If you see something, say something!

 My dear brother-in-law tried to cheat death with a tackle box worth of vitamins and supplements. Arrayed alphabetically, the pills promised him a longer life… and probably other things too. Twice daily he sat at the kitchen table, opened the magic box and indulged in longevity.

He once told the social security interviewer that he would live forever. Must have gotten an eye roll from her. He lived in a nice two-story neighborhood in St. Paul with his younger wife. They may have been pill poppers, but never anything illegal, hallucinogenic or even fun. Never. Her sister, my wife, has claimed to have been high in her younger years, once, by sharing a communal joint, but even that story is somewhat dubious.

Then one day in his St. Paul home came the knock on the brother-in-laws door from the authorities. Yes. Two agents asking for an interview. Flabbergasted, the couple consented immediately. There had been reports of illegal activity at this residence, it seemed. No mistake. Eyewitness. This was the exact location, the St. Paul detectives insisted.

Gradually, facts emerged. The neighboring eyewitness, from the vantage point of her upstairs window. had peered down into their kitchen and seen him repeatedly. Very suspicious indeed, she said. Yes, he had flipped open a tackle box and revealed an enormous array of pills. The witness knew that no one in his right mind would amass such a collection of vitamins. It had to be drugs. Authorities were called.

If you see something, say something.

Sadly, despite his heroic efforts, my brother-in-law did not live forever. A mere mortal, he died an ordinary death at or near the table of expectancy of the Social Security Administration.

They had left their St. Paul neighborhood long before his demise, selling their home, but probably with the kitchen shades still pulled, to avoid any further reports of suspicious activity.

-30- My friend, lifetime employee, passes.

 Bob Suel came to work for us after graduation in the 70s. He never left. Though-out his lifetime career with us, he became a husband, a father, a survivor, a homeowner, and a loyal friend. His remarkable consistency and unquestioning support were the hallmarks of his longevity. 

You could count on Bob.

When he opposed something. It was not for selfish reasons, but for what he believed was best for the company. He cherished his role in the informal inner circle of decision makers, meeting over a beer in the boss’s basement, genuinely guiding the future of the enterprise in his personal care. A truly rare and comforting asset when we were making difficult decisions. 

Whenever a competitive challenge or bad idea loomed that he felt would spell trouble, he was fond of saying, “We have to stomp on the dragon’s eggs” in other words, get ahead of this thing before it is big enough to bite us.

He came to work just out of high school. Newspaper owner Bill McGarry acquired him at the time and asked me to find a place for him. Bob thought he might like to be a writer, a journalist, and so he went on a few assignments.. We decided a better fit might be on the sales team, representing the company. We had one telephone and an extension at the time, so Bob had his work cut out. He put on a tie and went to work in a role he would never leave.

His buddies had all picked up entry jobs, and were astonished to see Bob going to work so soon wearing that tie. Where ever is he going, many wondered. How could it be?

Bob dressed for success from that point forward. Years later, when “casual Friday” was in vogue and his partner came to work without a tie and wearing jeans, he was quickly admonished by Bob, “Oh no, we don’t do that in Southwest sales” he reminded the junior miscreant.

Bob deserved many thanks for his lifetime of service, unwavering through thick and thin. Our success as a growing firm lay squarely on his shoulders, and many other like him, who put the good of the organization above their own immediate needs. Thank you for Bob, a good and faithful man.

What can I say!

 

That's a good one!

 Emily shared a moment with a friend, long ago.

Top of the Food Chain

 Photo by Jordanne Scott

Meet the newest welder!

 

Our grandchild, Emily, just completed her freshman year at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, and no one could be more proud than we are.

While her major is that old favorite “undecided,” her bent is toward animation and associated crafts.

But the artistic curriculum is broad and she is now a qualified welder! And she has other workshop skills as well. Who knew?

She’s always had a creative, constructive will and constantly surprises us (and teachers) with unusual talent. She’s now grounded with a summer job, directing customers at a nearby overstock enterprise and supporting a car and a closet.

We so enjoy watching her grow and are so pleased with her mother’s job in raising the perfect grandchild. Oh yes. We’ll give aunt Marcy some credit too!

She’s pictured above at grandma’s birthday party.

Back from Hotel California

 Just returned from a lovely spring at our Hotel California, a casita provided me by long-time friend and employee, Hai Dang. The annual sojourns always involve some fun construction projects, the latest there is another nail salon for his enterprising wife, already the master of a very successful one near by.

He's learned the Japanese art of Komiko and has substituted the laborious intricacies with a smart laser cutter that takes direction from software, and not a shop master. The resulting panels are spectacular and truly will make the new salon a one-of-a-kind enterprise. 

Equally spectacular is nature's handiwork on the front porch, and I arrived just in time to see it in its full glory, and present it here.

And now for our own spring entrance, scheduled to appear shortly. C'mon already.

Lucky ladies

 My wife is a gambler, she took a chance on me, but that’s just the beginning of this story.

Her handle is St. Paul Katie at poker home games, where players soon learn not to underestimate little old ladies holding good cards. It’s a family thing, she played cards all her life. As a Lutheran, forbidden to own a deck of the devil’s tools or anything fun like a cap pistol, I tease that it is her Catholic upbringing that lead her down this path. 

She does as she wishes, plays blackjack tables, horses, and so on, but never too much to regret. The lottery is a never-ending must. a little chagrinned, she discreetly always has numbers from various games. She used to consult with her late brother, with that same family trait. I try not to bother her about it, and she reminds me that she doesn’t drink liquor and I have a lifetime of savings to show for it. Point taken. I try to say that she won the lottery already. Not funny.

This weekend, in the company of her daughter, the usual please. She bought a lottery ticket, and won. Won twice, it turns out. 

She relates her tale:

“When Marcy and I were at the convenience store and I was getting the ticket, the little Asian woman wanted to know if Marcy was my daughter. Marcy said ‘yes, we are mother and daughter.'

“Then Marcy says ‘I don’t get tickets because I’m not lucky, but my Mom is.’

“Then the lady says ‘Oh, you are lucky, because you have your mom. I wish I had mine.’

“With that we left the store and I checked my tickets. Of course I was stunned and said ‘Marcy, I just won $500!’’’

Showing more than the usual wisdom you find at a convenience store, the Asian lady had spoken truth. Two lucky women, perhaps one more lucky than the other, with $500 to spend.

The Letnes Luau