The Last Tree

Last Saturday Karen and I geared up for the annual Christmas tree finding expedition. We waited till the temperature climbed above zero, put our mukluks together, grabbed anoraks and mittens, a thermos of cranberry tea sweetened with our maple syrup, and the small axe and saw. Some years we already know where the tree will be found because we spotted it during trips to the woods on autumn afternoons. This year, like last year and maybe the year before that, we just headed out to a likely spot in hopes of finding a suitable candidate to join us in celebrating Christmas. I was not surprised when Karen said "Let's go to the sugarbush."

The sugarbush is where we tap maple trees for the sap we cook down into syrup. No, we weren't planning on  bringing home a maple or ironwood sapling to decorate for the holiday. Going to the sugarbush should not be interpreted literally.What Karen meant was, "Let's go out to the sugarbush and look around. You know, drive up the road and see if we can find a tree."

The road had seen traffic from other vehicles but still, I shifted the jeep into 4WD to be safe. The road goes back almost two miles till you hit the turnaround at the end. We hadn't gone a quarter mile before Karen pointed out the young porcupine sitting about 20 feet up in a small balsam, next to the road. The porky looked like a small dark furry ball, about the size of a basketball. I backed up so we could have a closer look but this little guy was unconcerned. In past winters I have seen them occupy the same branch for several weeks, apparently without a need to go elsewhere. It is like they nap the winter away up in the treetops where the sunlight can warm them for the longest period of time on any given day.

I let the jeep crawl along in second gear. I was watching for deer, standing back in the brush. Plenty of deer tracks crisscrossed the road. Karen was on task, looking for a tree. When I turned my head to far to the left or right the jeep would follow and I had to yank us back up onto the track several times. Karen spotted one good tree about a half mile in but we kept on driving to the turnaround. The forest was snow-covered and quiet. Both of us felt a release of tension as we drove along. This is our country, our stomping grounds; this is where we used to go often back when we lived in the tipi. In those days we were outside more. We had more time free to wander freely in the woods without needing to return home at a certain time. That is because when we are in the woods, we are home. We miss plenty about that life. Not the rain and leaky canvas, but we do miss the freedom we had in greater abundance. And we miss living closer to the wild. We are thankful for  our home, the solid roof over our heads and the conveniences we once thought of as luxuries. We just know we were more at peace with each other and life in general, when we lived in the circle.

We turned around and headed back toward the road. Last spring we hiked in along one of the many trails, following the track through the open hardwoods and a good sugarbush, down below the high ground into a cedar and black spruce swamp. Loggers had recently been there and the tracks of their equipment left heavy marks on the thawing ground. But the sun was out that afternoon and if we didn't inhale too deeply, we could breathe in the delicate sweet scent of the cedar and the newly exposed mosses. We added these scents to the sunshine and smiles and our day was complete.

We parked the jeep at the end of this trail and headed back to the same swamp. The day was sunny but cold. There were no lovely springtime scents to tease our nostrils. It was a day for watching and listening. We saw and heard chickadees and heard ravens croaking in the distance, but that was all. The snow was about a foot deep. We had brought snowshoes but left them in the jeep. The walking was just difficult enough to keep us warm. Down in the swamp bull thistles had grown up in the trail. I wondered if they had always been in the soil and came out after the ground was disturbed, or if they were inadvertantly transported by the logger. Karen was taken by the brown beauty of the dry seed heads. The leaves and stems, with their sharp pointed ends, looked like medieval weapons to me. Maybe we have been watching too many episodes of The Tudors.We made the climb back out of the swamp, retracing our steps in the snow. Back in the jeep we drank hot tea and ate old deer hunting candy bars I found in my anorak pocket. Then we headed back down the road to the tree Karen spied earlier.
 
About a half mile from the blacktop we parked the jeep and got out. I grabbed the axe and saw and followed Karen into the open woods. We looked at several wonderful specimens, walking up to them with a critical eye, appraising their merits. Some had crooked tops. Others were too much like Charlie Browns' tree, thin and scraggly. We narrowed our choices to three and were playing "Well, you pick one" when Karen asked "If you could pick one, which one would it be?" I pointed to a balsam about 30 yards away. We walked over to this tree. The trunk was small and delicate. The top of the tree was maybe 15 feet above the snowy ground. "Is this the one you want?"

"Yes" And it was a nice tree. I liked the robust dark green and the conical shape. The tree was a bit too open but overall, this tree looked more like Christmas, to me. I started sawing through the trunk. The smell of balsam, a scent I associate with peace and calm, filled my nostrils. The tree was frozen. I concentrated on keeping the saw moving smoothly back and forth. When I was nearly through the tree began to lean and I cut through the last bit of wood and bark as it fell to the ground.

I was surprised when I stood up, to see Karen eyes filled with tears. Her face, already red from the cold, was pinched with the pain of losing this wonderful tree. "What's wrong?" "I didn't want to cut this tree" she sniffled. "It's a bit late now" I said. "I know" she said. "I didn't know it till you were halfway through the tree."

I did not know what to say. I couldn't make the tree whole again. I had not expected this reaction. "This is the last year we cut a tree" she said.  "I'm sorry" I said. "I didn't know."

"I don't know why" Karen said. "I felt this way before, with the other trees, but this year it's different." She paused, "It's not right to take a life for this."

"Well, we have to honor this tree" I said. "It can be the last one." I trimmed a few feet from the trunk, turned the tree around and drug it out to the jeep. Together we put the tree on top and I lashed it down with straps and we drove off, towards home. We didn't speak much. Once, out of the corner of my eye, I caught Karen looking at me. I reached over, giving her my hand as reassurance. At home the tree was too tall to stand up in the garage. We had to lay in on the floor till we were ready to set it up.

Getting Christmas trees has been part of my Christmas tradition as long as I can remember. When I was a little boy, my mom and grandmother and I would stop at one of the lots in town and give the trees the once over. Invariably, it was cold and dark. My grandmother wore a long wool overcoat and little dress galoshes over her shoes. My mom was finicky about getting the right tree and tried hard not to let the cold bother her.  I just ran around "Mom, mom, look at this one. Mom!" When the perfect tree had been selected we tucked it into to trunk of the old '41 Ford and drove home with our prize.

 When my kids were little, getting them to agree on the perfect tree was hell. Many tears were shed then but the reason was different. I don't miss the drama that came with those trees. But I know that next year I will miss going to the woods to bring home a tree. I will miss the sweet scent of balsam pitch on my hands when we string lights and hang the ornaments. We haven't talked about what we will do next year. Artificial tree? Maybe, though I cringe at the thought. It may be better, kinder, than cutting down a young living tree for the sake of tradition.  Maybe we'll just decorate a wild tree in the woods and leave it there for the chickadees and deer and ravens to fuss over. And maybe the little people of the forest will come out and dance around the tree. Too bad we aren't likely to see that.

If you believe in karma then you will find it funny that the tree got us back. Karen was re-arranging the living room so we would have a space to place this last tree. She just had to vacuum in one spot then we would set the tree in the stand and start decorating. As soon as she turned the vacuum on, we lost power in all the outlets and lights in the living room. We did our best to troubleshoot the cause; switched  the offending outlet and then the suspect breaker but we did not recover power. The next day an electrician friend came over to help. Four hours later the bad wire had been discovered, a temporary new one strung down the wall and along the floor and I tried cutting through a live wire. It was exciting in all kinds of ways but in the end, we had power back on in the living room.

That evening we finished decorating this last tree. The antique ornaments,the handmade ones from kids, the lights, the new black raven and both whiskey jacks; all were hung with care and respect. I do not know what Karen was feeling or thinking. I felt I was witnessing a piece of history passing and yet, I couldn't be sad. In my personal life, December is filled with memories of past losses. I have moved away from the pain of those times. Karen and I both know life can be worse. We are thankful for what we have- family, friends and most of all, each other. Christmas, whether you believe in it or not, is about joy and life and light and that is what I will choose to remember. If this year is the last year we cut a tree I am okay with that. I have had plenty of trees. I would rather have plenty more years to celebrate this season of love and life.

My best, our best, to all of you in this holiday season. Take care of yourselves and loved ones. Give thanks and spread joy and peace.

My peace and love to you all.
Mike 

Get yer motor runnin'....get out on the driveway....

looking for adventure. In what ever comes our way. Yeah darling we're gonna make it happen. Blow the snow right into yer face. Fire all of yer guns at once and launch snow into space....born to be wiiiiilllllldddd!

Me and Briggs...maiden run...8 1/2 inches of snow. Yeah baby!

Peace,
Karen

Briggs and I

On Monday I washed our windows inside and out. Not so astonishing except I did it in a T-shirt - inside and out. There is no plastic film attached to the window casings. And again last night we slept with the window open. It is the middle of November.

Fall's weather has been more than kind but leaves me wondering when the other shoe will drop. Or, rather, hoping. See, there is a brand new shiny red, electric start, 30 inch, two stage snow thrower with an 250 cc Briggs and Stratton engine sitting in our garage. I'm ready for snow! I can hardly wait to take it out and send tall arcs of snow billowing into the air and off our driveway! No more towering snow plow ridges to melt into dirty gray heaps. No more waiting for someone to come plow us out! No more running out several time during a  blizzard to move snow with scoop and shovel. No. We have 8 powerful horses of independence sitting next to the workbench pawing at the ground for snow. Free at last! Free at last! Or almost...

Today, it's 21 degrees Fahrenheit or -7 Celsius, which actually sounds like winter.  On "Color Weather Radar" some big blue weather system looks like it is sliding below us precipitating on someone else somewhere else. Someone, no doubt, with a lesser snow removal system than us. The forecast for the rest of the week is sunny and mild. Temps in the 40 - 50 range for the daytime. There is a chance of rain or SNOW for Tuesday, but with a high of 38 we can expect rain. I can't move rain with "Briggs."

I am, have become, because of Briggs, the scorn of my friends. I can't even say the "S" word in their presence. They don't want to hear it, they  don't want to know about it, they don't want to think about it. They are fine without snow. (Let's hear them say that at Christmastime) The "friends" are apparently happy with brown grass and being able to walk everywhere without slipping. They are fine without their winter boots and bulky parkas, scarves, hats and mittens. "If you don't like snow there is always Florida."  I mock. I would think they hate winter except...I heard them talk about going snowshoeing and skiing. "And just how are you gonna do that if it never snows?" I ask. "Briggs and I are waiting...let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"

Peace and White Fluffy Stuff,
Karen

Tipi Tangle or Gone with the Wind

On weather radar it looked like a hurricane. A large cloud mass swirling counter clockwise brought us wind and rain the likes we have never seen. Electricity blinked off and on, antenna's were bent into pretzels, shingles flew from roofs and, when I lifted the shades this morning, our prayer tipi was a tangle on the ground.

For the past month things have been a swirling wind storm here in our home. Mike has been working on a project which is taking up a good deal of his time; a project I encouraged him to take on because I believe in him. I've had difficulty dealing with the space it has opened up. For the past 18 months we've been nearly inseparable, something I've become quite accustomed to.  Spoiled is the word that come to the forefront here. Now there is this other thing causing space and I'm unsettled even though we made an agreement, formed a plan, to manage the space and not let it get too big. I was in on this. I agreed to this. I was ok with this until my committee took it over.

My committee occasionally takes over rational thinking inside my head. They run meetings without me. They serve whine and platters of insecurity at their work sessions. This time my committee showed up with a new chair who was a real bitch on heels. She held daily meetings and discussed such agenda items as  my importance in Mike's life, equality in the home work place, missed project deadlines and the cutting of my position or as she put it, "letting you go." She was expert at undermining my self-esteem and had plans for a hostile take over.


When I wasn't sitting in on meetings I was struggling with the second half of October. Last year was a hard painful time for me and I did not feel like celebrating the one year mark. In fact I just didn't want to remember. I wanted to just go on with our life. I shared these feelings with Mike and even gave him a heads up on it hoping he would help me navigate through the rough spots. He was busy with his project and missed some signals - oh how the committee loved that.

Next came the news from my recent Dr's appointment. There was an abnormality on my mamogram and we needed to do further imaging and an ultrasound. (Let me just say here that I am fine) I became more stressed and anxious. There were more and more committee meetings which I was unprepared for. I took it out on Mike. I put expectations on him of which he was unaware. Remember, it was me who said, "expectation is premeditated disappointment." Boy was I disappointed and um....crabby is how we'd say it in polite company.

I don't think Mike could have done a thing right if he'd had the instruction manual in front of him, but he tried.
He went to my x-rays and got the good news that all was well with me. I wanted some kind of big atta-girl moment or evening or I dunno what? See even I didn't know so how could he? I just wanted something. The committee met far into the evening, broke for the night and  reconvened in the morning.

Last night we sat down and had our own meeting. We teamed up against my committee and we talked the bitch on heels outta the room. After she was gone we got down to being honest or rather I did. We did some hard work and dug until the problem came up and it looked a lot like pain. Turns out I've been carrying a year and a half's worth of pain around like a talisman in my back pocket. I was still mad at the cancer. I was still mad about Mike's belly. I was still mad that he didn't want me at his bedside the night he came out of surgery. Hell, I was mad and hurt for a whole lot of reasons and when I came clean, well, the committee was gone, and we were the sole occupants of the room.

This morning when I looked out the window and saw the tipi all crumpled in a heap I knew I had my closure. When Mike had his port out I wanted to celebrate. I wanted that day to be my closure, but Mike was still feeling crappy from chemo and there was no celebration. We never celebrated the end. We talked party and he didn't want to. I'm not blaming him for this. It is what it is and he was able to move on. I got stuck. I can tell you this now, after the fact, but last night when Mike and I were talking and I was purging I looked out the window past him and thought, "I gotta get rid of that prayer tipi. I am never going to move forward while that thing reminds me every day of the past." 

Tonight the stars are out and the air is cold and calm. The hurricane is gone, the tipi is gone and so is my pain. I know that the wind took all the prayers out of each rag and bead that was tied to the poles and delivered them all to where they could be answered before it cast everything to the ground. Mike is in his room writing, the house is warm and the only thing between he and I is skin. We are moving again, forward, together.


Peace

Real Peace,
Karen

One Year, Now

It has been a long time since the last blog entry. I apologize for that. We are ok. Mostly we are better than ok and we are busy. I have picked up the pencil again and am writing. Karen is sewing while I write and our evenings are quiet and busy. For myself, I have not learned how to balance the new things in my life and new entries on the blog have suffered.

One year ago tonight we were in Radisson. I was doing the bowel prep for the next day's surgery. That night was the last time I would have a naked, intact belly that doesn't leak whenever it feels like letting go. We have come a long way. I am able to do pretty much whatever I want to do. Only my laziness or reluctance, get in my way. I do choose to be more deliberate about what I let into my life now. Writing is one of the things I chose to have.

I want to take a moment and thank all of you who helped us on our journey. I know I have said thanks many times in the past but we can never be too grateful. We know how lucky we are. We know there are many others who need the same support and help we were so lucky to receive from all of you. We all have friends and family who are dealing with their own cancer journey and they all need our help.

Thanks again to all of you and as always...Peace and love to all of you.
Mike

A New Addition

We welcome Brooke Madison into our lives. Brooke was born today, September 13, 2010 at around 12:20 pm. She weighs in at 6 lbs 12 oz and stands 20 inches tall. Both Brooke and her mom Kris are doing well! We are happy and thankful that everyone is healthy. Today we are blessed.

Peace,
Karen

Strangers in the Night...

By bedtime yesterday the stage was set for a perfect night of sleep. No heat, no humidity, no wind. A little after 10 pm I turned out the light, Karen put her arm around me and Bam! I was gone. I slept hard and deep without moving or needing to get up until about 2:30 this morning when something reached down into my consciousness and pulled  me to the surface. Usually when that happens it is a dog barking and my brain doesn't want me to miss the chance to listen to yet another canine barking for no reason at O dark-thirty in the morning. But my brain didn't hear a dog; rather my brain woke me to hear a ...sheep?

I couldn't believe it either so this time I listened and I'll be damned, it was a sheep!  But wait, I thought, there are no sheep in the neighborhood. Well then, what is it? Hmmm. It has to be a-deer. Yup, that's what it is, a deer bleating in the night. Sounded close, maybe right out in the backyard. O, there it is again. Cool. Ok, time to go back to sleep.

"Wait a minute" my brain says to me, "what about the deer tracks in the driveway when you and Karen went for a walk after supper? And what about your sweet corn? Better go see if any deer are in the garden."

"No way, I want to sleep."

"Get up and check the garden. You can sleep later."

"Liar. You never let me go back to sleep."

"The garden.."

"Ok". So I did get up and with the help of a waning moon high in the southeast I looked out on the garden and saw exactly zero deer. I went to the bathroom and snuggled back under the covers. Now that doesn't mean the deer hadn't already visited the corn. Maybe the bleat I heard was actually a belch from a deer with a full belly. We'll have to wait for daylight to see if the buck-toothed varmints paid us a visit. In the meantime I am stuck with a brainworm- Frank Sinatra singing "Strangers in the Night". Sheesh.

6 am- getting light out. Time to get ready for the bike ride into work.  Brrr. 46 degrees feels so cold today but I know it will be a beautiful ride in. We are coming into the nicest time of year. If only the season could be stretched out so we had more time to really enjoy it to the fullest.

Have a great day. Peace and love to you all.
Mike
(no one stranger)




Mike

What the wind brings

The wind is a solid force blasting up from the south, rattling the beaded hem on the shades in our living room, knocking framed pictures off end tables, keeping up a steady clangor on the wind chimes, never letting them even catch their breath. All day the wind blows hard as it did yesterday and the day before and the day before that, too. Sometimes at twilight the wind slows to pause, as when you take in a deep breath, and then in the pallid moonlit darkness, releases a breeze that rouses the chimes and the sleepers from their slumber.

What most of us think of as summer is nearly over and I am not ready for the change, for the approach of autumn. This is due in part to the chores that need to be done before winter. Now I have to try to crowd them into shorter days and soon real autumn will appear and then I will have the autumn things to do as well. It is like this nearly every year and at some point I look out at the yellowing grass bowing before the wind and wonder what I will give up, what chore will remain undone and perhaps reflect on the relative value and importance we put on things. Somehow the choices we make are all so arbitrary. Combine this with the fleeting nature of our lives and what do you have in the end? Nothing; the impermance of life is what we have.

It is easy at this time of year to think of cycles, of seasons, of the recurrence of things just like last year and the years before. The smaller details change; what comes to fruition in the garden, what fills the freezer and what we put into jars to get us through the winter and spring till late next summer when the empty jars wait for what we receive as a gifts of living. The details change but the life, the living goes on. We choose what we put into the jars to get us through winter. Likewise we choose what we put into our lives to get us through the days and weeks and years.

The wind continues to blow as if its' very life depended on never ceasing
and the crickets saw their legs back and forth, back and forth.
From the kitchen the warm smell of bread baking flows back against the tide of wind
whistling in through the screens
sounding like a foretaste of winter.
The green hummers chirp and dart headlong into the gusts
landing on the swaying feeder. I wonder
if they know about tomorrow
or migration or just the emptiness of the belly?

Peace and love to you all,
Mike

We walked the walk

If you have been wondering how the Relay for Life went and you have been waiting patiently, I apologize for the delay. No excuses really. I just got up the next morning, went to work and life was full speed ahead once more. Tonight I have the time because I am sick; too sick to do anything but huddle under a blanket on the couch and shiver.

We had a long day at Relay for Life. We arrived about 11:30 in the morning and got home about 12:30 the next morning. I don't know why the organizers of these events want them to be marathons. If you are a survivor or caregiver, you have already been through enough. What good does it do anyone to stay up till midnight? The luminary walk began around 9 pm. A part of that ceremony was dedicated to the caregivers, in my case Karen.  Emotionally we had done pretty well till then. About halfway through that lap Karen began sobbing and we sat down on a bench and I held her. We never really had closure when my chemo was done and I called off the celebration party so there had never been a time where we could look back and say "There. We're done. We survived." I guess that finally, in the warm glow of hundreds of candles burning in luminaries, Karen was able to let go. I fully expected to be all tears and snot throughout the day and I choked back a few sobs from time to time. At first I was a bit surprised at Karen's reaction but when I look back at all she went through I am glad she had tears to shed. I think we both have many more tears deep inside.

Because rain was in the forecast the event was held in the Commercial Arts building at the fairgrounds. We did have hard showers in the evening so I guess that was ok. Still, the walking would have been easier on our feet and legs if we had not been going around and around on concrete. I was surprised at all the work that goes into putting on a Relay.  There must have been around 20 teams, with unique booths, t-shirts, and gimmicks to get you to hand over more money. Everything cost money but all the proceeds go to the American Cancer Association, so that is good.

Because we were inside I never did get a chance to open up and really walk like I had hoped. But that was alright. I strolled past the luminaria, reading the names of survivors and those "that survive in our hearts". I recognized too many names. I thought of Thich Nhat Hahn and his book, "Peace is Every Step" and his practice of mindful walking where each step is another prayer, another meditation. What better place to practice mindful walking than in a room full of white paper bags decorated with the names of cancer victims?  I tried for a few moments but felt like the slow car in a fast lane so I gave up and resumed strolling. Once, early in the afternoon I had to excuse myself and go outside. I needed the fresh air and the quiet. I needed a chance for the tears behind my eyes to run down my face. They never did.

This event came complete with a DJ running a sound system and video screen and the whole 9 yards. I still wonder how loud music videos help honor survivors, caregivers and victims. I guess it is a spin on celebrating that I just don't get. Kind of an odd contrast; all the noise and hullaballoo, then SCREECH! the brakes come on and we are supposed to be solemn.

That's how the Relay for Life went for us. Yesterday we had 37 degrees and light frost on the roof; didn't touch the garden though. The garden is steadily coming to fruition; more red tomatoes every day. The plants look like little Christmas trees decorated for the holidays. The last few days I have been so tired. Some of it may be left over from the Relay. I think some of it comes from the shorter daylength. Maybe it was this darn flu sneaking up on me. I do change in the fall. At supper yesterday I told Karen how I felt kind of lost and not sure what I was doing or where I should go and what am I going to do with my life.... She reminded me I go through this every year at this time and I guess I do.  I am sensitive to transitions and often have some difficulty moving on to the next step. This time of year is a big transition. This stage in my life, our life, is poised for transition whether we are ready or not. "You cannot step into the same stream twice". Life is all about change. Nothing ever stays the same.

This has been a long blog. It is late and I am tired so it must be time for bed . I hope I feel better tomorrow and I hope none of you come down this flu junk. Thanks to all you who supported us in the Relay for Life and supported us on this portage we know as cancer.

Peace and love to you all,
Mike

Paddle first, then walk

Thursday evening, a belly full of fry bread taco and red wine; an impeccable combination. We have been on the edge of rain all day. About a half hour before quitting time southerly gales ripped whitecaps from the green waters of Lake Irving and peppered the windows with rain that fell like driven hail. By the time I mounted my bike for the ride home the rain had let up and I arrived home, only damp instead of soaked. At suppertime our friend Susan called with a chicken emergency and Karen ran up there to help. It remains to be seen if she will geek the chicken or help stuff prolapsed innards back up inside the Pope's nose.

The tomato plants struggle to support the weight of numerous green  fruits. I suppose it is time to pick green beans again, maybe cukes too.  Squash continue to appear and the older ones get larger every day.  Last night we made chokecherry syrup with berries I picked on Saturday.  The goal was jelly but I probably didn't cook it long enough. No worries, I love chokecherry syrup.

I picked the berries between races, from a tree at City Hall. I was paddling on the City's team in the Lake Bemidji Dragon Boat Festival. Put about 20 people, not necessarily skilled or motivated paddlers, in a long 'canoe' and sprint to the finish line some distance away. We came in about 37th out of nearly 70 teams; a big improvement from last year's standing so I guess it was a success.  I got to paddle hard, got wet and came home with 3 1/2 gallons of chokecherries. It was my first time participating in an event like this and I will wait till next year before I decide whether or not I choose to do it again.

That was last Saturday. This Saturday I will participate in my first Relay for Life. I know Karen mentioned it in an earlier blog. I am looking forward to this though I have to confess I sometimes have difficulty thinking about the event without tears welling up in my eyes. I do not really know what happens except we get to walk and I think I really need that.  I like to remember the line from a Greg Brown song "We used to think we could walk all night and we could and we did.."  I like to think I was born to walk, to cover distance; not necessarily fast, but steady. Being able to walk and walk well was something I was always proud of; a bit vain actually but not so much anymore.  My stride is uneven through lack of practice, and hip and foot problems contribute to my uneven, sometimes jerky perambulations.  I do not to end up with the halting, staggering gait that visits so many people as they get older. As I said, I am a bit vain about that.

Because I do not know what will happen at the Relay for Life, I can easily imagine enough time and space to open up, to let my stride find its natural length and rhythm, to recover in part, one of the joys of my life. I will have plenty of time to think of the people I know who are struggling with cancer now, as well as those who have passed on. In either case, the list is too long; the list is always too goddamn long and participating in the Relay is a way to raise money to fight cancer and raise awareness and honor the memories of those who have survived, and those who haven't.

I can't say why it has taken me this long to be part of something so vital, so generous and affirming.  I know I have thought of participating many times in the past but didn't and I don't really understand why. Maybe I will have a clue come late Saturday when we return home footsore and weary.  Maybe it is just because someone asked if we wanted to join. How many opportunities pass us by because we have not been asked? How many riches have we squandered because we did not ask someone else to join us in something as noble as a Relay for Life, or as simple as setting down to share a place at our table?

Paddle first, then walk. That pretty much sums up what portaging is all about. A year ago Karen and I were not sure where we were heading, we did not know how long we would have to walk before we reached the other end of the portage, nor what we would find when we set our packs down on the other shore. I am, we are, grateful beyond words to find ourselves still together and alive. Surviving was main priority. Figuring out what to do afterwards was something we had to put off till later.

Later is now and we are still feeling our way on this new portage, though this one is not so dire or full of foreboding. This one is unveiling itself slowly, allowing us the time to consider, to deliberate on the choices ahead of us. We are given this one life and Karen and I want the time left to be a reflection of goodness and peace and love. And adventure, in whatever form that it chooses to take. Really, I think most of you would agree to wanting these things in your own lives. Sometimes we have to be asked; sometimes we just have to smile, open our mouths and let the words come out. As Karen says, "The answer is always no if you never ask."

If you're in the area come join us for a lap or two at the Relay for Life at the Beltrami County Fairgrounds on Saturday. Join hands with survivors and others who walk in our memories. It is not too late to pledge if you're interested. Go back a few blogs to find the link posted there.

Peace and love to you all,
Mike

Jacked

If you think a hot humid morning is a crappy way to start your day....couple that with finding out your email and facebook has been hijacked! Yup, that's my story. I'm sure many of you have received an email telling you I am in tears and in England. I am neither. I'm sitting here in balmy Bemidji, Minnesota, sipping a gin and tonic trying to get over a "mad".

So, don't go sending anyone money, unless, of course, it's to me. My sister has got the Zion police working on the case and I am working on getting my facebook back. I think the email is going to be a bust and I will just start over with a new account. I will let you know what that account is here on this blog. I know I will miss some people that way and I don't have all the email addies of 'ya all so maybe you'll spread the good news.

In the meantime...stay cool and stay in touch.

Peace,
(except to the "jackers")
Karen

Slow Food

My kitchen smells earthy from beets simmering in a pot on the stove. My sister would tell you it smells like dirt. She would say, that, beets taste like dirt. In a way she is right and maybe that's why I love them; they are about as close to eating rich lovely soil as you can get away with. They are a connection with the land from whence they come. The smell is sun and rain and the time and work of the farmer who brought them to my table. The beets have been simmering in the pot, wholly intact for the better part of 30 minutes now. Still, they are not done. This is not "fast food".

About a year ago our diets changed in correlation with Mike's chemo/radiation. We came off of our whole food diet in exchange for more processed food which was supposed to be easier on Mike's digestive tract. We found ourselves eating out, a lot, because of traveling here and there for appointments. We were both tired, exhausted at times, and it was quite often easier, and quicker, to pour something out of a can or packet. I must say we did a pretty good job of avoiding the "fast food" joints still we ate a lot of food fast. When Mike was undergoing his second round of chemo there was this monster appetite. He could not wait for prepared food. When he was hungry it was NOW and there had better be something there to eat at that moment.

Over the course of the last year we developed some, and I hesitate to use the word bad, maybe, some unfortunate eating habits and they happened fast.  We forgot the joy of preparing and  cooking together! I even confess to buying pop-tarts! Horror!

But, we are back on track. We are eating better, eating in season and eating local. The beets we are having came from the local farmers market where small scale organic farmers meet several times a week to sell produce grown on soil within a 30 mile radius of Bemidji. We are also having cukes from our garden, some corn on the cob, some awesome pasta salad which Mike made from scratch and small steaks. The steaks were an "on sale" item from a large local grocer. Though, don't confuse that last item as eating local. I'm sure the steaks were feed lot raised. We are fixing that problen in the next few weeks, however, because we have bought half of a cow raised by my friends son for 4 H and Mike intends to harvest a deer this fall. I've seen this cow, steer, I've fed this cow and I have patted the steaks, roasts, stew meat and burger on this cow.

This year we intend become more mindful of where our food is coming from, what, exactly, is in that food and how it was raised. We will harvest, raise and preserve as much of our food as possible. We will prepare our food at home and cook together. We'll support the farmer's market instead of Green Giant, eat in season and use meals as a time to slow down with slow food.  Does this mean you will never see a McDonald's bag in the trash container in my car or that plain Lays potato chip bags will never take up space in my cupboard? NOOO....there are still a few things that we will treat ourselves to. We do like to eat out sometimes and we do occasionally like the sour cream donuts they sell at Leuken's for breakfast but they will be treats instead of staples and we will still eat them but I promise, we'll chew slowly.

Peace,
Karen

Feeding Ourselves

Tomatoes hang heavy and green from sturdy branches. As I prune each vine for maximum air flow to the fruit the sun lights up the hairs on both our limbs. I look at my arm then to the arm of the vine admiring the similarity. The tomatoes which hang from each vine are not all the perfect round globes found in the produce isle. These are not Monsanto GMO (genetically modified organisms) from the local green house. These are not the tomatoes engineered in a windowless lab to arrive on our grocers shelves all perfectly round and lacking in taste. No, these are real tomatoes bred by a friends mom, and raised from seeds saved by a friend.  These are heirloom tomatoes with ridges and bumps and oblong shapes. The way tomatoes are supposed to be in the wild.

Last night the first of these fruits was borne from my hand to my mouth and then Mike's mouth. We shared, equally, the first ripe tomato of the year. I have friends who have been eating Home Depot tomatoes for weeks while I have been waiting for the first glimmer of red to appear between the leaves. It was worth waiting for. The little tomato was shaped more like a fat pepper than an orb. It's skin was firm as was the meat which gave way to a delicious sweetness on the tongue. I closed my eyes, swallowed and thought, "candy". Mike's reaction was the same. I was full of pride. I had fed us.

It is here I have to admit that the garden looks more like an after thought this year. We were recovering from last years cancer journey, I had quit one job and started a new job and the garden did not take a front seat. There was no annual trip to Erickson's Greenhouse. I grabbed some left over seeds from a friend and pretty much let 'er buck. It was a rush to get seeds in. The tiller was broken. I was stressed and in the back of my mind, though I knew different, I thought the garden would just take care of itself. And it did, till the bunnies.

This spring while raking straw off one of the beds I discovered baby bunnies. Seven sweet little bundles of fur with big shining eyes. I should have, as Mike suggested, dispatched them, but hindsight is 20/20. The babies grew up. Moved in under the woodpile and while we slept mowed down pea shoots, beet tops, cabbage babies and chard. I sprayed with Liquid Fence. The ate the bean shoots and the carrot tops. I sprayed with Liquid Fence. We ate one rabbit for dinner, we moved the woodpile I sprayed with Liquid Fence and the garden finally grew. The beets, peas and chard did not make it. My garden looked sparse and I became frustrated and disappointed. I stopped weeding. I didn't spend much time with the plants. I chose to watch Deadliest Catch on the computer instead of playing in the garden. I gave up on it.

Still, like I said, we have tomatoes. The garden didn't give up on me.

We had our first meal of green beans. The herbs are doing well and lemon basil is now a favorite. Our fist zucchini is growing by the second. I have a couple of squash turning dark green, thumb sized cucumbers are hiding under the thick leaves of their plants, the remaining cabbages are big and developing heads and the corn is sending up it's tall flower heads. The garden is going to feed us, though not on a grand scale this year.

I'm listening to the audio book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbra Kingsolver. It's a book about how she and her family tried to eat locally and why. It's not a how to book. It's their story of eating what they could grow or what they could buy from other farmers and why they did it. Though they did it as a way to help their impact on global climate change I am hearing the deep satisfaction which rewards them for providing for themselves. This I understand. There is much satisfaction, much pride in being able to carry food from your garden into your kitchen and then nourish the bodies of you and your loved ones. There is a smugness, when, in the middle of winter, you pop open a jar of jam or beans or tomatoes you picked way back July or August. There is comfort in knowing where your food comes from and raising it yourself. This reward is why I grow vegetables.

Maybe this makes me a farmer. I like to say I'm a farmer. Mike teases me about this. He says, "Karen, you are a gardener." But as I look out my window towards the garden, I see crops. Crops feed people. I'm a farmer. A small scale farmer.

Peace from Down on the Farm

Karen

Who the hell am I?

The week has been, well, stressful. That is to say full of stress. Work has been a grind as we get ready for the "Great Minnesota Shop Hop". For those of you who are not in the know this is a two week  feeding frenzy of crazed quilters who drive from quilt shop to quilt shop in Minnesota to see the same fabric displayed differently and to spend great sums of money buying said fabric to add to their stash. "Stash" being large quantities of fabric kept in secret places where husbands might not look. There are other rules for "stash" but that's a whole other blog and this one is about stress.

Also, at work are some employee problems otherwise called DRAMA. There is also the issue of replacing two employees who will be done by September first and the little problem of my lack of training in the custom ordering of the store and trying to get a booth ready for the Bemidji Women's Expo. On top of that there has been store restructuring which has not exactly gone without a hitch and a deadline of the Shop Hop for having the new look ready. I didn't make that deadline.

On the home front there has been kid drama. The kind that comes between Mike and I. The kind that shakes confidence and trust. I'm not going into detail here I'll leave that to Mike if he so chooses. All I'm going to say is that IT is the ONLY thing that gets between us, it stresses me out and makes me doubt myself. I have been crabby, short tempered and irritable in recent weeks. I have not been very fun to live with.

Yesterday we went to Fargo for a follow-up appt for Mike. It was a trip I needed. He had good news as he continues to recover from cancer. We shopped for items we wanted for our bikes and for some supplies we will need as we start a garage organization project. We had a great meal together at a favorite Italian restaurant. We found a favorite wine, bought a little scotch and mostly laughed a lot. It was a day we both needed. The stress melted and we were both relaxed.

That, however, ended with a voice mail. I know this isn't going to sound like a huge thing but it is. Because of a misunderstanding I may have lost my friends daughter's 4H project. I was entrusted with chicken chores for Claire. A job I was excited to do since I miss having my own little flock of chickens. I was to do chores Tuesday through Thursday morning, or so I thought. Tammy called when they got home last night, Friday, wondering if I could shed some light on why they could only find one chicken? I was mortified. At 10:30 at  night I couldn't call and find out if they were found and have been worried sick most of the night. I had left the chickens out of the coop for an entire night because I didn't get it right. I screwed up in a big way. I lost a 4 H project! That is a big deal.

It is not like me to make a mistake like this and I have spent most of a sleepless night wondering if this is the culmination of a years worth of stress? I'm wondering who I am and I'm wondering where in the hell my mind is?  I'm not getting a lot of things right these days and that bothers me a great deal. Maybe I need to take better care of me. As Mike says, put myself at the head of my own short line. I dunno. I don't have the answer this morning.

So, in an hour I'm gonna call and find out if the chickens were found and if not I'm going to figure out what I can do to make this better if there is anything and hopefully I haven't screwed up a friendship in the process. I don't know how I'm gonna face Claire if the chickens are gone. I'm mad at myself for my recent behavior and I am sorry for all the hassle I have caused the people in my life as of late. I'm gonna do better. I'm gonna figure out who I am.

Peace,
Karen

We've just been busy...

Sunday morning, quiet outside. The wind chimes bong with the gentle breeze. The day is warming up and the shades are drawn against the heat. Karen and I are having coffee as we ease into the morning. Well, I am easing; Karen is busy sewing an ostomy belt for me.

Last week Karen's sister, Linda, commented on the lack of new entries here. She is right. New entries have dropped off in a big way. The blog is not the only place where that is happening. This is from my journal.

(Thursday, July 15, 12:25 pm. work)
...Looking back I am surprised to see that 2 weeks have passed since my last entry.  Really I guess I should not be that surprised. Evenings and weekends fill up quickly; time that is free to journal or sit and think without comment, has been sparse. Linda commented on the lack of new material on the blog. What can we say? We are living a life- one with too much time taken at work and too little time that is unclaimed, or rather, too little time we claim for ourselves.


I cannot muster the energy to be self-chastising. This is what life is now. Last year the outlook was different, facing the unknown of cancer and the fear that rides the coattails. Last year our focus was fighting the cancer-putting our lives out on the blog, questioning, hoping, trying to find a way to make a life work with new rules.


The rules have, or are, changing and that is good. We did not want to stay on edge all the time; no one does. Occasionally we talk about what we might want in the future, whatever that means.


Sometimes I feel like complacency has slipped in to our lives, and I don't have much urge to rail against its' pull. Maybe it is an age thing-maybe I just like being more comfortable, more content. Maybe, without thinking too much about it, we realize that most of the stuff we used to chase or have to deal with, is just that- stuff, and really has no lasting value, no positive impact on the quality of our lives.


There is only so much time left and though I have no idea now much time is left, I am pretty sure that running all over, panicked or excited or frustrated or whatever, is not the best way to use that time. I found my life is easier when I am wiling to accept what comes, That is not always an easy task and does not always work as well as I hope, but generally I see signs of positive progress.


It just occurred to me, the amount of time I used to spend being angry or frustrated by what was not happening, was a large part of my life. I am thankful the amount of time taken up by that emotion is smaller. I hope it cotinues to shrink. Here again, my life is not always that way. I still do have periods or hours where I am angry, frustrated, at a loss, but overall, being as honest as possible, those times are smaller and I am so glad.


So there-  that may help explain the lack of a new blog. We don't have that much to bitch about- no major battles. Our life is living and we are living pretty much full time these days.

I know that when I look back a year ago the details are fuzzy. I remember that time in general terms and find myself wondering how anything got done at all because these days our life just seems busy. I am not sure where our time has gone. We are not fishing all that much and paddling even less. The garden work is about the same and I am purposely mowing less yard. My work is busier and Karen's too. We haven't been camping and haven't spent a night on the ground in over a year and a half.

But we have been picking wild blueberries; twice with Dan and Mandi. I have been riding my bike to work as often as possible and that is good. Watching 'Deadliest Catch' takes up some evenings and mostly that is ok. We are still hoping to take some small weekend trips, maybe to LaCrosse to see George and Beth and Mark; maybe to the State Fair or Renaissance Festival. Last week we hosted a couple cross-country bike riders for one night and had a blast visiting with them. We do have new passports burning holes in our pockets and may have to make a run for the border just because we can.

The midpoint of summer has passed but I don't think we should get too hung up that kind of reckoning. It ought to be enough to remember that each day is a gift. We can't return them if we don't like the one we have been given. We can just hope the next one is a better fit.  I do miss journaling and writing. I love black lines scrawled across ivory pages and if I manage to do more of that, then there is a good chance there will be more to read on this blog. Even if I do not get more writing, I will try to do more blogging.

I apologize to friends and family if it seems like Karen and I have fallen off the face of the earth. We've just  been busy.

Peace and love to you all,
Mike

Looking back....okay....peeking back

For the first time in a year I took a look back at the blog. Not really a look, just a peek. I was curious to see where we were last year at this time. There was a picture of Mike standing naked in Newman Lake fishing. There's not much for commentary it's mostly just picture.

It's really hard to look back and a peek is all I can manage. I thought maybe I could look more, read more but the picture took me over the edge and tears just popped from my eyes without warning. It's a bit of a shock to have all that pain still so close to the surface. Most of the time I don't think about it. I barely notice the ostomy and the band Mike wears to conceal it has become the new normal for me. We have new normal in our lives and I think I'm handling it all so well and then.....

I remember the day I took that picture. I remember it was the day before he got his port. I remember how much I hated the port and the chemo pump and how guilty I felt for hating that which was saving his life. I remember that I was already mourning the impending loss of his belly; all the roller coaster emotions just pop to the surface like the tears and it's clear I am not over it. It's clear that I've just stuffed some of it and there are things I still mourn and didn't because there was only time for being brave and strong. It's clear I still have some work to do.

Today we are going to the woods with Dan and Mandi. Blueberry picking is the activity of the day. That and a stop at the Becida Tavern for burgers. I'm glad Mike is still here for this, he loves picking berries. We will continue going forward and occasionally, as I feel braver, I will look back to see how far we've come.

Peace,

Karen

Relay for Life

The back of the T-shirt reads:
Had it

Fought it

Survived it

The T-shirt I'm talking about is the Relay for Life Survivor shirt. When I saw it on line this morning I burst into tears. I'm very lucky to have Mike here and I'm very proud to be his wife. We worked hard, had a lot of support and we beat this cancer.We all have someone in our lives who has fought, is fighting or has lost a battle with cancer. I don't wish this on anyone. I wish they would find a cure.

Mike and I have been asked by my company - Anderson Fabrics - to become part of their Relay for Life Team. We have accepted and could not be prouder. On August 14 Mike will walk the Survivors Walk and I will proudly walk beside him as we raise money for cancer research in hopes of finding a cure.

If you would like to become one of our sponsors please go to 

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/RelayForLife/RFLFY10MW?px=16742338&pg=personal&fr_id=22978

and click on donate. We will keep you posted as to our progress and thank-you to those who have already donated!

Peace,

Karen

Still Surviving, Still Keeping On

Friday night and I caught my second wind.  The first thing I did when I got home from work was eat, then take a nap. I slept through most of the program on the radio with Sweet Baby James and Carole King, took care of the girls and Jane, the rabbit. Just got off the phone with John, the brother to a friend of ours. John had colon cancer surgery about a month ago and is getting ready to start chemo in a week or so.He is naturally full of questions and concerns. I have never met John but from just a few minutes on the phone I imagine him to be an old school guy; hardworking, straight talking and very frustrated by his restrictions and lack of clear answers. Listening to him I just had to laugh sometimes. John is a heavy equipment mechanic and as he said, 'If you give me a good shop manual I can fix anything." The whole nasty business is frustrating and there are no clear answers and it is difficult to have to take it one step at a time when all you want to do is get it fixed. Sorry John, there are manuals that outline procedures for cancer treatment but I doubt that any of them require your skills with a welder and impact wrench.

I am speaking for both Karen and I when I say that finally our life, our personal life, feels cancer free. For the  first time in a year we do not have to think about life framed by the constraints of dealing with cancer. I am glad; we are glad.  We just wish it could be so good for others.

Last Saturday we attended a benefit for someone we know who is going through cancer. I think this is Dann's second bout and this time the outlook is not good.  I know him from our days with Dr. Holt, in the Limnology Lab at BSU.  Years ago, after not seeing him for a long time, I ran into him at a local Trout Unlimited meeting and introduced him to the woman who became his wife and the mother of their son. It was at the benefit for Dann, that I learned about John. 

Where does it end, this business of cancer? Wednesday night my sisters, Zoe and Sharon, and Sharon' husband, Craig, came up for dinner. I took off from work a bit early to have more time to visit with them. I was kind of worried about the visit. I knew that Sharon had been tested for Lynch Syndrome and I wanted to know the result and I was kind of afraid she wasn't going to tell me. I can't really explain why; that's just the way I felt. That's what comes from letting your mind run wild. The good news is that I didn't have to worry about not finding out the answer. The not-so-good news is that Zoe and Sharon both have Lynch Syndrome. That  makes three out of four of us that carry the genetic factor. Our brother, Terry, hasn't had the test yet I guess.

Good God, three out of four! How we made it this far is a real mystery. The next morning I opened my email and found a message from my oldest daughter, Meredith. She underwent the testing for Lynch and the results came back negative. She does not carry the gene for Lynch and that is great news! Finally, someone is getting a break. The hell of it is, Meredith is just one person and there are so very many, too damn many, that aren't that lucky. What can you do?

The answer for me has been to just keep going on. I am a survivor. If nothing else can be said about me, knowing I am a survivor, just about says it all. I often wonder what my purpose in life is; I mean, what is it I am supposed to do? What in the hell am I good at? Maybe being a survivor is what I am supposed to do. I don't know...  I am proud of the fact that with lots of help from friends and family, I have survived two bouts with cancer.  And though I wouldn't tell just anyone, I am even more proud of the fact I have survived my self. In many ways, that struggle never ends. Maybe someday I'll tell you a little about it.

For now the answer is to keep on keeping on. In terms of an absolute cure, there is no end in sight and moving forward is the only choice we have.  I know a guy whose wife is dealing with cancer. She began taking lycopene supplements and the offending lymph nodes have disappeared.  I am not saying to try this, or that is works for every cancer, but for Jarrod's wife, Lyco- Mato, has been a great aid in her battle with cancer. Apparently the doctors at Mayo are watching her progress with great interest. (Lyco-Mato from Everyday Lycopene, 2915 Zachary Drive, Loveland CO, 80537; 1-303-995-2002).

That's it for tonight. Karen and her sister. Linda, are comfortably ensconced in a cabin on a remote lake up by Isabella. It is their annual sister trip. It has been a long year for Karen. I told her more than once that going through cancer can be more difficult for the caregiver, than the patient. I am glad she is getting a break. I know they will have a great time even if the weather stays crappy. I will get my chance for some time off in September when Karen returns to the cabin with me in tow. For the next week I have the place to myself. Well, I still have Sadee and Anna and of course, Jane. And Jim, the crow that comes to the bird feeder.  And the weeds in the garden. But hey, I can park in the middle of the garage, sleep in the middle of the bed and snore all I want to. Yeah, and leave the seat up too. What the hell; I don't need it anymore.

What I do need is for all of you to remember to be thankful for the loved ones in your life. I know I try to be thankful and often have room for improvement. We only have these few moments that constitute the present and in that short period of time we have to try to leave the world a little better than we found it.

Goodnight. Peace and love to you all.
Mike

Too Hot to Fish

This is not a blog about weather. Nor is it a blog about how amazingly seductive I look in chest waders, a fly vest and baseball cap. It's not about menopause either, though I'm sure that blog is not far away. This blog is about how I get too hot to fish. By too hot I mean intense in a passionate sort of way. I get the same way in the canoe for about the first mile I just wanna go. I want to burn up the water. I'm like letting an Irish Setter off the leash. And I admit I'm a little hot in the competitive sort of way.

Tonight was a prime example of too hot and I caught myself at it....twice or maybe three times. It had clouded over and the weather radar on the home computer had a big blue, green and yellow blob closing in on the fishing grounds. We decided to chance it and try to fish ahead of the rain. We ate quickly, left dishes on the table and food out, changed clothes, threw fly fishing gear into the van and took off. Mike was doing what he does best behind the wheel of the van - driving below the speed limit. "We're going fishing tonight, right?" I asked. 

At the river we slid into our waders. I had trouble with my neoprene booties fitting into my wading shoes properly and spent what I felt was too much time putting them off and on. Finally they felt acceptable and I pulled the straps of my waders over my shoulder, for a split second I thought I had them on backwards because a strap was twisted. I grabbed my rod without bothering to line it and we headed for the water. 

I opted for an olive dun instead of my usual elk hair caddis, tied it on and waded in. The second I released my fly I knew I was too hot to fish. My shoulders were up around my ears and my fly line snapped with each false cast. Zip. Zap. Thwap. Thunk. My fly was over here and then over there and oOOOH was that a fish rise by that bank? I better rush down there to fish. I was a disaster. I moved too fast. I cast too much. I fished like a mad woman. After about 20 minutes I had a fish hop on my fly and spit it. That's when I slowed down and actually looked like a fly fisherman. I had a fish and I worked it. My concentration focused on one fish in one spot and I became zen.

I didn't catch that fish. He rose to the fly  on several occasions but spit it each time. I gave up the hole and moved on - slowly and carefully now. I moved down stream from Mike to the place I caught a nice trout last year. I'd chosen my little 6 ft 3 wt rod. I hadn't fished with this one much, prefering the custom 9ft 6wt that Mike had made for me for a wedding present. I knew that rod, knew what it could do and how it would cast and what it took to put a dry fly here or there with it. But on the last few trips I'd taken the little rod. I wanted to see what a fish felt like on something so much smaller. Tonight, the little rod and I hit a groove. We were finally getting along. My false casts made pretty arches above my head. Roll casts were actually looking like roll casts with the fly snapping out and landing gently on the water. I found I could do a side arm cast and practiced that for a while impressing even myself. Then, out of the zen of the moment, Forbes laughed. He laughed that, I got a fish laugh and my casting went to hell. 

I asked what he was using. Nothing. I asked again. "Wow, it's a nice fish" he laughed, "should I keep it?" 

"Yeah, keep it. What ARE you using?" I yelled. Wet fly, caddis larva. DUH. God I hate fishing wet flies. I think that fishing wet flies is akin to using bait and make a lot of noise about it on the river as I tie dry fly after dry fly onto my line. (I think at this time I should say I am a two dollars and twenty-five cents down because I won't use a wet fly) I fish further down the river out of site of Mike. It starts to rain. I whip the water to a froth. I catch trees. I catch myself. I get wind knots and get hung up on the end of my rod. Once again, I am too hot to fish. This time it does not go away. I pick a bouquet of high-bush cranberry flower and leap frog back up the river from Mike because I saw a trout jump up there.

Back in the river I loose a fly in the shrubs, have to rebuild my line and about the time Mike comes to see how I am doing and if I'm ready to be done fishing I hang up in the big pine that stretches out over the river. My fly dangles above the river and my line is fouled right at the leader. What can I do but snap it off. Still, there is that fly dangling out there. I hand my rod to Mike and start for the fly hoping the hole isn't deeper than my waders. I manage a precarious grab and turn smugly back to the shore. I'm done for this trip. Seventy five cents rattles in my pants pocket. I had said to Mike before we left that he should just take it then so I would have to carry the weight.

The rain comes down and the air is cool. Mosquitoes fly in clouds around our heads. I shiver as we walk to the car. I think. Next time. Next time I will just stand in the river for 10 minutes when I first get there. I won't line my rod at the car or on the bank. I will wade in and just cool down before that first cast. And if Mike catches a trout before me. I will simply wade back to where he is, congratulate him, knock him over in the water and go sit on the bank while we both cool off.

Here's to fishing. 

Peace, 

Karen

A Bloody Mary and Three Days Off...

I am tired of getting up early in the morning. I got up at 5:30 for the past twelve mornings and this morning was my first day off. The prospect of a three day weekend with no real hard and fast goals is a wonderful thing to contemplate. It is not unusual for me to be overwhelmed by the idea of unstructured time; so many possibilities out there- the things I want to do and the things I should do and a limited amount of time and energy. Today this is not a problem. I just won't go there.

After Karen left for work I took my time and made a breakfast of fried potatoes and onions, with lots of salt and pepper. I have been craving this for almost a week. Most mornings I have cereal and toast with my coffee and leave for work nearly as hungry as when I rolled out of bed. This morning I finally had the feeling of being full. Then I made a quick trip to the store for a few groceries and lots of tonic water. It might be a long hot weekend.

Even though the temp will be in the 80's today, we have a breeze and I decided to chance it and make bread. Hopefully, by the time the bread is out of the oven, the house will not be too hot. The beaded fringe on the bottom of the Roman shades in the living room rattles as the breeze moves the shades in and out.

Making bread is often a labor of joy and therefore, I guess, not a labor at all, but something whose creation brings me joy. I am not sure where the transition came in today but I think I am glad something changed. Before I left for town I found myself planning my own eulogy in my head.  I am surprised that I am even admitting this. I still don't know why my mind turned that direction, but it did. I find I have little control over  my mind, but I am working to change that every day. I think I will write the eulogy, but later. It is going to be quite good, a real tear-jerker. Pity I won't be there to hear it.

Like I started to say, something changed and when I arrived home I had two goals; a Bloody Mary and a batch of bread. The Bloody Mary is gone now, replaced by a large glass of water and the bread is rising. I hope the bread turns out as well as the drink. For a while this winter I lost my touch and the bread Ibaked resembled doorstops more than edible loaves. Then I boiled up some fusilli, to make a cold pasta salad. In summer I miss the pasta salad my mom used to make. I try in vain to create it in my own version and get something I like but without the remembered comfort factor of mom's touch. My sister Zoe, can make a very good fascimile of mom's salad; she may even have a recipe. I just know I am going to have some kind of pasta salad on this holiday weekend.

I guess that's all I really need to know.  Tonight Karen and I have been invited to have dinner with Ron and Terry and I am going to have pasta salad sometime and that's it. That is the extent of our plans. Well, at least as far as I know. I have asked to paddle Lake X, out in the Chippewa. Lake X was the bluebill lake of our duck hunting dreams years ago. It is wild and undeveloped and may even have walleyes in it. I really don't care; I just need to feed my wildness and move a canoe through the water.

This week is the first time in weeks that my hips and knees haven't been painful. Well, not quite. They hurt a little bit but nothing like they did even a couple weeks ago.  I find I am feeling more loose, more flexible and when I get out of the car or rise from a chair after sitting awhile, I don't look hobble for as long before I am able to straighten up and stay right. Seems like a small thing but it means a lot to me. I want so badly to, at least, catch up to where I was before cancer, in terms of energy and strength. I will be receiving a new support belt this week. I ordered a bright colored version of Spandex; something that will dry better after swimming and look more attractive when my shirt is off. Basic black and basic white can only take one so far in life.

I called down to Roger Maris Cancer Center this week and asked Kim, Dr. Gross' nurse, how long I should take alpha lipoic acid. He suggested it as something to help me recover from the numbness I have as a result of my last chemotherapy. So I had been taking 600 mg 2x/day for almost a month and wondered how long I was supposed to keep on. Not long after my last visit there, the numbness reached my hands and fingers. The answer to how long, is three months. I went to Sunrise Foods and ordered enough to take me to my July visit with the Dr. The people at Sunrise also suggested rubbing my feet and hands with St. John's Wort Oil. So I am trying that as well. Some people use a version of St. John's Wort to counteract mild depression. I figure even if the numbness doesn't go away, at least my hands and feet won't be bummed about it.

Making the decision to not have the big party to celebrate my beating cancer again, was a difficult decision to make. I felt like I let a lot of people down but I also felt immediate relief by removing the stress of planning and putting together the blowout of the century. I got some nice words of support from friends; words that came at a good time. I want to thank Sue, Brad and George and my daughter Meredith who said I need to quit being so apologetic. (I'm sorry, really I am).

That's what's going on in my life. A little progress every day. I struggle at times to stay clean and positive in my thinking, I worry about the kids, I try not to overwhelm myself with all the 'shoulds' that wait for me. I suspect they wait for you as well. Last night I sat in the shade on our steps and played my drum; really wailed on it. I guess it was the wildness in me. Thank God I still have some. When Karen came home from a very victorious day at work we had payday pizza for supper. Later, before we were too tired, we made love. As our friend Muriel would say, life is good.

And life is still good today. The bread is rising in the loaf pans, the pasta is chilling and the only thing I have to do is continue to get better. Enjoy your holiday weekend. Spend time together, enjoy each other and take a moment to reflect on the meaning of the holiday. Love and peace to you all.
Mike

A Year Ago

Yesterday it was a year ago that Mike's colonoscopy found his cancer. Today, we are one year and one day past the gut wrenching terror of that day. I was looking at my journal and thought I'd share with you what I wrote at 11:39 am on May 19th, 2009.

Nymore Beach - Lake Bemidji

A greater merganser floats on the choppy gray lake. A bologna sandwich sits next to me on the seat baking in the sun. I am tired. I've started telling people, started saying cancer out loud, started getting "the hug" from people. It's so freaking surreal. I'm numb, I think. There's something under the surface. I'm sick to my stomach and bone tired. This is what tells me there is something underneath, but mostly I'm numb.

I want this day to be normal. I want it to be a regular day because tomorrow a lot will change, everything will change but really everything has changed because of what we know.

And then I quit writing in my journal.

My journal became this blog and it was here I poured out my thoughts and frustrations. This is where I wrote my pain and anguish over what was happening to Mike and us. I haven't gone back to look at our posts. I don't think I am far enough away from it all yet to do that. Our life has resumed a more normal pattern, a new normal, never to go back to the way it was a year and one day ago....before we knew about cancer. I'm not ready to go back and look at where we were. I'm just glad to be here - a full year away from all that.

Today, I spent part of the morning and most of the afternoon in the woods with my friend Karen Gurney. I took her to "the river." We sat and talked. We ate lunch. We laughed. We let the woods, the water and the sun heal us. It was good. Life is good, my life is good.

Tomorrow we head to the Emerald City (Minneapolis for those of you who are new followers). We are not going for any doctors appointments! We aren't even going near the medical center and the thought of it thrills me! I'm going to the International Quilt Market where I will take a couple of classes on finance and inventory control and then I will shop for new merchandise for my new place of employment. Mike is going to spend some time with his daughter. We are reclaiming our life and it feels good. Cancer no longer monopolizes our life and for that we are thankful.

Peace,

Karen

In leiu of a blog.....photos

Peace, Karen

This ... and a Change in Plans

I am aware that a lot of time has passed since we had a new entry on the blog. Without the day-to-day intensity of actually fighting cancer, the impetus for regular entries has diminished. Still, I do think of blog and entries to make as time allows. Of course, I have just as many hours in the day as the rest of you but lately I have been managing my time in ways that puts the blog on the back burner.

What has occupied my time? I looked back in my journal to see what I recorded and I find large gaps there as well. What I do have are comments on the weather-lots of rain, and the gradual coming of spring. The first thunderstorm of the season left me without power for nearly three hours one evening and after I wrote a letter to an old friend in Washington, I reminesced about life in the tipi when Karen and I lived without electricity for nearly two years. Watching the rain fall made me glad we do not live in the tipi anymore. Rainy weather was the pits.

I spent time re-hashing the same old questions of what I am doing with my life and why I am not as content as I think I should be. Karen and I spent some time on the couch one evening trying to put words to the vague unease and discomfort we were experiencing between us.  Discussions like this can be difficult; emotions come into play and the fear of being truly honest with the one you love can put both of you on edge. We got through the evening without any harm to our relationship and probably made it even better. The next morning we got up and went to the woods to look for morels. The time we spent in the wild made us feel like our old selves again and that was wonderful.

Part of the discussion we had centered around the planned party for June 19th. When I first thought of it long ago, the idea of a party was great. I have lots of ideas that are great. But as the time gets closer the party became one more chore, a thing of work, for me to do. Even thinking of a party became stressful for me as I thought of all the things that would have to fall in place for it to happen. I found that I do not want that stress anymore and so I have decided not to have a party to celebrate coming through cancer for the second time. I apologize to those of you who may have had your hearts set on it or made special plans to attend.  Making this choice has been difficult for me because I worry that I let people down or failed myself in some way. Karen and I do have valid concerns about our neighbor and the likelihood that he would report us for disturbing the peace, after past complaints we registered about his barking dogs. I ask for your understanding and if you were planning to come up, come anyway and we can hang out.

What else?
Karen and I picked maybe three pounds of morels today. She went picking with a friend the other day and that was all it took for us to get out and find 'em on our own. Morels are so tasty. Again, the time together in the woods did wonders for us. We find such joy in being together. One night this week I went to the bedroom to read while Karen was sewing in the living room and that was not good for us. Because of our time in the tipi we feel most comfortable working together in the same room even if we are not working on the same thing.

I have rambled enough. What I thought I had together in my mind fell apart once I sat down to the computer. Sorry. Maybe next time I'll write it out first.

Peace to all of you, take care of yourselves and live your life. I am still trying to figure out mine.
Mike

The Morel of the story...

A light rain is falling. The air is cool and makes being inside where we are warm and dry, all the better. We have had a dry spring and need the rain. The trees and grasses are blushing with a new green; fresh and vibrant with an energy that is matched by scent of rain-washed air.

I have been stuck in a dry spell lately: never quite mustering enough energy or motivation to pursue much beyond going to work, coming home from work, making supper and getting ready to do it all over again the next day. Letters and emails remain unwritten and small chores remain undone. Exercise is a hit-or-miss proposition. On days when I am tired my mind takes me hostage and tells me "what's the use?" When that happens I work at staying present, work at not believing what my mind is telling me and most days I can call it a draw; sometimes I win.

I am not sure why I am this way now. I don't have the immediate focus of having to deal with cancer anymore and that is a very good thing. I think I must be a little bit lost. Occasionally I wonder when, or if, I will find myself again.  Not to sound like a lost hippie but I have been trying to be aware of what life is offering these days and what I want from it. I imagine more than a few of you might be wondering if chemo robbed my senses but I really feel I should pick what I want; not just go with whatever comes along. I have done enough of that in my life. But O, what a terrible habit to break.

I like to think I am entering a new spring in my life, with all kinds of possibilities for new growth. I am the tree tasting the rain on my new leaves.

Karen and I are making slow progress on some things around the place.  We did a bit of clean-up in the garden . Karen discovered a nest holding seven baby cottontail bunnies in one of the raised beds. They were darn cute, even when they all decided to jump out at the same time and explore the big wide world. We had bunnies hopping all over for a little while. Karen has been working on flower beds around the house and I have been picking away at getting the garage in some kind of order.

After one of our friends mentioned eating fresh morels, Karen wanted to go look for some. We went to a spot and looked. And looked. And looked. Finally, I found one small specimen and then we really looked but that one was our take for the evening. After this rain lets up I would expect conditions for finding these 'shrooms will improve. The thing I found most interesting about the time we spent in the woods, searching for morels, was that for that hour or so, my mind was focused. My mental attention did not wander away from the present. There were plenty of distraction; blackflies, bloodroot and anemones in bloom, along with honeysuckle and many other plants whose names I have forgotten. I noticed these other things but I stayed focused. Maybe it isn't a big deal to you but for me, it is. I hope I can do that more often. The focusing, that is. 

So, what is the morel (moral) to all this? I am not really sure. I couldn't resist the pun in the title but maybe there is something after all. Let the spring rains wash you clean and help start your own new growth. And keep looking. Even if you only have small success in the beginning, there is always a chance for more success later on. Remember-stay wet and keep looking.

Peace and love to you all.
And a huge thanks to all of you that have helped Karen and I on this portage called cancer. The journey continues...
Mike

We WON!

Mike's PET scan was negative...well he still has dogs and bunnies but they weren't looking for that! There was, however, NO evidence of cancer anywhere in his body. So it is over and the celebration is on for June 19th! So, save the date!

Peace, Health and Happiness to you all.
Karen

Waiting...

Maybe it is just me but this spring seems to have been windier than most. At least, windier than I can remember in recent memory. The wind chimes hang in silence for the first time in what seems like weeks. The silence speaks volumes. 

Syrup season ended about two weeks ago and I finally got most of the equipment put away.  The cooking site is still set up in the yard but all the buckets and pails and taps are put away in the garage till next spring. I spent a great deal of time in these past two weeks waiting for a calm day to clean the sap storage cans. I was afraid to tackle the job on a windy day because I thought the cans would sail away while I was waiting for them to dry. Finally, on Saturday, with a warm sun and a mild breeze, I cleaned the cans and now they are put away.

The waiting for the right day turned out to be pointless. I suppose most waiting turns out to be that way. But still we do it. I say 'we' because I think I am probably not the only person who has spent too much time in this life, waiting.

I have just finished reading "The Power of Now" by Eckhart Tolle. The book falls into the 'New Age/Spiritual' category but Tolle, among other thing, makes a good case for being "conscious", i.e., present in the moment; not stuck in the past or worried about the future. A lot of things he touched on, rang true for me.  I have been stuck,waiting, for as long as I remember. During all this time my unconscious mind has been working hard to keep from being in the present, in the Now. I have been waiting for the 'right time to take up writing' or 'the right time' to do this or that; or go here or there. In short, my mind, not me, has been running my life while I have been waiting and waiting. I realized that many of the fears I have come from this habitual mindset, this state of unconsciousness.

So now I am trying, little by little, to become more focused in the Now, to be more present and it is very hard work. When I am physically and/or mentally tired, I have a very difficult time being focused on the present. I find myself drifting into an overwhelming future, or locked up in the past. Then my mind runs me down. But I am hopeful that I can make some positive changes in my life, that after all these years I can quit waiting and do the things I have avoided out of fear; things I thought I could not or should not, do. I am not saying I am going out to be a 'new' me. I am just going to try to 'be' me. The idea is exciting, even though I have lots of hard work ahead of me.

This place I am at right now is a great place to start. I have a new life ahead of me after this last bout with cancer, providing me with a natural jumping off place into the great unknown of my Now. I have been waiting long enough.

Peace and love to you all,
Mike