Happy Holidays

For My Democrat Friends:

Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2007, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great. Not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the Western Hemisphere . Also, this wish is made without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.

By accepting these greetings, you are accepting the aforementioned terms as stated. This greeting is not subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for herself/himself/others, and is void where prohibited by law and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wish.

For My Republican Friends:

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Reagan Quotes

Here's my strategy on the Cold War: We win, they lose."

The most terrifying words in the English language are: I'm from the government and I'm here to help.

The trouble with our liberal friends is not that they're ignorant: It's just that they know so much that isn't so.

Of the four wars in my lifetime none came about because the U.S. was too strong.

I have wondered at times about what the Ten Commandment's would have looked like if Moses had run them through the U.S. Congress.

The taxpayer: That's someone who works for the federal government but doesn't have to take the civil service examination.

Government is like a baby: An alimentary canal with a big appetite at one end and no sense of responsibility at the other.

The nearest thing to eternal life we will ever see on this earth is a government program"

I've laid down the law, though, to everyone from now on about anything that happens: no matter what time it is, wake me, even if it's in the middle of a Cabinet meeting.

It has been said that politics is the second oldest profession. I have learned that it bears a striking resemblance to the first.

Government's view of the economy could be summed up in a few short phrases: If it moves, tax it. If it keeps moving, regulate it. And if it stops moving, subsidize it.

Politics is not a bad profession. If you succeed there are many rewards, if you disgrace yourself you can always write a book.

No arsenal, or no weapon in the arsenals of the world, is so formidable as the will and moral courage of free men and women.

If we ever forget that we're one nation under God, then we will be a nation gone under.

The Vikings continue to disappoint

What started as a promising first half start has most people turning the channel and finding other past times at Sunday noon. Even though Miami tried everything in their power to self destruct with Harrington the Vikes failed to take advantage of any of the opportunities presented to them.

Not too many games ago, before they entered the cream puff portion of their schedule, it was said that Brad Johnson may not be lighting the offense on fire but he is not hurting them. Well clearly that has changed with key turn overs in the end zone killing 2 weeks of late 4th quarter drives. It is not all Johnson's fault. Williamson is much like the Stone Hands character in Necessary Roughness. He shows just enough brilliance at moments to tease us with what is possible with a great catch and effort, then this first round pick shows us what he is really about: long on speed with no ability to catch a football. Is it time for a look at Jackson? If the season becomes an even bigger horror show, then let's give the younger guys a chance. When the Twins did it this summer, they stepped up to win the Central. Look for Tavarius in 2 weeks.

Dumpster Lessons

A commercial size dumpster is about 20 yards. I have no idea what a yard represents since the last time I heard the term it was a beer reference so I was surprised to see how big one of these suckers really is. I bought this house as a single guy 15 years ago. Since then it has been filled with the worldly possessions of 4 people and an 8 pound cat with very little leaving in the form of landfill. Critical mass of "stuff" was finally reached and we were close to being accused of being hoarders. Something had to give before the snow was to fly and it was in the form of a gigantic green dumpster.

What a difference and relief 20 yards makes.

Lauren is a Blogger too!

Staying with family tradition, Lauren now has her own blog site. If you would like to visit her go to http://www.leharlow.blogspot.com/

There are some great updates on her many activities. One of her school projects was the creation of a blog site for out of town family and friends to view. It is a great way to keep people updated without relying on email.

Gardy runner up as manager of the year

After several magazines in April / May were calling Gardy the worst manager in baseball, this voting shows how fast things can change. I am always amazed how quickly perceptions change with a few wins since his coaching style remained relatively consistent. He was chosen as manager of the year as a runner of to Jim Leyland.

Gray, the ebay shopper

I guess they start the Ebay early these days. Gray spyed a gamecube game called Need for Speed / Hot pursuit 2 and placed a 1 cent bid on the item. We won and are now waiting to find out the shipping will be in excess of $50.00! (Just kidding).

The "New Pet" Discussion

Every parent would like to offer their kid the opportunity to experience a pet. Parents are also keenly aware that the new pet usually becomes their responsibility of the parent. This usually happens after the pet poops / pukes all over their favorite pants thus becoming a projectile dying of sudden deceleration against something like a wall.

After a carefully orchestrated PowerPoint presentation, the pet finalist included: Bunny, kitten, bearded dragon, and guinea pig. I was pushing for fish but for some reason it failed the "cuddly" test. (Maybe that is why my fish died?) Since the priorities were a moving target it was interesting watching the pet pitch turn into a self fulfilling prophecy. More on this later after the next visit to the pet shop.

The difference between Men and Women

Since the time of Genesis, men and women have been discussed and/or had
comparisons made about them. Here are a few more examples.

NICKNAMES
If Laura, Suzanne, Debra and Rose go out for lunch, they will call each other Laura, Suzanne, Debra and Rose.
If Mike, Charlie, Bob and John go out, they will affectionately refer to each other as Fat Boy, Godzilla, Peanut-Head and Shorty

EATING OUT
When the bill arrives, Mike, Charlie, Bob and John will each throw in $20,even though it's only for $32.50. None of them will have anything smaller, and none will actually admit they want change back. When the girls get their bill, out come the pocket calculators.

MONEY
A man will pay $2 for a $1 item he wants.
A woman will pay $1 for a $2 item that she doesn't want.

BATHROOMS
A man has six items in his bathroom: a toothbrush, shaving cream, razor,a bar of soap, and a towel from the Holiday Inn. The average number of items in the typical woman's bathroom
is 337. A man would not be able to identify most of these items.

ARGUMENTS
A woman has the last word in any argument.
Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.

CATS
Women love cats.
Men say they love cats, but when women aren't looking, men kick cats.

FUTURE
A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband.
A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife.

SUCCESS
A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend.
A successful woman is one who can find such a man.

MARRIAGE
A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but he doesn't.
A man marries a woman expecting that she won't change and she does.

DRESSING UP
A woman will dress up to go shopping, water the plants, empty the garbage, answer the phone, read a book, and get the mail.
A man will dress up for weddings and funerals.

NATURAL LOOKS
Men wake up as good-looking as they were when they went to bed.
Women somehow deteriorate during the night.

OFFSPRING
A woman knows all about her children. She knows about dentist appointments and romances, best friends, favorite foods, secret fears and hopes and dreams.
A man is vaguely aware of some short people living in the house.

My Grandfather Baba remembered Part 1

His name was Ruhland but we called him Baba. I understood the Ruhland part: a surname binding the generations migrating randomly. I was the random Ruhland of my generation. The name Baba I am a bit less sure of. If someone ever told me the genesis of the name, it is now lost in the fog we call middle age.

There are those that accommodate their roles and those embrace them. Baba embraced his. More importantly he had reverence for his role. Whether the role was colleague, mentor, husband, father, or grandfather; he cherished his part. He was worldly but not haughty. His was intellectual but not snobbish. He was confident but not arrogant. He had the style and substance you would usually reserve for a statesman. He was Baba.

I was introduced to Baba in 1958. My first memory of him is at Old Gulph Road. I have no memory of my grandmother because she died when I was very young. Events at Old Gulph were largely Harlow / Daudon affairs. There was a house full of kids and parents with Molly, Anna, and Dewey in attendance to compliment the chaos. The circular drive in the front was our NASCAR track for bikes and trikes. The expansive grounds our field of play for tag and chase with Anna’s special chocolate chip cookies clutched in our paws. We were introduced to finger bowls for dinner, a foot bell that summoned meals from the kitchen, and co-ed football in the backyard.

Baba used to come out to our house in Minneapolis for Christmas about every other year. It was always a production to have him with us because he always gave the best presents. They were saved for last and usually the grand finale. I remember one year when he told me he was giving me a donkey. The build up was incredible. There were days spent talking about where I would have to keep him, if I knew what to feed him, if I knew that donkey’s can sometimes bit you, and that they can be especially tough to ride. The whole idea seemed ridiculous but after a couple of days of this donkey dialogue there became a suspension of disbelief and I began to believe that it could be possible. After a morning of crème of wheat, stockings and gift grabbing he excused himself and left the room to get my new donkey. He emerged, pulling mightily on a rope the stubborn animal that still remained out of my view. After a spirited struggle the protesting mule lost his battle and emerged in the form of a new red bike. Dad had a hold of the handlebars out of view at the other end in a tug of perception war. A successful suspension of disbelief.

Our first trip as Grandpa’s group was to Alaska. A group of us stopped at Disneyland first then met in Anchorage to begin the adventure. Camp Denali is a base camp for Mt McKinley. We all stayed in different cabins and went for day hikes, played games, and played folk music. (It was the sixties after all.) The mosquitoes were the size of Black Hawk gun ships, descending on our lily white skin as if we had bulls eyes painted on us. Our only defense was combat style protective garb with a netting headdress. This made family pictures interesting since the only way to identify anyone was by body type observation and height. A frightening visual in retrospect. Everyone paired up into cabins with Marc usually bunking with Baba. This made me very jealous since I felt that I should be allowed a turn to room with my grandfather and was being passed over because Marc was older. This bothered me until we arrived at Point Hope, the next leg of our tundra adventure.

Point Hope is basically the Northern most point on the planet where creatures with 2 legs walk. The sun barely set if at all and our cabin was little more than a converted Marine Corps barracks with the rooms separated by next to nothing. There was no TV or radio and most of the architectural highlights were bones and carcasses from unfortunate creatures that ended up on the wrong end of a harpoon. It was here when my envy of the bunk buddy sleeping arrangements ended. With all of us functionally in the same room separated by hanging blankets and assorted animal skins, we settled in for our first night of sleep. Less than an hour after lights out I heard what sounded like a combination of vacuum cleaner and wounded wild animal. It was loud and it was mammal. I was almost ready to run to my parents for protection from the beast that had invaded our hut when I realized it was Baba: snoring! Since that night the charm wore off on the privilege to bunk with Baba. I was ready to move in with my new Eskimo friends and adopt their culture for our one week stay to escape. In the future sleeping anywhere away from that running buzz saw would be fine with me.

The travel agent had indicated our barracks at Point Hope had amenities that included running water. When we arrived we looked at the sink with open pipes below it leading to a plastic bucket pondering just how rustic this adventure was going to be. We all looked at each other then saw out the window sled dogs pulling large containers of water on a sled. We now knew the Eskimo meaning of the term “running water”.

Food and supplies were flown in by bush plane or hunted. Our normal dining routine took a turn to the primitive as we sampled the local cuisine of whale blubber, seal fat, and everything fish. One of the local delicacies was called muck tuck, a dish from the whale family that was half black and half white. I was at the beginning of my 45 year phase of putting mustard on every food group and was proud of the fact I was going to sample this local favorite. They eat this stuff the way we eat hot dogs, the Norwegians eat Lutefisk, and Wisconsin people eat anything deep fried. I covered my whale blubber, that in shape resembled a slice of watermelon, with copious amounts of French’s yellow mustard. I triumphantly took a large bite and felt the Inuit rite of passage would be mine. I then realized I had bitten the non-meat end and instead consumed several bites of pure fat. It was like an episode of fear factor! Supermarket style food was scarce so when the canned fruit had to be divided up it was a major production. It was here that Baba’s immortal phrase “half of a half of a half of a pear” was born. It became the phrase that captured the trip.

My Grandfather Baba Remembered Part 2

A Harlow exclusive trip with Baba was to Canoe country in the Boundary Waters in northern Minnesota. Both my parents and Baba were natural outdoorsman and very comfortable in this environment. Baba had a style that somehow transformed an uncivilized backwater into a civilized campsite. He had a gift. Assinaboin was another Grandpa’s group pack trip. This one required an overnight ride by horseback. They had to pack in all the supplies by packhorse with had a team of cowboy types guiding us in. Chicken was the main entrée on the first night. Marc and I had finished our meal and were joking around with our finished plates in front of us about the outhouse concept. A Cowboy named Eric who had a bum arm came walking in and told us we still had to finish our chicken. We said we were done and went back to being stupid teenagers for a brief moment. Eric then said “no, do you see this plate? The bones are clean picked. We have to haul every bit of food in this place, so we eat everything.” Marc and I looked at each other and realized at the same time Eric was telling us to eat the cartilage. I said “no way” looking to Baba and the other adults for support. I received none. Marc and I looked at each other again and realized this crazed cowboy was not kidding and the parents were looking at this as some life lesson opportunity that we would never forget and cherish into our old age. They were right. We ate the chicken cartilage, washing it down with gallons of Sanilac and I never forgot it. Arriving at the lodge we met the trail boss and the rest of the staff. We had our orientation and then were given our bunking assignments. The girls were to stay in the lodge, and the parents and the boys were to stay in the cabins. It was the 70’s and I had hair that was rock band appropriate falling down comfortably to my shoulders. When I was told I would be in the lodge it was clear they thought I was a girl! I remember the validation process being a bit tricky, but the pants stayed on and I was able to convince them of my gender and I bunked with Marc. Isle Royale was the last of the group trips and the first with M.E. I remember getting to the Isle before them and eagerly awaiting the arrival of their boat. We were on new ground with Baba traveling with his new spouse rather than leading the group solo so we were not sure if the dynamics were going to change with a new player on the roster. As a term of endearment, M.E. would call Baba “lamb”. He used to grimace when the word was tossed his way like someone just broke wind, but he would courageously endure this affront to his masculinity. I thought it was funny watching his reaction since men typically enjoy words like this as much as women enjoy being referred to as “biscuit”. That is until she directed this word my way. Since there is strength in numbers, Baba and I then joined forces to discuss the new policy of family nicknames with M.E. and “lamb” left the lexicon forever. The cabins had more luxury than the Alaskan variety but had the same communal spirit meaning lots of people in a single room. We played endless games of scrabble and hearts. I remember Dad forcing his scrabble words on the board by sheer force of personality with no dictionary to validate. I still have trouble believing that “hazer” is one that “hazes” and is actually a word. In high school I was in Philadelphia and was able to spend a few days with Baba more of less on my own. I remember going downtown to the Union League and some of the other social clubs with him. We had dinner, chatted, and shot pool. I was always pretty good at this game and was looking forward to showing off my skills to my grandfather. I had been playing a lot at my friend Tom’s and was eager to play. I broke, then he pretty much ran the table. With a smile and a twinkle in his eye, I learned that this was not the first time he played and Baba was also probably pretty good at poker. I remember Baba as a student of history. When he died I was the fortunate recipient of many of his history books. He read poetry and Shakespeare. He was a naturalist enjoying birding, flowers and anything nature. He was skilled with a horse and knew all about farming and crops. He was a modern Renaissance man; a blend of Thomas Jefferson and Theodore Roosevelt. He was altruistic. His involvement with volunteer organizations was legendary. I am amazed at not only the scope of his involvement but the level of commitment to each of his projects. Viewing his accomplishments as an adult, I am not sure how Baba pulled it off with the style and excellence he did. His funeral was a church filled with people of all walks paying their respect. The only time I had seen that many people collected in one room was at an NBA game. Lawyers of his generation were held in a higher regard than the stereotypical attorney’s of today. It was a different time, and he was a man that both effected and reflected these times. Looking back as an adult about a man you largely experienced as a child can be confusing. History is footsteps to the present and your perspective changes as you begin walking on a parallel track. He was a special man and I miss him.