Deer Stand...or Sit

Spent several hours deer hunting the remote ruggedness of the Blue Hills yesterday.  After miles of traversing some of the most unforgiving terrain hunters can endure, my boy and I rested on the only chunk of solid ground surrounding a secluded lake. 

Reclining among the roots and needles of towering white pines, we contemplated the possibility of our little peninsula having never felt the weight of a human footstep.  Or if the trees overhead ever held a human gaze.  Perhaps ancient natives used the area as a fishery, or trapping grounds for fur-bearing animals, or possibly for harvesting wild rice? The archaeological possibilities surrounding our 'discovery' made us feel like early-American explorers.

Our Lewis and Clark-like experience ended a hundred yard later when we stepped onto a tote road that lead us past a recently used campsite, strewn with beer cans and this:



Plywood privy complete with seat,  paper holder, and mosquito spray.

 (Credit my son, Henry, for suggesting a photograph of the backwoods bathroom for my blog.)

Finish Line

Earlier this week I read an obituary that reminded me of this old photo.

Gary King Construction was the original sponsor of my race car at the Rice Lake Speedway in 1985.  ~L

(The funeral home's website that hosts the obituary [linked above] for Gary King is occasionally down.  This link works, but is not as detailed.)

Yellow Snow Angels

They've got 40 acres of unblemished snow in which to make their winter lawn decorations - yet, my boys opt to plop and roll where the dogs do their 'business'.  ~L

Whitetail Wipeout

Years ago, an old deer hunter warned me that if I found a bandana on the ground in the woods - it's there for a reason.  ~L

Yard Waist

Had to buy a bundle of new clothes last week.  My midriff measurement has remained stable since the Reagan administration, but recent dietary neglect grew it into a 36-inch gut.

Anyone need a pile of parachute pants and stone-washed denim?  ~L

Every Dog Has Its Day

Webster's dictionary has yet to create a word to define the feeling running through me when I returned home from work to find my house door wide open.

The fear of having my secluded home burglarized scares me much less than the fear of allowing a couple of free-range, un-potty trained farm dogs to have unfettered access to white carpet.

A thorough visual and nasal inspection yielded only a tipped over wastebasket.  ~L

Proudly American

Eleven years ago I had the opportunity to visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C.  I was one of thousands who silently shuffled along the imposing monument - mesmerized by the endless columns of former lives etched upon it.  Some visitors pencil-rubbed onto paper the names of loved ones inscribed into the stone. Others sat on benches, stoically reflecting on what stood before them.  Many came bearing small mementos to leave on the walkway.

Nestled among the flowers and the stuffed animals and the candles was a small, wood-framed photograph of a young serviceman in his dress uniform.  Attached to the frame was this simple, hand-written poem:

I never knew you.
You died before I was born.
I will never forget you.
I was given your name.

Class Dismissed (revised)

(Note: the original version of this post was erroneously deleted. I posted again - with revisions.)

Bamboozled my way into a teaching gig at our local high school last week.  For the next three months, 85 freshmen and sophomores look to me for guidance through creative writing and literature.  If they only knew it's taken me ten minutes of re-writes to avoid using commas and semicolons.  (Thanks to former colleagues, and professional editors, Megan E., Monica H., and Kevin Q., my portfolio of published works is a sham.)

Only in America (or maybe only northern Wisconsin) can a man rise from the ranks as a schlepper of advertising copywriting, to hack blogging about dick jokes and beer, to become a shaper of young minds.

Because I'm no longer satisfied with earning two-figure paychecks, I decided I'd avoid using phrases like "dangling participles" and "straightening out Longfellow" in my classroom.  ~L

Gifts That Keep On Giving

A big thank you goes out to my redneck brother-in-law for his part in tonight's supper.

Last Christmas, when all the other relation were bringing salads and pies and Jello molds and cheese trays to our annual family dinner, Uncle Pat showed up with 50 rolls of jumbo Sweet Tarts, a gallon of Famous Dave's barbecue sauce, a paper grocery sack filled with miscellaneous sand papers, a bottle of Southern Comfort, a set of metric wrenches and a frozen pizza.

Finally, after sampling each item from his holiday hodgepodge, I'm graciously reminded of this scene from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (skip forward to 2:46 if you can).  ~L

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1K8-kNuDgoA&feature=results_main&playnext=1&list=PL7F015C44EF565D44