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Could I have picked a better day to write this story? No, no I could not. I usually try to write something at Christmas, even if it's just a Facebook post. This year I've had some things on my mind and was concocting this whole story about Christmas wishes, Peace on Earth, Martin Luther King, dreamers and the things going on in the world around us this 24th day of December, year 2014. Actually started it. And then one more incident of the world around us being completely screwed up and I'm just not in the mood. Because anything hopeful at this point seems like, as Dr. Evil recently said so eloquently; "two bald guy's fighting over a comb. What's the point?" World peace isn't going to happen while we're on the verge a new age race war, perhaps even civil war. Sure that's maybe a little far fetched at this point, but looks possible on paper. And that's not anything that I want to write about on Christmas Eve. So, because I still need to pick up chocolate covered cherries for my Mom, which is a tradition I keep, I got to thinking about how Christmas Traditions have changed for me and my family over the years. And then I wondered how many families have gone through how many tradition changes, evolving to where they are, and how many haven't had many changes. I think weird things once in awhile. If I didn't you wouldn't have this website to look at. So I decided I'd write about Christmas Traditions in my family and how they've evolved over the years. When I was a child we had three sets of grandparents because my Dad's parents had divorced and remarried. All three had different traditions. And we, as in my immediate family, had a tradition of attending all three of those traditions. Christmas Eve was at my Mom's parents. Grandma ran a deli for her day job but that did not stop her from insisting on homemade food at home. So Grandma would always make a big dinner Christmas Eve, we'd be there all day, open presents at night. Cheese, sausage,& crackers before , during and after presents. Including a variety of Kaukauna Cheese spreads. Yum. Maybe some Lawrence Welk or other Christmas Special that was actually on ON Christmas. Unlike these days. When we'd get home, Randy & I and Toni when she was there would get to open one present from our parents. Christmas morning Santa had stopped by, us kids lost our minds, Mom made breakfast while Dad tormented us about getting to open our presents. Christmas Day we would head over to Mauston to my Dad's father & step-mothers. Big Christmas dinner, open presents, stay over night, next day head to Berlin to my Dad's mother & her husbands. We'd stay there all day open presents later in the evening. Grandma Jo ALWAYS had pickled herring and every year I would cautiously try just a little bit. I haven't had it since childhood and to be honest, I can no longer remember whether I liked it or not. Grandma Jo also always had a flashy, silver, fake Christmas tree that was brighter than the Vegas strip. In her trailer house. It could blind the uninitiated. She also had a breakfast bar with cabinets that was always lit up too, but somehow the counter under the cabinets remained dark as hell when you were reaching for a snack. From there it'd be the trip back to Appleton. Now, (long, long pause), I'm going to tell you about the trip home and some may curse me for this but screw it, my family, my story, I'll tell it if I want. So every year on the way home us kids would be in the back seat of whatever vehicle we were driving in at the time. Dad driving. Staring off into space and nodding from time to time. Mom kind of complaining up & down about Grandma Jo or Grandpa Cliff. Grandma Jo was a cheap you know what "B" word, and Grandpa Cliff was a mean, curmudgeonly letch. Bear in mind that Grandma Jo and Grandpa Cliff are my Dads parents. My Mom got along FINE with his step parent's on each side, Grandma Lee & Grandpa Vern. (By the way, my Moms parents names were Cliff and Marion, but they were ONLY Grandma & Grandpa to us- seriously, they were so rock star they only had one name, like Elvis & Cher).
Mom was opinionated in some things. And about some people. She was a sweet woman most of the time and when Grandma Jo passed she never said anything bad about her again, and eventually she even started to get along with Grandpa Cliff until she passed.
The first big change came when my Grandma died. My Grandpa had died two years before and even though he was gone, Christmas Eve and Christmas itself didn't change much other than that. When Grandma died, my Mom became the matriarch of the family and Christmas Eve moved to our house out on Sandra Drive. Mom's approach was different than Grandma's. Grandma would always make the big dinner, while Mom's thing was snacks. Cheese, sausage & crackers remained, but added were fried foods, mushrooms, cheese curds et al, pizza and whatever else she thought looked good, quick and easy. When my Mom died my Aunt Donna became the matriarch but didn't necessarily host Christmas Eve. Donna was more of a free spirit adventurer than my Mom & she always had us go from house to house in no particular order, a different one each year. Hers, mine or Randy's. Meanwhile in my own home I carried on my Mom's snack tradition. The cheese, sausage & crackers are a staple. However while I mix it up yearly like Mom, there are some constants. My liver sausage & cream cheese spread for one, which is right now distributing it's goodness throughout while I write. The other thing is I also mix whatever looks good, quick & easy with good, not so quick homemade stuff too. This year I started a new tradition. Scotty's Grandma used to make him dried beef dip and he loved it. It's been a couple years so I got the stuff. Then I had him find a recipe & make it. Over the years developed the Christmas morning breakfast. Scotty & I both get stuffed. We get frozen bread dough, hard salami, Swiss cheese & boiled eggs. Mmm. Do not spare the butter. No. This one breakfast of the year, slather it nice & thick on that hot bread. This will be the first year for Kris. She shall become initiated tomorrow morning. However I'm changing the eggs from boiled to poached or baked. I haven't decided which yet. I'm liking the idea of yolk running over the whole works. And tonight the three of us will enjoy an array of snacks, both homemade and good quick & easy. We'll watch Christmas cartoons and a Christmas movie. Perhaps A Christmas Story. Home Alone? We'll decide. Tomorrow at some point a It's A Wonderful Life will make an appearance. And in all of the decisions we've created our own Christmas Traditions. Just like you. If you look at your Christmas Traditions, look back over the years and see how many of yours have been incorporated from your past. Now wasn't that better than writing about wishing the world would just quit hating each other & get on with the business of living? When this story is done, close your browser and go spend time with your family. Don't watch the news. Watch Rudolph. All those things going on will still be going on tomorrow and the next day, and the next. If we can't have world peace, let us all have this one evening of peace without the world's troubles in front of us. Merry Christmas & may the fat guy be good to you! Now where are those chocolate covered cherries?
When Max got sick I gave him a hard time, telling him if he left me I was going to replace him with a female Great Dane. He seemed unfazed. At some point while he was sick he came up with this big Winnie The Pooh stuffed animal that nobody had any clue where it came from. So I teased him: "Is that what you want me to name that female Great Dane, 'Winnie'?" Max's passing was incredibly hard on me. I wandered around lost & depressed without him. I'd had him literally since the minute he was born. I had no intention of getting another dog any time soon, especially since I knew I would get a Great Dane and those aren't exactly the least expensive dogs on the market, especially not if they come from good stock, and good and reputable breeders. Besides being heart broken over Max, it wasn't in the budget. However my former wife at the time was at her wit's end with me moping around, looking at pictures, randomly crying and so she just started looking around. She came across True Diamond Danes who had a female Great Dane they had bred and needed to re-home basically. Winnie's story from birth till she came to me was a bit different. She wasn't exactly a rescue dog, but she wasn't exactly a perfectly happy puppy ready for placement. She had been purchased by a couple at the usual time in a growing puppies life. Her and one her brothers both. By the time she was almost 4 months old, that couple was getting divorced and no longer wanted either dog, so they brought them back to True Diamond Danes. My wife found the ad and called out of curiosity because she was priced much lower than the rest of the dogs they had. She got the story and arranged to bring me there, though I had zero intention of getting a dog. It was too soon and way out of the budget. When we got there Winnie wasn't there yet. She wasn't Winnie yet because even at her age and having been purchased once she still didn't have a name. She was being brought from the breeders house. So we met her parents and aunt's & uncles who were all huge. The lady explained that I probably wouldn't want her because she does not like men under any circumstances. They did not know for sure if she had been abuse by the man, but suspected it. All they knew for sure was men couldn't get near her without her barking and lunging. That was quite all right as I was not getting a dog anyway, just checking out a puppy because that's what I was brought to do. As a car came up the drive to the country kennel, the lady said that would be her and that I should back away from the door a bit. I sort of chuckled to myself and went ahead and backed up. I chuckled because I'm not afraid of dogs, or animals in general and to be honest, I've never really met one that didn't like me for whatever reason, so I wasn't worried. Besides, it didn't matter if she liked me or not. I was not taking her. It was too soon. It was not in the budget. When the screen door opened I squatted down. Even though I was having nothing to do with it I didn't want to make her visit any more stressful than it needed to be and figured she'd be more comfortable than if I was towering over her. The next door opens and in comes this fawn Great Dane with ear bandages on a leash. First thing I said was "her ears were done too late". She looked around a bit and locked eyes with me and started coming towards me, past the breeder, past the person holding her leash pulled back. I said "let her go". She wiggled up to me and licked my face. The breeder and the leash person were surprised to say the least. So I pet her & played with her a bit, it felt really good being with a big dog again and I missed Max even more, and there was something about her that touched me and she was a beautiful dog, but, it was too soon and out of the budget. And I explained that. I thanked them for bringing her up, gave her another pat on the head and said it was time to get going. We head out to the car, getting in and the breeder calls us back to the kennel. The breeder thought that there was only one place for this dog and asked if I would change my mind if she would let me pay whatever I could when I could. Too soon. Not in the budget. Then I looked into those eyes again. I signed a piece of paper saying I owed "X" for one female Great Dane to be paid as I could pay. Down the driveway to the car I walked with this dog I had zero intention of getting. She walked right along like the happiest dog there was. And then the trouble started. She didn't like getting in cars either. Not until later anyway when she thought it was the greatest thing in the world as long as shots weren't involved! So I pick her up & put her in the back seat. She laid down and we drove home to introduce her to the kids. Scott II was living with his mother at the time. We had an old house with stairs. She did not like stairs. So I picked her up and carried her in. She liked the boys fine, she really wanted to play with the Pomeranian and the cat, but neither wanted anything to do with her. There were also stairs in the house and stairs out the back to Max's yard and she didn't like any of them. Which made it hard taking her to go. She wouldn't go out the back stairs to the yard, so I had to take her out the front. Well, not liking to go up or down stairs, many times she wouldn't go or act like she didn't need to go potty. As soon as nobody was looking, in the house she would go. Great Dane piles are huge and unpleasant regardless of the size or age of the dog. I finally had to put her in a kennel at night or she'd go all over. One night she refused to go outside. Went in the kennel. She did try to aim out the door though. All over the place. And I have issues. Dog piles make me gag at a minimum and throw up on the other end of the spectrum. The kids always got a kick out of it, even though they'd end up doing the clean up most of the time. This time was a month or two into her stay and it was ridiculous. I had never had a dog take so long to be house broken and I was mad because it was every where and all over her too. And was certainly going to get on me. I ended up having to get her upstairs to the bathroom so I could get her in the shower and get her cleaned off. It was not fun for either of us. I was yelling to my wife to call the breeder because even though I would normally never part with a dog I agreed to have, this one was going back. NOW. I got her up and in the tub and cleaned off. You could tell she felt bad. Then I felt bad. Horrible in fact. Especially when downstairs again she wiggled up and jumped up on the couch & laid her head in my lap. I was told the breeder didn't answer and I said that was all right, I wasn't going to send her back, I was going to keep working with her. She said "good because I didn't actually call". Winnie, unless sick or ignored never went in the house again. You could go away for a weekend and she would be fine. I kept working with her until finally she would go up & down the back stairs by herself to go out. Pretty soon it's late December & Scotty is coming to spend Christmas. He was excited to meet her. Max had been there his entire life as he was born almost a year after Max. Winnie was not excited to meet him. She went completely ballistic. He couldn't move, he couldn't talk, he could barely breathe without her losing her mind and going after him. It ended up being the same with any of the boys friends that came in too. I guess Jake & Josh were ok because they were there in the house before her, because she never did that to either of them. That continued every time Scotty was there for the next year. New Years Eve 2009 we were all upstairs in the bar I built in the attic. Winnie had gotten where the regular stairs didn't bother her, she'd fly right up to the second floor. However, she would not get near the basement stairs or the attic which were the kind that were just steps that you could see through. All of a sudden I ask Scotty if he wants Winnie to stop going after him. Of course he does. So, in a move that scared the hell out of everybody but me since Winnie was humongous at this point, I told Scotty "go downstairs, grab Winnie by the collar and bring her up here". I figure this is not going to happen. He'll chicken out, she'll lose her mind. Lisa thinks I just sent him to get killed. A few minutes later there's clacking on the steps, and here comes Scotty hauling Winnie up to the attic. He lets her go and she comes wiggling over to me and from that moment on, Winnie never had a problem with Scotty again. In fact they ended up getting pretty close after that. When Kris & I got together Scotty & Winnie both met her at the same time. Winnie took right to her and I guess Scotty decided if Winnie thought she was ok, she must be. While she was kind of indifferent toward Lisa and other women, Winnie took to Kris right away, and initially got along, but kind of terrorized her dogs Kyra & Zoey until it was established that she was top dog among the dogs in the house. She still liked trying to play with cats who wanted nothing to do with her though. Winnie only had to see the vet twice in her life other than shots. Not long after Kris & I moved in together she had some serious problems, throwing up, couldn't move. She had an infection and ended up having her uterus removed. The vet couldn't handle her. They called me in to hold her so they could anesthetize her and then again when it was over. She ended up staying for a couple days and I had to go over to take her out side until it was time to go home because nobody at the clinic could get near her, even half incapacitated. Once home she bounced back quick. The second time she saw the vet was when we lost her. A couple months before she passed we had taken in Sami, a brindle female Great Dane who was a rescue. They actually got along great after their initial meeting. Winnie felt like she had a teammate against the labs! After awhile Winnie started spending more time with Scotty than the other dogs, though she was still perfectly fine. You could tell she was slowing down a bit, but she could still get riled up. Her & Sami would go out in the yard and play fight. Sami is a lot like her in some ways, but very different in others. Like she doesn't like men either. Except for me. And she doesn't like Scotty much either. She's also not shy about sleeping with, or right on top of me. If you've never seen two Great Danes play fighting, it is a sight to behold. They would bark & gnash and jump at each other. The fence in the back yard is 8 feet high and they would jump in the air at each other higher than the fence, they'd wear each other out and then they'd come in and nap on the bed or couch together. On the morning of June 4th, Kris found Winnie laying in the hallway to Scotty's bedroom which was kind of unusual since laying on the floor wasn't really her thing. Kris could see that she had thrown up and she woke me up to let me know Winnie was sick. I checked her out & played with her & she seemed fine although not real playful or animated. I got her to stand on her hind legs and give me a hug and figured she was fine. Before I went to work she was laying in the living room and she sat up when I came through. I went and pet her, told her to be good and get better and then I left for work. Kissed her forehead as usual. I didn't feel right. Kris sent me messages through out the day to update me. She got better for awhile then she wouldn't do anything. We had band practice that night for a show coming up and I left town and headed to La Crosse. Kris called and said Winnie was worse and she thought she should take her in to the vet. I told her to go ahead and she and Scotty took her and I quit looking at my phone. I was not in anyway ready to lose her. Way too soon. I know that the bigger the dog the shorter the life expectancy, but I was not ready. In a lot of ways I felt like I was just getting to know her. During a break at band practice I had a message from Kris that I needed to call right away. No. No I did not. Because I knew. And I could not handle it. I went into massive denial. But denial doesn't make it less true. Winnie passed peacefully with Kris & Scotty by her side at the vet. Where I should have been, even could have been, but I could not. The picture below where Scotty has his arm around her and her eyes are closed is the last picture taken of her, shortly before she died. It's now six months later before I could finally write this story. And I'm not enjoying the task and I keep tearing up. Every time I think of her it's almost like losing her again. I was a lot closer to her than I thought. I always thought she'd be a great dog, but there was just no way I'd ever get as close with her as Max. For one, I wouldn't go through that again, secondly, Winnie was much different. She was more shy & reserved than Max. For instance, she'd lay on your lap for awhile, or next to you in the bed for a few minutes, then she'd need to move. Almost like she wasn't worthy. She'd tuck her head by my shoulder instead of on top of my shoulder. I think she thought I was a dog too and she wanted me to know she knew her place in the pack. She definitely knew she was in charge of the other dogs, but she'd always be very submissive with me. Actually, in thinking back, towards the end I can vividly see where some time after Sami's arrival, Winnie began abdicating her throne. Not to Sami, but back to Kyra. I had no clue how much I loved that dog. It hurts every bit as bad as Max did, in some ways worse because she got so little time. She sure left behind some memories though! One of her biggest quirks was trying to sit like a person with her butt on a chair and her feet on the floor. When I first got her she was not allowed to have people food, at all. You do not want a dog taller than you to have a craving for things on the counter or table. Besides, Great Danes have enough tummy troubles. Well, one Friday night I was having my traditional Friday night pizza and was full and had one piece left. Winnie was outside. So I thought if I put it in her dish instead of giving it to her, she'd get a treat, but not become a beggar. So she comes in from outside and I keep waiting for her to go look in her dish. It takes her about 20 minutes and she sees it. Sniff's it. Picks it up. Drops it. Picks it up again and devours it. Runs back to her dish looking for more. Nothing. She walks away, and goes back. Nothing. At the time I had her semi-trained to ring a bell when she wanted to go outside and she rang the bell so I let her out. She instantly wanted back in. To look in her dish and see if another piece of pizza showed up. When it didn't she started barking at her dish. Ringing the bell again. Out again, back in, look at the dish and bark. It took quite awhile before she let go of trying to get more! It was the most hilarious thing I've ever seen a dog do! She was truly a gentle giant. I took her to the dog park in La Crosse once and she was just happy as could be running around trying to play with all these much smaller dogs. One of them actually went after her & bit her in the face. That dogs owner almost got an ass whooping he would never forget. If Lisa hadn't pulled me back he would have been done. He was a scuzzy dirty jerk whose dog was on a leash and he couldn't be bothered to pull the little mongrel away from attacking another dog. Winnie wasn't mad. Only I was. She just went and played with other dogs instead. I'll always remember her big old lumbering walk. Even as she aged she would still come wiggling up to me like she did when she was a puppy. In the beginning, despite the fact that it was too soon and not in the budget, Winnie & I apparently needed each other. I needed her to help heal the loss of Max and I guess she needed me to heal what she had been through in her early days. I have no idea how that happened and how a dog that hated men came right up to me and gave me a dog kiss. Except that it was somehow meant to be. I know Great Danes get older quicker, I know she had been slowing down, spending her time watching Scotty play video games instead of playing with the other dogs. It was still a huge shock. The video interspersed with pictures where I'm fighting with the dogs and she's right in the middle of it, it was just a few days before she left us. So, she was old for her, she was apparently ready to go. I keep thinking she thought that since Sami was here & loved me, it would be ok. I have no idea. What I know is that I miss her. And I also believe that she knew I could not handle watching her go or being there. Don't ask me how I know, no clue. As I was bawling my eyes out I said never again would I have a dog with a short life expectancy. 6 years is barely time to really get to know each other. But then I knew I would. Probably again, and again. Those big old lovable, crazy, bull in a china shop, short life expectancy dogs are going to be here any way. They might as well spend their time with someone who loves them and will hurt when they go. I'll probably always be that guy for whatever dogs chose to share their time on this earth with me. I know if she had to go she would have preferred for me to be there with her. But I really think she knew how bad that would have been for me and she saved me from that and took her comfort in Scotty & Kris. Always looking out for and protecting Dad. Now that I think about it, Max did the same. With him, he was sick and winding down for days and I was with him constantly. He waited to go until I was asleep. If I had it to do again, I would. Even as I sit here crying, writing and barely able to breathe six months later, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. As much as it still hurts it was a blessing to be chosen by her, trusted and loved by her, and in the end, looked out for by her. Till we wrestle again my darling Winnie. Winnifer. Winnie Pooh-Bah. Ms. Winnifred. Winnie Poomboscus. If love for a dog is judged by how many nickname's you come up with for them, I'm pretty sure Winnie's sure she picked the right guy. But then again, while I was thinking it was too soon and not in the budget, she was sure the first time she saw me. She hated men, until she loved me. Maybe there's hope for Sami. As much as it hurts, I'll always be glad Winnie & I got to dance.  When was the last time you used the word "ruckus"? Have you ever?
I think it's a word that you have to be a certain age to be familiar with. Back in the way back when men were men and wore fedora's and spoke with Italian accents in the movies, "ruckus" could be used as a greeting: "Yo' Louie! What's za ruckus pal?" You know. Like "what's happening dawg?", like the youngsters say these days. Come a little further along to my generation. "Ruckus" had taken on a whole new meaning. By way of example I will relate an instance of my dear mother using the word (believe me, I do not say that facetiously- I loved my Mom and can really look back and laugh about some of our memories, even if they weren't so hot at the time). Back in the early 80's we lived in a cool old house at 1430 Meade St. in Appleton. This house was so cool, my brother and I had not one, not two, but THREE forts on campus! Seriously! One under the front steps, one under the basement steps, then I had my own private one in my walk in closet. That had a window. Scant feet from the garage roof. Not saying I ever jumped from the closet window to the garage roof, to the ground and took off for downtown, or a girlfriends house or anything. Just saying it was there is all. Digression of mammoth proportions. Only here at www.scotteb66.com So anyway early on there my brother & I would be upstairs horse-assing around as my Dad called it. Mom would yell up the stairs "what's that ruckus up there you two? This isn't the Romper Room!" (For those unfamiliar with Romper Room or would like to take a trip down memory lane, here you go: CLICK ME-(really). ) A clatter, a bang, a cat screech, a growl, a tire squeal, an indoor firecracker explosion. Anything can be a ruckus. A ruckus is never specifically good or bad. It can be either. Ruckus is almost as versatile as the "F"-Bomb if you think about it. Somehow I found myself using the word plenty this year. "What a ruckus!' "Damn ruckus!" "What IS that ruckus?" How this old, seldom used any more word came back into play I have no idea. However I have been re-reading the Celestine Prophesy and that has some things to say about coincidences. Or lack thereof. The last half of the year I get. I was steeped in nostalgia with spending a lot of time in my hometown, going through the old neighborhoods and watching the memories flit by like changing channels on an old dial TV. Remember that? WAY off topic but do you remember the first remote controls on dial TV's actually involved a little motor that turned the channel? Great stuff we got to experience in the worlds coming of age! Back to the point, although I'm not sure there is one: It was weird. Driving around at night in the different area's of town remembering and seeing fleeting ghosts of who lived here, which fight happened there, that girl who lost her life being hit by a car just feet from her house, on her bicycle, in front of her parents. The one you only new casually because she was a freshman and you were just a 7th grader. Angie Fida. Always very nice to everybody, even those of us not quite to her station. I don't mean that to say she was uppity, she wasn't, but where her friends WERE snobby she was nice. I've never been able to forget her. She's buried not to far from my family and I go to see her once in awhile for a minute while I'm there. She was the first (and for the longest time only) experience I had with losing someone in my own age group and someone who wasn't a relative. I see kid's today lose whole groups of friends in accidents and I feel blessed that Angie was the only such tragedy I had to experience in my youth. And again I digress. See what I mean? Just a ruckus of thoughts in the head. So 2014 starts out ok, nothing big. Started with a jointly prepared dinner with friends New Years Eve, followed by a fairly crappy band at a local bar. The only thing that saved that experience was us all playing a prank on our friend Ron (affectionately known as Mo-Ron. We mean "moron", but he thinks it means "everybody needs a little more Ron"). The prank was making it look to the whole place like he had proposed to his girlfriend with a faux gum machine sparkler in her drink. He tried to play it off, but he appeared quite un-comfy for a few minutes! Super Bowl comes goes. 48th birthday comes and goes. Winter finally departs. I decided to turn my computer repair hobby into a business. The timing looked good, found a shop right next door to my day job with a pretty low overhead and decided to give it a shot. So I set up shop and it started out ok. The shop was actually paying for itself by the second month. Then the first whiffs of sh*t hitting the fan started to waft through 2014. My dog dies. My Great Dane Winnie. My first Dane. My girl Dane that my boy Doberman helped me decide on before he died in 2008. That's another story too. One I haven't been able to write yet. I've thought it was due to lack of time, but I think it's a matter of I'm just not ready. She had what's probably an "average" lifespan for a Great Dane, but it seemed awfully short to me. She was such a character and I really love her & miss her. I feel bad I went to work that day because I just knew something was wrong. Next thing it's July and things start getting really crazy. Kris' Mom, Arlene goes into the hospital (another story you can find here called "Losing Arlene") for quadruple by-pass which turned into a whole bunch of other things- for the record, she made it and will actually be going home soon, finally. Or what will be home now. In December. At almost the same time my aunt Donna who is my Mom's sister and my closest relative next to my Dad & brother needed her gall bladder removed. Which turned into a whole bunch of other things. She unfortunately did not make it and my heart continues to ache. My last times with her are incredible memories that most will not experience and while of course I wish I had more time with her, what I did have was incredible. (If you're curious look for one titled "My Cool Aunt"). The hardest part is that now there are a lot of memories I have that I no longer share with anyone. Donna was the last to share a whole bunch of memories about our family. We used to rundown memory lane all the time. Now a lot of our shared memories are only mine, and in some ways it's hard to accept and it makes me also feel a bit alone. Not in a bad way, but it's definitely strange. July to August when Donna passed became a blur and the trouble mounted. At first Kris was having to take off work for extended periods to go stay in Racine to take care of her Dad while her Mom was in the hospital. It got expensive. It was even more expensive with our kids out of school and a third one staying for the summer. Initially Donna had been doing better, but when things turned I had to start taking trips to Appleton, which got expensive. I seriously thought I was going to lose my mind trying to make ends meet. I probably actually did for awhile. Well, I did lose my mind. That's another story I'm not ready to tell yet either, so don't look for it. August 22, 2014 was Donna's last day with us. My cousin & I and his girlfriend and Donna's two best friends were with her. According to her Will, my cousin was nominated to take care of things and have everything passed to him. Long story, but Probate, especially for his own mother is not something he would be capable of. I was named to do it if he could not or would not. I accepted it because, well, I know I'm the only one who knew a lot of how she felt and wanted things to be taken care of. I had slightly assisted with my sisters funeral (again, another story) and wrote her obituary, but that was the extent of my experience with this sort of thing. So now I had to plan a funeral and try to do it in a way that my aunt would be proud of and in a way that everybody else would be pleased. Have you ever experienced this situation? Is it not absolutely unbelievable how some people get bent out of shape about somebody else's funeral? My main participation in my sisters funeral was making sure nothing stupid happened with what others had planned. This time I had to plan and make sure nothing stupid happened. It actually turned out quite well and as much as I'd have rather not had the experience, I think Donna would have been pretty impressed really. More back & forth and now Kris is running to Racine, I'm running to Appleton, we're both running to Appleton or Racine. It got expensive. A two income household with two people taking off work and traveling and eating fast food does not work. Money ceases to go out when it ceases to come in. September came and we thought we'd get a respite. We go to the Tomahawk Fall Ride every year with friends. This year we barely had time to get the RV ready. We do, we hit the road. 20 miles down the road we stop for air in a tire. Battery dies. Get it going. Another mile down the road the tire we just put air in blows. We have a spare. The tires for this RV are only currently made by one company and they're about $300 so I had stocked up on some used ones I found cheap. Back on the road after finally finding a garage that had the right size lug wrench to bring us. Very nervous for miles. We pass Wausau and finally relax a bit. We hit Tomahawk and are just about to our exit when the front tire on the other side blows. The other spares are at home in the garage. We and all our friends were calling everywhere looking for a tire and finally got one. Got to camp and it was sh*tty and rainy all weekend. One short ride on the bike. The bands sucked. We didn't even stay for the "headliners". By headliners I mean guys using an old bands name, but they weren't really that band. Made it home without incident which was good. I don't think I could have taken much more. I had no time for my computer repair shop so it quit paying for itself. We still managed to cover it for a bit, but by October we couldn't pay for it anymore and I had to close it. And bring everything home and find a place for it in the house. It's December, there's Christmas presents under the tree, but we're still recovering. I believe we will, but I'd be lying if I said I was no longer scared of financial ruin. In the time since Donna passed, Arlene has gotten better, gotten worse, gotten better, went to a nursing home, back to the hospital, back to a different nursing home, back to the hospital and back to the nursing home. In that time Kris' father Don has had problems himself. They've suspected he's been developing Alzhiemers or dementia for awhile. "They" being his family. He's been getting worse in several ways over the past couple months. He ended up in the hospital and then the same nursing home as his wife. The doctors determined he does not have Alzhiemers or dementia, he was just overdosing on his medicine. Well, they got that under control. But he still see's people who aren't there. He randomly falls, he forgets who his wife & daughters are, he harangues and insults them. An has no clue he's doing it. Believe me when I tell you Don in his right mind would never do that. He is an incredible man with nothing but love and respect for his wife and daughters. I can tell you it would break his heart if he did know what he was doing. They decided to send him home. Even though there is no way he could possibly take care of himself. So Kris' sister Sue took him to her house and now her & Kris take turns being there to take care of him when the other is working. This past weekend Kris took Don home to Racine. He had doctors appointments and Arlene needed to go home so she could be evaluated in home to see how she would do if released. She's ok, some work to do yet, but they'll be giving her the ok soon. Don's appointment didn't turn out as well. His doctors say despite his feistiness, he's shutting down. Congestive heart failure among other things. They say soon. So soon in fact that they decided not to renew any of his prescriptions or schedule any further appointments for check ups. They believe he'll go to bed one night soon and just not wake up in the morning. It is such a sad thing to watch. Pretty much 60 years Don & Arlene have been together, living in the same house they always have. The house they raised their family in, the house that still looks pretty much the same with pretty much the same furnishings as when Kris was little. The house that neither will probably live in anymore. Kris and Sue have been through so much with both of them. Arlene has been through far too much to finally make it through, only to lose her husband and virtually everything about life as she knew it before July. Believe it or not, there's more. But I'm not going to get into. Living through 2014 once was enough for me. There were some good things along the way. Before Winnie passed we adopted another Great Dane girl, Sami the brindle terrorist. She loves Kris & I and the other dogs, but doesn't have much use for any one else. Including our children. Her & Winnie enjoyed their little bit of time together. They decided to be a team against the two black labs in play wars. Of course they'd win by sheer size. After Donna passed I made a conscious decision to live more like her. Meaning to live and experience life rather than just work and issues. Kris and I made time to do a few things. We spent some great time visiting with my Dad and step mom. We went to see the Brian Setzer Orchestra's Christmas Extravaganza which was the most incredible show I've ever seen. Two weeks later I took my son Scott II and another kid, Kyle to see Buddy Guy at the same venue. My two favorite living artists in two weeks with the best possible company. Who's Kyle? Kyle is a 16 year old kid that hasn't probably had the greatest life thus far, but he's an incredible kid, that's becoming an amazing young man. In all of my years as a teenager, probably yours too, I never did as much community service as this kid does. But that's not how he ended up seeing Buddy Guy as his first concert ever. That came about because at 16 years old he happens to be one helluva blues guitar player. So good in fact that I maneuvered things to put another band together in addition to Gideon's Radio, (which happens to have an all original CD called "Solid State" available on I-Tunes, Amazon and wherever digital music is sold- hey! It's my website and I'll make as many shameless plugs as I like!) to showcase his talents and maybe get him noticed while he has that edge of being 16. In the process we ended up getting another talented youngster to join us. Bree is a 20 year old singer who auditioned for The Voice, but didn't quite make it. She's got the talent and the voice and now we have the vehicle to get her and Kyle the experience. So now John the drummer and I are two middle-aged guys with a ton of music experience that we're working on imparting to these kids to help them along and give a little something back to the music that has been such a part of our lives. Kyle Roberts & The Big Ruckus featuring Bree Morgan. That's right. The Big Ruckus. This all came together quite fast and once there was a show booked because of another bands cancellation, we needed a name. It was quite literally the first name that came to mind for me. Very unique band that we're going to have a lot of fun with once we get rolling. That's another story that will come eventually too. If you think you've seen all the "unique" there can be with a band, let me just say Kyle & I sit and the drummer stands. Find that somewhere else! Good luck! We've got our first show under our belts. A week and a half after coming together. That happened while John's Mom was recovering from a stroke just a couple weeks ago. This past Saturday John's Mom passed, and I think it'll be after the New Year before we get back to work. You can follow that progress at www.thebigruckus.com. It's now December 17th, 2014. Two weeks left in the month and ton's to get done before it's over. Two weeks before we kiss 2014's sorry ass goodbye and welcome 2015 and see what it has to offer. What a ruckus 2014 has been. But remember. "Ruckus" is a very versatile word. It can be a good or bad thing. I prefer to see it as good. As horrible as 2014's ruckus sounds, the truth is, it was also very good in some ways. The important ways. People. Life. Memories. Through the up's & down's, families got closer. They showed what they were made of. That their spirit could not be broken and that they would not give up. Family and friends that had been out of touch for years were brought back together for moments in time. New friends were made, new dreams pursued, successes, failures and works in progress are the remnants left in the memories of those of us who lived in the year 2014. Those who did not live through 2014 left us with love, with memories and with an impact on our lives that will forever shape our lives. 2014 has been no better or worse than any other years. It's just a year. It had no power to create the triumphs and tragedies that filled it's 365 days. It just was. At it's end, like every years end we will either sit and reflect on it's good & bad days and be thankful for the good or stew on the bad and we will proceed with cautionary measures into the great unknown of 2015. ("Cautionary measures" is a term used by the World's Greatest Janitor-Wally Zahn- which is again another story I may get to someday-Thanks for everything Wally!). Good, bad, in between life's a big ruckus. As long as you don't let it pass you by. Sure, we've all got a bit of procrastinator in us. I'm sure some of you reading this (if I let any one read it) have some serious procrastination chops too!
I'm fairly confident I could procrastinate you under the table on your best day. Take the now relatively common endeavor of quitting smoking. It's pretty much a daily thing in the world these days. I've had some friends with some great success in the past year or so. Me, I've been thinking about it. I've been thinking about quitting smoking since I was 14. I started when I was 12. Even at 14 I was pretty confident I could "quit any time I want to". I'm on the south end of 48 now. Master procrastinator. Don't even try to ball in my game. I've been going to quit for many a moon. It's just never the right time. Too much stress, too many things going on, I'll do it as soon as... blah, blah, blippety blah, blah. The fact is there's never going to be a "right time". There's never going to be a calm, relaxed, stress free period of time that lends itself to the undertaking of removing a bad habit from my life. But that time has come. I've seriously been kicking it around for awhile, particularly the past month. I've actually been working toward it for the past three weeks and next Monday, December 15th, I will have my last cigarette. I've been building up the Wellbutrin in the system courtesy of my saw bones. I've got nicotine gum and lozenges, I've got a vaporizer for the tough times. And I'm swapping out cigarettes for an occasional stogey when I really feel I need a little something extra. I've got my list of reasons I don't want to smoke any more: I'm sick of it, I don't like the cravings, I don't like the smell, I don't like the mess, I could go on & on about what I don't like about it. It costs money that could be much better spent elsewhere. Very few things on the list of what I do like about it. Whereas once upon a time everybody smoked and it was just what people do, not so much in todays world. Smokers have become the minority. Standing outside in the cold. Hiding around a corner for a few quick puffs because everybody you're with doesn't smoke. Most places even have their outdoor smoking area's looking like skid row too. Passersby think they're walking past a freak show or something. My Mom quit after many years in her late thirty's or early 40's. She was a huge smoker. Three packs a day or more some times. She was pissed that I ever started. Nineteen years ago yesterday I lost my Mom in a car accident, and while I think for the most part I've probably made her proud of me over the years, this is one thing I haven't ever really gotten too, that I know she would appreciate. I had already been planning on quitting and making a run for it before I scheduled my physical appointment with my doctor. We had talked about it and I was pretty resolved at the time. He prescribed Wellbutrin and told me to take it three to four weeks before I quit, to build it up in my system. I was good with that. Plenty of time to work up to it. I was pretty worried though. I never go to the doctor, even though I happen to think my doctor is the greatest on the planet. You see, in addition to the bad habit of smoking, I have other little quirks such as raging OCD (try to stop doing anything when your mind tells you that you must do things. A certain way, at a certain time, blah, blah, and if you don't you'll die or something bad will happen to you. Add in extreme irrational thinking (as if the above isn't bad enough). For example, the reason I avoid the doctor is quite simply that, no one ever found out they were going to die without going to the doctor. Doctor= bad news. No doc, no bad news, right? Because I had been being treated for high cholesterol for awhile and because I smoke, and because of how long it had been since I'd been in, Doc ordered tests and chest x-rays. Now you're thinking. "Oh no! Scott's doctor found something and said he has to quit"! Quite the contrary friends & neighbors. All the tests and x-rays came back normal, fine and surprisingly clear except for the fact that I obviously had a bit of a cold at the time. Now some might decide "hey, I guess smoking isn't really affecting me that much then!" and continue on. Me, I'm looking at it more like, "how freaking lucky am I?" Seriously! Thirty-three years of smoking, not exceptionally lightly I might add, and the x-rays come back clear & normal? Rather than a sign that it's ok to continue to smoke, I take it as a sign that it's a damn good time to get off the bus. Smoking has gotten me through some crap. It's no secret 2014 has not been a barrel of laughs in my world. Serious illnesses in both my family and Kris'. Financial shenanigans that damn near drove me crazy, opening and closing a business within six months, and too much more to bore you with. That's just 2014. Cigarettes have been my constant sidekick through many a hard time and a lot of good ones too. Saying goodbye to an "old friend" is pretty hard. Unless you really see that the friend wasn't really your friend at all. Cigarettes are like the good looking girl who makes sure all her friends aren't as attractive as her, so she can lead the pack. She seems like they're hero, helping them out and getting them a bit more social status around the school yard than they would have without her. Friends don't control friends. Cigarettes make damn sure they control every aspect of your life. If I go here can I smoke? If not, how long before I'll be able to smoke? If it's going to be awhile, is there a way to sneak off and have one? Controlled by a bunch of shredded tobacco wrapped in white paper with a nifty little filter to catch nowhere near enough of the bad stuff. Once my Mom found out I started smoking, she was hot. Especially if she wanted me to do something and I was too busy smoking. "The ALL MIGHTY cigarette!" she would exclaim to show her displeasure. I've always remembered that. Not just the words. The tone, the exasperation, all of it. I think when I was younger I didn't even get what she was saying. I sure as hell do now. The all mighty cigarette. How many things have been affected one way or another because of being controlled by the need to smoke? I have no interest in trying to catalog that mess. I know it's a lot. I'm a fairly independent guy. I do my own thing, march to the beat of a psychotic drummer with a bell festooned jester hat. I let nothing and no one control me in any way because I spent so many years of my life being controlled by others, by rules, by walls and even sometimes by bars and marriages that weren't operating the way they should. I will rebel and fight against any attempt to control me. At all costs. I will not allow it. As my favorite and recently departed dear Aunt Donna always said "I'm free, white and over the age of 18: I'll do whatever the hell I want". So the "white" part may no longer be "politically correct", but that's also something I don't allow to control me. It has come to my attention that through some oversight, some back door sneak attack, cigarettes somehow got control of me. More so than anything else. Sneaky, tricky, dirty, conniving little bastard. How did that happen? I have no idea how it happened, but now that I know it did, I'm calling bullshit. Next Monday night I'll have my last cigarette. Next Monday night cigarettes will be squawking and screaming and telling me "but DUDE! The doc said it's cool man!" Bullshit. I'm in control of my life. Not the all mighty cigarette who has no might once it's secret is exposed. So I shall quit. I will be in control of whether I have a lozenge, a stick of gum, a puff of the old vaporizer, whatever I have to do, I'll decide and I'll be in control. I will succeed because I will not be controlled. I will succeed because only I can eliminate everything I don't like about smoking. I will succeed because failure, while I've experienced my fair share, is not my strong suit. I will succeed because I just told everybody and I'll look like an idiot if I don't. Speaking of which, if you're reading this it means that my irrational fear concerning anyone reading anything I write privately must be on it's way out too. |
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