A Time to Mow

Many homeowners in our St. Paul Macalester Groveland neighborhood use lawn services in the summer. Bob has always cut his own grass and I think he was a little reluctant to let me take on some of the work when I retired four years ago.

However, that first summer he was recovering from knee surgery and he could do only limited mowing. Years ago, I used a rotary mower and I made have made a pass or two with a power mower early in our marriage. Mowing an entire lawn was a totally new experience for me.

I was amazed to find that mowing the lawn is a very satisfying activity. It has a beginning and an end, and the process itself is very soothing in its monotony. An added benefit is that no conversation is possible. I put in my ear plugs and just get the job done. I have no interest in listening to music or the radio. Why add a distraction?

I'm half through my fifth summer now, and we divide up the work to get our property done in about an hour, using two mowers. Bob weed whips most weeks and cleans the sidewalk with a power blower. I sweep the deck and wash the tables, and then we enjoy a big glass of water while we admire our work.

It's a good life.

Prairie Garden: Disaster in Year 4?

The promise

Three years ago I surprised myself with an eclectic butterfly and bird friendly display of flowers in what I called my "prairie garden". I thought that I might have something of a green thumb after all, but it's fairly evident that my knowledge and skills are, at best, limited. Still, the results were fine in 2015 and 2016,  and I felt reasonably confident inaugurating another season.

We got off to a rough start with planting after the weather turned cold a few weeks ago, and record May rain wasn't helpful. Bob was happy to postpone most planting until after Memorial Day, but I, never one to procrastinate, was eager to get the soil tilled and ready before our holiday weekend out-of-town junket.

After two seasons of using a spade to loosen the rocky ground, last year Bob rented a gas tiller and prepared the soil for me. This is not something I can do on my own, as the machine is very heavy and somewhat temperamental. I can pull the cord to start it, but it has to be primed and perfect for it to work. Definitely beyond me.

Anyway, yesterday was the day. The machine was even heavier than I remembered and, once started, it tended to run away with the operator. Bob gave himself a break and off I went through the garden. The tiller pulled me forward: I thought I would fall head first into the rocky, churned up earth until I was relieved of my duties and relegated to the sidelines.

The job got done. Time to plant. A few weeks ago, I was seduced by one of those flyers in the weekend newspaper, showing a happy gardener unrolling a carpet of beautiful pollinator friendly summer flowers. I was hooked: I imagined a Jack-in-the-Beanstalk magic transformation into a farmers' market harvest of beauty. Within a few days, my online order arrived:  five large plastic envelopes of seeds embedded in 8 sq. ft. sheets of heavy biodegradable, compostable paper.

My border looks like toilet paper

As promised, it was easy to cut the sheets into the "desired size and shape". I made strips of paper for a sunflower seed border along the east side of the garage. By then, it was mid-afternoon and a wind had come up, so I needed to anchor down the paper, first with some of the rocks still in the soil and then with the "1/8 " of topsoil recommended by the directions. My carpet of flowers looked like old toilet paper.

Then I tackled the bird and butterfly friendly planting. I wanted to leave myself a little path for weeding, so I divided the plot into triangles, and placed half a sheet in each triangle. By the time I finished, the rectangles looked like a random landing of old white towels, covered with black dirt -- not the topsoil layer, since it had settled in clumps at various spots on the paper. Nevertheless, I watered the mess, as directed.

The reality ... for now

"What the hell kind of pattern is that?", asked Bob. Dismayed and discouraged, I scrambled to straighten the rectangles. They were soaking wet and ripped a little under the weight of the topsoil layer. By the time I finished, pressing shredded paper into the earth so it wouldn't blow away, I was sweating. Since coverage is obviously insufficient, I will be supplementing my carpeted mess with the same seed I've used in the past.

My workfree artistic venture has evolved into a secondary salvage project. There will be no miraculous carpet of flowers anytime soon.

Happy Holidays 2016

The State of our Union is Strong ...

I took this photo of the White House last month. 

I love the phrase "the state of our union is strong". When I hear it, read it, or say it, I feel uplifted and optimistic.

I've loved the political process and the art of governing since I was a young child. Some of my first memories are of my dad railing against then Canadian Prime Minister John Diefenbaker and his elation (yes, elation) when Quebec Premier Maurice Duplessis died in office in 1959.  I learned early on that crushing electoral defeats were eventually followed by a shift in attitudes and "victory". One of these victories -- the first I remember for sure -- was that of Jean Lesage, who led Quebec during a turbulent but exciting time in its history.

Last night, Donald Trump was elected President of the United States. He was not my candidate and we turned off the TV as the evening wore on, when stations darkly analyzed the electoral map, pointing out Hillary Clinton's slim chances in battleground states.

The victory was decisive. As of 6:25 a.m. CST: Electoral College: Trump 289; Clinton 218.  In Congress, Republicans have control of both the House (235-191) and the Senate (51-47). Minnesota voted for Clinton, as expected, but not really by much (46%-43%). In the State Legislature, Republicans retained control of the House; the Senate is still too close to call, but the the slim DFL majority in the Senate seems to be threatened. I was almost surprised that Democrat Rick Nolan retained his seat in Congressional District 8, against second time challenger Stuart Mills.

Trump was gracious in his speech after Hillary Clinton called him to concede the election. There are a few protests around the country, but for the most part, the nation is calm. Families divided over the election, including mine, can now get back to some kind of normalcy.

Governing is not easy, and President-Elect Trump faces many challenges as a Washington "outsider". He is a dealmaker but he will learn that compromise isn't easy and one can't always succeed by insulting and disparaging one's enemies.

I heard this morning that Canada's immigration website crashed as Trump's victory seemed certain. I am a dual citizen of the United States and Canada, but although I love Canada, I will not be returning to my native country anytime soon. I've lived in the United States for over half my life now, and Minnesota is definitely home.

It's time to put this ugly election in the rear view mirror. Many who seemed to feel disenfranchised only a few days ago now have the responsibilities that come with leading a new administration. While we face challenging but interesting years, our beloved republic will survive and prosper.

Our country has always been great and the state of our union is still strong.

Remembering Istanbul

Facebook pics.

The terrorist attack on Istanbul's Ataturk airport two days ago reminded me of my visit to Istanbul in the spring of 2008. I was tagging along with my sister Marilyn. a participant in the annual conference of the American Association of Child and Adolescent Psychiatrists. The destination sounded somewhat exotic and exciting, yet "western" enough for me to feel comfortable as a woman in a predominantly Muslim country. I've always liked being among people who are different from me so I thought me pre-trip literature and cursory study of my Turkish language book would be sufficient preparation.

Hilton Bosphorus

Marilyn and I connected easily in Amsterdam and made our way to the departure gate for an uneventful, if crowded, flight to Istanbul. We arrived in that ancient city in the rain, and our first challenge was obtaining a colorful tourist visa at a crowded counter in the airport. We took a cab to the upscale Hilton and enjoyed the ride, charmed by the sight of people fishing off the bridge as we drove by.

Marilyn at her conference

The hotel was lovely and our room gave us a magnificent view of the Bosphorus, where military, commercial and private watercraft moved up and down the river day and night. We started every day with a delicious breakfast of fruit, grains and various meats and loved a morning swim at the hotel's unusual pool. On our first evening, we fought fatigue and ventured a few blocks from the hotel for dinner. Marilyn was determined to eat Turkish delicacies like pork brain, while I stuck with more familiar lamb kabobs and rice or orzo. We ate out most evenings, often at little sidewalk restaurants. Bread and pastries were always excellent.

The language proved to be a bigger barrier than I had anticipated. In the past, I had always been able to communicate wherever I travelled, but Romance languages are easy for someone who speaks one or two, as I do. Turkish is totally different, and the only word I learned was "sutlac", delicious rice pudding that I learned to recognize on the menu, whether or not pictures were provided.

I was a little alarmed by the frosty reception we encountered from many younger service staff, and a little scared the few times we were out after dusk, when men seemed to leer at us, two respectable middle-aged women alone in a strange city. One of our tour guides was in his twenties, taciturn and surly. He spoke excellent English but spent much of his time on his cell phone. His conversations sounded ugly and menacing, especially to someone with as much imagination as I have. When one of us commented on Mustafa Ataturk, the founder of the Turkish Republic, he sneered and seemed to suggest that the best days of the Republic were ahead. In 2008, Islamist sympathies were beginning to become evident, even to a westerner with only a cursory knowledge of a Turkish timeline.

On May 1, I wasn't worried about what I thought would be May Day celebrations. That day I was accompanying Marilyn to the day's meetings, held about a mile from the Hilton. As we walked toward the conference venue, we noticed a rapid gathering of mostly young people walking in our direction. The crowd became very dense, and we walked arm in arm as riot police arrived on the scene, causing anger among protesters. Young men dug bricks out of the street and used them as weapons. The air was filled with the smell and sting of tear gas. The beautiful May morning was full of noise and chaos, and a young student told Marilyn and me to get to safety. "You are not safe", he said. There were many videos published that day; this is one of them.

Bricks were used as weapons

At the time, I thought that the police were exhibiting and unnecessarily violent response to a peaceful protest. Now, I still think the response was excessive, but I'm less sure of the protesters' innocence. Marilyn and I managed to get to the conference and I hastily emailed our families to let them know we were all right. I learned later that there had been little media coverage of the May Day events. In fact, that very morning, Matt Lauer was broadcasting from a ship on the Bosphorus, and the beauty of the city was quite breathtaking.

Lots of beautiful items for sale on the street

That night we looked at the possibility of leaving the city early but we decided to remain and enjoy the rest of our visit. We loved Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, the Topkapi Palace and the Istanbul cisterns. A charming artist and dealer of rugs and antiquities showed us the city from beautiful rooftop patio. Good experiences outnumbered the bad, compensating for the May Day scare and an afternoon when we got hopelessly separated from our tour grop in the Grand Bazaar.

Nevertheless, we were delighted to go home the following week. Our flight to Amsterdam was early so we cabbed to the airport way before dawn. We were at the gate when we learned that our flight had been canceled, and airport personnel made us gather our bags and go back to the terminal, where we had to get ourselves rerouted. The lines were endless and it took forever to get new boarding passes. I regretted having a heavy bag to lug around.

I got a flight to London, then went on to Chicago and eventually MSP. I literally kissed the ground when I finally landed, about 30 hours after the beginning of my journey home. Marilyn spent a sleepless night in Munich before flying home to Toronto the next day.

This week's pictures of the Istanbul airport were shockingly familiar. I remembered the hours we spent there and felt transported back to the awful confusion we experienced, still far from the horror of the terrorist attacks. I was immediately ashamed for complaining about the Istanbul experience all these years.

Turning Thirty

Spring photos.

Today my son Chris celebrates his thirtieth birthday. When I turned thirty myself nearly thirty-six years ago, I thought it was the beginning of the end. I had never expected to live so long (!) and here I was with no clear idea of what I wanted from the rest of my life.

I met my husband just over a year later and the rest is, well, history. I became a mother on the warm May Sunday of Memorial weekend in 1986, and didn't really know what to expect from motherhood. The screaming baby I'd anticipated was, in fact, very quiet and easy. He slept all night at two and a half weeks and simply came along with us wherever we went.

Of course, the simple early months ended as soon as my active pre-toddler struggled  to climb out of his crib, playpen and stroller. For the next five or six years, my "escaper" had to be watched every waking minute and held tightly whenever we went outside. Fortunately, hockey became a favorite sport. After Chris' first hockey practice, he lay in Bob's recliner, sprawled in the chair from exhaustion, and I realized that I had inadvertently found an activity that would both capture his interest and provide a healthy outlet for his restless spirit.

An active, headstrong child is a challenge to raise, but I'm very proud of the way he turned out. My now thirty-year-old is skilled, competent and successful in business and in life. More important, Chris is a good person with a kind and generous heart, whose boundless energy and creativity are contagious.

I now view the decades as a continuum rather than discrete blocks of time, and thirty is simply a point on the maturity scale, with lots of room for growth. For Chris and all who reach this milestone birthday, I hope thirty is the gateway to a future filled with a happy family and good friends.

Mr. Toad Finds a Home

Spring photos.

I think of him as "my" toad. Anyone who grew up in my hometown of Temiscaming, Québec would recognize my nostalgic memories of a childhood filled with wildlife, including lots of amphibians.

I was more familiar with frogs than toads, since one of my favorite spring activities was collecting frogs' eggs from the pond on the dusty old Ville Marie road. Like many other kids, I stored the eggs in a milk bottle filled with pond water, and watch the black dots in the gelatinous eggs develop into polliwogs and, finally, frogs. We released the frogs into the garden when they started to jump around too much to contain in a makeshift terrarium.

I remember seeing toads in wet, leafy areas, minding their own business and quietly eating insects, worms and whatever else seemed appetizing, but I'm not sure I'd even picked one up until a couple of weeks ago.

My husband Bob grew up in the city and had never had a close encounter with a toad until he found one lounging in his Weber grill a few weeks ago. Bob called me to "deal with it" so I picked him up carefully, rinsed him off in the birdbath and laid him it carefully in the grass. A few days later we grilled again and Mr. Toad was back under the grill cover, resting on the propane tank. Same routine to get him out of harm's way.

On Sunday Mr. T. was nowhere to be found and I feared that one of his predators (raccoon, skunk, owl, snake ...) had eaten him. However, this afternoon, he was back on the propane tank and I deposited him on the edge of the birdbath. He soon disappeared into the grass.

The grill is covered and cool now, and I can picture Mr. Toad safely asleep under the cover after enjoying a tasty bug dinner.

Good News!

Spring photos.

Today I went to the new University of Minnesota Clinics and Surgery Center for my Entyvio (vedolizumab) infusion, my only remaining Crohn's medication. The new center is attractive, though not quite as great as I had thought it would be.

I know that a lot of staff who have been toiling for years in dark quarters were looking forward to windows. Well, there are windows all right but many of them let in light but provide no view of the outside.

The treatment room lacked some organization and processes seem to lack uniformity. I was surprised that the sharps disposal container requires a visual check to determine whether it needs emptying. Surely it would be possible generate an electronic alert or notification when the container is x% full. There's still a lot of work to be done before systems satisfy staff and patient needs, but the new smell is wonderful and everything is so clean.

As always, I had some lab tests and for the first time since I became a frequent flyer at Fairview and U of M clinics, all my blood work was normal. My hemoglobin is now 12.1 and the recently problem white blood count is 4.1, both finally within standard range. Dr. Howard, my gastroenterologist, messaged me that the labs looked "amazing".

Although "amazing" is certainly an overused word, the news really was amazing and I am thrilled.

Feeling Great!

Winter photos.

I never appreciated good health until it slipped away, gradually at first, almost imperceptibly. After I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS) in 2004, I accepted the effects of Avonex, a medication that made me ill for at least a day a week for over 10 years. During that time, I had no relapses. I thought the weekly headachy fatigue, like a bad hangover sometimes extending for several days, was the price I paid for being able to work and play without restrictions noticeable to anyone but myself.

My neurologist recommended discontinuing Avonex in August 2014, hoping I would remain relapse free. I almost immediately lost the "hung over" feeling and several MRIs and neurological evaluations showed no change in MS status. However, in early 2014 I began to notice symptoms like nausea and diarrhea that worsened over time, especially after January 2015. Thanksgiving last year I was so ill that I didn't have enough energy to make myself a cup of soup or venture outside. In December, I spent 6 days in the hospital, and was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease.

I finally had an excellent medical team headed by Dr. Justin Howard at the University of Minnesota. By Christmas I was feeling much better and in January I began to think I would recover. I improved over the winter when I was diligently followed by Dr. Howard and nurse practitioners Jennifer Bottom and Ann Bolkcom, all of whom share credit for my general feeling of wellbeing.

Two months after illness claimed most of my strength, I am enjoying a month in Florida. The prospect of the long road trip filled me with apprehension as recently as ten days ago, before we left home. I knew that my stamina was still lacking and I felt somewhat fearful of my heat tolerance and ability to step up my physical activity.

Last year, dismayed that even one lap in the pool tired me out, I attributed fatigue to my age and the fact that I don't swim very often any more. This year, I've been swimming every day in a mostly empty pool and I feel strong, much like my old self, so  I'm giving myself a "pass" so far on the physical activity test. The heat test is still in the future: the temperature has never been higher than 74F.

I'm daring to think that good health is gradually returning. I get a good eight hours of restful sleep most nights, for the first time in many years. I don't worry about "wearing out" or needing to know the location of a nearby restroom. I can go over to the beach and know that I won't be exhausted 15 minutes into my walk. While I still have a long way to go in my recovery, I finally feel like a normal, healthy person, and I'm so grateful.

End of a Recurring Frustration

Winter photos.

Or at least I hope this is the end. I often have trouble with Internet connectivity when I travel and sure enough, I couldn't connect when I arrived at the resort. Now each unit has its own modem (nice an fast) but my old Lenovo laptop gave me only limited connectivity. The PC reached the router but not beyond. Our three Apple devices (iPod, original iPad, mini IPad) and Samsung Galaxy s6 connected perfectly, of course.

I've searched for a solution off and on for about a year, to no avail. One of the proposed fixes was a registry edit to delete all keys referencing any problem router but that didn't work, and other ideas were useless as well. Finally I found this one on a Microsoft forum:


Click on:

• WiFi connection
• View Connection Properties
• Security
• Advanced Settings (opens 802.11 settings)
• Check Enable Federal Information Processing Standards (FIPS) compliance for this network
• OK

Worked like a charm.

Saint Paul Magazine Photography Award

Winter photos.

Last spring I went out to take some pictures the day before a medical procedure. An eagle on Randolph Avenue in Highland Park distracted me from worrying about the next morning.

The summer passed quickly and I almost missed a photography contest sponsored by Saint Paul Magazine, a local publication about a year old. I half heartedly collected a few photographs taken within St. Paul city limits and entered each category. There weren't many entries and all of my photos got some kind of mention in the October 2015 online version of the magazine.

Late in the fall I was notified that my picture of a bald eagle had been selected for publication in the March 2016 print edition. The picture below is similar to the winning photo, also featured online.

Eagle in Highland Park - similar to the photo submitted to Saint Paul Magazine

Magazine archives are here.

Y-M-C-A!

Midway YMCA, St. Paul

Winter photos.

I was eligible to join the Y for a reduced rate last August, when I turned 65. One of the benefits of my health insurance, Health Partners Freedom Plan, is membership in a health club -- including the Y and many others within a few miles of our home -- for $25 a year. Unfortunately, I was too sick to take advantage of this great benefit until recently.

After my December stay in the hospital and subsequent slow recovery, I finally felt ready to take on a regular exercise program. A few weeks ago, Bob and I joined the new Midway YMCA on University Avenue about a mile from our home. A few days later, we met with a personal trainer for an introduction to the Y and a tour of the brand new gym. Kerry showed us how to use the machines in the beautiful, bright gym and we soon became regular Y attendees. Our membership is valid at any Twin Cities Y and at any Y across the country that participates in the YMCA reciprocal program.

Because I lost so much strength during my illness, I started off slowly with an easy "Senior Sneakers/Silver and Fit" aerobics class three mornings a week. Most of the participants are "older" but I'm fairly sure I'm not the youngest in the class. Some are very fit but others seem seriously physically challenged. This is my first exercise class ever and I had a little trouble with my coordination for the first couple of sessions.

Two weeks later, my balance and strength are improved, but there's a lot of room for improvement so I'm not quite ready to "move up" to a more challenging level. Tomorrow I'll go with Bob to work on the machines: not being mechanically inclined, I need to be taught more than once how to adjust resistance, handlebars and seat height. I'm a little embarrassed that color coding makes these tasks easy for "normal" users, but I'm way below average in that department.

The best outcomes aren't measurable. The beautiful Y building, competent and helpful staff, and upbeat music lift my mood and energy level for the entire day.

A new Desktop: Dell Inspiron I3847-3538BK and Windows 10

Dell Inspiron I3487-3538BK

Dell Monitor E2414HM

Winter photos.

Last fall, I spent many hours in Chicago O'Hare lugging my everyday Lenovo laptop, which got heavier by the minute. I decided to seriously consider replacing that device with a MacBook Air when the time came -- before my next plane trip for sure. However, in the meantime, my office "workhorse" computer was getting old and slow.

I didn't really give serious consideration to anything but a Windows operating system: I still occasionally use the command line and feel most comfortable with the file structure that I know so well. My hard drive is simply organized (most personal documents, photos, music etc. under the "users" subfolder, others under my own "c:\data" folder.  All well labeled, logical and easy to remember.

When I made my last office computer replacement, I selected an HP laptop marketed as a desktop replacement, to be used as a laptop (e.g., do "office" work in the living room instead of being physically in the office), if necessary. The machine was actually fairly heavy and its use as a laptop was not very practical. I used networking (including old fashioned "sneaker net" more often than I actually moved the laptop from its permanent location on my desk. I considered the overall purchase a somewhat expensive mistake.

Once I decided on my specs (enough memory, 2 TB hard drive big enough for my photographs), the purchase was easy: $549.99 from Best Buy. with free delivery the next day. The initial set-up was as easy as I've ever encountered. Unpacked, plugged in and Internet connected in less than an hour. My one-year subscription to Office 360 ($50 for one desktop and another table installation) was quick to install and is a pleasure to use.

I was pleasantly surprised by Windows 10, after hating both Windows 7 and 10. The familiar XP Start Menu is back, with a different look that's practical and easy for novices to use. I got rid of the out-of-the-box icon clutter and gave prominent real estate to the icons my husband uses the most.

I did encounter a few minor hurdles. The plan to migrate my own data was too daunting without data migration tools so I brought the box back to Best Buy and paid $99 for Geek Squad to copy it for me.  Bonus: the migration of my iTunes music library was painless and perfect. No support call to iTunes required. I also messed around with user settings to make it easy for Bob to use the device: I long ago abandoned the idea of giving him his own login, since it is easier for me to manage only one user. I've wasted some time on small issues like desktop appearance.

I'm especially happy with speed and display. Overall, the transition has been easy and so worth the effort.

Pioneer Press - Sainted & Tainted 01.02.2016

http://www.twincities.com/opinion/ci_29330643/huge-egg-mess-back-seat-what-would-he

Sainted

I was recently hospitalized at the University of Minnesota Medical Center (UMMC) for the observation, evaluation and treatment of a condition that had been unmanageable for many months. After the implementation of a short-term strategy, I was feeling better within a day and was soon presented with a viable treatment plan for the longer term.

My nurse practitioner at Fairview Highland in St. Paul initiated the actions that led to my hospitalization, and excellent coordination between Fairview and the University ensured a seamless experience for me, the patient. Everyone -- doctors, residents, students, nurses, nursing assistants, phlebotomists, pharmacy and administrative personnel, housekeeping and food-service staff, transporters, volunteers -- was so kind, compassionate and competent. My world was changed for the better in a few days by the University of Minnesota Physicians GI Clinic, the UMMC Maroon Team, and the well-trained staff of UMMC Units 6D and 5A.

Because of the superior care I received, I was discharged in time for the holidays. The doctors, nurses, nursing assistants, administrative and non-medical staff work long hours under sometimes challenging conditions. Without exception, I was treated with extreme care, proficiency and good humor. The professionalism, expertise, and outstanding patient care at both Fairview and the University of Minnesota make me proud of the staff and volunteers committed to providing exceptional health care not only to Minnesotans, but to regional, national and international communities as well. They are among the best in the world.

Catherine Hennessey, St. Paul

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

Winter photos.

I always enjoy the brand new slate of New Year's Day, but this year was different because I finally felt more like "myself" after being sick for so long.

New Year's Day fun at Hidden Falls Regional Park

During the several months I spent mostly on the couch, I measured the expected energy expense of every step before taking it. I sometimes reflected on the time I've wasted on useless worry, petty resentments, nursing hurt feelings, speculating about uncontrollable events.

As 2015 came to a close, I thought about the health challenges of the year and how solutions became clear in December. I was so grateful for the medical professionals, family and friends who took care of me, especially in December. My sister Marilyn visited and took on the management of my health; because of her skill  and expertise (well beyond her child psychiatry specialty!), as well as her insider MD understanding of almost daily blood tests, I made it through days of coughing and general illness and eventually got appropriate treatment for underlying Crohn's Disease.

My friend Dennis checked in on me every couple of days throughout the fall and came to see me in the hospital during the busy week preceding Christmas. Bob's daughter Sonia called or texted every day and brought entertaining reading material to my hospital room, cheering me with her kindness, humor and optimistic outlook on life. Son Chris texted, called, sent me a beautiful poinsettia, and visited me in the middle of busy workdays as he rushed to get through year-end business. My husband Bob sat quietly with me when I was too tired to talk or do much of anything but sense the peace of his presence. When I got home from the hospital, he prepared meals and generally made me feel comfortable and cherished, still driving me everywhere until I'm  strong enough to finally go out of the house by myself. Many other family members and friends called, emailed, messaged and prayed for me.

I have only one resolution this year: to fully appreciate each new day and the people who fill my life with interesting ideas, joy and fun. On January 1, I woke up early and almost jumped out of bed, well before 5:00 a.m. I washed a load of dishes an hour later and had brand new linens on the beds before I took my shower. Feeling full of energy, I washed three loads of laundry in the morning, so happy with Bob's New Year's Eve repairs on my old washing machine. We spent part of the day enjoying the outdoors: it's always fun to watch crazy Minnesotans waterski at Hidden Falls and visit some of our favorite all season destinations like Fort Snelling State Park.

I'm not sure how to beat that great January 1 start, so I started looking for a quote to help frame my resolution. Google came to the rescue with these quotes about optimism. Figured I can't do better than this one:

“What day is it?"
It's today," squeaked Piglet.
My favorite day," said Pooh.” 

― A. A. Milne

Holiday Letter to Family and Friends

Winter photos.

I sent an earlier version of this Christmas letter with cards via US Mail, too late to arrive on time for Christmas. I'm ready to get back to blogging, and this seems like an appropriate item. Happy New Year, everyone!

Enjoying a Boca Ciega Bay boat ride

Merry Christmas! The weather was so balmy throughout December that I was surprised to see a little dusting of snow just before Christmas, and recent snow confirms that we may have a Minnesota winter after all. Our hearts are still full of holiday spirit as continue to enjoy the December break and look forward to a New Year.

Our year has been busy. We spent March in St. Pete Beach, Florida, and enjoyed a beautiful month of perfect weather. For the first time, I screwed up my courage and shared some of the driving with Bob. His new 2015 Traverse was a joy to drive and I was quite proud to take my turn at the wheel for a few hundred miles each way of the journey, marveling at the vast expanse of transition landscape, with winter and summer at either end.

Granddaughter Angie and her husband Mike welcomed baby Henry to their family in May, making 3-year-old Will a proud big brother, and Bob a great-great grandfather once again.


Bob holding baby Henry, with of the grandchildren and great grandchildren on his birthday

After a big family party for Bob’s birthday in June, we flew to California for grandson Tyler’s high school graduation. We spent a few days in our favorite Monterey Bay before the event, and had a lovely time on winding 17 Mile Drive before visiting the world-famous Pebble Beach Resort, where even a non-golfer like me felt steeped in the history of golf and its traditions.

Bob with grandson Tyler

We were joined in Fresno by sons John and Chris, as well as John and Trudy’s boys, Adam and Mitchell. A graduation is an emotional event and I found myself thinking back to Tyler’s mom, Mary, who was a new graduate about Tyler’s age when I first met her in 1982. Mary hosted two graduation dinners with extended family members we haven’t seen for some time. Happy days.

 

John, Adam, Bob, Chris, Mitchell at Yosemite

The next morning, John piled the Minnesotans into his rental SUV and drove us to Yosemite for an unsettled and occasionally stormy day. It was nostalgic to see Adam and Mitchell walk through the ancient Sequoia forest, much as we had nearly 20 years ago around the time Tyler was born. For once, Bob was a passenger and could look around at panoramic views. Best field trip ever.

We ended the California junket with a couple of days in San Francisco. We were especially pleased that Mary joined us overnight, and on the Sunday morning, Cousin Michele Hennessey treated us to mid-morning brunch at her apartment with spectacular view of San Francisco. It was heartwarming to see seven cousins from three generations delighted to be in one another’s company. The Hennessey sociability gene was clearly in evidence as Michele put on a gorgeous gourmet meal, perfectly presented and served.

Hennessey cousins from 3 generations: Standing bhind Bob are Chris, Mary, Michele, John, Adam, Mitchell

Bob and I spent a few days in Crosslake in mid-August. While the weather was not particularly cooperative, we loved being out in the boat (newly repaired by John Hennessey) as we slipped back to many favorite Whitefish Chain spots. One day we had lunch at Bar Harbor, where the drinks are excellent and the food is even better. Maybe that’s vice versa.

We took a Corvette run to the Black Hills over Labor Day weekend. While I hadn’t been particularly enthusiastic when we set out, of course we had a wonderful time. The Vette sped across I-90, now with a “strict 80 mph” speed limit. It was hot in the Hills, and at Devil’s Tower, Wyoming, where we watched climbers scale the big rock. My favorite stop was the Crazy Horse Memorial, where I was enveloped in the spirituality of the Lakota culture that enriches the Midwest. I was privileged to talk with several artists whose reverence for the land and its inhabitants inspired me and informed our few days in this stark and stunning part of the world. On the same day, we saw Mount Rushmore just as the sun began to fall in the late summer sky. Spectacular.

Crazy Horse Memorial, South Dakota

In October we went to the North Shore of Lake Superior, but our hotel was near Spirit Mountain on the south side of Duluth rather than in our usual Two Harbors destination. The change gave us our North Shore excursions on the first day but an easy drive home. Just after Halloween, we traveled south along the Mississippi River to Lacrosse, where temperatures were summer warm. We couldn’t have asked for a happier last fall run, and November seemed very far away as the sun burned hot over the river.

Many of our activities were curtailed in November and December, as I was ill for much of the time. After months of with persistent intestinal issues, I caught a nasty virus and developed a sinus infection and pneumonia. Fortunately (for me, not so much for her), my sister Marilyn was visiting. I wasn't up to our usual outings but Marilyn donned her MD hat to take charge of my medical care, working closely with my nurse practitioner Jennifer Bottem from Fairview Highland Clinic. Marilyn and Jenny made sure I made it through several very difficult nights, and I felt very comforted, finally hopeful that I would eventually get well.

By December 14, I felt desperately sick and was admitted to the University of Minnesota Medical Center the next day. I was soon diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease, which I had suspected for some time. Treatment with prednisone was immediate and will continue for about a month; yesterday I began longer term therapy that includes several medications that should make me feel a lot better. Amazingly, I am fantastic right now and so grateful to be under the care of an excellent University of Minnesota medical team.

Everyone at the University of Minnesota Medical Center-- doctors, residents, students, nurses, nursing assistants, housekeeping staff, phlebotomists, transporters, pharmacy and administrative personnel, food service -- was so kind, compassionate and competent. I was nursed back to health with great care and skill by UMMC professionals. They are among the best in the world.

After a simple Thanksgiving at home because of my illness, Bob and I enjoyed celebrating Mexican Christmas Eve with the Muñoz family, followed by a large Christmas Day pot luck dinner hosted by Meggan Kerkenbush and Scott Hennessey. I was thrilled to shop (all online this year) for 12 children under the age of 9 – an energetic new generation.

We wish you a very happy holiday, filled with good health, blessings and happiness in the New Year.

Love,

Bob & Catherine (cahennessey@comcast.net; http://www.catherinehennesseyblog.com)

An Anniversary

The big wreck was on October 6, 1985

Thirty years ago today I awoke to a cool, Minnesota fall morning, bright and crisp. Bob and I walked over to the Twin Cities Marathon as we always do, but we had a beautiful afternoon ahead of us and the Harley was beckoning. It looked like a great day for a ride in the country.

It was cold enough for me to wear a sky blue winter jacket and long underwear under my jeans. Clothing didn't have much "give" back then, so I felt a little stuffed into the layers I'd put on, but I was warm on the bike and the weather was oh-so-lovely for an autumn outing.

We were riding along happily, enjoying the sunny October Sunday afternoon. A vehicle made a perfect stop at the intersection of Woodlane Drive and Military Road and then, to my horror, the car began to cross Military Road in front of us. There is a stop sign for traffic on Military Road today, but then we had the so-called right of way and there was no way to avoid hitting the car. I thought to myself, "this is it", feeling no emotion, just resignation.

I hit Bob in front of me and then flew over the handlebars of the bike, maybe rolling a couple of times before ending up in a ditch across Woodlane Drive. Bob was lying in the road, unable to move, sure his leg was broken. Despite the confusion, he directed traffic from the ground until the police and ambulance arrived.

We were whisked away by ambulance to St Paul-Ramsey Medical Center, now Regions Hospital. Most of the rest of the day is a blur, except for my clear memory of so many people with us in the treatment room. Several of Bob's kids were there to hear the startling news of my pregnancy, which we had learned about only a few days before. The announcement eclipsed even the explanation of Bob's severely broken leg bones, tibia and fibula.

Surgery to repair the broken leg was something of a patch job and, in fact, the leg remained broken for several years following our accident. I broke a couple of toes and was black and blue from head to foot. The helmet I wore that day was ruined, but I kept it for a few years to remind me that our fate that day could have been much darker.

I was almost surprised that my pregnancy not only continued but was trouble free, though we were afraid to decorate a nursery or buy any baby clothes until very near my due date. Bob was on a cane when our son Chris was born at the end of May the following year. Several years later, the break in the tibia had not yet healed. Good advice from our brother-in-law, Dr. Ken Marshall, led us to the University of Minnesota Medical Center and Dr. Elizabeth Arendt, then a young orthopedic surgeon whom we got to know very well in the years that followed.

Dr. Arendt operated twice and engineered Bob's recovery and healing. He bought a few more Harleys before switching to a Virago and, finally, a couple of big Honda GoldWings. I didn't get back on a motorcycle for many years, but I enjoyed a few excursions until Bob quit riding a year or so ago. Each day, especially on October 6, I'm happy to wake up relatively healthy, very grateful for the gift of time and the three full lives that could have been lost on that long ago October day.

Red Oak Trauma: Crash!

Facebook album.

I had intended to spend Wednesday doing laundry and recuperating from another long day in several airports. Pope Francis' US visit seemed to provide just the right combination of hopeful challenge and encouragement, so I was happy to watch him on TV as he approached the beautiful Basilica of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, DC.

Suddenly we heard a huge crack, followed by a crash, and then the power went out. A large, heavy limb on our red oak -- estimated to be over a hundred years old well before the beginning of the new millennium -- had landed on the garage roof, taking out power for 70 Xcel Energy customers on our block.

Limb before removal

A neighbor across the alley called 911 and the St. Paul Fire Department soon isolated the area with caution tape. Xcel arrived in late afternoon, before the expiration of the three-hour service window and by early evening power was restored to all but our next-door neighbors to the west and ourselves.

An excellent work crew from Marshall Electric, recommended as 24X7 service techs by Xcel, arrived before sunset to beginning hooking us up. They worked by flashlight for a couple of hours until both families had power, and we didn't have to go to bed in the dark. The three men worked cheerfully in the rain and relieved a bit of the tension that had accumulated since the event in mid-afternoon -- consummate professionals with a sense of humor.

The next morning the arborist from Rainbow Tree Care arrived at 8:00 a.m., the first of four tree services contacted to actually make an appointment and keep it. He summoned a work crew and three guys (Levi, Chuck and Matt) began the huge job of cutting extraneous branches before taking down the limb itself. They worked all day in the rain to get the job done, using their equipment in the confined space of our yard, cleaning up as they went along and after the job was finished. We were impressed by their excellent work, attention to safety and courtesy to us and interested neighbors.

A big chunk of wood

On Friday, Xfinity hooked up our cable, phone and Internet and Bob cleaned the deck and washed his Corvette, mercifully undamaged in the garage. The garage roof will have to be replaced, we think, but that's only one item on the agenda for our meeting with State Farm Insurance on Monday.

The tree doesn't look too odd, but the canopy is certainly much higher and both the deck and yard have much more sun. Landscaping decisions can wait for another day. For now, we're relieved no one was in the garage or yard on Wednesday, and we feel like winners, not victims. We're sorry our great neighbors to the west also suffered damage and inconvenience, but happy the children weren't playing outside when the limb came down.

Stratford: Two Magical Afternoons

For forty years, any activity that required more than 20 minutes of steady sitting was agonizing. Until knee replacement surgery, my knees simply couldn't tolerate a long movie, concert, sporting event or play. I was thrilled to experience zero pain last week during Stratford Festival performances of The Sound of Music and Hamlet.

The Sound of Music
This Globe and Mail review does a better job than I of critiquing this joyous, (to me) surprisingly emotional musical. I loved everything about it: the music, dancing, sets, costumes and, of course, the stars and von Trapp children. The dark, ubiquitous presence of the Nazis dims the bubble gummy quality of some of the pieces in the score and serves as a grim reminder of the desperate state of Europe in 1938.

I loved the abbey nuns' Gregorian chant and polyphonic choral pieces, and was interested in what I perceived as a "German" sound to the chorus -- not that pure, open, St. Olaf Choir quality that I tend to prefer. The nuns' voices were exuberant and the music was believable as prayer, rather than performance. The interpretation seemed very right for the circumstances.

Like most others in the theatre, I shed a few tears. A perfect afternoon after the awful previous day.

Hamlet
Unlike most of the people in the audience, I've seen only one or two performances of Hamlet, and at least one of them was on TV, so I didn't have a wealth of personal experience to inform an evaluation of relative merits of this production.

The Globe and Mail's review is one of the few negative commentaries I saw on this year's Hamlet. I guess I found the interpretation interesting rather than "disjointed", and I looked to this National Post review for a little balance. I wasn't sure about the costumes (vaguely contemporary) or the hair (also contemporary; at the end, hairspray sixties styles for the women), and on that afternoon, the sound seemed "blurry" on occasion, least from our excellent seats fairly near the stage.

No matter. What can I say? I like something a little edgy and daring. I appreciated the actors' involvement with the audience, almost inviting us to comment on the events on stage. My sister Marilyn, a veteran psychiatrist and very knowledgeable theatre goer, said Ophelia portrayed the best true-to-life madness she's ever seen in the many productions of Hamlet she's seen. And here's a personal bias: Jonathan Goad is a very good looking Hamlet with a perfect delivery of a brilliant text. I also liked Geraint Wyn Davies' somewhat beefy, dissolute Claudius who reminded me of a Minneapolis Aquatennial commodore.

These two great afternoons were a gift from Marilyn. I was delighted with the entertainment and in awe of the fact that I had no knee pain at all on either afternoon.

Stratford: A Long Day's Journey between Nights

Stratford is just west of Kitchener

Stratford photos.
Anticipation
I'd been looking forward to my visit with sister Marilyn for several months.  I usually fly into Toronto's large Pearson airport, but in a moment of brilliance, I booked a flight to Kitchener via Chicago O'Hare, knowing that Marilyn's home in Stratford is about 30 miles from the airport, thereby knocking off at least an hour of drive time in each direction. I had visions of us enjoying a glass of wine on the patio before I had time to unpack my bag on Thursday afternoon. If only I had known ...
Dark and stormy night
I was a little apprehensive on Thursday when I awoke to continuing rain after a stormy night. Bob drove me to MSP in the early morning darkness and the trip started off well, with short lines at security and an easy hike to the gate. The first sign of potential trouble became evident with a delay n the arrival of the incoming flight from Chicago. So we left MSP late and then unsettled weather delayed our arrival at O'Hare. I began to worry about the 54 minutes I had to make my connection to Kitchener.
No Kitchener flight for me
Problems began immediately after our arrival in Chicago. A power failure resulted in jetway delays, and despite a very efficient and brisk walk to the Kitchener gate I missed getting on the plane. Turns out a massive systems failure at American Airlines had crippled information delivery, and I had no way of knowing just then that the flight would not leave for at least another hour, but the aircraft doors had  been closed, and my seat had (presumably) been sold to some other customer. Surely they could have found a way to get me and one other passenger, a woman from India, on that plane.
Rerouted
As soon as the computer system came back up, I raced to the desk to book another flight. A sour and tired customer service rep wasn't helpful as I struggled briefly to decide between a 3 p.m. departure to Toronto over a late evening flight to Kitchener that wouldn't get me to the airport until after 10:00 p.m. I decided on Toronto and immediately got on the phone with the very pleasant and efficient Shelby at Stratford Airporter, who booked me on a 7:30 p.m. shuttle that would get me to Marilyn's door in Stratford shortly after 9:00 p.m. Everything was looking good.
Phantom 3:00 p.m. flight
Off to from Concourse G  to a new gate in Concourse H. Three o'clock came and went, with occasional "updates" from American. The plane was "in the hangar" and didn't arrive until about 5:00 p.m., by which time a storm had moved over Chicago, with lightning and hail that made departure impossible. We were finally called to board around 6:30, but elation soon turned to dismay when we were told that our flight crew had "timed out", and we would have to wait for a new pilot, on stand-by somewhere. The pilot eventually showed up and we seemed to be ready to go. By now the sun was setting and everyone was tired and hungry, since most of us had missed a couple of meals and some passengers had been travelling since the previous day. A couple of crackers and a drink would have been nice. A woman in front of me thought we should all be given a glass of wine. Ha!
Change in luck
The flight to Toronto was quick and efficient, and we sailed through Customs and Immigration. I followed Shelby's instructions to the ground shuttle desk, though the 9:30 shuttle was long gone. I was told that "Plan B" would get me to the Kitchener Holiday Inn via an Airways shuttle and I'd then hook up with the Stratford Airporter for the final leg. We were underway just before 10:30 and the two shuttles went off without a hitch.
Saints ...
Yesterday was made easier by all the wonderful people I met: the young mother so in love with her three-month-old baby that even all the delays couldn't dampen her happiness; the cheerful woman returning to Toronto from Ontario, California, where she was working with the Affordable Care Act; Brenda, my pleasant and wise seat companion on her way home to Guelph after a business trip in Des Moines, Iowa; everyone at Stratford Airporter and Airways Transport, including the  administrative staff and two friendly, competent drivers. I especially enjoyed conversation with a fellow shuttle rider who, like me, was headed to Stratford.
... and sinners
On the minus side, I found most American Airlines staff unsympathetic and lacking in communication skills. I certainly understand the frustration of trying to muddle through a day of chaos without reliable information systems, but it would have been so easy to make everyone's day a little easier, if only someone had stepped up. No one did.
At Last!
I arrived at Marilyn's by 12:30, sixteen and a half hours and a time zone away from my departure. I was a little taken aback to be told that she was almost expecting a heavy knock from the OPP, instead of my timid little tap on the door. I was, of course, ten hours late. The A beer and some cheese, hummus and crackers as well as a few good laughs concluded the day nicely. I couldn't help thinking about Syrian refugees in some hostile land, with no happy outcome to yet another perilous day.

Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

View from the west edge of our yard.

I've written about the property next door twice, once last fall and again a few weeks ago when maple tree and lilacs were eliminated from the landscape. The project has had a happy ending after all.

I always liked Mister Rogers' Neighborhood and I vividly remember my pre-schooler inviting me to see "my show" when he heard the familiar song Won't You Be My Neighbor on TV. When I saw an unfamiliar woman with a girl of about eight walk up the sidewalk toward the new house, I rushed out to introduce myself. I realized as we talked how long we've been without a next-door neighbor to the east and how lovely it will be to have a family living next to us.

My notions of pollinator and butterfly friendly plantings were well received and, in fact, as J. is an experienced gardener, as well as an expert on butterflies and many other issues of interest to environmentalists. Good news for me, a gardening novice.

 

Lines of the Fred Rogers came into my head: "I've always wanted to have a neighbor just like you. I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you." This is a neighborhood of pleasant people and the new neighbors fit right in.

 

I've added the last photo to the album.

World Lion Day

I know nothing about astrology but I've always enjoyed being a Leo, a big bonus for someone born in the Year of the Tiger, according to the Chinese Zodiac. Lions, of course, have fallen on hard times, with diminishing populations and the recent scandal involving a Minnesota dentist who killed Cecil the Lion.

Using a dead animal for bait, hunting guides lured Cecil to private land from his usual home, Hwange National Park, a preserve in Zimbabwe, where a bow hunter shot and pursued him for 40 hours before killing him off with a rifle shot. Twin Cities news media identified the hunter as a Bloomington dentist, and the story soon went viral. Like most Minnesotans, I was horrified and chagrined that one of our own could murder Cecil and other endangered animals.

I felt a little less disheartened this morning when I read that today is World Lion Day, and I enjoyed looking at these beautiful lion photographs. It is also my 65th birthday, and it seems like a good time to be grateful for all these years of life and the prospect of good days ahead. Today is a milestone of sorts and I have a brand new Medicare card to prove it.

As is almost always the case on August 10, the sun is shining and the weather is beautiful. It's a good day to share with the King of the Jungle.

Demolition Derby - Part II

Removal near the beginning

 Last fall, I wrote about the sadness I felt when demolition equipment arrived to tear down the house of our longtime neighbor to make way for new construction. In the beginning, I posted photos of the process almost every day but haven't posted any new pictures until today. The house sold recently and the new owners are expected to take possession in a few weeks.

New restrictions in the city of St. Paul on such projects came too late for this property, but I actually felt fairly happy with the new house and was told my next-door neighbor that it's beautiful inside. Open floor plan -- what I'd like in my own house. We were delighted to learn that one of the residents will be a girl exactly the same age as the lovely little girl who lives in the house just west of ours.

 

End of the job

This morning sadness crept into my happy little world. A landscaper working on the property told us that my beautiful lilacs are right on the property line and will have to be removed to make way for a retaining wall between the properties. I felt tearful most of the day, but tears gave way to rage when we arrived home this afternoon after being out for several hours. Most of the limbs had already been sawed off the striking maple tree in the yard next door. It will be replaced by a patio in the bit of yard that remains on the lot.

The maple was the prettiest tree in this neighborhood of stately old elms, maples and oaks. Now, it will soon be a memory preserved in many seasons of pictures I've taken over the years. It's a sad evening on the street.

Photo album.

Grandma Maggie's Rocking Chair

The old black color
after last month's test removal

For many years now I've been staring at Grandma Hennessey's  old rocking chair thickly coated with black enamel. It was on the porch for a long time, but it made me feel guilty so I demoted it to the basement, where it has been piled with junk for a couple of decades. I felt reproached every time I did laundry but I had no experience with furniture stripping and knew a refinishing project would be more challenging than rewarding, at least at first.



After removing many layers,
the seat is looking better

About a month ago I was bored and Bob gave me the go-ahead to investigate stripping the chair. He suggested the basement as a workplace and I started some preliminary work on the rocker. The basement was a BAD idea because it was too cold to open a window, but I did just enough work to realize that I had to take the job outside and approach it in phases. Once again, I got away with a stupid choice and neither succumbed to fumes from the stripper nor set the house on fire.

The rocker is very comfortable

This morning I took the rocking chair to the concrete pad near the trash and covered it with an old sheet, a good enough dropcloth. The morning was cool after the debilitating heat of the last few days, and I set myself the modest goal of removing most of the paint from the visible side of the seat. I used only stripper which I removed with a soft cloth rather than the putty knife and steel wool recommended by the instructions.
I was amazed and was surprisingly emotional when I saw the results, after only 90 minutes or so.  I felt channeled and cheered on by Maggie's spirit as the gooey paint came off, revealing the wood and craftsmanship of old. I never met Grandma but now the rocker has bridged time and space to connect us.

I've given myself a week or so to finish the job and have stored the rocker in the garage beside our bikes, for easy access to my work. I'm already looking forward to some winter knitting in my new chair.