Archive for June 2008

Beer..the Refreshing Investment

Posted: Sunday, June 29, 2008 at 12:00 am
By: Doug Lund
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Okay..after another 14 percent drop in the stock market last week I’m really thinking about pulling out what little money Linda and I have left in our shrinking retirement fund and putting it into something that might keep us from having to move in with our kids. (I’m not sure if they’d take both of us at once, though, which would be a shame.) My first thought was to take it all to Vegas, step up to a roulette table..put it all on red and hope for the best. Even if the little ball landed on black it would almost be better than having Wall Street squeeze us into poverty little by little each month.
I’ve been thinking about investments that are pretty much inflation, recession or politician proof..and I’ve decided there is one possibility: BEER. Now I’m not much of a beer drinker myself but I know those who are will cut just about every financial corner they can before saying, “That’s it..we’re not buying any more beer until the economy turns around.”
When times are tough, sorrows are soothed with a beer. “Here bud, have a’ll feel better.”   When things are going great, you celebrate with a beer: That’s the biggest walleye I’ve ever caught..toss me a Pabst. "Hey, welcome to the neighborhood. Is that a 64 inch high def TV? Care for a brewski? Did you know that Miller Light has only half the carbs of other beers?  You mean its Atkins friendly? Yup..drink up.”
You don’t think there’s inflation-proof money in that golden brewed beverage? The second largest beer company in the world is attempting a take over Budweiser..the LARGEST beer company in the world.  So far, though, Budweiser has said “no” to a 46.2 Billion dollar offer. 46 BILLION.The merger between Miller and Coors becomes official tomorrow.
It seems to me the only way beer sales might suffer is if the demand for ethanol forces every farmer to grow nothing but corn instead of barley and hops. Nah, never happen.
Convenience stores also seem to be a pretty good investment. If you have a halfway decent location it’s like planting a money tree.  When’s the last time you didn’t have to wait in line behind two or three people to pay for something at a convenience store? Even if their gasoline profits are down, clerks rake-in cash over the counter non-stop from customers willing to buy everything else that’s sold in the store from 5 dollar milk, to 3 dollar bread, generic brand cigarettes and…oh yeah, beer.
Ugh.. all this talk about losing money has made me thirsty.
“Honey do we have anymore beer in the fridge downstairs?”

The Bodies Human Exhibit

Posted: Thursday, June 26, 2008 at 12:00 am
By: Doug Lund
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I got used to seeing a lot of dead bodies at a very early age.
My aunt, Leila, was married to longtime Volga mortician and Brookings County coroner, Conrad Lee. He was in charge of picking up the person who had died, making arrangements with the families and embalming the bodies. She handled the job of making the deceased look natural and presentable for casket viewing. 
Leila was my favorite aunt and I spent a lot of time at her house. The funeral home was right next door and although I was never allowed in the embalming room, she’d always let me look at the dead people after she had them dressed and laid out in their coffin. I think she rather enjoyed it when others would comment on how natural the corpse looked and how she managed to get the hair just right.  Anyway, it was just part of my growing up so I wasn’t at all squeamish about visiting the “Bodies Human” exhibit in Watertown last weekend.This is one of several such exhibits that tour around the country giving visitors the chance to look inside real human bodies to see and understand what a marvelous machine we really are. They’re preserved in Taiwan by a process called plastination in which the natural body fluids are somehow replaced with plastic.
 The obvious who were these people and how did they wind up  skinned, sliced and dissected in this exhibit..aren’t answered in the brochure. But the owner of Bodies Human says they are the remains of Asian people and have been obtained through strictly legitimate means.
The reaction from our little group of four ranged from “fascinating, unbelievable, creepy, awesome, or, as Linda said a couple times..kind of sad.”
Well, you’ll have the chance to come up with your own description: the exhibit will be there through the end of October.
What I found nearly as interesting as the display cases full of hearts, lungs, livers and testicles was the building that houses the exhibit.
A couple years ago, lawyers, David Berry and his wife, Nancy Turbak- Berry..who is also a state senator from Watertown..made a decision to try salvage the historic Goss Opera House. Nancy told me Sunday that if she’d known what they were in for at the time they might have scrapped the idea. Restoration of the three story 1888 building is a monumental task that has a long way to go but thanks to a lot of volunteers, the Berrys were able to make the Opera House presentable for the Bodies Human exhibit. The place is really going to be something when it’s done. To learn more about the Goss Opera House project..including lots of photos, click here.

One Tank Trip

Posted: Tuesday, June 24, 2008 at 12:00 am
By: Doug Lund
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Sorry it’s been so long since my last scribbling here but Linda and I have been on vacationwith our friends the Graves. I know what you’re’re retired..your whole “life” is a vacation. That may be true but we sure enjoy our getaways each June with Denny and Joan. We made good on our threat to invade Watertown last Saturday. The weather was perfect for golf.  The rooms at the casino were fantastic but the slot machines were not in a very generous mood.
We had made reservations to eat at the old Lakeshore restaurant and dine while watching the sun set over Lake Kampeska.
The place is apparently under new ownership who changed the name from the classy-sounding Lakeshore Restaurant to LUNKERS which sounds more like a sports baror a fish market than an upscale restaurant but I was assured that everything else was the same as I made reservations for Saturday night. Then, just as we were about to leave, I get a call from a Lunkers manager who said the employee who took the reservation didn’t realize that the restaurant would  be closed to the public because of a wedding. Well, as our friend Joanie would say, “doesn’t that frost your bobber?” The same thing happened a few years ago when we tried to have dinner there.
So we decided to take the advice of someone who commented on my Watertown blog last week and head over to the Waverly Steak House..just a few miles east of the casino. It was a good choice but there was no lake and no sunset view.
The Graves had never been to the Redlin Art Center before so we spent an enjoyable couple hours there on Sunday followed by a fascinating, freaky, sorta great and sorta gross “Body Human” exhibit and the Goss Opera Houseand Gallery that’s in the middle of restoration in Uptown Watertown. I’ll tell youmore about that experience later this week.
Denny and Joan’s daughter and son-in-law let us use their cabin at Lake Madison for two great relaxing days of golf, fishing and soaking up the serenity of the place.  A wonderful time and we only used three quarters of a tank of gas. Oh yeah, we may have been snookered out of dinner by the lake at Lunkers but we had the best grilled hamburgers I’ve ever eaten on the back deck of our cabin with this view of the sunset.Eat your heart out Hemmingsen!Okay, as soon as I start gloating about my picture-taking skills, Hemmingsen points out the fact I must have been tipsy when I took the shot because the lake appears to be leaning..and assumably draining  south. With his vast computer skills, Steve has managed to straighten out my horizon so Lake Madison is safe for boaters again and no longer a flood threat to the fine folks in Chester.Thanks Steve.

Ahem, is that my ATM?

Posted: Thursday, June 19, 2008 at 12:00 am
By: Doug Lund
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I’ll be getting my new ATM card in the mail within a few days.
I drove up to make a withdrawal from a machine this past week and discovered that it was no longer in amongst my other cards and cash that I always carry in my front pocket. At first a little panic came over me: Oh, my god..was it stolen? Did someone watch me at the ATM through a high powered telescope and get my PIN number..then somehow sneak into my house, steal the card and start going around to different machines taking cash out of my account 200 dollars at a time? (my daily limit)
No, wait, that’s pretty unlikely. I must have lost it but where and when? Think, man, think.
“You better be getting the bank called,” Linda said when I told her. “Have you checked our balance to make sure we’re not being robbed blind?” I’m not sure what blind has to do with being robbed but Linda has become ultra sensitive about identity theft lately..and rightly so, I guess.  She bought a noisy paper shredder a couple years ago and  now grinds up just about everything that comes in the mail out of concern it might contain some personal information that the identity thieves would love to have and wouldn’t  hesitate to dive through the coffee grounds and meat scraps in our garbage to get.
Well, after a few minutes of calm self reflection, I concluded that there are only two ATMs that I ever use. One of them operates by just swiping the card. It never leaves your possession. The other, though, insists you shove your card into the machine where it is gobbled up and held hostage until your transaction is complete. Only after you’ve answered a couple more questions will it be released back into your custody.  I hate those outdoor drive-up ATMs. I usually stop too far away to reach the buttons so I have to get out of the car anyway. Plus the sun always seems to be glaring right into the cash machine screen so I have to try create a shadow with my arms and body in order to see the prompts. Well, I called the bank and, after a few minutes listening to robots programmed to sound like humans, was able to actually talk with a real live person who, following a thorough interrogation, informed me that, indeed, my card had been found in that machine on Sycamore Avenue that sits in the sun.
“Why didn’t somebody just call and let me know that it had been found?”  “I’m not sure, sir, that’s not our bank. But, your old card has been deactivated. You should receive the replacement and a new PIN number in the mail within a week.”
*Memo to self: Make sure Linda doesn’t shred up letter containing new ATM card.

Old Timers, Tiger, Ferguson & Atkins

Posted: Tuesday, June 17, 2008 at 12:00 am
By: Doug Lund
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When author Thomas Wolfe titled his final book, “You Can’t go Home Again,” he didn’t mean it literally, of course, because that’s just what my brother, Denny, and I did this past weekend for the annual Volga “Old Timer’s Day” celebration. 
Way back when, there must have been a younger member of the city council who dreamed up that awful name as a tribute to the geezers who first settled the community.  
But now people MY age are the Old Timers and who needs to be reminded of that?
There was no hiding, though, for my classmates who were literally paraded up Kasan Avenue on an old chopped and channeled school bus.  Three classes..1962,63 and 64 were invited on board but I had to pass because we got there late and had to leave early.
My home town has never looked better. The weather was beautiful and turnout was huge for the hour long parade. 
My brother Tom and his wife Ilene (center of photo) were home from South Carolina.Both were in the class of 1968 celebrating 40th class reunion.
I’m really lucky that Linda doesn’t mind my playing golf.  She doesn’t care to play herself, but she’ll actually go out on the course with me sometimes.. if the sun is out and if it’s not too cold..or too hot.
When it comes to watching golf on television, though, she’d rather read a book.
My friend and I had a tee time yesterday so I had to record the playoff round of the U.S. Open on my DVR. So, you can imagine my surprise when I got home and Linda was telling me all about the amazing finish between Tiger and Rocco.
“You watched?” I said. 
‘Yeah..I was really rooting for Mediate to beat Woods.” 
“I didn’t know you were all that interested.”
“I’m not usually, but this was really exciting.”
 Exciting, yes…but when Tiger is on the hunt..even an injured Tiger, the stars all seem to align and he winds up planting another big kiss on the winner’s trophy.
It doesn’t matter that after a less-than-perfect shot, Woods will curse loud enough to make the network censors wince or that he slams his driver into the ground when the ball sails into the rough or if he throws his wedge into the sand…it doesn’t matter if his opponent is a nice guy with an outgoing personality and a fan favorite, the golf gods have deemed Mr. Woods to be the greatest who ever played the game. He is Mozart..everyone else is Salieri. 
 It’s Superman over everyman at the U.S. Open
I have a new favorite television program; The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson.
Unless you stay up until 11:36 weeknights on CBS, you may not have seen him but a lot of folks, like me, are recording the show to watch at a saner hour. Ferguson, a native of Scotland who recently became a U.S. citizen, is an actor and comedian who played Drew’s boss on the Drew Carey show.  But his quick wit and accent make for a perfect and refreshingly different late night combination.  
He never fails to make me laugh out loud even if I’m watching all by myself.
ATKINS UPDATE:  I’ve advanced another notch on my belt…nearly two for a total of nearly three. 
That’s the good news. The bad news is that nobody but Linda (who has lost 9 pounds herself) has noticed and she may be just saying that to keep me going.
But, even though I have a very long way to go, there’s no giving up.
We may even be getting some divine assistance.
Our stove blew up yesterday.
Salad and cold cuts anyone?

My French Father (In-Law)

Posted: Saturday, June 14, 2008 at 12:00 am
By: Doug Lund
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I was pretty nervous the first time I met Linda’s Dad, Len Trudeau, at a family picnic in Alcester 28 years ago. I’m sure the fact that his second-born daughter was dating the likes of me..a twice divorced Norwegian Lutheran..caused him more than a little concern.
But he knew who I was from watching me on television and must have  figured I was an okay guy who obviously loved his daughter and would take good care of her..which is all any father wants.Len and Mary Trudeau at Linda and My wedding.
Len Trudeau, who everybody in town called “Frenchie” was born and raised on a farm North of Alcester. He had an identical twin brother, Lee, along with several other siblings in one of the few Catholic families in that part of Union County. They worked hard and went to mass in Beresford every week. 
When he was 28 he won the heart of an Alcester High School cheer leader, Mary Waddell, who was ten years his junior. Before long they were married and raising a family that eventually resulted in 8 children.
He wasn’t much on farming so he took up house painting and was good at it too..but  with a growing family, it was increasingly difficult to make the money stretch..especially when Frenchie’s elderly father moved into their already crowded little home.
To help make ends meet, he worked nights at the local liquor store. His kids would often appear at the drive-up window and ask for a quarter or two to buy a treat. After the typical fatherly lecture about how money doesn’t grow on trees..his girls would just bat their eyes and he’d give in.
What little spare time Len had was spent along a river or lake someplace fishing.  Over the years he perfected his craft and had several “honey holes” that always produced a big harvest of walleye, bass, crappie, blue gill or even bullheads. The Trudeaus ate a lot of fish..and not just on Fridays.
If there was anything he enjoyed as much as his family or fishing, it was dancing with Mary. Len and Mary..always the smoothest couple on the dance floor.They’d often come to dances where I was playing in the band. It was a joy to watch the two of them glide around the floor in perfect sync that only comes with years and years of growing comfortable together understanding and anticipating each other’s every move.
Len Trudeau was from the old school. There were no quiet sentimental moments with his children  filled with “I love yous” over and over. He didn’t spare the rod when they got out of line..even in church where an offending offspring might be taken outside to feel the firm swat of his hand across their backside as a reminder that God isn’t the only one who will dish out punishment if you don’t do as your told.
Len really enjoyed telling stories..usually about a fishing expedition somewhere.  I remember sitting in amazement as he recounted those memories and marveling at his use of colorful salty language that for some reason never seemed like cursing when  it came from him.
He was in pretty good health until his “ticker” started to give out and finally stopped beating after an agonizing few days in the hospital 8 years ago this week. He was 86.Cher Frenchie, le mai le poisson être toujours aigre dans le ciel (may the fish always be biting in heaven.)
Today all 8 of Len’s children still ache at the thought of his passing and wish they had one more chance to tell him thanks and what a great job he did taking care of his big family.
But it’s really not necessary. When it comes to a child’s gratitude or a father’s love..some things just go without saying.

Is My Les Paul Special?

Posted: Tuesday, June 10, 2008 at 12:00 am
By: Doug Lund
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Les Paul turned 93 this week.
I’m guessing a lot of you..especially those of you under 40..haven’t the remotest idea of who Les Paul is. That’s too bad because he changed music forever.
In 1941, Les Paul pioneered development of the solid body electric guitar which made rock and roll possible. He also invented the 8 track recording machine which revolutionized the industry by making it possible to record on one track..listen to it played back and record more voices or instruments on each additional track.
With his wife, Mary Ford, Les Paul rolled out hit after hit in the fifties using this multiple dubbing technique. Songs like How High the Moon, Bye Bye Blues and The World is Waiting for the Sunrise sounded like a big band when it was just Les and Mary overdubbing harmonies.
In the early 50’s Les signed a deal with the Gibson Company and lent his name to a few models of guitars which he helped design. Les Paul still wowing audiences with his guitar magic at age 93
A couple years ago, I noticed an early Les Paul Gibson Guitar being appraised on the Antiques Road Show. It was a solid body from the late 50’s and it was valued at something like 20 to 30 thousand dollars!
That got me to thinking that I might  just have a treasure tucked away in a dusty beat- up case that’s been sitting in the garage for over 30 years!  
In 1963, I needed a guitar upgrade. Our rock band, The Couriers, were actually getting quite a few bookings and my cousin, Grouse, was getting tired of me playing his Fender guitar instead of the cheap Silvertone model I’d gotten at Sears. I’d heard about a guy in Aurora who had a Gibson electric for sale so I gave him a call. Oh, it was beautiful.A Les Paul Special cherry red solid body double cutaway duel pick-up guitar in its original fake alligator-skin case. I had to have it and somehow came up with the hundred bucks he was asking. It played great and with Grouse now happy to have his Fender back we finally looked and sounded like a real band.
We had worked a dance clear up in Selby, South Dakota. It was a bitter cold night and when we finally got home, I went right to bed and left my guitar in the cold car. Next morning when I opened the case, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing; the neck on my red beauty had snapped right at the heel. Words can’t describe my devastation. I was so distraught that even my dad took pity and me and didn’t chew my butt for leaving it out in the cold. Instead, Dad..a pretty darn good cabinet maker..offered to try fix it with a couple of wooden dowels. It worked. Or at least I thought it did until I tried to play the thing. Tears rolled down my cheeks when I discovered that the least bit of pressure on the neck sent the strings out of tune. My Gibson Les Paul Special The guitar was hardly played at all and is in pretty good shape considering.    The serial number is branded into the rosewood neck. The first number (9) means that the guitar was made in 1959The Gibson went into the case until sometime in the 70’s when a guitar-playing friend said he’d take a look at it. Three years later, I finally got it back only to find a few parts, like the bridge, one pick-up, back plate and a tone control knob were missing. And that’s the way it’s been ever since until the Antiques Road Show appraisal. I started doing some research and discovered that mine is a rare 1959 model and that it was only made for a few months because it had a major flaw. The necks broke on nearly ALL of them. Gibson solved the problem by moving the top electrical pick-up a couple inches lower. So it wasn’t my fault after all!Here’s the busted neck that shows my Dad’s valiant attempt at repairing the damage with a couple dowels.
What is it worth..even in its present condition?  I’m not sure but I do know that guitar collectors and players absolutely love these old rock and roll maybe I’ll try find the missing pieces..put it on E-Bay and hope someone is willing to pay enough to make Linda and my retirement less dependent on our monthly social security checks.
A guy can dream can’t he?

Watertown on the Brain

Posted: Sunday, June 8, 2008 at 12:00 am
By: Doug Lund
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I can’t believe it..Summer begins in just a few days and I keep waiting for Spring to get started.
Each Sunday, Pastor Haugrud, at our little rural church called Springdale, offers up prayers that God will grant favorable weather for the farmers in our midst. It’s not very often around these parts that the Almighty is asked to lighten up on the rain already but, here we are..Spring is just about gone and many fields remain unplanted because we’ve been inundated with too much of what we’ll be beseeching the Lord for in July when it’s hot and dry.
Linda and I got together with our friends, the Graves, over the weekend to plan our annual road trip in late June to celebrate our anniversaries. We’ll only have about three days this year so we’ve been debating between the Twin Cities and seeing a Twins game or heading up to Watertown. I’m leaning towards the latter.
Linda and I have always loved Watertown and usually find a way to spend a three day weekend there at least once each summer. Terrific golf courses, the Bramble Park Zoo, touring the governor Mellette House, bloody mary’s at the Zoom Zoom room and.. the incredible Redlin Art Center.As Steve wrote about in his blog recently, there are some new things to see if you haven’t been there in a while. I’m still amazed every time that big federal style building with its huge columns comes into view off Interstate 29. It looks as though a majestic structure in Washington D.C. has been transplanted on the prairie.
Our favorite Watertown memories, though, are the many leisurely drives we’ve taken around Lake Kampeska looking at all the beautiful homes and dreaming it was us living there. The paved road circles the entire lake.Then, a late dinner at the Lakeshore restaurant with a table by the window..a  pianist playing our favorite songs in the background and us toasting the sunset over the lake with a nice Bordeaux.  
I wonder if the pastor would offer up a little prayer for nice weather and low golf scores when we go in a couple weeks. Nah, I probably won’t bother him about it.
We’re not the only part of the country that’s had weird weather this Spring. Check out this picture our son, James, took of his car in the parking lot of Old Faithful in Yellowstone Park June 6th.  He got out of there just before they closed the roads. Global Warming indeed!

Crazy Horse Then and Now

Posted: Thursday, June 5, 2008 at 12:00 am
By: Doug Lund
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Stop touching me.You stop touching me. I’m not. You are too. (pinch) Ouch! (pinch back) Stop it Dumbo ears. Make me.. upside down ears. (shove, pinch, hit..wailing cry)
That’s usually when my red faced Dad would hit the brakes, pull our 1953 Mercury over to the side of the road turn around to my older brother and me in the back seat and, with a lit Camel still in his lips and smoke coming out of his normal shaped ears, he would yell something like xxxdammit you boys that’s enough. I’ve had it with the both of ya. If I hear one more peep out of either of you I’m going to drop you off right here in the middle of the Black Hills and I don’t mean maybe. After he turned around and we were rolling again, my brother would look at me, make a face then smile and inch his forefinger and thumb toward my leg again.
My spot in the car on our annual vacation was usually behind the old man. I spent the entire time watching his eyes in the rear view mirror scanning back and forth checking..not only for traffic out the back window.. but also for any clandestine activity coming from the back seat.Our little brother usually was sandwiched between Dad and Mom up front. He had the best spot, though, because he was still small enough to stand-up in the seat and look around. Then when he got tired, he’d lay his head down on Mom’s lap.
Even though mom knew how to drive and drove lots of places when we were home, on these two week summertime sojourns, Dad was the exclusive wheel man.  He would spend months planning our trips..sitting at the dining room table pouring over road maps deciding on which routes to take, the best places to see and the most economical places to stay. I remember the quiet conversations between Mom and Dad when discussing how in the world they were going to afford to go this year and then working out a budget to somehow make it happen. 
It’s easy to remember where we went because dad always had the movie camera along to record our adventures on film.For some reason, though, he didn’t take any pictures of the Crazy Horse carving in the Black Hills when we stopped there one summer in the 50’s.  We were returning from a swim in the steamy waters of Evan’s Plunge in Hot Springs when a little north of Custer we spotted  a homemade sign pointing to Crazy Horse Memorial. We followed the arrows along a dirt road for a half mile or so where we were met by an interesting looking young woman with  long braided hair rolled up into a bun on top of her head.We paid her two dollars, parked the car and walked over to a designated area where she met us in front of a beautiful white statue of an Indian on horseback pointing his arm toward the east. In the background a mile or so away was a huge mountain of granite which, the woman said, is being transformed into the world’s largest carving by her husband. “It will look just like this statue when it’s done,” she said.  “I don’t see anything but rock,” I blurted out. “You’ll have to use your imagination for awhile,” she said pointing out some areas on the mountain that had been blasted away by dynamite. “How long?” one of us asked. “Oh, perhaps fifty years..maybe a hundred. We just don’t know. Korczak is doing all the work himself.  It will be done someday by someone,” she said.                    
   L to R: 1948 Korczak vows to honor Lakota Chief Standing Bear’s request to carve Crazy Horse out of a mountain.  Korczak and Ruth: a family of ten to carry on the work.As I stared at that mountain when I was a kid 50 years ago, I remember thinking..I wonder if I’ll still be alive when Crazy Horse finally emerges from the stone..and how long fifty years seemed.
Now, 60 years after the carving began, and 26 years after her husband’s death, 82 year old  Ruth Ziolkowski is still being asked the same question by tourists and still giving the same answer; “Someday.”Participants in the annual Volksmarch celebrate at the top of the mountain. A few years ago, work on Crazy Horse’s face was completed. Emphasis is now on the horse’s head.Our son, James visited Crazy Horse last week and got a picture of the blasting.

Amazing Pictures From the Past

Posted: Monday, June 2, 2008 at 12:00 am
By: Doug Lund
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Ah, yes..another rainy Monday.  Looks like golf is out again. I knew I should have mowed the yard yesterday. Dang!
It’s on days like this that I get lost on the internet. It’s called surfing, I guess, but it’s more like one thing leading to another. I’ll see something about Harmon Killebrew and google his name to find out what he’s up to these days. That leads me to the Minnesota Twins history section and that leads me to the Washington Senators and that leads me to the history of baseball and that leads me to the myth about Abner Doubleday founding the game. And that leads me to Doubeday’s biography and that leads me to the Civil War etc, etc, etc. 
I really do enjoy these time consuming escapes..especially when there are old photographs involved which is how I discovered,
Every day, the creator of Shorpy, a guy known only as “Dave” posts several photographs ranging from the 1800’s to the 1940’s   The site is named after  Shorpy Higginbotham..a boy who worked in an Alabama coal mine near the turn of the century and was the subject of a photo essay on child labor in those days.
Dave is a genius when it comes to using computer technology to enhance these old images and when you view them full size,  details that no one knew were there suddenly appear.  I don’t know a pixel from a popsicle but these pictures..mostly of ordinary people and places..are amazing.  To see for yourself, click here.
There are thousands of images on the site, here are a few of my favorites so far. (For greater detail you can enlarge them on your computer by clicking on that little spyglass with the blue plus sign on the lower right of your screen. But to really appreciate the full size photo you’ll have to visit his website . )  Let me know what you think.This is a Lewis Hine photo of a New York tenement in 1911 showing a mother and children picking nuts. Again, for close-up detail check out Shorpy.comThis is a Walker Evans photo of the interior of a general store in Moundville, Alabama in 1936. The close-up reveals items from bullets to bags of flour.A Russell Lee image from 1938 of a barn dance in Crowley, LouisianaAn example of the crushing poverty in this Walker Evans picture of an Alabama sharecropper family in the mid 1930’sLittle Italy in New York 1908 by George lets you look up pictures by photographers or subject. But be prepared to get lost in these images..there are hundreds of them. Don’t forget to click on "full view"It’s a blog so you can also make comments and Dave will often respond. Now, I’m going there to see what new old pictures he’s posted today.