Area man's extended family finds blog

¡AY DIOS MIO, CHILLING EFFECT! I hope they don't find out about that one time with the balloon animals, horse tranquilizer, and jellied cranberries...

It was a terrific trip out to SD with a big passel of family. The touristy bits went much as I thought they would, from banal to breathtaking. The day up on the prairie was touching beyond all expectations. Short story: Grandma and a classmate were reunited after nearly 80 years.

Sharing close quarters with 16 of anyone, let alone kin, can have its problems, but that all went quite well. Actually it helped disavow me of a bit of recurring paranoia, which requires a bit of explanation. A big thing I'm indebted to my grandmother for is not anything she did for me, but how she treated my mom upon the coming-out. There is the way you'd expect someone of the old school to take such news, and the way you'd want a mother to take it. Meanwhile, the political and religious spectrum of my aunts and uncles is quite wide, and things were touchy there for a time. Whether she meant to or not, Grandma set the tone, that there are more important things than dogma. So my paranoia, popping in on occasion, was that the acceptance of mom & bonus mom was facile. I'm reminded of the Godfather movies, where Michael protects Fredo as long as Mama Corleone lives. But watching their interactions en masse and for a longer period than previously afforded, I'm convinced it's all genuine.


And finally, the quote of the week:
"Things were really bad when you got down to the shiny pages of the Sears catalog." --Grandma on the lack of modern...erm...niceties.

Bam?

Kirsti and I just got back from a nice healthy spring evening walk -- and proceeded to stomp the health right out of it by stopping for dinner at a little hot dog place. As most hole-in-the-wall restaurants do, this one had a TV on. Only instead of syndicated sitcoms, this one was showing Emeril Live. It's not often a restaurant seems to encourage its patrons to try harder, but there you go.

Grandma and the Rattlesnake
This is as good a story as any to tell on the occasion of my grandmother's 90th birthday. There are other facts that demonstrate the awesomeness of grandma, but I suppose they're fairly commonplace when you think about it. Longevity being what it is today, someone deciding to retire at 89 is great and impressive and all, no question. But how many of those folks have a rattlesnake story? I didn't think so. A good rattlesnake story sets one apart.

So, then. It's a story that improves as I've gotten older, not due to embellishment, but because of a greater understanding of social roles and expectations back then.

Grandma had these rattlesnake rattles from her youth growing up in a sod house on the South Dakota prairie. Despite the handling by an army of kids and grandkids, and trips to show and tell, they're still around, and in good shape. The first version of the story you hear as a little kid is the most basic. Maybe you're told more, but the bare fact is all that you retain:

"Grandma killed a rattlesnake when she was a little girl."

oooh, cool, we thought.

My uncle's kids are all about 10-15 years younger than me. When they heard the story -- from my mom-- it had taken a dramatic twist. Grandma killed the rattlesnake, my mom said, because it was threatening her younger brother Fred.

WOW. So suddenly the tale of pioneer life has an element of heroism! If something had gone wrong that day on the prairie, none of us would be around, but grandma's courageous actions prevailed. Except...

"MARY! Who told you that? That's not what happened at all!"

To this day, Mom's not sure how she added that to the story, but Grandma set her straight. "Fred wasn't even around! The older boys all had rattles and I wanted some too. I knew where the snake was, and that it'd be vulnerable when it was uncoiled. I killed the snake just to get the rattles."

Okay. Valor's out the window, but it's replaced with sheer badassery that's just incongruous with this sweet, kind woman, whom I've heard say "crap" once. If my cousins are hearing this at age 6 or 7, then I'm an attitude-bomb of 16 or 17, and what I'm hearing in my head is suddenly punk as hell. I know what I want and I know how to get it. I'ma kill this snake for the damn rattles!

So the kids grow up and eventually there are great grandkids old enough to hear about the rattles. Last year we came up for her birthday, and stayed at her place. Over breakfast before we took off, I got her telling some of the family stories, including the snake.

"It was such a stupid thing to do, I know. I knew the bush where the snake was, so I tied my horse a ways away, and got a big stick. I got it to strike, and then hit it to death before it coiled up again."

But then comes the part you don't think about growing up in the 1970s and later.

"They were trying to raise me as a lady. Whenever I was inside from riding or doing chores, I'd have to change back into a dress. Part of that was I wasn't allowed to have a knife. Ladies didn't carry knives. If I needed one for some task, I could borrow one from my grandpa or uncle, but I had to give it back. I had to rip the rattles off by hand."

***

Grandma said she wanted to visit the prairie again this year. The family took her a couple of years ago. This time Kirsti and I are coming along as well. Additionally, we're hitting all the touristy stuff you're supposed to do in South Dakota. And snakes: you are on notice; our protector will be with us.

The potentially very cool thing I alluded to a while back? It's not happening, as we finished second last night in an extremely close pub quiz final which would have sent our team to London. We were down one point going into the last round, and that's where we stayed. General brewing history turned out to be our downfall, though we had brewing knowledge and Goose Island (the sponsor) products down cold. The winners weren't the trash-talking home team, so that's okay.

Through the course of this tournament (which started in February), we won some swell things, including $200 in restaurant gift cards and a brewery tour for 12 people. Not bad for nights sitting around drinking and answering stuff.

And we still have a trip coming up sometime, too. We decided a while ago that if we lost, we'd go to London...Ontario. Suggestions are welcome.

Surely this is left over from yesterday?

As I type this, the click-thru ad on Yahoo's NHL page takes you here.

It means "Do you remember..."

I was reminded that today is the anniversary of Hüsker Dü's first show in 1979.



"Could You Be The One"



"Celebrated Summer"



Here they are on "Good Company," a ridiculous local daytime talk show. The married hosts, "Steve & Sharon," play themselves on TV in Fargo.

He comes back with THAT?!

The thing about neglecting the blog for so long is then there's pressure to come up with something good. Surely something must have happened of interest. The illogic is that you can save up 60+ posts of daily mundanity and turn them into one awesome asskicker.

Well, no. Because the most interesting thing I can think of is how I slipped on a banana peel in February. T'was more of a skid, not a slip or olde-tyme pratfall, but still, WTF. How does that happen
a. in the middle of winter
b. on a sidewalk in a midwestern college town
c. in 2008
d. to an actual person?


Not much else to report. The house will be paid off in two months. The glee at seeing just four figures remaining on a mortgage statement is beyond comprehension.

There's also a potentially Very Cool Thing that I don't want to jinx. It'll be resolved a week from Sunday, either way.