Box-Sledding

I don't think we're going to have a white Christmas this year. The grass is still green in Iowa and the temperature hovers around 36. I was worried that I was going to have a rough winter hanging out in Iowa, but it's not the case. Christmas is around the corner and I leave in eight days for Virginia.

So I will just have to imagine a white Christmas like these from year's past... 

[Photos from approx 1976.] My dad hauling me through the northern Minnesota (Bemidji) white stuff, back when every winter included white-outs and blizzards. I was a snow child, and I still am, but I'm not sure what I thought about the box-sled that they had going. However, I'm impressed with their thriftiness and creativity. I think if I had a kid, I would pull them in a box-sled too. Just so I could re-enact photos like these.

Giving Thanks

Historically I've not felt much affinity for the holiday of Thanksgiving. I think it's because I had misplaced emotions about its meaning. I took the celebration of a massive dinner with a dry turkey centerpiece literally, and couldn't see beyond the festive stuffing and resultant uncomfortable sensation at being too filled up.

But, I think I was mistaken.

This year, I'm home for Thanksgiving for the first time since 2000, which was the only time in the last fifteen years that I've been home for Thanksgiving. We're headed to Minneapolis, and I'm looking forward to the mix of relatives from both sides of my family. I have a lot to be thankful for, and I feel like embracing the idea of gratitude.

So many good things... I'd like to make a list, but it would be too long. Mostly, I'm happy to be alive, to have wonderful family and friends, to have had so many opportunities, and for the goodness in the world and hope for the future.

Life is beautiful. Living is amazing.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wolf's Lair, Poland

My long-haul bus riding days are over (I hope). Yesterday I caught a bus to town and a second bus to Gdansk. It was supposed to be 4.5 hours, and it was about five. Near the end, I felt like crawling out of my skin. I'm traditionally a good bus rider, but after over two months of public transport, I'm not enjoying it as much as the first week. No surprise there.

On Monday, I made a pilgrimage to Wolf's Lair. Hitler lived here mostly from 1941-45, and chose the area as a good location to plan and execute the invasion of the Soviet Union. In 1944, many of Hitler's high ranking German officers tried to assassinate him here. Obviously failed. When the war was over in 1945 as the Red Army was approaching, the Germans blew up most of the bunkers.

The woods are like Northern Minnesota. I found it surreal to feel so at home in a place where so many evil things were planned, but the idea that there were still people trying to stop him made me feel good about humanity. If this were in Germany, it would be crawling with tourists, but often I found myself walking among the ruins and the woods alone. I heard no English and the staff at Wolf's Lair barely spoke any either, which sort of added to the experience making it less like a tourist attraction and more like walk through the woods of history past.

Here is the cute bus driver on the way to Gierloz (where Wolf's Lair is located). Even though it was only 40km from the town I was last in, it took from 10.50 until about 14.15 to get there. This is why I will be happy to not be so reliant on public transport pretty damn soon.

So in Wolf's Lair, Hitler's top generals tried to assassinate him, (unsuccessfully, damn it) and when they were unsuccessful, Hitler and Co. executed about 5000 people who might have been related to the plot. Others were taken into "kinship custody" and some survived the war. There was a building with an exhibit and photos in the complex. Sadly the movie was in Polish but the signboards were all also in English and Deutsch.

The ruins are in a beautiful location, like northern Minnesota. Even with mosquitoes. At one point there were 2,000 people living here, but only 20 women. They even had a cinema, sauna, etc.

Hitler's personal bunker. The signs say no entry to the ruins, but no one is monitoring and everyone was going in. I walked through Hilter's bunker. It was dark.

It is not Minnesota.

I'd wondered if it would be worth it to go out of my way to get to Wolf's Lair, but it was certainly worth it.

You could pay 5Zl and practice shooting but I don't really like to even look at guns let alone shoot them. In my world they would not exist. But it is not my world.

It is pretty though. And the bottles look tempting.

The person who was given credit for the main part of the assassination attempt (he carried the briefcase in) was Claus von Stauffenberg. They blew up the building that Hilter was in, but unfortunately Hitler was only mildly hurt and one person was killed. This plaque says approx: Here stand the barracks where Claus von Stauffenberg, an assoc of Hitler's, and many others went against the nationalism/socialism/dictator and they paid with their lives.

My hotel 70zl ($25). It is simple and comes with breakfast and was a former barracks. I would recommend staying here. It's really peaceful after the tourists leave. And it also includes entry to the ruins. (Which is normally 12zl). So, quite handy.

They have decked out Hitler's headquarters into an inexpensive beautiful restaurant with good food.

I was obsessed with the similarity to Minnesota. Even the ground looks like Bemidji to me. The wet sandy dirt. The road that gradually slopes into the edge. The sparse grass.

I think there are blueberries and black bears in there.

The sign gives away that it is not Minnesota but without that, I'm sure you would not know the difference. To me this was lovely.

Waiting at the bus station to head to Gdansk.

Ok so then Poland morphed into North Dakota...

Here is North Dakota, taken as I came in on the Amtrak from Portland, OR in 2009.

Poland, from the bus 2011... slightly better camera.

So maybe Poland was the perfect place to end. With its similarities to North Dakota and Minnesota, I can almost taste the Midwestern air. It's only seven days away from being real. It's not that I want to get out of here, but the transition is as important as the change itself. These two plus months have been the transition from Germany to the States. To end here is to go home, in more ways than one.

After Gdansk I'll be staying with friends in Poznan and Berlin, so it's also my last bit in hostels, which is a nice thought too. There comes a time when you want to wake up and walk around in your underwear, throw laundry in when you feel like it, open the fridge to things that are yours, go to bed when you like without others coming and going all night. Not that they are big issues, but when they are gone, I won't miss them. Until the urge comes for the next trip, that is.

This fall I'll be making a USA tour: Chicago, the Midwest (Iowa, MN, ND), Portland & Seattle, New Orleans, New York City. So the adventure is not over- just changing. Besides, there is the adventure of a new hometown and new way of life... with fresh roasted coffee beans around the corner, black bicycle rides, arts and culture, and family a day's drive away. Let the stories continue...

Reading my dad's medical chart

Last weekend, I was talking with my aunt Deverle (my dad's older sister) and ended up on the subject of my dad's medical records, which were filed at the University of Minnesota hospital and recently changed to Fairview Medical, where Dee used to work as a dietitian. Dee sent an email to someone at Fairview on Sunday evening. Early Monday morning we had an email back with contact names and numbers. So I rang and spoke with an exceptionally kind and helpful woman named Anne, who had his chart on her desk the following morning with an email-scanned signature release from my mom. Anne set up an appointment with us so she could explain the chart and answer questions. About nine years ago (when I was living here last), I'd contacted the University of Minnesota, but they were so unhelpful and put out that I'd sort of given up the idea of looking at them.

So Thursday morning we made our way through road and building construction to the Release of Information office where we met Anne. She set us at a little table and brought my dad's chart. It was small. Only a little over an inch thick. I expected more. But then he was only there for two weeks.

The first page was his admission sheet. Three blue ball point signatures of Keith L. Schultz, all carefully written. He'd forgotten the L. on one of them, and added it afterward. I felt the signatures. Weird that my dad actually wrote them.

The only time I cried was when I saw the next page:
Admission: 10-20-83
Discharge: 11-2-83 expired (handwritten)
I can't imagine he would've thought he'd never be going home when he checked into the hospital.

The autopsy report was next. I felt strange reading his autopsy report, like I was sneaking in his underwear drawer. It basically said the leukemia had infiltrated much of organs. It was hopeless.

It was like I'd read the ending of the book first because next were the doctors' and nurses' notes starting from the beginning. The doctors' notes were detached. The nurses' real. They were concerned that he was numb to his situation at first (who wouldn't be) but after a few days started to talk more about what was happening. What do you say? "This was a crappy deal."

What he did say was:
"I'm doing 100% better." (After he was in the hospital a few days.)
"I didn't know I'd get so sick. It was like a torpedo." (He threw up from the drugs.)
"The doctors told me to eat like a pig, so I'm doing the best I can."
"I wish I hadn't lived so much for the future." (When things got worse a few days later)

On November 2nd at 4:30AM, he'd called the nurses in and had lost all vision in his left eye but was initially completely coherent. The nurse told my mom he asked, "Where are my girls?" The nurse asked him, "Keith, where are your girls?" He said, "They're at my sister's house." Then he went into a coma- he'd had brain hemorrhages. When I was reading it, I felt so bad for him- he must have been so scared. Later that day he was taken off life support and died. Age 34. Wife of ten years. Three girls: ages 7, 4, 7 months.

My aunt Dee told me, "I used to go to third floor (where he died) and just stand there and think 'I can't believe that happened'." She was working on her master's at the time. She also said, "Your mom had called me whispering, (before he was diagnosed) 'He has 64 bruises on his legs. That's just what I can see'" My dad was sleeping. What they all went through, I can't imagine.

Jim, Al, Larry, and Sara ("I'm not makin' this up either")

Scene: In front of a large commercial window sits a camel leather couch across from two olive green velvet chairs. Two small tables stand between the couch and chairs. Outside the sky is grey and trees are half bent over in the wind. Storm appears emminent though hardy Minnesotan Starbucks patrons are sitting outside on the black metal tables and chairs.

Location: Edina, Minnesota. Galleria shopping mall Starbucks. The foo-foo area of town.

Characters: All have thick accents except Sara who is just eavesdropping and scribbling it all into her journal.
Sara: Of the inspired adventurer blog. Blondish female wearing black cotton dress, black sandals, orange fleece and carrying canvas bag with Portland written on the side in green.
Larry: Square-faced, slight, 45ish year old brown-haired man with baggy blue jeans, polo shirt tucked in, belt, wire glasses and solid black geriatric lace-up walking shoes.
Jim: Square-faced, slight, 55ish year old, wavy silver-haired man with khaki chino shorts, polo shirt tucked in, belt, wire glasses and solid white geriatric lace-up walking shoes.
Al: Square-faced, slight, 65ish year old silver-haired man with khaki chinos, polo shirt tucked in, belt, wire glasses and solid white geriatric lace up walking shoes.

Script:
[Larry seated to the left of Jim on the leather couch. Sara directly across from Larry with head buried in journal and Travels with Charley book. Al seated in velvet chair to her right.]

Larry: (To Al) I had a couple tips for you and your antifreeze problem. Your pseudoantifreeze problem. I'll save that for later.

(Greetings all around.)

Jim: Say, Larry, I don't mean to offend you or anything, but are you actually singing tonight?

Larry: Ya, sure am.

Jim: Larry. Very impressive.

Larry: Thank you.

Jim: Do you play any Simon & Garfunkel? I have one of their albums. I think it's called Concert in Central Park.

Larry: No, I don't really like that too much. Never did. I like the Doors.

(Mild-mannered debate ensues around the Doors and Simon & Garfunkel. I personally prefer Simon & Garfunkel along with Jim and Al, but keep that to myself even though I'd like to share. I'm enjoying my eavesdropping too much.)

Al: Do you read the New York Times? Maureen Dowd wrote [something] I think your wife would like to read.

Jim: I'm not sure that Leslie would know who Maureen Dowd is. Maybe I'm selling her short though. I have to go now- Leslie'll be wondering where I am.

[Jim stands up to leave.]

Jim: Think I'll stop over at Barnes and Noble for five minutes. Five minutes. Ya.

(Goodbyes all around.)

Larry: Say Al, you can have your engine oil analysed and it will tell you if you have head gasket problems. If antifreeze shows up in your oil, then you have a head gasket problem. That test just costs twenty-two bucks...

Just Me and My Mom

When I was a kid, one of my favorite books was Mercer Mayer's Just Me and My Dad, a book about a camping trip with multiple mishaps, which I couldn't read without peeing my pants in laughter. A few days ago, I had an experience of my own to parallel the book.

For the Fourth of July, my mom and I picked up my aunt Audrey and headed for the lake cabin in Bemidji to hang out with the other rellies. My mom's still healing up a broken left leg, so we have to take things easy.

The second day at the cabin, we headed out in the morning to go canoeing, which we decided would be okay since it's the arms that are most important.

Down the lumpy hill (holes and tree branches), my mom held my arm as we neared the red canoe that we'd taken out many times in the past. I was assessing the situation of seating with great anality, trying to figure the best seat for my mom. We decided the back seat since that was the one closest to the lake.

My mom got in the back seat. I pushed the canoe towards the water, but my brute strength didn't budge the canoe. (Perhaps the three feet of canoe in the water wasn't enough?) The canoe seemed to be tilting left a little, so I tried to hold the canoe steady and push again but next thing I knew, the canoe was going sideways and I poured my mom out onto the dirt and grass. She was half in and half out of the canoe, facing headfirst downhill, while the canoe was filling with water at the lower part, which was in the lake.

I tried to help. "Mom! Can you get your legs out of the canoe?" I laughed, falling down a little myself. It's slightly difficult to help when you're weak from laughing. I hoped no one was looking from the cabin. They would think we were idiots! I laid down on the ground a bit, difficulty breathing from the laughing. "I'm not laughing at you!" Gasp. Gasp.

We got my mom's legs out of the canoe and helped her to stand from the precarious position of downhill muddy footing. I had to rebank the canoe and tip it over a twice before I removed enough water for us to make a second attempt at embarking on the peaceful morning ride. The second time, we were off and managed over an hour on the lake before returning to shore with no stories to tell that time.

Home for the holidays

I walked outside the Grand Forks airport and was greeted with swirling fresh snow under the parking lot lights and chilly air. Mountains of snow piles indicated that it was not the first snowfall of the season. I was excited. Finally a white christmas and cold weather.

Molly, Josh and Mom picked me up in the tan Impala as the ancient ATA security man rushed us off away from the entrance. The traffic situation in Grand Forks, ND must be monitored at all times lest it get out of control. All those folks in North Dakota- I heard that it is even gaining population. The two states who are now losing population are Michigan and Rhode Island. Yay North Dakota!

Over the holidays (all 3.5 days that I was able to get off from work) I saw 21 relatives, 3 different towns and drove piles of miles. We went sledding and cross country skiing. I managed not to injure myself. (Good thing my mom reminded me I'm not 18 anymore, or I would have been standing on my sled down the hill.)

One day I thought I would walk from Gortman's to Michael's (two different stores in Grand Forks about 1-2 blocks apart) and had to warm up two times and stop for coffee to make it. It was so windy, I ended up with coffee on my coat and near frost-bitten fingers. I decided I was not moving back to Grand Forks any time soon.

There is nothing like Christmas in Minnesota with my family. I'm glad this year I got back before the move to Auckland. Who knows when I'll be able to see everyone like that again. If only I could get there without the joys of holiday travel - at least one of my four flights wasn't delayed!

In other notes, I cleaned out my desk yesterday. One more day of work. I actually felt fine about it.