Knitting -- My new best friend

Well, being cost effective is not always to best measurement of whether or not to do a project.  Since I have started knitting I find great satisfaction in making things that have a shape to them out of a piece of string.  Sock yarn is very much like the grocery string that we are familiar with.  In fact it might even be thinner.  Most socks cost $2.00 to $6.00 a pair.  Where as these socks cost $13.99  a pair but that doesn't include the intense labor to make each one.  I have two more balls of yarn to make two more pairs of socks. They are beautiful and unique.  

Now it makes sense to me that sock should come in pairs, but pants.  Why is it called a pair of pants?
Shouldn't it be called a pair of legs?    But then a shirt isn't called a pair of shirts, there by making it a pair of arms.  It just doesn't make sense to me.  I guess I will have to wait and ask God when I get to heaven just what went wrong in this pants thing.  I remember in Oh, God the movie where George Burns played God.  George as God said he was disappointed in the avacado as he made the pit to large.  Very funny.

Driving

Is it just me or are there truely that many poor driver in the world.  I take my brother to dialysis three days a week and have many opportunities to witness poor driving skills.  I guess just poor skills all around.  Walkers and bike riders are also bad.  At the time in the morning that I go to pick Dave up it is dark--6:00 AM.  Walkers and runners are out for their exersize.  It really surprises me that more aren't hit, hurt, or killed.  They all seem to think that their black jacket is just the ticket to go out in.  No light, no reflective gear and no brains.  They usually go in pairs so it seems what they are talking about is more interesting to them then where they are.  They are walking in the turning lane instead of the bike path or walking lanes.  I am always surprised when my lights pick them up.  Bicyclist, on the other hand, seem to believe that they are the only ones on the road and rules don't apply to them.  Predictability is the key word for bikers and cars to get along.  We as drivers need to be able to predict what the biker will be doing.  Just when you think you have it right they cut in front of you or come shooting out in front of your car from the sidewalk across the  crosswalk.  This all happens in the dark.
Drivers do not use their turning signal.  They must thinks that they need to save them or you know where they are going.  They make left had turns onto a 4 lane and end up in the far lane.  They are not aware of who or what is near them.  I have seen a number of bad accidents on Paul Bunyan Drive. It seems like all the drivers drive like they are going to a fire.  Or maybe they are giving away free booze somewhere and they must get there to be first in line.

There are two ladies that walk between Anne street and 30th and I see them everyday.  I just love them.  I don't even know them. They wear euclid green and reflective vest like are used on the highweay crews.  My hat goes off to them.

Today, I saw a man wearing the reflective vest, but he was carrying two flashlights The white light was heading forward and the red light he had backwards in his other hand. As he pumped his arms in his walk it looked like flashing lights. Gotta love him for his attempt to stay safe.

Fighting Souix logo goes down again

The University of North Dakota's Fighting Sioux logo was designed by Bennett Brien, a noted American Indian artist and sculptor. Brien, who holds a Master of Fine Arts degree from UND, describes the symbolism of the UND athletic mark as follows:

"The feathers symbolize the outstanding rewards that students, faculty, staff and alumni will achieve for academic, athletic and lifelong excellence. The determined look in the eyes symbolizes fortitude and never giving up and the focus necessary for sustained academic, athletics and lifelong achievement. The paint on the cheekbone symbolizes that life can be a battle and we have daily struggles. The color green symbolizes the development of young people and their growth at the University of North Dakota. The color yellow symbolizes the sun which provides humanity light and warmth in order that life may continue. The color red symbolizes the lifeblood that has been poured out to make our state and peoples great."

The University of North Dakota “Sioux” nickname made its debut more than 74 years ago, in the autumn of 1930. The “Sioux” nickname became the staple of the University of North Dakota officially on October 2, 1930. In the Friday, October 3, 1930, edition of the Dakota Student, UND’s student newspaper, featured a front-page banner headline, “Sioux’ Replaces ‘Flickertail’ as Caption of University Sport Teams.” An article in that issue reported, “At convocation yesterday morning (which would have been October 2, 1930), the official announcement was made that the Athletic Board of Control had conducted the rites of changing the name and had given their sanction to the abolition of Flickertail and to the enactment of the Sioux.”
The name was chosen because the area of the Dakotas was once part of the Sioux Nation. UND was founded in 1883 in the Dakota Territory, six years before North Dakota became a state. The Sioux were born brave warriors. Their name connotes courage, honor, overcoming adversity, pride, and victory.
The “Fighting” reference was instigated in the mid-1960s by then UND Sports Information Director Lee Bohnet.
The “Fighting Sioux” has been represented graphically in a variety of different ways, but nothing stable seemed to come into use until the late 1960s when the Chicago Blackhawk logo was adopted, primarily for hockey. What is termed the “geometric” logo was introduced in 1976 and was applied to most athletic activities. UND’s use of the Blackhawk logo was discontinued in 1993.
The new Indian head logo, designed by UND Alumnus and Native American artist Bennet Brien, went into use with the advent of the 2001-2002 athletic season. The 2001-2002 athletics season was also the inaugural season of the Ralph Engelstad Arena.
The University of North Dakota is the home of the Fighting Sioux. UND officially adopted the name of the Fighting Sioux in the 1930’s because the Sioux Warriors were the most courageous of all warriors. The great Sioux Nation epitomized honor, courage, pride, overcoming adversity and winning battles. All fans in Ralph Engelstad Arena are asked to cheer your team to victory and exhibit good sportsmanship, as well as respect the American Indians and their proud and honored culture and heritage.

Recently the ND government mandated that they can use the logo. But yesterday they reversed their decision to use the Fighting Sioux nickname.  NCAA has won this round.  Spirit Lake Sioux will counter, again. The Ft. Yates tribe is offended by the nickname and keeps the NCAA stirred up.   Why are they focusing Just on the Sioux and not doing the same to the Seminoles? 

November 11th

World War I – known at the time as “The Great War” - officially ended when the Treaty of Versailles was signed on June 28, 1919, in the Palace of Versailles outside the town of Versailles, France. However, fighting ceased seven months earlier when an armistice, or temporary cessation of hostilities, between the Allied nations and Germany went into effect on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. For that reason, November 11, 1918, is generally regarded as the end of “the war to end all wars.”


Something to think about 11-11-11.  I will not burden you with my thoughts.  This is the place that you think about this and form your own opinions.

skiing

I have cross country skied off and on for most of my life.  In fact the skis I use probably are considered antiques by now.  The new skis have a different system to hook the boot to the ski.  I cannot get new boots until I get new skis.  I think that I will just go on using what I have. 

I just found out about two trails in Bemidji for skiing.  They both have warming shacks on them. I am excited to try them.  Well, I actually can wait for snow and don't wish it here early.  But, I am just saying if we have to have snow and I know I will be skiing.

I was planning on posting this story until later, but I woke up to snow on the ground.  Doesn't look like this will be melting anytime soon.  I have to shovel my walks. 



The history of the safety meeting.

My Dad in the front and Uncle Willy in the back

My family has been having safety meeting as far back as I can remember.  They were started by my Uncle Wilfred.  He worked for Reserve Mines on the Iron Range.  He was in management. He managed the crew of workers. He visited our family a lot, especially coming to the cabin on Red Lake.  Anyway, at the lake there was a lot of just sitting around time.  Waiting for the bewitching time when the walleyes would be biting.  He would joke that we were having a discussion on safety as we were just sitting around not being productive.  Apparently that was the joke at his work when he found two or three guys not working.  He said he assumed they where having a safety meeting.  The phrase just happen to catch in my family and from then on everything was a safety meeting.  That is why I call the meeting with my nephew each day he stays with me a safety meeting.

The folded napkin

A Truckers Story
If this doesn't light your fire ... your
wood is wet!  I did not write this story but is truly worth reading.
I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His
placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy.

But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I
wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie.

He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and
thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my
trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables
as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.

The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy
college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish
their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded
"truck stop germ" the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense
accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I
knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely
watched him for the first few weeks.

I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff
wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck
regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.

After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of
him. He was like a 21-year-old kid in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh
and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt
and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee
spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem
was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were
finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one
foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty.Then
he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses
onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish
of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker
with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right,
and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he
met.

Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was
disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social
Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their
social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they
had
fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was
probably the difference between them being able to live together and
Stevie being sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy
place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that
Stevie missed work.

He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something
put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome
often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and
there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape
and be back at work in a few months.

A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word
came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine.

Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in
the aisle when she heard the good news.

Marvin Ringers, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight
of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his
table.

Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Marvin a withering look.

He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked.

"We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay."

"I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the
surgery about?"

Frannie quickly told Marvin and the other two drivers sitting at his booth
about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: " Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be
OK," she said. "But I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle
all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is."
Marvin nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of
her tables. Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie
and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own
tables that day until we decided what to do.

After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of
paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I didn't get that table where Marvin and his friends were sitting cleared
off after they left, and Pete and Tony were sitting there when I got back
to clean it off," she said. "This was folded and tucked under a coffee
cup."

She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I
opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something
For Stevie."

"Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so I told him about
Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked
at Pete, and they ended up giving me this." She handed me another paper
napkin that had "Something For Stevie" scrawled on its outside. Two $50
bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny

"truckers."

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is
supposed to be back to work.

His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor
said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He
called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming,
fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I
arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then met them in the
parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.

Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed
through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing
cart were waiting.

"Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said. I took him and his mother by
their arms. "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate your coming back,
breakfast for you and your mother is on me!" I led them toward a large
corner booth at the rear of the room.

I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched
through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after
booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in
front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers
and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper
napkins. "First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess," I
said. I tried to sound stern.

Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the
napkins. It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside. As he
picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.

Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath
the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to
his mother. "There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table,
all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems.
"Happy Thanksgiving."

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and
shouting, and there were a few tears, as well.

But you know what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and
hugging each other, Stevie, with a big smile on his face, was busy
clearing all the cups and dishes from the table..

Best worker I ever hired.


Plant a seed and watch it grow.

If you shed a tear, hug yourself, because you are a compassionate person.