Jamie and I, and some of the Messy Crew, we were at the Minnesota Newspaper Association convention at the recently multi-million dollar renovated Sheraton in Bloomington. Of course, there were the usual convention type activities. You know what I mean, meetings, seminars, lunches, dinners and socializing, brain storming, idea exchanges, tips of the trade and more socializing.
So there we were, Jamie and I, late (if you can believe that!) for a mandatory rehearsal and sound check for a skit were were to perform later that evening. Jamie and I boarded elevator number one on the 12th floor “going down” to the second floor. As usual we walked into the elevator and continued our conversation.
We weren’t moving.
“Did you push the button?” I asked Jamie.
“Yes,” she said.
We still weren’t moving.
I pushed another button. One floor down.
Still not moving.
I pushed one floor up.
No good.
“Jamie, we are stuck,” I said.
The look on her face was a combination of disbelief, amazement, bewilderment, confusion, perplexity, shock, calmness and indifference.
We pushed the call button in the elevator to call for help. We were connected to Charlotte, who worked somewhere downstairs I imagine. Safe. Sitting at a desk.
I also called Kevin from my cell phone explain. “Um, Kevin? This is Viv. Jamie and I are stuck in the elevator.”
His reply: “Viv, I would like to believe you but I don’t. Get down here. You are late.”
So, I put the phone over by the call box and said, “Hello, OnStar? My boss is on the phone and doesn't believe me that we are stuck. Will you verify that with him, please?”
Kevin must have believed us then. He hung up. Or I simply lost a signal. I did have four bars on my phone, however.
“Should we be sitting down, Charlotte?” Jamie asked. “I mean we are on the 12th floor, and if we fall, it might be better if we were sitting down.”
We were laughing and making jokes about it. The carpet needed vacuuming we told Charlotte. And we could not hear any elevator music.
“I have contacted someone on my staff and they will get you out soon,” Charlotte said. “Do you want me to stay on the line with you until you are out?”
“Well, yeah,” Jamie said. “Isn’t that what you do? Like 911? This is sort of a 911 situation you know.”
We continued to make jokes with Charlotte and talk. Good thing we didn’t need to use the bathroom.
The Elevator just started moving after a little while. That was a little unnerving. We were a little unsure if we were plummeting to our deaths or if we would be placed gently back on floor number two.
We landed safely and the elevator was promptly closed for repairs. Hmmm....
Later that evening, after our performance ended and we abruptly headed for the hotel lounge for a shot of liquid, ummm, encouragement(?) after the fact, we noticed about five Bloomington firefighters standing outside the elevators. Elevator number two.
We wondered what was going on, but I was not in reporter mode. More important to us at that particular moment was getting to the lounge. And were still in full costume. Wigs, odd clothes and all.
We took the escalator down one floor and found about half-dozen more fire fighters standing there.
I couldn’t take not knowing. I had to ask.
“Ma'am, there are 11 people stuck in that Elevator. Been in there 45 minutes. You are going to have to stand back so we can evacuate them,” a firefighter told me. I am pretty sure I disliked being called "ma'am" at that particular moment.
The people all got out safely and nobody was hurt. I bet at least one of those women had to go to the bathroom. What if asomebody, before boarding the elevator thought to her self, “I probably should “go,” but I will just wait and go when I get up to my room.” That could have not been pleasant.
It is kind of unfair, however. Jamie and I were stuck in elevator number one for probably 12 minutes and we didn’t get a dozen cute firefighters to rescue us.
Apparently, the multi-million dollar renovation did not include elevator upgrades. And there wasn’t even bad elevator music for our listening pleasure.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Happy New Year
By the way, happy new year to you all. It has been a while since my last post (sounds like a visit to a confessional). I have no excuses to offer, I just run out of time.
As for new years resolutions - I don't really believe in them. While I do sometimes say, "Every year, I just want to be nice like Deanne." She is my cousin and has the patience of a saint and never a harsh word for anyone. I am sometimes the polar opposite of that. I know this and resolve to try to be nicer every year. And some days I am. Nicer. Or nicer than other days, so I guess that qualifies.
I believe in setting goals and try not to lower my standards just to meet them. But I am a firm believer in the saying, if at first you don't succeed, try again. So I try and try and try some more sometimes.
My goal this year is a lifestyle change. My goal is to work at one or two areas of my life at a time and make healthy changes. for now, I am trying to eat more veggies and work out four times a week. I joined the fitness center and so far, I am on track for four times a week. I am not going to say the word diet. I am going to make healthy choices and get fit.
I think it is starting to work. At least a little bit. While I don't have six-pack abs, at least I know I have abs. The reason I know this is because they hurt. Someday, I may even be able to see them!
One small step at a time.
As for new years resolutions - I don't really believe in them. While I do sometimes say, "Every year, I just want to be nice like Deanne." She is my cousin and has the patience of a saint and never a harsh word for anyone. I am sometimes the polar opposite of that. I know this and resolve to try to be nicer every year. And some days I am. Nicer. Or nicer than other days, so I guess that qualifies.
I believe in setting goals and try not to lower my standards just to meet them. But I am a firm believer in the saying, if at first you don't succeed, try again. So I try and try and try some more sometimes.
My goal this year is a lifestyle change. My goal is to work at one or two areas of my life at a time and make healthy changes. for now, I am trying to eat more veggies and work out four times a week. I joined the fitness center and so far, I am on track for four times a week. I am not going to say the word diet. I am going to make healthy choices and get fit.
I think it is starting to work. At least a little bit. While I don't have six-pack abs, at least I know I have abs. The reason I know this is because they hurt. Someday, I may even be able to see them!
One small step at a time.
Fishhouse counting
OK, some of you may be wondering about the Mille Lacs Lake fishhouse video that is now appearing on our Mille Lacs Messenger website. I will attach a clip here, on this blogsite, as soon as I can figure out how to do it.
Anyway, here's the play by play — behind the scenes deal on the fly-over.
Every year, the DNR counts the number of fishhouses on Mille Lacs Lake. They use the information as an indication to fishing pressure on the lake. It is just one tool in the toolbox the biologists of the fisheries department use to check their numbers.
The fly-over is scheduled on the same like Saturday every year and usually, two counts are used before the actual fishhouse count is tallied.
The flight was schedule to depart Brainerd Regional Airport at 9 a.m. Saturday, Jan.5. Due to unseasonably warm temperatures, and something to do with a pressure system holding moisture down, no wind, and some other scientific Belinda Jenson type stuff I don't understand, there was fog. Lots of fog.
I got the call from DNR biologist Kevin Martini — who would be doing the counting — at about 7:30 a.m. stating a delay due to fog. He said pilot Tom Pfingsten thought fog would clear by 11.
It did not. (See SIDEBAR below on killing time.) The flight was rescheduled until 12:30, and eventually departed a couple hours after that.
Tom kept checking the weather radar and aviation stuff on the maps waiting for visibility to clear to 7 miles. It was good to go in Brainerd and he knew it was clearing, but still under 7 miles in Aitkin. He figured it would clear by the time we got over the lake.
On the way over, flying was wonderful. Overcast and a bit hazy, but it was a smooth flight. On the way to the lake Tom went to check on an area suspected of possible logging violations. "We just want to check it out," he said. Just so you know, the DNR is in the air almost every day (weather permitting) looking for, and following up on leads relating to violations such as shoreland, wetland, logging and just about everything else. Always an eye in the sky. Tom said they were also involved in searching for the Garrison Bank Robber last year.
It was clear to hazy all the way until right over the lake. Floating over just the lake were clouds. A thick layer of clouds hanging there at about 1,000 feet. We were flying at about 1,500 feet. Needless to say, the clouds were so thick, we did not see a single fishhouse. The unofficial count on Jan. 5 was zero. Well, Kevin saw two on the northside, and that was it. But the count for that day will be thrown out and another count, with yet another flyover will be done on Jan. 26.
So, no numbers to chart and no front page pic for the paper. It was a nice flight. So, thank you Tom, Kevin and the Minnesota DNR for letting me tag along. I am looking forward to the next flight.
That is the way it goes with weather and science, and life in general. Things don't always work out the way we want them to, but if we are patient, the fog will clear in the end.
SIDEBAR: Killing time, waiting for the fog to clear.
I was on my way to the airport to be there by 11 a.m. when Kevin called again saying we would try at 12:30. Since I was already on my way into town, I just kept going.
I had errands to run, so it was really no big deal if I did them before or after the flight.
One stop was to get my oil changed. I usually change my oil pretty close to the 3,000 mile manufacturer's recommendation. If I don't, my Jeep yells at me. However, this time, apparently I was a little farther over the manufacturers recommendation — almost 1,500 miles over, according to the guys at the super speedy oil change place on Washington Ave., across from Westgate Mall.
Because I drive a few miles, I am getting my oil changed about every other month. those guys at the super speedy oil change place know me pretty well. I think they especially like it I always have a coupon and know when to yell, "Oil pressure up!" Of course, they have a tendency to razz me a bit and tell me the tire pressure is off by about a 100 pounds on the spare tire, and my turn signal fluid should be changed, that sort of thing. Of course I am too smart for that. I don't even know where my spare tire is, how are they going to know?
But this time, they were not kidding and I needed a new battery and talked me into the synthetic oil for the winter in case I run over the recommended 3,000 miles — again.
So, a shout out to my pals at the super speedy oil change place in Brainerd/Baxter across from Westgate Mall! Especially, the guy with the same last name as me. Thanks for taking care of my Jeep.
Anyway, here's the play by play — behind the scenes deal on the fly-over.
Every year, the DNR counts the number of fishhouses on Mille Lacs Lake. They use the information as an indication to fishing pressure on the lake. It is just one tool in the toolbox the biologists of the fisheries department use to check their numbers.
The fly-over is scheduled on the same like Saturday every year and usually, two counts are used before the actual fishhouse count is tallied.
The flight was schedule to depart Brainerd Regional Airport at 9 a.m. Saturday, Jan.5. Due to unseasonably warm temperatures, and something to do with a pressure system holding moisture down, no wind, and some other scientific Belinda Jenson type stuff I don't understand, there was fog. Lots of fog.
I got the call from DNR biologist Kevin Martini — who would be doing the counting — at about 7:30 a.m. stating a delay due to fog. He said pilot Tom Pfingsten thought fog would clear by 11.
It did not. (See SIDEBAR below on killing time.) The flight was rescheduled until 12:30, and eventually departed a couple hours after that.
Tom kept checking the weather radar and aviation stuff on the maps waiting for visibility to clear to 7 miles. It was good to go in Brainerd and he knew it was clearing, but still under 7 miles in Aitkin. He figured it would clear by the time we got over the lake.
On the way over, flying was wonderful. Overcast and a bit hazy, but it was a smooth flight. On the way to the lake Tom went to check on an area suspected of possible logging violations. "We just want to check it out," he said. Just so you know, the DNR is in the air almost every day (weather permitting) looking for, and following up on leads relating to violations such as shoreland, wetland, logging and just about everything else. Always an eye in the sky. Tom said they were also involved in searching for the Garrison Bank Robber last year.
It was clear to hazy all the way until right over the lake. Floating over just the lake were clouds. A thick layer of clouds hanging there at about 1,000 feet. We were flying at about 1,500 feet. Needless to say, the clouds were so thick, we did not see a single fishhouse. The unofficial count on Jan. 5 was zero. Well, Kevin saw two on the northside, and that was it. But the count for that day will be thrown out and another count, with yet another flyover will be done on Jan. 26.
So, no numbers to chart and no front page pic for the paper. It was a nice flight. So, thank you Tom, Kevin and the Minnesota DNR for letting me tag along. I am looking forward to the next flight.
That is the way it goes with weather and science, and life in general. Things don't always work out the way we want them to, but if we are patient, the fog will clear in the end.
SIDEBAR: Killing time, waiting for the fog to clear.
I was on my way to the airport to be there by 11 a.m. when Kevin called again saying we would try at 12:30. Since I was already on my way into town, I just kept going.
I had errands to run, so it was really no big deal if I did them before or after the flight.
One stop was to get my oil changed. I usually change my oil pretty close to the 3,000 mile manufacturer's recommendation. If I don't, my Jeep yells at me. However, this time, apparently I was a little farther over the manufacturers recommendation — almost 1,500 miles over, according to the guys at the super speedy oil change place on Washington Ave., across from Westgate Mall.
Because I drive a few miles, I am getting my oil changed about every other month. those guys at the super speedy oil change place know me pretty well. I think they especially like it I always have a coupon and know when to yell, "Oil pressure up!" Of course, they have a tendency to razz me a bit and tell me the tire pressure is off by about a 100 pounds on the spare tire, and my turn signal fluid should be changed, that sort of thing. Of course I am too smart for that. I don't even know where my spare tire is, how are they going to know?
But this time, they were not kidding and I needed a new battery and talked me into the synthetic oil for the winter in case I run over the recommended 3,000 miles — again.
So, a shout out to my pals at the super speedy oil change place in Brainerd/Baxter across from Westgate Mall! Especially, the guy with the same last name as me. Thanks for taking care of my Jeep.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
A Christmas morning snow globe
I collect music boxes and many in my collection are snow globes. Those in my collection hold little tiny pieces of sentiment. I have one that holds a snowmen, one a mother and a child, another a father and daughter dancing a waltz, another of a ballerina in toe shoes, another an ice skater on a frozen pond, and one simply a butterfly. One is a city landscape, and one is a cabin in the woods. Others are scenes from favorite movies, and others seem to have no reason. Each one individually is special but if you put them all together, they are tiny little pieces of my life. Each one is special.
Looking at them sitting on the shelf they are pretty. If you turn them upside down to swirl the snow, something magical happens and watching the snow puts my heart at ease.
Christmas morning I took my dogs for a walk in the woods. It was quiet. Silence surrounded me except for the squeaking of the snow beneath my boots as I walked. And the occasional jingling of the dog tags of my companions. And then it started to snow. A flake here and there. As I continued walking in the comfort of the quiet the snow picked up — big fluffy flakes that seemed to sometimes gently swirl.
I stopped and the dogs stopped. We just listened to the silence. And enjoyed a moment in a Christmas morning snow globe of our very own.
Looking at them sitting on the shelf they are pretty. If you turn them upside down to swirl the snow, something magical happens and watching the snow puts my heart at ease.
Christmas morning I took my dogs for a walk in the woods. It was quiet. Silence surrounded me except for the squeaking of the snow beneath my boots as I walked. And the occasional jingling of the dog tags of my companions. And then it started to snow. A flake here and there. As I continued walking in the comfort of the quiet the snow picked up — big fluffy flakes that seemed to sometimes gently swirl.
I stopped and the dogs stopped. We just listened to the silence. And enjoyed a moment in a Christmas morning snow globe of our very own.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Christmas magic
I admit I am addicted to the Hallmark channel at Christmastime. I cannot get enough of those sappy Christmas movies that are often less than "B" quality. I watch as many as I can, usually with tissues nearby just in case a tear appears. Actually, who am I kidding — I cry during Coke commercials.
Perhaps the reason I love those movies so much is because they each have a special message of some kind of wonder, love, peace, magic, miracles, or hope that Christmas brings.
Maybe it is the journalist in me that continues to look for solid proof that something exists. Every year, I struggle with Christmas a little bit, trying to find proof of magic and miracles. Sometimes, just when I think I found it, the proof is snapped away by harsh reality as though someone switched from the Hallmark channel to CNN.
This week while in journalist mode I came across a story of a house fire. Not just a house fire, but one where arson is suspected and a suspect has been arrested. (See this weeks paper.) The reporter in me knows there is a history between several neighbors along that particular street. Watching the Sheriff's report every week, one can't help but notice the violence appears to be escalating in an around that particular neighborhood.
The house that burned down was somebody's home. In fact, it belonged to a family. Perhaps, not the perfect "Leave it to Beaver" family everyone hopes to read about at Christmas, but it is a family. And there were two small boys, ages 1 and 2, living in that house. Nobody was home when the fire started and no injuries were reported. It was one week before Christmas.
Learning of the family, I imagined those little boys waiting in anticipation for the arrival of Santa. Gifts had been purchased by the family. Some were perhaps wrapped and under the tree. Other gifts hidden in a closet to be marked from Santa.
Then, in a flash, pun intended, everything is gone. The hopes and wonder of Christmas for those two little boys — gone.
One week before Christmas I was looking for magic and wonder and instead found arson and children living in a hotel. Whether the parents of those boys are perfect or not perfect — innocent or not innocent — shouldn't be an issue. Whether they really bought — and then lost — presents for the kids or not, shouldn't be a question. The fact remains, the house that was once a home for those two little boys and their family home, is gone. All that they believed was a safe place to be is gone.
I saw friends and family members of the family affected by the fire, including the mother, working in the kitchen at the community center last Friday, making Indian tacos and selling them for a fundraiser — their own fundraiser. At first this struck me as odd, but when the mother of the boys told me everything was gone due to the fire and they were just trying to get enough to buy Christmas gifts, my heart went out to them. When I told others of the fundraiser, I was met with varied reactions. Many people could not see beyond the obvious history of the families involved to see the innocence of the little kids caught in the cross-fire.
We all want something special for Christmas. I don't mean just toys for the kids, or a new coffee machine, or a cordless drill or even something sparkly that comes in a little velvet box. Because it is not what is in the packages or whether or not you even get a package, that matters. It is the feeling you get in your heart simply knowing that someone thought of you. And that feeling is returned at least two-fold when you give to others and it comes from your heart. Helping others in any way, will help your heart grow “three times.”
Maybe because it is Christmas and I watch all of those sappy movies that seep into my soul that I begin to expect, or hope, or search, for a miracle or hope or wonder to come out of the sky and hit me like a bolt of lightening, or an angel come to visit, or hear the ringing of a bell. The realist in me says that is really not going to happen. Yet, I still look. I am still looking for magic. And miracles.
Albert Einstein said, "There are two ways to live life. One is as though nothing is a miracle, the other is as though everything is a miracle." There are many things in the universe I believe in, even though I cannot see them, or touch them. I believe in miracles. I believe in Christmas. I believe in Jesus. And I believe in Santa Claus. And I am still looking for that Christmas miracle, magic, hope and wonder. Maybe, just maybe, the answer is that sometimes you don't need to know the answer.
“And he puzzled three hours, 'til his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! 'Maybe Christmas,' he thought, 'doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas … perhaps … means a little bit more!' “ (How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Dr. Seuss, 1957 )
I know that the tears will run down my checks tonight as I sing Silent Night. I know that special feeling will hit me like a lightening bolt when I light that candle tonight at the candlelight service at church. I will say a prayer for those two little boys and their family and many other people as well. I know that the Spirit of Christmas will surround me and I will hold that in my heart as long as I can.
Peace and Merry Christmas.
"God bless us everyone."
Perhaps the reason I love those movies so much is because they each have a special message of some kind of wonder, love, peace, magic, miracles, or hope that Christmas brings.
Maybe it is the journalist in me that continues to look for solid proof that something exists. Every year, I struggle with Christmas a little bit, trying to find proof of magic and miracles. Sometimes, just when I think I found it, the proof is snapped away by harsh reality as though someone switched from the Hallmark channel to CNN.
This week while in journalist mode I came across a story of a house fire. Not just a house fire, but one where arson is suspected and a suspect has been arrested. (See this weeks paper.) The reporter in me knows there is a history between several neighbors along that particular street. Watching the Sheriff's report every week, one can't help but notice the violence appears to be escalating in an around that particular neighborhood.
The house that burned down was somebody's home. In fact, it belonged to a family. Perhaps, not the perfect "Leave it to Beaver" family everyone hopes to read about at Christmas, but it is a family. And there were two small boys, ages 1 and 2, living in that house. Nobody was home when the fire started and no injuries were reported. It was one week before Christmas.
Learning of the family, I imagined those little boys waiting in anticipation for the arrival of Santa. Gifts had been purchased by the family. Some were perhaps wrapped and under the tree. Other gifts hidden in a closet to be marked from Santa.
Then, in a flash, pun intended, everything is gone. The hopes and wonder of Christmas for those two little boys — gone.
One week before Christmas I was looking for magic and wonder and instead found arson and children living in a hotel. Whether the parents of those boys are perfect or not perfect — innocent or not innocent — shouldn't be an issue. Whether they really bought — and then lost — presents for the kids or not, shouldn't be a question. The fact remains, the house that was once a home for those two little boys and their family home, is gone. All that they believed was a safe place to be is gone.
I saw friends and family members of the family affected by the fire, including the mother, working in the kitchen at the community center last Friday, making Indian tacos and selling them for a fundraiser — their own fundraiser. At first this struck me as odd, but when the mother of the boys told me everything was gone due to the fire and they were just trying to get enough to buy Christmas gifts, my heart went out to them. When I told others of the fundraiser, I was met with varied reactions. Many people could not see beyond the obvious history of the families involved to see the innocence of the little kids caught in the cross-fire.
We all want something special for Christmas. I don't mean just toys for the kids, or a new coffee machine, or a cordless drill or even something sparkly that comes in a little velvet box. Because it is not what is in the packages or whether or not you even get a package, that matters. It is the feeling you get in your heart simply knowing that someone thought of you. And that feeling is returned at least two-fold when you give to others and it comes from your heart. Helping others in any way, will help your heart grow “three times.”
Maybe because it is Christmas and I watch all of those sappy movies that seep into my soul that I begin to expect, or hope, or search, for a miracle or hope or wonder to come out of the sky and hit me like a bolt of lightening, or an angel come to visit, or hear the ringing of a bell. The realist in me says that is really not going to happen. Yet, I still look. I am still looking for magic. And miracles.
Albert Einstein said, "There are two ways to live life. One is as though nothing is a miracle, the other is as though everything is a miracle." There are many things in the universe I believe in, even though I cannot see them, or touch them. I believe in miracles. I believe in Christmas. I believe in Jesus. And I believe in Santa Claus. And I am still looking for that Christmas miracle, magic, hope and wonder. Maybe, just maybe, the answer is that sometimes you don't need to know the answer.
“And he puzzled three hours, 'til his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! 'Maybe Christmas,' he thought, 'doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas … perhaps … means a little bit more!' “ (How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Dr. Seuss, 1957 )
I know that the tears will run down my checks tonight as I sing Silent Night. I know that special feeling will hit me like a lightening bolt when I light that candle tonight at the candlelight service at church. I will say a prayer for those two little boys and their family and many other people as well. I know that the Spirit of Christmas will surround me and I will hold that in my heart as long as I can.
Peace and Merry Christmas.
"God bless us everyone."
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Santa should be fat and say "Ho! Ho! Ho!"
Christmas is a magical time of year filled with joy and peace and goodwill. Santa Claus and baby Jesus and twinkling stars give people of hope.
But some people are taking the whole politically correct thing a little too far, and a little too seriously.
The Garrison City Council can decorate the streets with lights, but they can’t call them Christmas decorations. They have to call them “seasonal” decorations.
The Surgeon General thinks Santa should go on a diet and exercise program and watch his cholesterol and check for diabetes.
Instructors at an Australian Santa school instructed all of the Santas-in-training they could no longer say “Ho! Ho! Ho!”
I don’t know about you, but I like to call them as I see them.
Those are Christmas decorations in Garrison. There is a nativity scene and a Santa.
Santa should be fat — “a right jolly old elf whose belly shook like a bowl full of jelly.”
Ever tired to jiggle a skinny elf with 6-pack abs? That is just wrong.
The reason the new would-be Santas were told not to say ho ho ho was that it might scare children and could be considered derogatory to women. Instead, they were instructed to say, “Ha! Ha! Ha!”
OK, come on, people. Santa has been saying ho ho ho for centuries. If certain business entrepreneurs are offended by the use of the word “ho” perhaps they are taking their job a little too seriously. Or they should just get a new job.
As for scaring children, I think that is a pile of crap. Little kids are scared of a lot of life-size characters that do not look like real people. Take a look at Smokey the Bear, The Eater Bunny, Ronald McDonald, the Jolly Green Giant (I think he says ho, ho, ho, too!) Goldy Gopher (Who is up for an award for best college mascot, btw) — those characters and more seem like they could be a little more intimidating to toddlers than Santa. At least Santa brings presents and eats cookies and milk.
Santa cares about kids behavior. He wants them all to be nice to each other — not naughty. sure, he uses bribery to get kids to be nice, but what parent hasn’t used that technique at least once? (“I will let you have a cookie if you eat all of your beans.” Sound familiar?)
It appears some people are so afraid of offending someone, or some group they say the wrong thing anyway.
Sure there are certain words and phrases that are clearly derogatory and have been dissed from our American language with good reason.
Santa is probably about 2,000 years old. He probably weighs about 260 pounds. I would argue that if he is delivering toys to children all over the world, spreading peace and joy along the way in a 12 to 24 hour period, he has got to be in good shape!
So what if he needs a little energy boost along the way with a few cookies for instant energy and some wholesome milk to wash it down.
At least he is not on steroids and energy drinks spiked with vodka to keep him laughing.
Christmas is a magical time. Please enjoy the season.
Peace.
But some people are taking the whole politically correct thing a little too far, and a little too seriously.
The Garrison City Council can decorate the streets with lights, but they can’t call them Christmas decorations. They have to call them “seasonal” decorations.
The Surgeon General thinks Santa should go on a diet and exercise program and watch his cholesterol and check for diabetes.
Instructors at an Australian Santa school instructed all of the Santas-in-training they could no longer say “Ho! Ho! Ho!”
I don’t know about you, but I like to call them as I see them.
Those are Christmas decorations in Garrison. There is a nativity scene and a Santa.
Santa should be fat — “a right jolly old elf whose belly shook like a bowl full of jelly.”
Ever tired to jiggle a skinny elf with 6-pack abs? That is just wrong.
The reason the new would-be Santas were told not to say ho ho ho was that it might scare children and could be considered derogatory to women. Instead, they were instructed to say, “Ha! Ha! Ha!”
OK, come on, people. Santa has been saying ho ho ho for centuries. If certain business entrepreneurs are offended by the use of the word “ho” perhaps they are taking their job a little too seriously. Or they should just get a new job.
As for scaring children, I think that is a pile of crap. Little kids are scared of a lot of life-size characters that do not look like real people. Take a look at Smokey the Bear, The Eater Bunny, Ronald McDonald, the Jolly Green Giant (I think he says ho, ho, ho, too!) Goldy Gopher (Who is up for an award for best college mascot, btw) — those characters and more seem like they could be a little more intimidating to toddlers than Santa. At least Santa brings presents and eats cookies and milk.
Santa cares about kids behavior. He wants them all to be nice to each other — not naughty. sure, he uses bribery to get kids to be nice, but what parent hasn’t used that technique at least once? (“I will let you have a cookie if you eat all of your beans.” Sound familiar?)
It appears some people are so afraid of offending someone, or some group they say the wrong thing anyway.
Sure there are certain words and phrases that are clearly derogatory and have been dissed from our American language with good reason.
Santa is probably about 2,000 years old. He probably weighs about 260 pounds. I would argue that if he is delivering toys to children all over the world, spreading peace and joy along the way in a 12 to 24 hour period, he has got to be in good shape!
So what if he needs a little energy boost along the way with a few cookies for instant energy and some wholesome milk to wash it down.
At least he is not on steroids and energy drinks spiked with vodka to keep him laughing.
Christmas is a magical time. Please enjoy the season.
Peace.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Surprise! Another celebrity
Ok, so I know this is beginning to sound like ET, but it just worked out that way.
Last week, I had the opportunity to meet yet another celebrity. The actual story will appear in the Dec. 19 issue of the printed version of the Mille Lacs Messenger, but I just want to give you a little heads up and hint of what is to come.
I actually did get a one-on-one interview with Adam Beach. Here's what happened. He was visiting the Nay Ah Shing school giving a highly motivational speach to the kids. Afterwards, he was very down to earth and approachable. As he waiting patiently for everyone who wanted to, to pose with him and take their picture (I never knew so many people had cell phones with cameras!) I pulled out the infamous journalist question: "Excuse me, Mr. Beach? I just have one more question, if I may?"
To my surprise, he said, "Just one? How about we grab a cup of coffee and chill for a while?"
So we did.
He takes his coffee black, with a couple sugar packets.
Read all about it in next weeks Mille Lacs Messenger!
p.s. - He really is just a normal nice guy! And a little shy.
Last week, I had the opportunity to meet yet another celebrity. The actual story will appear in the Dec. 19 issue of the printed version of the Mille Lacs Messenger, but I just want to give you a little heads up and hint of what is to come.
I actually did get a one-on-one interview with Adam Beach. Here's what happened. He was visiting the Nay Ah Shing school giving a highly motivational speach to the kids. Afterwards, he was very down to earth and approachable. As he waiting patiently for everyone who wanted to, to pose with him and take their picture (I never knew so many people had cell phones with cameras!) I pulled out the infamous journalist question: "Excuse me, Mr. Beach? I just have one more question, if I may?"
To my surprise, he said, "Just one? How about we grab a cup of coffee and chill for a while?"
So we did.
He takes his coffee black, with a couple sugar packets.
Read all about it in next weeks Mille Lacs Messenger!
p.s. - He really is just a normal nice guy! And a little shy.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Marie Osmond - Magic of Christmas
I was fortunate to be able to go to the Marie Osmond concert at Mille Lacs Grand Casino last Thursday night. She was an idol of mine when I was growing up. I would watch the Donny and Marie show every chance I could and sing along. I bought at least one album and sang along to every song. Of course I had my hairbrush for a microphone and the couch, or a chair was my stage. But, I could sing Paper Roses just like she did. (In my mind of course!)
So, the Marie Osmond "Magic of Christmas" show was pure magic. It was so fun to see her perform. I had gone to the second show that night, so I was surprised she held her energy level to the very end. Her voice, however, was starting to give in slightly towards the end, but all in all, she was wonderful.
While she sang a variety of songs — some old, some new, some Christmas of course, some Broadway — which were all excellent, what I enjoyed most was that she became a real person. Her charming personality was as brilliant as the North Star, yet she appeared to remain grounded. She was real.
She talked between numbers about her family, her brothers (those cute Osmond brothers!), her divorce, her kids (all 8 of them!) and her parents. She also mentioned her appearance on "Dancing with the Stars" where she finished in third place. She said her brother donny took that third place in lieu of first, harder than she did. I am a fan of dancing with the Stars, and I have to admit, I was one of the millions of fans that voted for her every week.
I am proud of her like she was my sister, almost. And in some ways she is. Like a sister.
Marie Osmond is a vibrant 48-year-old woman who has been through a lot in her life. Regardless of being a young pop star growing up in a famous family, she has had her share of "real life." She has experienced happiness and joy as well as deep sadness of love lost and the loss of parents. She has issues with her skirt stretching out and pantyhose problems, just like every body else.
I believe she gives encouragement to women over 40 all over the country. Probably all over the world. I spoke to a woman in the Milaca coffee shop the morning of the show while I was in between interviews. I told her I was going to go to the show that night and hoping for an interview. I asked the woman what she would ask Marie Osmond if she had the chance? she told me she couldn't think of any particular questions, but she wanted me to tell Marie Osmond how much she is admired and what an inspiration she is to women everywhere. If Marie Osmond can be the mother of 8 children (ages 5 to 24) at the age of 48, go through a divorce, go through the death of her father all while participating in a physically demanding show of Dancing with the Stars while helping with Children's Miracle Network (of which she is a founder) prepare for a Christmas tour and run a doll company, and look fabulous all the time, the woman should be president.
And when you think about all of the stuff regular moms and working moms all over the country go through, it is pretty much the same thing. Only maybe not on such a grand scale and not so public. If Marie Osmond can do all of that, then we can too.
And we do.
We work — either at home or at an office or both — we bake cookies for bake sales, run errands, work at fundraisers, take the kids to hockey and dance practice, we go through divorces and lose our parents and we live on, too.
I didn't get a chance to interview her. She admitted she was a little tired. I don't blame her. But I did get a chance to meet her briefly. I told her I admired her and she told me I was cute.
Here is our superior quality Poloroid snapshot taken back stage. Sort of a chincey photo, but it was all that was "allowed" backstage.
And that was my 12 second brush with a famous person.
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