And there I was… standing with feet spread wide apart on the roof with wind wildly blowing my hair. It was a strong wind, with gusts likely to topple me without a broad base of support. From that vantage, I looked down at the lake and beyond, finished my work, then descended the ladder to safety. Septuagenarian men aren’t supposed to be walking around on the roof.
Beforehand, I woke my spouse to say I was getting the ladder to climb on the roof. We had previously agreed I wouldn’t be doing that any more. This time, there was no choice: the gutters were clogged and rain was expected in the afternoon. I checked the gutters after winter and they looked clear. Obviously, something changed before the major storm on Tuesday.
I am confident in my abilities and had the gutters cleared in no time. I inspected the roof while I was up there. It is in good shape for a few more years. As I walked the ladder around the house and into the garage, I said to myself, “What is wrong with me?”
I could have hired someone to check the gutters this spring. All the same, there are dozens of household tasks in queue and the net effect of too many of them is to delay. That is, until reality hits home and we must act.
I don’t know if I’ll get up on the roof again. I will avoid it if I can. At the same time, I like being universal man overlooking my domain in strong wind. It is not rational, yet there it is.
Selfie taken with computer video camera on April 28, 2020, the day I retired from paid work.
When the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a pandemic on March 11, 2020, I began pulling back from engagement in society. That process continued when I decided to retire from work at the home, farm and auto supply store on April 28 that year. Since then, I have distanced myself from almost everything and developed a new way of engaging in society.
I don’t spend as much time with people as I did. My conversational style shows it.
The main part of my days is spent at home with a weekly trip to the grocery store and a couple other shopping trips each month. The automobile is not getting many miles. If there is a reason, I will travel to the county seat, to my home town, or to Chicago or Des Moines to run errands or visit family and friends. That is about it.
The last activity I dropped was membership in the county Democratic Party central committee. I led the January 15 precinct caucus and will be attending the county convention on March 23. After that, I will become a worker bee in politics, not an organizer. I’m good with the change.
A majority of my time will be divided between working to maintain and fix up our home, writing, and sorting through the accumulation of too much stuff. So far, that keeps me busy.
This time at home as a writer is what I worked for all my life. If I am stepping back from society, I am stepping into a new life lived the way I want. As long as my health holds and we have money enough to live, I’ll be alright.
Since I made it this far, I’ll quote Douglas MacArthur, “Old soldiers never die, they just fade away.” Already, I can hardly see my shadow on a sunny day.
In one minute, my newly downloaded app, Merlin from Cornell University, identified the sounds of four birds: American Robin, Blue Jay, American Crow and Northern Cardinal. They are common birds in Big Grove Township yet the app is training me in how to listen for and identify bird life with which I’ve lived since we moved here. I stood on the front steps and turned it on. Briefly, it is fun.
Judging from my email traffic, yesterday was busy. I published the letter to the editor I wrote yesterday, worked on my class reunion, planned for the county convention, cleaned, and cooked. I made chili and cornbread for dinner.
My chili recipe is toned down for milder palates. Six ingredients: a diced large onion, three 15-ounce cans of organic kidney beans, three pints of tomato sauce (home canned or store bought), chili powder, cumin, and a bag of Morningstar Farm Recipe Crumbles. I usually make vegan cornbread to go with it. It isn’t like the cornbread Mother used to make but it is uniquely ours and tasty.
Overall it was a punk day, with a walk on the state park trail being the only outdoors activity. When I moved the mulch over the garlic earlier in the week, there was still frost on the ground underneath. We had a couple of days in a row where temperatures got up to 70 degrees. A few more and I will be able to dig in the garden.
We got much-needed rain this morning. Hope to get outdoors in between showers. Lots to do this cloudy day before we get into Spring.
I made lentil soup for dinner last night. With a slice of bread, it made a satisfying meal. What distinguished this pot of soup from more generic vegetable soups I make was the restricted number of ingredients. Here’s how I made it.
I covered the bottom of the Dutch oven with tomato juice and brought it to temperature: enough juice to steam fry the vegetables. We use tomato juice instead of oil to reduce our consumption of cooking oil. My tomato juice is a byproduct of making tomato sauce from the garden.
Next came finely diced onions, carrots, and celery, the mainstays of any soup. I added three bay leaves and salted. Then I diced three medium potatoes and added them.
From the pantry I added one and a half cups of dried lentils and three quarters cup pearled barley. Cover with tomato juice and set to medium heat.
From the freezer I added two one-cup bags of shredded zucchini and two frozen disks of fresh parsley. By now, the lentils and barley were absorbing the liquid so I added tomato juice and one quart of water to cover. I used a total of three quarts of tomato juice and one quart of water.
Two or three cups of chopped, fresh leafy green vegetables from the garden. I had collards for this pot of soup, but kale, collards or others will serve. Frozen is fine also.
Once the pot boils, reduce the heat and let it simmer until the lentils, barley and potatoes are tender. This process yielded a meal for two people plus three and a half extra quarts of soup for leftovers.
It is the kind of meal regular folks like us appreciate.
By 1962 I owned a camera and used it to photograph our neighborhood. I walked north on Marquette Street and took snapshots of the Levetzow’s holiday display. They owned Model Dairy Company and at Christmas filled their whole yard with lighted Christmas decorations. On the southwest corner of their house was a large crèche. To its right was a lighted display of Santa, his sleigh, and reindeer. We viewed them as an affluent family, such affluence being on conspicuous display at the holidays. They had a kid-sized model of their dairy delivery van, although none of us local kids got to drive it.
I photographed the holiday display at the house across the street to the south. This was a rental through which families moved frequently. Eventually, a young Joe Whitty and his family moved there to work at the nearby Mercy Hospital bakery. He later opened his own chain of pizza and ice cream restaurants called Happy Joe’s.
We posed for pictures with my film camera. I gave more thought to each frame than I do today because the results were not immediately available. There were only so many shots on a roll so I felt I had to get the framing right before exposing film. It was a process of experimentation and expense.
Having a camera was complicated because one needed film and never knew how photographs would come out when taking them. Developing film could take a while, depending upon when the entire roll would be exposed, and when one could get it to the drug store to be developed. Photographs were special. I possessed a sense they would have enduring value.
There is a photo of me in my altar boy cassock and surplus, one of us kids bowling, and many posed photos of all of us in the foyer. One favorite foyer photo is of Mother and Father dressed up in costumes to go out on New Year’s Eve in 1962. The following January I captured my sister’s birthday party during which we all danced the twist. Mother took some of those shots. My parents had just begun listening to long-playing records at home and had copies of popular LPs by twist artists like Chubby Checker and Fats Domino.
In 1963 I began buying color film. Pictures survived… of Easter, my sister’s first communion, a trip to the park, Father standing next to the wrecked 1959 Ford. Mostly they were posed photos signifying a special event.
Using a camera was an inexpensive way to have fun. Because the process took so long, it seemed more creative: requiring thought, editing, and an ability to understand the viewer and how it would relate to the finished exposure.
My grandmother was an influence in my photography. She purchased inexpensive cameras at the drug store and used them to record moments with the family. The desire to pose and capture a photo was something creative I didn’t understand at the time. We were plain folk and when we got dressed for church, or to attend an event, it was a big deal. Grandmother wanted to capture those moments on film. It’s a natural impulse that presents an interpretation of who we were. Of course, we always wanted to put the best foot forward in these constructed frames.
Because photography was a technology with numerous steps, and there was a cost of film and prints, I don’t have many photos from my earliest days. However, I have a lot by comparison. The ones that survive tell me who I was and inform our family culture. They are an important part of remembering who we were. From that early time I began thinking about how to narrate my life using a camera. There is a direct creative thread running from 1962 to the present and spun on my use of cameras.
I searched “How is the GDP doing right now?” The answer returned from the internet was “U.S. GDP or Gross Domestic Product is the total value of goods produced and services provided in the U.S. It is at a current level of 27.94T, up from 27.61T last quarter and up from 26.41T one year ago. This is a change of 1.19% from last quarter and 5.80% from one year ago.” I’m not sure what this means to an ordinary guy like me.
I’m most interested in our family income, our consumption of goods and services, and the quality of life we produce for our family and in roles we assume among the rest of society. The group French President Nicholas Sarkozy put together at the time of the 2008 financial crisis thought like I do. Such items should be part of how we measure performance of the broad economy. That GDP doesn’t is part of the problem with using GDP. The committee enumerated such concerns in their recommendations and pointed out obstacles to accurately collecting this data and conveying it in a generic report. It’s been more than ten years and I don’t know if anything came of it.
My life sometimes seems like it is on generic autopilot, continuously moving from one task to the next, with little emotion and a hope to make it successfully through each day, week and month. I made it so far. There has to be more in life.
Because we live on a fixed income, tasks I undertake are devoid of financial concerns. They are weighted toward what has to be done and what I want to do. I know which activities are too expensive and which must be delayed until they will fit in the budget. This knowledge creates a quality of life.
For example, after replacing some major appliances (stove, washer, dryer and furnace) our electricity expense reduced by 20 percent year over year. Replacing decades old appliances was something we would not have done except for the fact they couldn’t be cost-effectively repaired. In the case of the furnace, replacement parts were simply not available. We had to replace them. Money saved on electricity will be assigned other uses. It will be a non-item in the bigger picture. Our quality of life is better for having new appliances.
Our health care is in turmoil right now because the University of Iowa bought Mercy Hospital. The practitioner I saw in town already jumped ship. Staff at the clinic seemed uncertain what would be next and reported some people were keeping options open on a month-to-month basis until a transition plan was known. This tumult is part of the story of our financial condition as it relates to health care.
The rest of the health care story is that since getting on Medicare, I’ve had very little to co pay. If it was $10 over the years, that would be a high estimate. My insurance comes from Medicare, which deducts the premium from my Social Security payment, combined with a supplemental health insurance plan and a Medicare Part D prescription drug plan. My experience is different from my cohort who belong to Medicare Advantage programs. It is different from people who are on Medicaid or on private health insurance. The country needs to convert to Medicare for All and do away with private insurance completely. How differently people solve health care needs creates a challenge when it comes to measurements like the GDP.
Household maintenance and health care are two measurements of our financial and personal condition. There are others like our health, who does household tasks like simple repairs, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry, and care giving. We also measure net worth, monitor loans, and prioritize major repairs around the property. We keep a balance sheet. When it comes down to dust, I feel like we are doing alright, yet have no real idea whether we are.
I am glad the GDP is rising… except for the way the environmental costs of exploitative industries are omitted… except for the way the numbers favor large business and government interests. Production looks good this quarter. How will it look to our children ten or twenty years from now?
I have a sketchy relationship with GDP. The more I learn, the less I like it. I need to develop my own narrative of how things are going.
Tools to make the first tray of garden seedlings. Kale went in on Feb. 3.
I’ve been chatting it up with some neighbors on social media. There was consensus we hunkered down inside our homes for most of January because of snow and freezing ambient temperatures. There is hope for a break in winter and we’d just as soon move into spring. Personal productivity lags in winter. It’s time to step up the pace.
The idea of a “week” still resonates. Monday means start of the week, Friday is for closing down activities, Saturday is to perform a number of small household tasks, plus help our child with their small business. Sunday remains a day of rest, sort of. It’s not the same as when I worked full time. Then I knew that Friday usually meant casual clothes, voluntary trips to the office, and time to pursue my writing and family life.
I walked about the garden. The green I saw from the kitchen was collards that had been eaten more than I could tell from a distance. I had no interest in picking through the leaves, especially with a freezer full already available. I suppose the cruciferous vegetable-eating insects that survive the cold don’t have a lot to choose from in winter.
On Saturday I planted the first seeds for the garden and put the tray on a heating pad under a grow lamp. They are mostly last year’s seeds and that should not be a problem for kale. Kale is one of the vegetables I have mastered growing. It was something to see the tools lined up and ready to start. I worked with the garage door open for the fresh air and because we seem to be exiting the Iowa deep freeze.
Saturday the snow stopped and I blew the driveway for the fifth or sixth time this week. Yes, that’s right, I can’t remember how many times. The work went quickly and with the snow finished for now, all I’ll have to deal with is wind-blown drifts.
Attire is a thing during a blizzard. For outdoors work, I donned my Star Wars Mos Eisley t-shirt, my Chicago Bulls sweat shirt from when Michael Jordan was playing, relatively new Levis blue jeans and J.C. Penney rubberized boots, a scarf Mother knitted me while I served in the military, a stocking cap from that same era, and a Carhartt jacket bought on sale when I worked at the home, farm, and auto supply store before the coronavirus pandemic. Working together, it all kept me warm as the snow flew around my electric snow blower. I did feel a bit like a walking logo store, yet I’m not going to get rid of serviceable clothing.
Sunday started with ambient outdoor temperatures below minus ten degrees Fahrenheit. With no reason to go outdoors, I kept the garage door closed while we regulated indoors temperatures. The new furnace worked well and the space heater took the chill off my downstairs work room. There was a two-hour planning session with our child and the rest of the day is for planning the beginning of the year for me. In a stable environment, what the weather does is less of a worry than running out of time.
We take days like these in stride. Without a paying job, what the weather does has less impact. The blizzard provided a reason to stay indoors and work on long delayed projects. Later today I must venture to town to lead our precinct caucus. The blizzard will keep all but the most devoted from participating. Some years it is like that, blizzard or not.
Driveway covered with snow a few hours after clearing it. Jan. 9, 2024.
A blizzard is welcome these days, especially when one works from home. They remove most temptation to leave the property and go to town. We become isolated as much as is possible in the time of broadband access and mobile telephones. Diet changes based on what is in the pantry and freezer. Like most modern middle class families we keep a lot of extra food on hand, so we are ready to survive, come what may.
Is there gasoline for the generator? Check. Is there enough store-bought bread? Check. Is the snow blower positioned near the garage door with extension cords? Check. Is there extra drinking water in case the well goes down? Check.
Wednesday morning I made ramen my own way. I bought a 24-package box of Maruchan brand ramen noodle soup. After looking at available options, I picked soy sauce flavor, hoping it was vegetarian. It wasn’t. One of the ingredients in the flavoring packet was “beef extract,” whatever that is. I discarded the packet and made my own with one cup tomato juice, and a combination of white miso paste, vegetarian worcerstershire sauce, and home made hot sauce. It was surprisingly sweet and delicious.
My neighbor came over to help clear the end of the driveway where the plow pushed snow from the street. The two of us made quick work of it and decided we didn’t need further exercise for the day. We are both retired and need daily exercise for health reasons. The blizzard broke up the routine of trail walking.
I recently read a book titled, Blizzard by Phil Stong, written in 1955. The story is of a farm family in southeastern Iowa during a blizzard. So many neighbors and friends stopped by during the storm, it seemed very communal. I suppose that’s the way it was on a farm back in the pre-internet days. For the most part, today it’s the two of us alone in the house making do.
On day two of the storm I drove across the lakes to Costco and wore a mask indoors. There were others doing so, although very few customers were inside. Staff was talking about who would be released first to go home. The risk of contracting the coronavirus seemed minimal. I wore a mask anyway.
The car radio was filled to the max with commercials promoting 45 and Nikki Haley, but no one else. Absent adequate and recent publicly released polling it’s hard to say who will win the Republican caucus vote. It will be one of those two, I believe. Of course, the Democrats are not voting for president on caucus day.
More storms are lining up the rest of the week and we shouldn’t have to go out until they finish. For now, it’s a matter of getting the mail and seeing whether delivery trucks make it through. It’s the newest version of Iowa winter during a blizzard.
We celebrated a minimalist Christmas this year. My spouse and I left the holiday decorations in their boxes, did not plan a special menu, and made some cards to send to a few friends. Ambient temperature was 53 degrees Fahrenheit at 3 a.m. on Christmas Day, and rain is in the forecast. It will be a time for reflection.
The first Christmas I think of is when I was in first grade. I had a discussion with Mother about whether Santa Claus was a real person, and that year imagined I saw him flying through the sky with his reindeer. Father spend a lot of time in the basement of our rented home near Wonder Bakery on River Drive. He was building me a desk to keep in my room for school studies. I rapidly outgrew it and still have it. Our child indicated they don’t want it when I’m gone. I’m okay with finding another home for it.
Midnight Mass was an annual Christmas activity after we moved to Marquette Street in 1959. I remember walking the block and a half to the church as snow fell upon us. It was one of the best-attended services of the year, so we had to go early to ensure getting a seat. My maternal grandmother was the main force of religion in our family and she herded us along. Holy Family Catholic Church was a center of our family life. Mother and Father were married there, Grandmother worked as a housekeeper in the rectory. Mother worked in the school cafeteria. I was baptized and confirmed there, as were my siblings, and we kids attended grade school at the parish school.
When I left home in 1970, Christmas became mostly a time of traveling home for the holiday. At university, I didn’t want to stay in the dorm over the long Christmas break, so I went home. I do not have living memory of those Christmases. It was never the same after Father died in 1969. When I enlisted in the military in 1976, I came home for Christmas maybe once. It was a long way from Germany where I was stationed.
After our wedding we split holiday time between Ames and Davenport where our parents lived. When our child was born, it felt important for grandparents and great grandparents to have time with them and the end of year holidays were a good time to do that. It was never our holiday because of the travel. It was an important duty of parenting we fulfilled as best we could.
Since our child left Iowa in 2007, Christmas has been hit or miss. There were good ones, and average ones. At some point we stopped doing anything special. We haven’t unboxed the decorations in a few years. We make an effort to call important people in our lives, yet that gets spread over the time between Dec. 18 (our wedding anniversary) and New Year’s Day. Christmas Day is no longer as special as it once was.
According to the Social Security life expectancy calculator, a reasonable expectation is I will have 14 more Christmases and my spouse will have 16. I expect to do everything possible to make them the best we can. Merry Christmas dear readers. Have a happy 2024!
Journey Home 
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