

Election Day 2017 we saw a hint of that resolve.

Virgina voted for the nation’s first openly transgender candidate, Danica Roem who unseated 26-year veteran and self-titled “chief homophobe” Bob Marshall for the Virginia state legislative body. This is the same Bob Marshall who wrote the anti-trans bill that cost Virginia money as well as dignity.
Oh, but it doesn’t stop there. Closer to home in Minneapolis, Andrea Jenkins was elected to city council. She becomes the first openly transgender woman of color to hold public office in the country. I could go on as there were other victories of a similar nature.

Well then. Perhaps the progressives have a little fight in them. I’m not sure who we have to thank for this. Maybe Millenials aren’t so bad after all. Or maybe Gen X finally stopped slacking long enough to put something together. I don’t know and I don’t know if I care.

What I do care about is this. We are a nation of diversity. We have always been a diverse nation though historically we have done a tremendously awful job of acknowledging that. We want to whitewash everyone and everything. That’s not who we really are as a nation. That’s not how democracy works (though truth be told I don’t believe we’re really a democracy but we’ll leave that topic for another day).
If you want to be a white dude who listens to Hank Jr. and works on your car and prefers Old Style over craft beer, great go for it. But if you’re a black trans woman who wants to be on Minneapolis city council, great too. Go for it. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness and all of that is a dream still not fully realized.

Let me end with this, Donald Trump was right about one thing. I want to make America great again. But not the way it was great last time. Great in a new way that even I can’t even fully imagine. There is a long way to go before the end and there will be more struggles ahead but for the moment, I’m going to celebrate.

PH24

One week from right now I will be in the middle of riding the Powderhorn 24. Solo.

Twenty four hours of riding solo but not by myself.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why would I subject myself to seeing how far I can ride in 24 hours by myself?

I don’t know what is wrong with me and I suspect that would take some time to explore and explain. But I do know why I’m going to see how far I can ride in 24 hours by myself.

It is a celebration. A celebration of community. Of cyclists. Of neighbors and friends.

There is part of me that is nervous and sweating all the details. There is another part of me that says, to hell with it. Go. Have fun. Pedal your ass off.

I’ve already done 24 hours in the woods where I ran out of light in the middle of a night lap. Won’t make that mistake again.

That’s all for now. More later. I’ll leave you with this.

Easy like…

Hello and happy Sunday patient readers,

I do hope this missive finds you all well. We are halfway(?) through summer.  Where the hell does the time go? I swear I have 100,000 things I need to get done and I have yet to begin most of them.

Ah well, these things they happen. Some things get done. Many remain undone. But as long as I am surrounded by those I love, the beer is cold and I have a bike what does the rest matter?

But it has been difficult lately to remember that. It has been nearly impossible to take it easy. Relaxation is not something I’ve never been good at taking it easy but come high summer and it is an exercise in futility. This most recent Saturday V and I chilled and I couldn’t help but be racked by guilt for ‘being lazy.’

Most days I aim for balance. A bit of work and play. I don’t want to waste my time just to have a clean house and a perfectly manicured lawn. Also I can’t just go on endless bike rides. 

So I strike a balance. 

Funny thing about balance is it doesn’t feel all that great sometimes. It takes steady work. It is a heck of a lot easier to just concede and be imbalanced. 

Funny thing about imbalance is I can’t live like that. Well I can but it isn’t a life worth living.

So here I sit practicing balance daily.

And on that I must rest. Good night, take care and be well. 

It was a dark and stormy January

It has been dark days.

Partially because of the time of the year. Grey weather. Not really any snow to enjoy. Did I mention grey weather? No sun (Twin Cities National Weather Service says we haven’t seen the sun since January 18).  Gross. 

2017 is off to a rocky start as well. I don’t want to go into the details in this space but suffice it to say life could throttle back on the bad news front. A week without bad news would be divine. Hell even a day right now would be superb. 

So what do I do? What can I do?

Sometimes I have zero control and just have to admit that. Sometimes I do have control. And the hope is that I am smart enough to know the difference.

And lots of taking it day by day.

It is all a good exercise in patience, persistence, perspective and priorities. 

Plus it is a good reminder that I’m not dead yet.

Take good care out there and be well. 

XsOs 

PS – It is Friday. The sun is out and blue skies abound. ❤️💛💚💙💜



It’s all just in your mind anyway

The words won’t come. 

The thoughts are there. But the right words won’t come. It is a damnable thing.

It is similar to having all the pieces for a project but not the tools to assemble it. 

Or at least not having the correct tools. Having a fistful of nuts and bolts while all you have is a hammer is frustrating.

However the good thing about hammers is they are a good tool to be persistent with. Just keep beating away and something is bound to give. 

Until next time. Godspeed. 

Here we go

I’ve done this blog thing off and on for a spell. I had one for a while. Then shuddered it for a few years. Then I did the Livejournal thing for a spell but that wasn’t my speed.

Now I’m here.

And now I’m adding another location. Check it out.

https://storybehindthephoto.wordpress.com/

I’ll be releasing it later today to the “masses.”

As always, if you have feedback, please give it to me. I would love to make this new site a dandy little number.

Xs Os

JMo

Three hundred sixty five

Right now, 27 August, 2016, I am 42.

On 28 August 2016 I will be 43.

Yes. It is my birthday. Not a subject I am incredibly fond of discussing, even among my closest friends and family.

It isn’t that I hate my birthday. I actually enjoy my birthday. However it is so incredibly uncomfortable for me to bring it up. I mean, other people go out of there way to wish me well, drop me lines of happiness and positive thoughts. Why the hell would anyone do that?

However, this year let’s talk about it.

It is uncomfortable because it means talking about myself with others. That is something I am not particularly good at and even less comfortable with. You want to talk about the weather? GREAT! Did you know that the record high for this day is 99-degrees Fahrenheit set in 1926.  The record low was less than half that at 42-degrees F which occurred back in 1887.

Let’s not go there.

Instead, I am reflecting back over the past four-plus decades I have been on this planet and I know that I’m where I want to be at this moment.

Today I spent my day with three of my absolute most favorite humans ever. I also spent the day with a bevy of other humans whom I love spending my time with and we made our little slice of the world slightly better. On top of all that I shared beer and laughs with a crew of souls so incredible that I consider myself highly fortunate to be alongside them. Oh, that reminds, today, I also had beer today.

In short, from the moment I woke up until the moment I fall asleep (which will be as soon as I hammer this out) I got to spend my entire day with people I love and care for.

Wow.

I’m floored. Stunned. Flabbergasted. Blown away.

Grateful.

Checking in

Hi there.

How are you? It has been awhile.

Got back from a week in Vermont Saturday (23 July). More on the Vermont trip later. V gets back from the Southwest today. Leave again for a week in Madison, WI tomorrow.

Things are hectic.

But hey, I’ve live-trapped five chipmunks from the chimney, fixed the upstairs toilet so it works again and been catching all the Pokémon!

OK, not ALL the Pokémon but a few. I’d tell you the exact number but I can’t sign in to Pokémon Go right now.

Mostly I could use several good nights sleep and possibly a nap.

Neither of those things are on the horizon so instead it looks like black coffee, summer runs, 12-hour days and copious amounts of punk rock instead.

There is a lot more I want to tear into. Later.

So, what is new with you?

Story behind the pictures – Tadpole farming

Three years ago my daughter V and I let loose the herd of thundering froglets we had raised upon the world.

Raising frogs is one of those quintessential childhood experiences in my opinion. Frogs are not difficult to raise from tadpoles. Basically give them fresh clean water and boiled lettuce and they just do their thing. All of which makes them great for kids to raise. Plus the changes from egg to tadpole to froglets is pretty incredible. To watch the legs and arms come in and watch the gills disappear. The transformation is quite amazing.

I highly recommend raising frogs however, before you do so you should become familiar with how to raise them and if there are any rules and regulations in your area regarding raising frogs.

Now onto the frog farming.
This is the first image I have post wrangling the tadpoles. Ginna and I were at my parents’ place in northern Wisconsin over Memorial Day weekend. There is a little swampy area down below the hill. As a kid, that swampy area was a nearly endless source of entertainment. The water had (and still has) a reddish tint to it due to iron in the soil. There used to be wild blueberries that grew in that area. Not a lot but certainly enough for a handful of children to get their fill.

Fresh from the swamp!

But the frogs were the main attraction.

I recall falling asleep to them in the spring and summer. A deafening chorus, mostly of northern leopard frogs. That and the dairy farm next door were instrumental in the soundtrack of my childhood.

Once V and I had our tadpoles it was time to get down to the business of raising them. We couldn’t just give them tap water. Well, you can, but it is important to let the water sit outside for several hours in the sun. It helps regulate the temperature and won’t cause shock to the frogs. Frogs might be easy to raise but they are quite susceptible to changes in their environment. (If you want a good case study on this, read Rachel Carson’s “Silent Spring” which was instrumental in the environmental movement.

We started our tadpoles out in a larger-sized reusable plastic container which worked just fine. Having see-through containers helps give the tadpoles plenty of light but also it makes it a lot easier to see them as they grow.

Leg-lets!

Early on, tadpoles consist of not much more than poorly-formed gills, a mouth and a very long tail. They are quite delicate at this stage of life. In the wild they often end up as food.

Speaking of food, tadpoles feast on algae normally. We didn’t have a readily available supply of algae. Plus I wasn’t about to track down the green goop. What we did have plenty of was lettuce. Specifically boiled lettuce. Boiled lettuce is remarkably similar to algae. At this stage of life the tadpoles have developed tiny teeth to help them grate their food and gain more nutrients for their upcoming life as a frog

After about six to nine weeks after hatching the tadpoles develop legs. They still had a tail but the gills slowly fade and turn into lungs. Also at this stage of life the tadpoles become much more social, often acting like a school of fish.

Fore(four)-legs

Not long after that they tadpoles received upgraded digs. They were outgrowing their early aquarium.

Days after they moved on up, they grew their forelimbs. Not only did the fore legs sprout but they also started to grow elongated bodies. However, the long tail remained. But at this stage they look like frogs with a very long tail.

It didn’t take long for that tail to shrink.

Short tailed frog

And the legs grew. As did the appetites. At this stage they are frogs. They leap. And they no longer spent all their time in the water. We had built the aquarium with several large rocks for the frogs to hang out on. They loved the big rock.

But their time on that big rock was limited. They were ready to leap into the big world outside. V and I had done all we could to give them a good start in this world. After this they were on their own. It was not as easy to let them loose as I thought it would be. They were a fair amount of work and I took them more than a few places during the months of raising them. But it was difficult letting them go. They had become part of the family and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to help them further.

But life is constantly changing and I knew they wouldn’t be happy anywhere else but in the big wide-world.

So let them go we did. I often wonder what became of them. Which of them survived. Which of them mated and had tadpoles of their own.

Maybe next time I’ll tag them with little bands before letting them go. Maybe I’ll become a professional frog wrangler.

Thanks frogs.

Ghosts

The man whose name is etched into this small block of granite on a veteran’s memorial wall in Medford, Wisconsin was my grandfather.

He served three years and three months in the military with about half of that being stationed in the Philippines. He was part of a four-person crew that fired a 90-mm anti-aircraft gun. I believe he held the rank of  corporal in the US Army. His military career ended when their gun was hit by a plane. My memory tells me it was a kamikaze but the terrible notes I took from an interview I did with my Grandfather back in seventh grade do not state that. My notes do state that he spent nearly a month in the hospital after that however.

What my notes do not state but I can recite from memory is he could wiggle his ears, he was generally a quiet man who we all would pay attention to when he did speak, he crushed his corn flakes before eating them (which to the best of my memory is the only thing I ever saw him eat for breakfast) and he loved a good chocolate-covered cherry.

He passed away a little more than 14 years ago. This time of the year often makes my mind turn back to my memories of Grandpa Frank between remembering the anniversary of his death and Memorial Day. Truth be told, I think about his often. He was my only Grandfather growing up. My Grandpa Molitor died before I was even born.

Speaking of my Grandpa and Grandma Molitor, I went to visit them this weekend. Along with my Uncle Norbert and Terry. I never knew Terry either since he died long before I was born. It was good to stop by and see their graves. Did the same for my Great Grandma and Grandpa Reimer. It was equally as good to see them.

I have a lot of memories of my Grandma Molitor and my Great Grandparents.

My Grandma Molitor for example was a devout Catholic and used to work in the local rectory. I recall once staying there with her and when I asked to get something from the refrigerator I was floored to see beer for the priest in there. I was clearly not schooled in the way of German Catholics at that point. There are many others with her since she cared for me quite a bit growing up but two other memories I’ll share of her. She was a prolific oil painter. She was reasonably skilled at it but she was always painting. She was also always growing something. In the summer her yard was always in bloom and year-round her house had no shortage of succulents and cacti. Oh and knitting. And baking. And…I could go on.

My Great Grandparents were also a trip. My Great Grandfather smelled perpetually of pipe tobacco and I was convinced that my Great Grandmother could grow and fish (and catch) anything under the sun. They also had a fantastic coo-coo clock that used to drive me crazy as a kid. These days I’d love to hear it. Time has a funny way of changing perspectives.

Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to sit down with them all and talk. The questions I would have would be nearly endless. What are some of your memories of childhood? Name one thing in your memory that you think is particularly endearing. What was the hardest day you can recall? What were my parents like growing up? How did your families survive the Great Depression? Who were friends growing up? Etc…

Alas, they are all ghosts now and ghosts have a terrible habit of not answering questions. I do miss them all but I am mainly grateful. Grateful for the childhood memories they gave me and grateful for the way they all helped shape me. The lessons they taught me and the knowledge they shared.

Here’s to the ghosts.