I got to spend some time with my mom on Sunday. (Okay..Mother-in-LAW)

Mary Trudeau, the matriarch of my wife’s clan, has had kind of a rough go of it in this, her 88^th year. Her constant companion these days is an oxygen tank and a hose in her nose but her wits are still about her and that fabulous smile is always at the ready even when she’s not feeling all that chipper which now is the case more often than not.

Mary and Len Trudeau raised 8 kids in their little Alcester, South Dakota house and, Sunday, seven of those offspring gathered around the home kitchen table for what could be the last time. Len has been gone for a dozen years now and Mary..though still plenty feisty..has had to admit that she can no longer live alone so she’ll be staying with daughter, Maria and son-in-law Paul on their Sioux Center farm until she gets better or needs full-time professional care.

(L to R)At the table with mother mary are Chad, Linda, Maria, Renee, Cynthia, Shelle. Not picture are Jeff and Bill.

But Sunday wasn’t a sad occasion; never is when the Trudeau’s get together..laughter abounds. Still there was the unmistakable sense of finality in everyone’s glistening eyes at having to face and accept the reality of mortality.  It’s tough to realize there’ll be no more of Mary’s roast beef or fried chicken dinners and home-made fruit pies served up from that tiny kitchen. But it will be tougher still when we lose the amazing lady who made that house a home.

Linda got to hear Captain Sully Sullenberger speak for the Sanford nurses gathering a few nights ago. He’s the U.S. Airways pilot who force landed his plane in New York’s Hudson River when it hit a flock of geese on take-off  conking out the engines. Everyone on board survived the ordeal and Sullenberger became a national hero.Linda said he was a marvelous speaker..and humble too..saying he was no different than any other pilot thanks to the rigorous and continuous training that all airlines require.

Speaking of pilots. I found out this past week that my kid brother, Tom, has officially decided to give up the love of his life…well, his first love after God and family, of course.

Tom, like Sully, has made a career in the clouds. He graduated from SDSU in 1972 then joined the Air Force as a 2^nd Lieutenant fresh out of ROTC. Before long he was training to fly jet fighters which he did for the next 8 years of active duty and 14 more in the Air Guard. It was during his time in the guard that Tom began searching for a job flying commercial airliners. After brief stints with the now defunct Air Florida and People Express, he landed a pilot’s gig with Continental. On May 20^th, he’ll close out  32 years in the skies with a final flight to Geneva. His wife, Ilene and daughter Erin will be among the passengers for that journey to Switzerland and back.  

Capt. Lund inspects the landing gear prior to flight

I wish I could tag along. I’ve never been on an airplane flown by my brother and it would be great fun to sneak into the cockpit and visit with the co-pilot and navigator to tell them about what a terrible driver Tom used to be on the ground.

Actually, in all his years and all the hours in the left seat he’s only had a couple emergencies i.e.: engine failures. But in both instances, Just like Capt. Sully said, the years of training and experience came to the forefront and he was able to bring the passengers, crew and aircraft to a safe landing.

Both my brother, Denny and I couldn’t  be more proud of all Tom has accomplished..especially after he suffered a brain aneurism while jogging twelve years ago.  Thanks to his ever present guardian angel, though, Tom not only survived but made a complete recovery.

May that same angel continue to be at your side as you safely soar over the Alps and home again next week. And, may you find satisfaction and comfort in your retirement knowing that you have had the rare honor of actually living the life written about here in the poignant poem “High Flight”   

 Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

In good hands

First off, I don’t like the idea of extorting mega millions from Minnesotans for a new football stadium. But I don’t like the thought of losing the Vikings to Los Angeles or Tucson even more so bite the financial bullet dear lawmakers in St. Paul and I promise not to complain too much about the exorbitant price of tickets, brats and beer when we come visit your new digs.

Seems to me, though, that there are lots of people in this world with lots of discretionary income; billions to burn for things like stadiums or art.  

We still don’t know for sure who had the top bid at Christie’s last week when Norwegian painter, Edvard Munch’s pastel version of “The Scream” went for a record 120 million dollars.  Most likely one of the filthy rich Arab oil barons from Qatar, Abu Dhabi or Dubai bought it. These guys have so much money they’re running out of ways to spend it like creating palm-shaped islands out of desert sand on which to erect their mansions.

Palm Island..they have two and are building more

They also built an enclosed Alpine mountain resort in one of the hottest places on earth complete with snow and ski slopes.

Ski Dubai outside view

Ski Dubai inside view

Of course if they ever do run low on cash, they just turn off a few spigots to their oceans of oil..create world wide shortages and drive up the price.  Anyway its probably one of those Sheiks who wasn’t rattled when he rolled out 120 mil for The Scream..likely from petty cash and ..perhaps to hang above the urinals in the executive wash room on the  top floor of Burj Khalifa..the world’s tallest building in downtown Dubai never to be seen again by the general public.

I didn’t know until this auction that The Scream is actually one of FOUR versions Munch did.  Linda and I actually saw the one hanging in the National Museum when we were in Oslo years ago. Now, I’m full blown Norwegian and proud of it but I’m afraid “The Scream” leaves me cold. I just can’t get beyond the thought that it looks like refrigerator art in the Addams family kitchen.

I wasn’t sure if sports was a big deal in the turban belt until I noticed several horses entered in the Kentucky Derby were owned by guys with a lot of J’s in their name so maybe if Minnesota lawmakers shake a nod to funding a new Vikings stadium, they should put in a call to one of the movers and Sheikers in Dubai or Qatar.

If they should buy our team, though,  I hope they don’t insist that Vikings players wear golden silk slipper spikes with turned-up toes.

Have I gone too far?

I’ll apologize when I hear an “I’m Sorry” from them for having me over an oil barrel every time I fill up at the pump or for trying to make me feel like I’m getting a bargain when gas drops to ONLY $3.50 a gallon.

Spectrum Photos courtesy of Ron Nelson

The huge Ramkota Exhibit Hall was sold out two weeks before the show. Most inducted bands and individuals brought along their own cadre of adoring fans; many dressed in special tee shirts that expressed their loyalty and love. Those musicians who hadn’t played in years and those who still play regularly, traveled here early from all parts of the country to rehearse with bandmates in hopes of achieving the pure sound of rock and roll they’d been known for back in the sixties. Combine that enthusiasm with the huge stage, state of the art sound and light system plus 16 hundred cheering fans and it was….well, magical.

The performers, many of whom are now in their 60’s and 70’s, were blown away by the experience. Here’s just a small sampling of the reaction we’ve received from both musicians who took the stage and fans who loved every minute of it.

Travis Hutchinson (DJ and the Cats)

My brother Terry and I really looked forward to the 2012 Hall of Fame event. But it even exceeded our hopes and dreams. Wow!  What a night!

I was pleasantly surprised at how many people came to and danced to the music of D J & the Cats back in the 50’s and 60’s.  It was a great time of hearing their stories and memories.  A lady told me about when she just turned 16 and on her first official date, came to a town in Iowa ( where she and her husband still live) and danced to our music.  In her 16 year old mind, you would have thought we created the moon!  I am 72 and my brother Terry is 73.  We have done so many dances and clubs together back in “The Day”.  If the festival was our last time to perform together, what a tremendous high to go out on!  My sons who backed us up are still hyped that they had the honor of playing the festival and backing up their Dad and Uncle.

From Larry Gruseth of Scotty Lee and the Stingrays. 

In the middle of the show, I looked around at all my fellow band mates, and even though we were heavier, grayer, and perhaps had a couple of wrinkles, I didn’t see anyone over the age of 18! We got to be kids again…and for that we thank you, thank you, thank you!!

Larry Gruseth and I started making music together when we were little kids. One of the highlights of the evening for me was joining my cousin on stage once again to present the plaque inducting him into the Hall of Fame.

Congratulations to all of this year’s inductees and thanks to all those of you who turned out for the big show. “Oh, what a night.”

 Replace Sunday with Wednesday and this old Johnny Cash tune describes my condition perfectly.  I really don’t believe that you can catch a cold from being cold..but after playing golf on yet another windy chilly day Tuesday, a major league cold decided to take up residence in my head and chest. I dozed off in my easy chair Tuesday evening and woke myself up with a loud snort around 10 pm. (Hmmm..suddenly I remember images of my dad falling asleep in his rocker most every evening after supper. He was a hard working guy and even though he tried desperately to stay awake through “Have Gun Will Travel” at 9 pm, his head would usually start to bob and weave around 8:30. It was great entertainment for my brothers and I watching as his head finally snapped all the way back causing the upper plate of his false teeth to slip down. It was hilarious and sometimes our giggling was loud enough to bring dad out of his uncomfortable slumber at which point he’d gaze around the room with a scowl on his face but rarely said anything.  Finally mom would talk him into just going to bed. I feel bad now for laughing.) Although I was alone in the room, I’d obviously been sleeping in the chair with my mouth wide open because my throat was bone dry and sore. That hangy-down thing at the back, that looks like a little punching bag, felt twice its normal size. A few swallows of cola helped a little but then the coughing began and continues to keep me up nights. It’s probably pay-back for being a disrespectful son 50 years ago. Anyway, there’s too much going on this week for me to be sick. I am the emcee again for the fourth annual South Dakota Rock and Roll Music Association Hall of Fame induction ceremony and concert. The event at the Ramkota Exhibit Hall has been sold out for two weeks and promises to deliver a night of nostalgia and good times as 10 bands take the stage performing the songs that made them so popular during the golden age of rock and roll.  

No one is more identified with that era than Dick Clark who died this week at the age of 82. His American Bandstand television show provided a jump start to countless rock and roll bands including Myron Lee and the Caddies of Sioux Falls who twice toured the country as part of Clark’s Caravan of Stars.

 Myron always talked about how Dick Clark was such a down to earth person who often rode the tour buses right along with the Caravan performers.

That's Clark fronting the Caravan of Stars in 1963. Myron Lee and the Caddies provided the music for most of the stars. From left to right are Jerry Haacke (bass) Joel Shapiro(sax) Fred Scott (sax) Myron Lee and Curt Powell (guitar) Stu Perry, not shown here, was the drummer.

I once did a story on the musical career of Myron Lee for Keloland TV. I desperately wanted to get in touch with Dick Clark for a phone interview. Myron hooked me up with Bobby Vee, who had a string of rock and roll hits in the 60’s and had remained good friends with Clark. He said he’d have Dick give me a call. I wasn’t holding my breath since at that time Clark was not only still hosting American Bandstand but also “The 10,000 Dollar Pyramid game show as well as TV’s Bloopers and Practical Jokes with Ed McMahon. I doubted he’d have time to reminisce with a South Dakota TV reporter about one of the bands that traveled with him 30 years earlier. So, I was more than a little shocked when our newsroom assistant answered the phone and said a guy who says he’s Dick Clark is on the phone for you. Immediately, every one of my newsroom colleagues stopped what they were doing to inquire if that was THE Dick Clark. It took awhile to set up the audio recording and I kept apologizing for taking up his valuable time but he couldn’t have been nicer and seemed in no hurry. He said he’d been in South Dakota many times and that his wife, Kari, was a Minnesota gal and graduated from North Dakota State. He remembered Myron Lee and the Caddies very well and was especially impressed with their talent and work ethic. Before I realized it, the half-hour long audio tape had run out and we said goodbye. It was one of those unforgettable celebrity encounters that were such a wonderful part of my job. I still have that tape in a box somewhere but haven’t time to look for it now. I’m going to load up on Advil and cough syrup then try sleep my way back to wellness by Saturday night; hopefully keeping my mouth shut and snorting to a minimum.  As America’s oldest teenager, Dick Clark, would often say; The Show Must Go On.

Speaking of getting hurt; you know how you’re always telling your kids and grandkids to “BE CAREFUL” because they need to understand that you feel their pain every bit as much as they do  if they’re not. Well, our granddaughter, Zoey, had a momentary memory lapse recently and suffered a school playground accident resulting in a broken right arm. Fortunately, she’s left handed. “It doesn’t hurt much anymore..but it itches,” Zoey says. I think the pain is somewhat tempered by the fact she’s receiving celebrity status among her peers and relatives when she shows off her new pink cast. Where do I sign?

I saved a spot for you to sign right here, Grandpa.

I’ve been on the radio quite a bit in the last few weeks promoting the upcoming South Dakota Rock and Roll Music Association’s Hall of Fame induction ceremony and concert April 21^st at the Ramkota Exhibit Hall. I was even back on Keloland TV last Saturday morning being interviewed by Perry Groten. It was my first real exposure to High Definition cameras and not a pretty picture. I had anticipated the need for putting on some make-up to at least try conceal the additional cracks and crevasses that have developed in the six plus years since retirement but all I had was an old compact of Max Factor Pan-cake applied with a wet sponge. It said “Tan No. 2” but it turned my mug more of an orange hue.  Although Perry didn’t say anything I must have looked like a withered pumpkin when I showed up in the studio.

I wonder if pan cake make-up has a shelf life.

This last week I’ve been on the radio with Rick Knobe, Chad Mackenzie, Ben & Patty, Andy and Mel and Mark Tassler. But the most generous gentleman providing air time for the Hall of Fame is  broadcasting legend, Grant Peterson of KBRK Radio in Brookings. I say legend because Grant has been on the air since 1959. He did a stint at WCCO in Minneapolis but most of his time has been in Brookings where he’s as well known as the campus Campanile. Every Friday afternoon in the weeks leading up to the event, Grant has Don Fritz and I on his “Great Afternoon Smorgasbord” program to talk about old time rock and roll and listeners seem to “eat it up”  especially when pioneers of rock and roll call-in to chat.

Grant Peterson is the world ambassador for Lutefisk and dines on the lye-soaked cod whenever and whereever he finds it.

Grant Peterson represents the end of an era in radio. His laid back style probably appeals more to seasoned citizens but he makes no apologies about it nor of his Norwegian heritage. One of his longtime sponsors is a corset shop run by little old ladies..Millie and Tillie. He recites temperatures called-in from such odd places as Lutefisk Ridge. He sells his own commercials and ad libs them on the air sometimes going well over the allotted 30 or 60 seconds that most stations allow. He visits with many of his advertisers right on the phone..dialing them up on the air and chatting for several minutes about the product, of course, but also about the weather, the client’s family and plans for the weekend. It’s just fun old time radio that you don’t hear anymore. Grant Peterson’s Great Afternoon Smorgasbord can be heard weekdays from 3 to 5 on 1430 KBRK AM. It’s also streamed on his website,  Grantsgas.com to be enjoyed by anybody with a computer anywhere in the world.

We’ll be chatting again this week even though this years Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony and concert is SOLD OUT. I plan to spend more than a couple minutes thanking Grant and KBRK who played no small part in making that happen.

mange takk min gamle venn!

Grant with a couple of his adoring fans

Oh, there weren’t daily family devotions and we didn’t all hold hands while reciting grace around the supper  table. As I remember, grace was optional unless we had company; then it often fell upon me to impress the guests by reciting the Norwegian Table Prayer taught to me by my Aunt Esther.

“I Jesu navn gar vi til bords a spise, drikke pa ditt ord. Deg, Gud til aere, oss til gavn,
Sa far vi mat i Jesu navn.  Amen.

No, we were not overtly religious but mom did make sure all of her boys went to church every week and was especially proud that her middle son, me, managed to attain 15 years perfect attendance and was recognized by the church big wigs for doing so.  I received a certificate  and everything. I know a few times when I was sick but went to Sunday School anyway to keep the record intact.

ours were wrapped in purple construction paper

 Mom also made sure that her boys wouldn’t be totally embarrassed when Easter morning arrived and none of us had put any money in the Lenten Coin Containers we’d been issued at the beginning of Lent to be filled with spare change for the poor. She always managed to make sure those cans weren’t empty when we marched up front with the rest of our Sunday School class to deposit them on the altar.

The Lunds lived with the image of Jesus in our living room  It was a print of the famous painting by German artist, Heinrich Hofmann, “Christ in Gethsemane.”  For years, I didn’t pay much attention to it because, you know, familiarity causes things to disappear into their surroundings. Mom, though, thought so much of it she insisted that it be the background for our first and only family Christmas card photo. “The Lord and the Lunds wish you a Merry Christmas.” No..it didn’t actually say that but images are important and I’m sure mom wanted all our friends and relatives to know that we weren’t heathens.   

It was the same painting, on a much smaller scale of course, that graced the altar  at First Lutheran. (Still does)

Sometimes while day dreaming in church..like on Stewardship Sunday..I’d stare at that image and think about the situation that inspired the artist. I’d wonder  if Jesus knew the reason he was put on this earth ( To die for  sinners) why did he beg  the old man to be let off the hook; praying so fervently  to have the cup removed that he sweat drops of blood. Looking at that picture made me see the human side of Jesus; how he  was understandably afraid of what was expected and soon to befall  him; betrayal, humiliation, torture and a lingering painful death hanging from a cross. I can certainly understand why the idea of being a savior didn’t seem all that appealing when it came time to actually follow through on the deal.  He did what I would do, ask dad to protect him from injury and pain. Christ’s anxiety was short lived, though. In the same prayer, he soon accepted the responsibility of his existence saying, “Not  my will but yours be done.”  The Gospel writer, Luke, says God then sent down an angel to give his boy the strength to endure the hours ahead.

I can’t help but feel that, had I been there, I probably would have been like the Disciples; asleep in the background while all that was going on and later denying the Master in order to save my own skin. I’m like a lot of us, big on promises..short on proving up.  But, he didn’t shirk his responsibility, and because of it.. we  have the luxury of being irresponsible and unreliable and yet  forgiven. As much as I hate the very thought of pain and suffering, I’m mighty glad that The Father allowed it to happen to his only son. But gladder still that in a short three days, the story would have a happy ending.

Wishing you all a Blessed Easter.

It got me to thinking about all the years and all the groups and all the gigs we were together making music.

I’ll be the first to admit that my drumming abilities have been pretty much flourish-free but I’ve found that most bands don’t care all that much about stick-twirling or complicated solos..they’re happy to just have somebody who can keep good time and provide the necessary kick to the music when necessary. It kept me working for a long long time.

I also never considered myself to be a mentor to kids but hardly a dance..especially a wedding dance..would go by without kids coming up to the band stand and just staring at the drums and me playing them. Usually, I’d talk to them during break and offer encouragement if they seemed particularly interested in the instrument even giving them a pair of my old drum sticks on occasion. When that wasn’t enough, I’d occasionally let them sit on my lap for a song or two for a drummer’s eye view.

Can't remember this young fan's name at the Elks in Sioux Falls sometime in the 80's

One of those little guys was Brian Steever; son of Lori and Tom Steever. Tom was our guitar player in Mogen’s Heroes and I’m sure he was a little disappointed that whenever Brian was in the audience, his attention was fixed on the drums instead of his dad on guitar. But Tom and Lori did nothing but encourage the boy and his passion for drumming. In fact, it wasn’t too long before Brian would sit-down to my old set and play a few tunes with the band. It was more than a passing fad too. Brian, now a college senior in Kansas City, has spent his entire life honing those skills that were clearly evident as a little kid. His passion is jazz and not only has he been playing professionally since high school, Brian Steever is considered one of the finest up and coming jazz drummers in country.

He and a group of seasoned musicians from KC performed at the Touch of Europe in Sioux Falls recently and were simply amazing.

Brian's Sioux Falls homecoming at the Touch of Europe

Off the stage, Brian is still the humble respectful kid he’s always been but behind the drums he’s a monster and NO I didn’t ask to sit in. Here’s a video of Brian working with Sean Hennessy at last year’s Jazz fest in Jefferson City, Mo. He also performed at the Jazz fest in Sioux Falls. Brian is featured at about six minutes in.

Click here to view the embedded video.

It wasn’t just Tom Steever’s boy who was fascinated by the drums, Mogen’s Heroes band leader and namesake, John Mogen’s son, Charlie, would also pay more attention to me at the drums than his dad who was actually making REAL music on the keyboards. Maybe it’s just little boys and noise.

Charlie's first State Fair gig on the Freedom Stage in the 90's

A few years later, Charlie didn't need any help as he backs up the heavy set dude singing at Lake Norden

Charlie Mogen’s musical focus hasn’t been entirely on drums, though. He picked up his father’s skills on keyboard and plays marimba in the highly acclaimed Lincoln High School Marching Band. He’s also a long time member of Groove Inc. The Sioux Falls based performance drum line.

 Then, last week I received a video via Facebook from my dear friend and former Keloland TV colleague, Beth Hughes. She and her husband, John are parents to three terrific boys who’ve grown into the kind of fine young men who reflect their upbringing in a home environment filled with love and encouragement to be their best. The video is an audition sent by their youngest boy, Evan, to the prestigious Berklee School of Music in Boston. After watching it, Evan was accepted.

I hadn’t seen Evan since he was a little kid at one of the Kelo picnics. I had no idea he played drums but after viewing this sampling of his skills all I could say was WOW!

Click here to view the embedded video.

Seeing and hearing all three of these extremely talented young men gave me the urge to blow the dust off my old set of Ludwigs that sit quietly in the garage; maybe even see if I could find a gig to play again somewhere.

Wait a minute, that would require a lot of late nights and heavy lifting and I have sworn-off both.

Excerpt from Lund at Large blog May 24th, 2011

 “We have heard that grandson, Taylor, has already had a taste of battle in Afghanistan. I pray God will watch over him and his fellow Marines as they fight to rid the world of those who would have us live in terror.”

 April 23^rd 2012 

 Many of you who read my meanderings on this blog joined with Linda and me 11 months ago in offering up prayers for Taylor’s safety. Too often we don’t make it a point to give thanks or even mention when prayers are answered as they have been for our grandson. His five year commitment to our country and The Corps, came to a conclusion this week and he is back home safe and sound. Thanks be to God and to all those who sought His mercy on Tay’s behalf.

He and the Marines in his platoon experienced excitement and horrors only other battle-seasoned veterans can understand. Many in Taylor’s unit, including him, had digital cameras along to chronicle some of it; a very personal glimpse into Lima Company’s journey through hell. The following are just a few of those images:

The Few The Proud in Afghanistan. Taylor is 2nd from left.

The platoon encounters a sandstorm while on patrol. It was the only one during their tour but it was a doozey.

An IED (improvised explosive device) goes off in the distance. A sickeningly regular occurance.

Taylor stands in hole left by IED

Close up of a pressure plate used in making IEDs.

SGT. Smith in a lighter moment aboard a confiscated ass

A not so light moment as Taylor calls in a helecopter to evacuate a wounded comrade.

The chopper arrives.

Injured buddy still has sense of humor despite face full of shrapnel.

Last photo of Lance Cpl. Mark Goyet. He was shot and killed later that day.

Taylor at the memorial for his buddy, Cpl. Goyet killed in action.

Still, the war goes on. Taylor (on right) about to depart for night patrol.

Back at camp. 48 hours without sleep. Dead tired but still alive.

Taylor captioned this photo; "probably thinking about home."

You can take the boy out of South Dakota but.....

Taylor's caption: "Finally leaving this s**t hole.

Taylor says goodbye to his band of brothers who've been through so much together

Thank you Lord.

And thank you Taylor.

Thursday night welcome home dinner with brother, Tucker and big sister, Tara

Relieved Mama Brenda.."I can finally breathe again."

Who..me?

Yeah, come over here a sec.

Wadda ya want?

I gotta stash of Tide here I can let you have for half price.

Tide..as in laundry detergent? You’re kiddin’ right?

No I ain’t. Look, you in or not?

Sure, I’ll take a couple gallons, I guess.

 Did you hear on the news this past week that there was a Tide theft epidemic sweeping the country? The original story apparently came from M.L. Nestel writing for an on-line news organization called The Daily. According to Nestel, Tide has become a form of currency on the street, where it’s known as “liquid gold.” People trade it for drugs.
Apparently, thieves brazenly go into supermarkets, load up shopping carts full of Tide, and then dash out the front door, into waiting getaway cars. Nestle citied one specific example from a St. Paul WalMart showing Patrick Castanzo barreling out of the store with a cart full of Tide. He later confessed to stealing 25 thousand dollars worth of Tide and other products from Wallyworld and elsewhere.

Costanzo came clean and admitted the "Era" of his ways

Other reports say the Tide story is being blown way out of proportion and most retailers haven’t really noticed any dramatic increases in detergent disappearances.

I guess it really doesn’t matter to me one way or another. All I know is that when I do the grocery shopping..which is one of my agreed-upon domestic duties, there is always plenty of Tide on the shelves at HyVee.  Linda doesn’t insist on many things but she does like her Tide and has made it clear that I do NOT go bargain hunting when it comes to laundry soap. (She feels the same way about Charmin toilet paper but I digress.) My biggest problem is trying to remember what type of Tide she prefers; Tide with or without bleach, with or without fabric softener, scented or unscented.

If memory serves, my mom also liked Tide best but she also couldn’t resist some of the special premiums offered by competitors. In fact, she amassed a cupboard full of wheat-pattern plates, cups, saucers and drinking glasses offered free with the purchase of Duz.

Anybody else remember these Duz dishes?

They’re still around the house here in a box labeled “Mom’s Stuff.” (Update: Linda reminds me that our daughter, Suzan, has these dishes and still puts them to regular use.)

I’m pretty sure Duz  duzent  exist anymore. In fact, a lot of familiar laundry soaps that were popular in my youth  have gone down the drain..at least the powdered variety. Any of these ring a bell?

 Oh, yeah, anybody remember SALVO which were jelly jar-lid size tablets that you threw in with your dirty undies. I don’t know what the advantage they were..wait, let me check You Tube. Here you go, those pellets, according to pitchman Wally Cox,  were “Fortified.”

Click here to view the embedded video.

Last February, Procter and Gamble came out with a similar method of distributing detergent into your laundry; But unlike Salvo, Tide PODS use dissolvable bags instead of tablets and proclaim to not only clean your clothes but remove stains and brighten them too.

Don't be fooled by the packaging, these are not candy.

Unfortunately, if drug dealers are using Tide for currency, these plastic pods just might be a more convenient way to go.

Actually, I think I’ll pick up a jar of them next time Linda sends me to the store and needs Tide. It sure would take the guesswork out of deciding which variety to pick.

Well, maybe not. I see they come in either Ocean Mist or Spring Meadow.

Our daughter, Suzan was home from Lincoln for a couple days and, while here, announced that even though the official mourning period for their recently departed cat, Spangles, isn’t quite over, they decided to visit a shelter (embarrassingly named The Cat House) just to look over the selection of kittens and perhaps find one to fill the feline void in their life. Well, at The Cat House, it’s not just a matter of making a choice and taking an animal home. No, the proprietors insist you first meet certain requirements. Well, I have since learned that they have been approved and are actually getting TWO kittens; sibling sisters named Laverne and Shirley. The kitty’s homecoming has been delayed, though, because both are in quarantine  a few more days as they’re being treated for ringworm. Yuk. Anyone else remember when farm kids would show up in school with a silver dollar size round scalp-exposing bare spot in their hair? Ewww..my head’s itching just at the thought. Anyway, The Cat House isn’t taking any chances of passing the kitten’s unfortunate condition along to my granddaughter, Zoey.. who..by the way..has absolutely no connection to the TV series that inspired the naming of her new pets and has received permission (yes, it required Cat House approval) to change their moniker. Her choice? Blue and Bubbles. When asked why..Zoey simply said she liked those names and you don’t question the reasoning of a recently heart-broken 10 year old.

We took delivery of the new family-room furniture I wrote about last week and it has met with the approval of all who have beheld it. I’m especially fond of the recliner rocker and have already spent considerable hours in it so  it will quickly conform to the contours of my impressionable frame much like breaking-in a new baseball mitt.

Speaking of my formidable frame..there’s a little less of it these days. I’m not going into great detail but I’m coming up on five weeks of careful calorie counting and starting to notice some subtle changes..like the fit of clothing. I don’t weigh because our scale only goes up to what I want to get down to.

Had a weee of a time in Brookings the other night. I met up with Steve Hemmingsen at the Pheasant restaurant and lounge where they have live music on Monday evenings. On this night, we were treated to the stupendous sounds of jazz courtesy of the Johnson/McKinney Quintet. They have terrific taste in music but dubious judgment in who they allow on stage. In this case, I was offered an opportunity to sing a song or two. It went fine and the audience seemed to take delight in seeing a former TV guy belting out Sinatra. As I left the stage I mentioned to the boys in the band that Hemmingsen also had quite a reputation in piano bars from Sioux Falls to Nye’s Polynesian in Minneapolis as an interpreter of Broadway show tunes..so Steve was invited up and, after a challenging up-tempo number, he settled-in and provided a pleasant vocal surprise for both the players and patrons.

Steve closes his set with a big flourish. Musicians include, Corky Johnson, sax..Jim McKinney, vibes. Greg Olson, drums and I can't remember the bass and piano player's names..sorry.

You’ll have to check the place out. It’s a great Monday night alternative to TV.

Several months ago, the agency that sends Linda and me our monthly sustenance checks decided they had overpaid me and began withholding a sizeable sum from said checks until the debt was repaid. Well, my longtime tax man agreed to help me construct a point by point reasoned response to this agency in the form of an appeal. After several months had passed, we’d concluded that our plea had fallen on deaf ears but then the other day in the mail came a government letter telling us our appeal had been accepted and the dollars withheld would be reimbursed. Needless to say there was much jubilant jumping around the kitchen at the news and many thanks owed to Doug Amen CPA.

Now I wish I’d held out for the recliner with the vibrating fingers feature and side-mounted cooler for storing my low fat yogurt and diet cherry flavored Mountain Dew. Yumm.