It’s just one minute after high noon on a Monday and I’m already on my second Bloody Mary. Now before you look up AA in the phone book (It’s toward the front) to forward me the number..or start planning for a Lund intervention..chill. 

I’m retired, it’s below zero outside, and I don’t plan on leaving our cozy little house today unless I run out of tomato juice. Besides, a BM just appealed to me this morning. Wait a sec, that doesn’t sound right. I’m talking about a Bloody Mary..not the other BM. Although, at my age, I find that either is pretty good any time the urge presents itself.

For years, whenever Linda and I were in Watertown, we’d make it a point to stop in to see Jack the bartender at the Zoom Zoom Room who made the best BM’s we’d ever tasted. Eventually, I was able to talk him into giving me his recipe which is pretty basic (vodka, tomato juice, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco, lemon juice, celery salt and three gianormous olives on a plastic skewer)  but the proper proportions are critical to achieving the flavor we always enjoyed..at least for the first couple..then it doesn’t matter if you leave out everything but the vodka.

 Steve Hemmingsen stopped over for a visit on Saturday.  We didn’t drink BM’s..preferring, instead, to throw back a couple “diet” Cokes..which, if you were to see either of us in person, would clearly expose us for the hypocrites we are. I mean, if we were serious about cutting calories, we should be passing on those second helpings of pasta primavera or roast beef platters smothered in brown gravy. Anyway, we both laughed about our enormity and then lied on how how we definitely planned on doing something about it before we tip over in our soup.

Always good to see Steve, though, and he tells me he’s writing again. Well, it’s more like a daily e-mail dealing mostly with people and events in and around his new hometown of Hendricks, Minnesota. Of course, Steve isn’t afraid to offer up comments and personal opinions as part of his reports which the locals have long since come to expect, appreciate and occasionally blush over since they’re often included in the town gossip which he’s more than willing to pass along. Anyway, to read Steve’s daily offerings, just send him a note that you’d like to be included on his e-mail list. Here’s his address: anchor1@itctel.com

 Let’s see, what else?  Hang on..need to freshen my beverage. (note: out of lemon juice)

 Since we’re going to have a house full of family again this year, Linda is in full Christmas preparation mode and following through on projects we’ve been talking about for years; namely turning our basically un-used front room into a full fledged dining room. Daughter, Patty was more than happy to take the couch and love seat from the front room. They were like new since nobody had planted a butt on the cushions in years. Now, we’ve moved my parents’ dining table, chairs, buffet and the tall clock, that my dad built, in there.

We had my brother, cousin and their wives over for a soup supper the other night and the décor met with everybody’s approval; bringing back fond memories of dining experiences at 525 Marvin Avenue, Volga, South Dakota.

We’ve also found a perfect spot for the Library table that came from Linda’s childhood home in Alcester. The only problem was there were no chairs to go with it. So, we spent Friday afternoon on a quest of antique and furniture stores looking for a set of 4 matching chairs that would fill the bill which we found at I-29 antique and collectables store just a quarter mile west of the Tea exit.

 We were surprised at all the cars in the parking lot not realizing that I-29 Antiques is well known and been in business for about 30 years. It’s filled to the rafters with all kinds of neat stuff..including just what we wanted and at a ridiculously low price ($75).

We have some oak veneer damage to repair and will be recovering the mauve chair seats but love the match.

I was so motivated that when we got home I strung up both strands of LED Christmas lights to their assigned positions on little nails strategically located around the front deck. I was pleasantly surprised to find that all the lights  lit up. I love LED. They’re not as bright as the other kind but they don’t burn out so fast either.

Hmmm, I can’t help but notice a personal parallel here; when I get lit up during the holidays, I tend to not be as bright either.

That’s it; time to put on a pot of coffee.

 Irish Coffee??

Nah..better not.

 “Good Golly Miss Molly,” Little Richard is now 80.

 I thought that was a pretty clever line until I Googled Little Richard, in order to confiscate a recent picture of the rock and roll legend, only to find that lots of other writers had beaten me to it.

That’s the thing about the internet; you quickly learn that you’re not as smart..or clever..or at least not as original..as you thought you were. Anyway, I love Little Richard..well, you know, I really loved his musical talents..not his bazaar appearances and lifestyle choices which seemed to change every few years.

Little Richard (Richard Penniman) and Pat Boone helped me, and millions of other Caucasian kids in the 50’s, clearly understand the difference between black and white..soul and..well, Lawrence Welkism. WhenPat Boone released his version of Little Richard’s Tutti Frutti, it was clearly a move by the record producers to “protect kids” from exposure to that evil N word music. It sort of worked in that Pat Boone’s version scored higher on the charts than Little Richard’s Tutti Frutti but we all knew which one we wanted to hear and, as Little Richard said, “The white kids would have Pat Boone upon the dresser and me in the drawer ‘cause they liked my version better, but the families didn’t want me because of the image that I was projecting.”

Don’t get me wrong, I liked Pat Boone tunes too; Love Letters in the Sand, April Love, even Speedy Gonzales. I also had a pair of his trademark white buck shoes but the only soul he ever had on stage was when he sang for a Billy Graham Crusade altar call.

But I digress.

Linda and I finally made it to see Lincoln the other evening. There is no doubt, Daniel Day Lewis IS Abraham Lincoln. It was a marvel to witness.

Daniel Day Lewis as Lincoln

Sally Field is totally convincing as Mary Todd. But, dare I say..after over two hours listening to men in dark rooms talking,  arguing and yelling..I started looking at my wrist watch.  One of my biggest complaints about going to the theater these days (you know you’re old when you say “these days”) is the apparent requirement to demonstrate the full fury of the movie house’s surround sound audio system even if there are only a dozen people in the audience. “Let’s see if we can’t loosen their fillings..heh, heh”  That was certainly not a concern during Lincoln. I was actually longing for a few hair raising explosions. The film takes place during the  Civil War after all and I guess I fully expected Steven Spielberg, one of the greatest action directors to ever hold a megaphone, to include a realistic battle scene or two.  Other than a quick shot of hand to hand combat in the opening credits and old Abe riding his horse through a body-ridden battlefield..what you get is wonderfully acted gab fests. Sure, the topic (passage by the house of representatives of the 13^th amendment ending slavery) was a major milestone in our history, I just didn’t realize that was the singular message of the movie.

I’m fascinated by the Civil War and would have loved to see Daniel Day Lewis’ jaw dropping portrayal of our 16^th president in a role that encompassed Lincoln’s entire time in the White House..not just that last couple of months. It would have been amazing to see Spielberg’s directing skills applied to recreating the realities and horrors of Civil War battles as he did in Saving Private Ryan and, with equal sensitivity, show how Lincoln somehow managed to deal with it all; the hundreds of thousands of casualties, the death of his young son, an emotional wreck of a wife, incompetent generals and, yes, the determination to free the slaves and above all  preserve the union.

That might make for an even longer movie but I’ll bet I wouldn’t be fighting back a yawn halfway through.

Angus T. Jones

Does anyone else wonder if Angus Jones..who plays Jake..on the popular TV series “Two and a half men” may be pulling the public’s leg with his comments this week that the show is filth and urged people not to watch? Or is the 19 year old, who has been on the series since its inception 9 years ago, sincere about his recent Christian conversion and willing to bite the hand that’s fed him millions? Here’s part of what he told an interviewer” “You cannot be a true God fearing person and be on a television show like that. I know I can’t. I’m not OK with what I’m learning, what the Bible says, and being on that show.” I certainly hope that this is not one big publicity stunt.  The kid is right, of course, “Two and a half men” has always pushed the limits with an abundance of sexual innuendo that long ago went way past “innuendo” to “in your face.”  Now, I’m no prude and, in fact, watched the show in the early years because Charley Sheen made me laugh and when he delivered his lines, it was kind of like Dean Martin used to be; more naughty than smutty. But I always cringed when so much of the suggestive dialogue took place in front of the little boy, Jake (Angus T. Jones) around the kitchen table ..or even worse, when the writers had Jake joining in the dubious conversations.  I hope I’M not biting the hand that feeds me. After all CBS is my network. But it’s going to be interesting to observe the fall-out from this young actor’s strong statements about his own series. He’s already popular fodder for comedians, late night talk show hosts, pundits and bloggers.

UPDATE: Yup, that didn’t take long. Young Angus has already said he’s sorry for his tirade: “I apologize if my remarks reflect me showing indifference to and disrespect of my colleagues and a lack of appreciation of the extraordinary opportunity of which I have been blessed,” said Jones, who reportedly makes $350,000 an episode. “I never intended that.”  He stopped short of actually retracting the things he said, though. I hope he sticks by his guns even though being a Christian in Hollywood is not unlike those early ones in Rome who were regular dinner guests at the Coliseum. Then, like now, the lions are always hungry. So far, there’s been no official comment from the producers and other actors on the show. But Charley Sheen..whose famous personal meltdown led to his firing from “Two and a half men” a couple seasons ago,  told People magazine that Angus’ Hale-Bopp- like video makes it radically clear that the show is cursed.  

I suppose it’s possible that since the series seems to be phasing-out Jake’s character anyway (probably because he’s not a precocious kid anymore) that might have something to do with Jones’ conversion and candid comments.  Oh, the Hale Bopp reference Sheen mentioned?  It was about the Heaven’s Gate religious cult, which committed mass suicide in 1997 because members believed death was the only way to gain access to an alien spaceship that was following the Hale-Bopp comet as it passed by Earth.

I certainly wish Angus T. Jones all the best and hope the Christian community will have his back and call for help if the young man goes shopping for a purple blanket and a new pair of sneakers.

My dad had a lot in common with TV’s Archie Bunker. Oh, he wasn’t a bigot like Arch, but he did love his Hostess Twinkies and would voice his displeasure to mom if there weren’t any in the lunch box when the old man was working out of town. Archie called Twinkies “The white man’s soul food.”  I don’t know if dad would go that far..or if he even had a clue about what soul food is but he, like millions of Americans loved those little  blonde cake logs stuffed with a sweet white vanilla concoction and was never concerned about terms like “shelf life” or “junk food.”  I mention this only because Hostess, the maker of Twinkies and Wonder Bread, is going out of business, closing plants, laying off its 18,500 workers and putting its brands up for sale.

Hostess says a nationwide strike by the baker’s union has crippled its ability to make and deliver its products that include cream-filled cupcakes, Snoballs,  Ding Dongs, Ho Ho’s,  Dolly Madison and many other pies and pastries found in thousands of grocery and convenience stores around the country.

I’m fighting the urge to say “iconic” but in this case the term really fits this company that’s been around for generations and survived ever increasing criticism by the anti-processed foods crowd who point to Hostess as one of the big reasons our kids are fat and unhealthy. They’ve succeeded in turning school lunches into vegetable gardens that wind up in the garbage apparently believing that it’s better for children to go hungry than let them have food they like..including a Twinkie now and then. The closing is also going to shorten the act of South Dakota’s longtime comedians, Williams and Ree who even wrote a song about their favorite pastries.Sadly, Wonder Bread which has been around since the twenties and helps build strong bodies 8…then 12 ways..will also crumble with the Hostess closure.My first exposure to Wonder Bread was through television, of course. The commercial which showed how Wonder was made from batter, not dough, which meant no holes. It also was packed with nutritious ingredients that would make me grow up strong and healthy. Howdy Doody and Clarabelle endorsed it..and they wouldn’t lie to kids right?I know there are two sides to every story and I suppose the baker’s union has its reasons for the work stoppage but now they’re totally out of a job. How is that good?  I hope congress is better at sorting out compromises. But what do I know? I suppose I’m just ticked off that now I’ll never get a chance to try one of those deep friend Twinkies at the fair.

What’s in your medicine cabinet? Do you ever wonder if guests peek in yours when they excuse themselves to the bathroom? Have YOU ever sneaked a peek in someone else’s?

I remember a Seinfeld episode when Jerry couldn’t resist looking in his new girlfriend’s medicine chest and discovered a tube of fungicide there. Even though he really liked the girl, he stopped seeing her fearing she had an STD. It turns out the medicine was for the woman’s cat.

This past week, Linda was going through the medicine chest at her late mother’s house and discovered a couple of old bottles; one containing Witch Hazel and the other Hydrogen Peroxide..

  These were apparently staples in most American households. Hydrogen Peroxide was used for everything from mouthwash to a disinfectant for cleaning. Witch Hazel is for treating skin ailments, from acne to razor burn. It’s also supposedly good for bruises, sores and swelling. I just remember the distinct and not totally unpleasant aroma coming from the faces of men after a close shave before church.

Someone this week also brought up how everyone used to have a little bottle of Mercurochrome in their medicine chest. I know we certainly did when I was a child.

It was also a topical antiseptic for use on cuts, scrapes and minor burns. So how was it different from Witch Hazel and Hydrogen Peroxide? Well, it didn’t sting when mom used that little glass wand to daub the reddish liquid on your injury. It turns out that Mercurochrome fell out of favor some years ago after the FDA raised questions about its effectiveness.

I got to thinking about the stuff we had in the medicine cabinet when I was growing up and suddenly, images stored in the back of my memory banks rushed into view. Thanks to Google,  I’m able to give you a glimpse inside the Lund bathroom in the fifties and early sixties.  Wait, that doesn’t sound right. Oh well, I’ll bet lots of these items look familiar to you too. Below is what our cabinet looked like:

It came from the factory with flourecent tubes on each side but they were pretty expensive to replace. So when we had a burnout..mom would just use a regular 60 watt bulb.

Dad used this old razor for a time with a shaving mug, brush and soap.

Dad also used his Sunbeam Shavemaster but it wasn't until he got a Norelco that he went totally electric.

Perhaps constant exposure to this Norelco TV commercial during the Christmas season was the reason. It showed old St. Nick gliding over the snow atop a Norelco razor with its three "floating heads." Odd that the bearded Santa would be the spokesman for electric shavers.

This was dad's after shave of choice. I still like the smell. My brothers and I were and are all pretty fair skinned and really didn't require regular shaving until long after we'd left home.

We all had big piles of hair, though and went through gallons of this stuff.

When the wet head look was dead, I switched to this stuff.

Once we saw that Crest had "flouristan" our family was sold.

We boys also went through plenty of this stuff. I think it was more effective at hiding zits than getting rid of them.

Mom thought gargling this awful tasting stuff was just the ticket for sore throats and bad breath. We eventually talked her into buying Scope.

Certainly no medicine cabinet then or now would be complete with out the trusty bottle of Vicks Vapo Rub. Magic stuff.

There was usually just one bottle of shampoo for all of us. Maybe it was best at cleaning all that Brylcreem out of our hair.

There was also a jar of this in our cabinet. I just assumed it was only used for chapped lips. But I guess it had other applications.

A Sunday morning ritual; swabbing our shoes with this stuff. I don't think it was leather's best friend but did "kote" those scuffs.

These probably wern't in our medicine cabinet but there was always a bottle of it in the house and it always required removing that scab of dried glue from the rubber applicator tip before use.

Did you ever wonder what became of Absorbine Senior?

We had a bottle of Bayer in the medicine chest but there was always a tin of tablets in there too..I suppose for when we traveled.

These were both in there at times. I remember insisting we get the Curad colored ones.

 Well, that’s most of what I remember.

I could have snapped a photo so you could see inside Linda and my medicine cabinet..but she’d kill me if I did. I guess you’ll just have to come over for a visit and sneak a peek for yourself.

Linda has been on a mission of late; to rid our house of “stuff” that hasn’t seen the light of day in years. She goes on these tangents occasionally. They’re usually brought on by anger and frustration over having to move a mountain of boxes to get at something stored deep in the bowels of the basement closet under the stairs. Or if  she wants something she thinks is in the bottom container of a tall stack of containers teetering precariously in the laundry room next to the downstairs fridge. “Why do we have all this crap?” I hear her holler from the nether regions as I relax in my big upstairs living room chair with remote in hand adjusting the volume upward so she doesn’t drown out the sound of “This Old House” on TV; one of the many “how to” shows I regularly watch from a reclining position but put to no practical use in real life. I know when she’s coming upstairs because her basement allergies have set off a distractingly loud series of sneezing. When she appears at my chair and looks at me with her itchy red eyes, I hit the pause button and fully expect her to give me a much deserved arse chewing for being such an insensitive, unhelpful, lazy oaf. But, instead, she smiles and hands me some items.. things she’s salvaged from boxes destined for the Goodwill or Salvation Army; including this picture of the Keloland TV news staff in the late 80’s.

Recognize any of these folks? Jaine Andrews (top row second from left) and me are the only two people in the photo still on the Kelo payroll.

“Why are you so determined to go through these things now?” I asked.  “Because I don’t want our kids to face the same situation as what we’re dealing with at mom’s.” she replied.

Mother Mary Trudeau passed away late last summer in the Alcester nursing home just a few blocks away from the house where she and Len raised 8 children. It wasn’t until after she died that her family realized just how much stuff she’d accumulated in that house over 65 years and have to decide what to do with it all. The big items like furniture and appliances weren’t a problem; they were claimed by and distributed among all the siblings and grand siblings amicably. But there was..and still are..drawers and boxes stuffed with things that Linda and her family must determine whether is trash or treasure. “It’s been physically and mentally exhausting, she says, and I’m determined to spare our kids from having to make those kinds of decisions after we’re gone.”  

To be fair, I have offered to help but I think Linda knows she wouldn’t get rid of much if I did; too attached to things even though I’d forgotten they existed. I wouldn’t say I’m a candidate for “Hoarders” but the sight of some old object can trigger memories that distract me for hours; making me reluctant to let go. I am being pressured, and rightly so, to make a decision on clearing my bedroom closet which is crammed full of suits and shirts and shoes. I still have delusions that I’m going to one day lose weight and wear them all again even if they haven’t been in style for 20 years.

One of the things from Mother Mary’s house that Linda had no qualms about requesting was the ornate oak table that was used as a living room TV stand.

They always called it the library table

It will be assuming a similar place of prominence at our place. My lovely wife has finally convinced me, her old stick-in-the-mud hubby, that after 17 years, it’s time we changed the look of our little dwelling which means relocating the oak table and chairs that came from MY boyhood home. They will  now be the focal point of our rarely used front room which is being converted into a formal dining room.

I’m glad we got that table when the family divvied up the Lund estate. I’m flooded with nostalgia every time I look at it.

It’s  where my brothers and I all had our birthday parties. Mom would put in both leaves to make room for everybody and everything; cousins, friends, loads of food including a lamb-shaped birthday cake lovingly created by Aunt Leila and, of course, a few presents that were not to be opened until after we ate.

 It was on that table where mom served up the best roast beef, ham, chicken and turkey dinners (sometimes at the same meal) ever consumed by mankind. Guests would go on and on about how delicious everything tasted while mom, with typical Norwegian humility,  would reluctantly accept the complements but be sure and point out her perceived culinary shortcomings. It was at that table that my cousin Grouse and I would nearly explode from holding back laughter when dining with Uncle Conrad, who straddled a fine line between coherence and dementia for years and never failed to tell the same two jokes before every meal. Jokes that were too corny for Reader’s Digest. He’d hold up a napkin and ask, you know what they call this don’t you? Mistake Paper!..and he’d roar.  So would Grouse and I but we were laughing AT..not with him. Shame on us.

It was at that table where I did my homework..although I don’t ever remember doing much homework. But it was there that mom tried desperately to drill Sunday School memory work through my thick head.

 I also recall her sitting alone at that table for hours on end with her hands at the keys of an old, old typewriter. She was practicing up her long idle typing skills learned at secretarial school when in her teens, so she could help dad at his new job working for Farmer’s Mutual Insurance.

I was amazed at how fast it all came back to her.

 It was at that table that dad would set up the movie projector to show the films from our latest trip to Yellowstone or Canada to invited company who’d just consumed one of mom’s big meals. Exciting as those home movies were it was tough to remain alert and awake even with my father’s stirring narration.

It’s at that table where the projector was eventually replaced with a breathing machine which kept the suffocating effects of the old man’s emphysima at bay for couple years.

It was also on that table where mom displayed all the sympathy cards received after dad gave up the fight and took his last breath.

There, now you see why Linda can’t count on this sentimental old slug to be of any use whatsoever in saying goodbye to stuff.

I guess I’m glad it snowed a little; covered up the reality of a yard buried in leaves..most of them imported from up or down the street depending on which way the hurricane force winds have been blowing. We’re usually the last ones in the neighborhood to get ours picked up because, like a nervous bride on her wedding night,  the giant maple in the back yard refuses to strip down to bare branches until mid-November.

 If I was that maple, I couldn’t wait to shed this season’s batch; the leaves are all plastered with that black tar-like substance again this year.

I can’t remember what causes that..hold on..Google check:

Okay, Wikipedia says, basically..don’t sweat it. It’s a fungus problem that’s not uncommon and mostly cosmetic. Best solution; make sure all the leaves are hauled off in the autumn so the fungal spores don’t get a chance to spread and infect next years batch. Yeah, that’s fine except they’re not goin’ anywhere if they’re buried in snow. The way our yard looked this past summer, it just might benefit from a blanket of dead foliage..tar stained or not..over the long winter.

On the other hand, Linda’s pot full of geraniums on the front deck have never looked better..even with a touch of white.

Speaking of winter, Linda and I have decided to stay put this year..no piling into Big Red (That’s our old Lincoln for any newbie’s out there) at the end of December  hoping he’ll safely get us through another journey down to the Arizona desert and back to escape the month of January. Since we didn’t win the lottery, we decided the money would be better spent replacing our shelled-out roof next spring.

Let’s see, what else? Oh, yeah..the election. Well, it doesn’t matter who you want for President because South Dakota, according to all the experts and our idiotic Electoral College system, say we’ve already gone for Romney. In fact, there are only a handful of states, like Ohio and Florida, that will end up deciding the whole thing. Where your vote DOES matter, of course, is in all the state races and ballot issues. As usual, Linda and I will talk about all of it on election eve then go to the polls with our ballots all filled out.

I do love the process, though. It is never lost on me, nor should it be on any American, what a privilege, an honor really, to have this freedom of choice. It’s easy to get lost in the shouting and accusations that too often accompany campaigns for political office. Out of frustration we’re likely to just decide there’s not a one of them worth the powder to blow ‘em all to smithereens. I don’t think that’s true. I believe most of those who run for office really do believe they can make a difference and should be admired for at least being willing to try. It’s just hard sometimes to be heard above the din of a congress or state legislature filled with folks all trying their darndest to get attention too.

Oh, well, I hope you’ll study up on the candidates and issues then go to the polls, say a little prayer and give it your best shot. Remember, every vote counts. Oops, except for President if you’re from South Dakota..

Now, there’s an issue I wish some of our elected officials would take on; switching presidential elections to be decided by the popular vote. At least there would be the satisfaction in knowing that one of the millions of numbers on the great big tote board represented me.

Ah, darn it. The snow appears to be melting. So much for leaving the leaves to rot till spring. Now, where did I leave the number of that guy who does lawns?

Actually, I never felt like I knew George McGovern well enough to call him by his first name. He probably wouldn’t have minded if I did but my respect and admiration for the man on so many levels would make such a familiar greeting akin to addressing the pope as Benny. 

I, like most everybody, was really surprised that the Senator had entered hospice. He’s had some health issues lately but he’s 90 for cryin’ out loud. Plus he was just at the State Theater dedication for another beloved nonagenarian, Sylvia Henkin , and seemed frail but fine. The point is, we’re going to see and hear a lot about McGovern’s life and times in the days to follow; all of the accolades well deserved, of course.

I can only offer a few personal observations from our long association as reporter/politician.

McGovern was the first person I ever voted for in a general election. It was his successful bid for re-election to the U.S. senate in 1968 after a short campaign for president that year picking up the reins of Robert Kennedy who’d been assassinated.
Like a lot of people back then, I didn’t think so much about left or right, liberal or conservative. I just admired McGovern’s intellect, the fact that he was a World War II hero; he was close to the Kennedys and applied a common sense approach to complicated issues. I was proud that he was a fellow South Dakotan and had a lot of respect among his political peers in Washington and around the world..
 I think a lot of the real George McGovern got lost in his 1972 presidential campaign. He listened to advice he maybe shouldn’t have like dumping Thomas Eagleton from the ticket after saying he wouldn’t.  It made him look indecisive. He also embraced endorsements from the liberal Hollywood crowd which doesn’t always bode well among voters.
Plus to appreciate George McGovern, you have to hear him speak at length on issues which very few people did on the night he accepted the presidential nomination at two o’clock in the morning after most of the country had gone to bed.

Norman Rockwell was a McGovern fan

I was shocked in 1980 when one of the most eloquent speakers in the country, McGovern, lost to Jim Abdnor..a good man but whose communication skills and power of persuasion seemed very limited. But, as Tom Daschle will tell you, South Dakota voters will send you packing if there’s the slightest perception that you’ve got above your rais’n.

Shortly after that election, I remember driving back to KELO on South Phillips Avenue and spotted the senator walking along on the sidewalk all by himself..no entourage..no reporters..alone on a brisk Autumn afternoon with his head down slightly. He looked more contemplative than defeated; as if he was pondering the chapters of his life so far with its victories and disappointments, all the while planning a strategy for his next role in public service which, as we all know, has been exemplary..reflecting his inherent compassion, diligence and effective statesmanship especially in the fight against world hunger.
Thanks to my job, I’ve had lots of chances to interview George McGovern. Each time, I told him who I was and each time he’d say, “I know who you are, Doug” and then ask about my bosses and colleagues down at KELO. He was always gracious and always brilliant no matter if we were talking about his war experiences, his latest book, the death of his daughter to alcoholism, his bi-partisan mission with Senator Bob Dole to provide decent school lunches for kids around the world or even skydiving in his eighties.

During World War II, McGovern was a B-24 pilot and flew 35 missions over Europe and received the Distinguished Flying Cross for safely landing his damaged plane saving his crew.

McGovern skydiving on his 88th birthday

His departure from this world will leave a huge void in the hearts of millions around the globe, including me, who’ve been helped or enlightened by the wisdom and influence of this gentle preacher’s kid from South Dakota.

October is National Bullying Prevention Month. 

Of course it’s also National Breast Cancer Awareness month, National Black History Month and National Popcorn Poppin’ Month. The point is, I don’t pay a whole lot of attention to these designations aimed at calling my attention to some cause or event. But a TV anchor in Wisconsin has become something of a poster person for bullying prevention after a 4 minute video that aired on her station then went viral across the internet.

Jennifer Livingston had received an e-mail from a viewer who chastised her for being overweight. Well, here’s what he wrote:

“Hi Jennifer, It’s unusual that I see your morning show, but I did so for a very short time today. I was surprised indeed to witness that your physical condition hasn’t improved for many years. Surely you don’t consider yourself a suitable example for this community’s young people, girls in particular. Obesity is one of the worst choices a person can make and one of the most dangerous habits to maintain. I leave you this note hoping that you’ll reconsider your responsibility as a local public personality to present and promote a healthy lifestyle.”

Livingston and her husband, who is also an anchor at the LaCrosse TV station, decided to go public with the email calling it an example of bullying. The station management agreed to give her all the time she wanted to call out her accuser. Here’s part of what she said in an emotional video response that aired on WKBT:

Before long people were calling for the emailer’s head on a platter and Jennifer was besieged with, and granting, requests for national interviews.

Was it bullying?

Stupid, insensitive, hurtful and classless yes..but bullying? I’m not so sure.  When an upper classman  used to shove me around and point out my pudginess at every opportunity in high school; that was bullying.  When a few of us boys bought a can of deodorant and put it in the desk of a hygiene-challenged classmate, that was stupid and insensitive but bullying?

Half the people in this country, including yours truly, are fat. So it’s not surprising that support and sympathy for Ms. Livingston has been overwhelming.  The local lawyer who wrote the email, Kenneth Krause, has been outed and, under enormous public pressure, apologized..saying he never meant to hurt Jennifer.

In all my years on local television, I don’t ever remember receiving a viewer letter critical of my appearance. Oh, wait, a few had trouble with some of my dubious wardrobe choices or whether my hair was actually MY hair  but that’s about it.  Women TV personalities, on the other hand, receive letters and comments all the time about how they look on the air and some are downright mean. I don’t know why some people can be so critical of females while guys usually get a pass. But I do know that it’s an old rule of journalism that reporters and anchors should never BE THE STORY and never use your position the in media for personal retribution. Basically, grin and bear it..shrug it off..develop a thick skin. Not easy to do when you’ve been hurt.

Ms. Livingston is asking that people take it easy on Krause and to leave him alone. She’s also starting to feel the heat of her national exposure as blogs and anonymous comments rip into her for being a publicity hound.

The internet giveth and the internet taketh away.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all follow our mother’s advice; “If you can’t say something good about someone, keep your mouth shut?”

A lesson she and her friends might have learned rubber-necking on the ol’ party line.

Soooooo. Who do ya think won the first presidential debate?

Don’t answer that.

I mean REALLY don’t answer that because I really don’t want to know. There are plenty of political blogs out there for folks to fling feces back and forth; delighting in anonymous confrontations over which presidential candidate they believe has solutions to all our problems.  What I might be interested in knowing is how many people actually changed their mind about a candidate after watching the debate. I suspect that number to be, oh, roughly zero.

I had fully intended to wrap up our tour of Ireland for you here on the blog with some more pictures and commentary but when we boarded the plane in Dublin for our journey home, I was sick as the lyrics in a punk rock song. That’s no reflection on the Emerald Isle itself, our visit was nothing short of spectacular, but somehow on our last night there, the mother of all colds decided to come a callin’.  I wasn’t the only one either because there was so much coughing and hacking among the passengers that it sounded like a TB ward throughout the cabin during our entire 8 1/2 hour flight back to the U.S.A.   I’m just now feeling back up to snuff, thanks in part to Linda’s TLC (as outlined in our marriage vows) along with copious amounts of codeine cough syrup.

Oh, alright, here are a few more photos from that fabulous tour:

Kilkenny Castle was built in 1195. James Butler bought the place in 1391 and remained in the Butler family as a residence until 1935. It was finally handed over to the city for a museum in 1967. No photos allowed inside.

Downtown Kilkenny

Our group. What a fun bunch!

Terrific Traditional Tunes in nearly every pub.