Talahi Diaries, September 10, 1966 / 2005

In a fitting piece of irony, synchronicity, coincidence... or whatever you may call it... the very first entry in the Talahi diary was written on the same day that the very last entry was entered, 39 years later:

September 10, 1966

Drove to Lake Geneva to look at property for a summer home. Went to Joerm [?] Realty. Mr. Clifford showed us several. We fell "in love" with a house in Indian Hills. [Grandpa]

That's the house they put an offer on two days later (according to the diary). The offer? $14,000. I don't know if that offer was accepted, but the house was purchased, and they closed on October 14, 1966:

Closed deal on purchase of property in Fontana. Will name it "Talahi" (our T.C. annual) which is Chippewa Indian for "Under The Oaks." Very appropriate w/ our oaks. [Grandpa]

"T.C" refers to St. Cloud State Teacher's College, as it was called then, and is where my grandparents met. Here's a picture taken just three or so months later, early in 1967:

Fast-forward 39 years to September 10, 2005. My grandparents were now living in Dallas, but were spending the summers at the lake house. However, we didn't want my grandfather to make the long two-day drive, so the last couple of years I'd drive them up there and fly back home. At the end of the summer I'd fly back up there and drive them back. After 2005 we didn't think it was a good idea for them to be up there for three months by themselves, so they stayed year around in Dallas. This particular September day was the last time my grandfather was at Talahi, and, as usual, I made a diary entry:

September 10, 2005

Breakfast at Hot Diggity Dog. Today we'll make the house ready for the winter. Will leave tomorrow in the AM. [Hank]

"Hot Diggity Dog" was a hole-in-the-wall eatery of the type that my grandparents were so fond. It was in Walworth, and was open from 5am to 1pm, basically serving breakfasts to local farmers and the occasional hot dog to tourists.

Now, I was up at Talahi last summer (2008) to load up a U-Haul full of furniture and boxes that I then drove back to Dallas, but I was unable to make a diary entry. I really wanted to, knowing that it was the last day I'd ever be at Talahi, but unfortunately the diary had been packed in one of the boxes and I couldn't find it. I contemplated "faking" the entry, adding it after the fact, but in the end chose not to. The entry of September 10, 2005, coming 39 years to the day after the first entry, thus, is the final entry.

Here's a picture of the house from 2004. (Click on it to see a larger version). In almost 40 years the pine trees at the front of the house have grown from about 3 feet high to about 40, and the new edition that we built onto the house is visible on the left. The composition is kind of odd, but I wanted to capture the feeling of the tall, majestic oaks that surrounded the house and property. They were, after all, the inspiration for the house's name:

Pic

My sister and I, about 33 years ago. Check out the pants:

Watching Lost

Leaves

This is why I hate raking leaves:

The Cub Fan

My daughter hates this pic because she thinks she looks like a boy. She got the Cub outfit for her first birthday, 17 years ago this week. Now, in a blink of an eye, she's going to be 18. How did that happen? And what's more, how in the hell have the Cubs still not made it to the World Series? A year before this pic was taken the Cubs played their first night game ever at Wrigley. We were told this would make them competitive, since they could sleep in longer on game days and not have to play in the heat of summer at 1pm.

I'm still waiting.

So in the 2006 elections my daughter can vote. This is kind of hard to believe. I told her I'd get her a voter registration card for her birthday, but only if she voted Democrat. HAHAHAHA.

Anyway, a couple of months after this pic was taken the Cub outfit was stolen, STOLEN mind you, from our apartment's laundry room. It should have been an omen for the Cubs demise later that year in the playoffs.

Maybe it was a curse. Yeah. Maybe the Cubs will not win until that person or persons returns the stolen toddler Cub outfit.

That's the ticket.

Holiday Party

Well, it's that time of year again... time for Cindy's work holiday party. This year she's with a different firm, so the party was not at Neiman Marcus but rather at the Myerson Symphony Center, home of the Dallas Symphony Orchestra and designed by none other than renowned architect I.M. Pei. It was a nice night.

Since Cindy's firm endows the Dallas Symphony, not only was the event held at this great site, but the Dallas Symphony itself performed for our enjoyment. (Not, however, directed by Andrew Litton; I guess he had better things to do than to debase himself in such a manner). It was a nice program mixing contemporary (such as "White Christmas") with the traditional (Miniature Nutcracker Suite). The Dallas Symphony Choir also performed, or at least a subset of them.

I recommend looking at pictures of the Myerson from the official website linked above (direct link here) and/or taking the virtual tour of the Myerson found here, but here's some low quality pics I took with my camera phone:

This is the East lobby of the Myerson (the after party was held here... hor's d'oeurves, wine and beer, mingling, etc):



Here's a shot looking straight at the orchestra area, from the floor (orchestra) seats:

The organ is raised above in the back center, and there are three sections raised above in back for a choir and/or extra seating for visitors. Raised above on either side is further room for performers, etc. The first number had trumpeteers standing there.

As decorations, they had huge ornaments hanging from the ceiling above the orchestra, barely visible in this picture, along with white christmas lights as you can see, and colored lighting. The organist had a video monitor so she could see the director (since her back is to him, obviously), and the carolers (who stood in front of the orchestra facing the audience) had them as well.

The ceiling of the Myerson is very ornate and interesting. Here's a shot that doesn't do it justice, but oh well:


Here's a side view, showing some of the box seating, etc:


We were allowed to sit wherever we wanted, so Cindy and I sat on the floor, about 18 rows back (whatever "O" is... that's about 18) and right in the center. However, the most expensive seats are the first row of seats visible in this picture (actually the second section up, but this picture doesn't show the first section up). If the ground level/orchestra level is level 1, then this expensive section is level 3. The interior is in a U shape, with the orchestra being at the opening of the U, as opposed to many venues that are half-circle in shape. Lighting created the candy cane-like effect seen here.


After the concert, which lasted about an hour, we all exited the theater and went in the lobby, where various tables had been set up with chaffing dishes containing eggrolls, chicken sate, philo-dough spinach hor's d'oeurves, etc. There were also dessert tables with stuff such as little tarts, chocolate covered strawberries, and little itty bitty canoles.

For beverages, we had an open bar (wine and beer, only, however), along with coffee, hot chocolate, hot tea, etc. The coffee was very good.

There was also a live band for dancing.

All in all, the food wasn't as good or as extensive as her former firm provided at their Holiday Parties, but the entertainment, The Dallas Symphony Orchestra, was much better. Also, I think the location was better, too. Cindy's former Firm had the event at three different locations while she worked there, and there were problems with each: The first, and best, was at the Dallas Museum of Art. This was a nice location, and we got to look at all the art exhibits, but it was too small: the food, etc, was set up in the narrow hallways. There was really no large open area. One year it was held in a ballroom of some big hotel. This was large enough, but architecturally ugly, with nothing whatsoever to look at. Last year it was held at the downtown Neiman Marcus. This provided a bit more room than the Museum (though not much) but not as much as the hotel. It was nicer to look at, but then you worried about accidentally soiling some very expensive merchandise.

The event this year at the Myerson Center was the best of all worlds: plenty of room, architecturally interesting, and something interesting to do other than make small talk with partners and people we don't really know.

It just needed better food and a more varied bar.

Paddle

As mentioned in another post, here's my paddle from the trip:


I still don't know why I painted a pelican; I went through a bunch of camping/nature/animal magazines, and this bird just struck me for some reason.

Oh, Canada

Almost 25 years ago now I went on a 3 week canoe trip through the wilds of Canada. It started about 200 miles north of Winnipeg, and we covered about 300 miles along the Manitoba/Ontario border. Nothing is up there... nothing... save the occasional hunting lodge about ever 40 miles or so. No roads. The hunters get there by pontoon boat, and that's how we got to the starting point, too.

We'd do about 20 miles a day on average. This is the only thing I didn't like about the trip; it was too fast-paced, like we were in the army or something, or we were trying to set some speed record. I'd much have preferred to take a leisurely pace, to enjoy the scenery. However, we did have to get to point B by a certain date to meet up with the other three groups (our main group of about 24 was broken into 4 groups of two canoes each and three people per canoe), and we had to get to site C by a certain date to get care packages that were flown in on that date, etc. But still. It was a relentless pace that required us to get up around 4:30 or 5am in order to be on the water by 6:30 or 7 (and getting up before the sun had risen guaranteed that our socks from the previous day were still soaking wet. Nothing is worse than having to put wet socks on in the morning, but we even got used to this), when we'd paddle five hours until lunch. An hour for lunch, then four or five more hours of paddling until we get to where we'd camp for the night.

"Paddling" is a misnomer, because of course not all that time we were "paddling". About half the time we were portaging... carrying canoe and supplies from one river/lake/waterway to another. Now, I had heard of portaging, but had made a couple of incorrect assumptions:

1. That the portages were short, like 50 feet, basically carrying the stuff around a rapids or waterfall or something, and

2. That two people carried the canoe.

I was wrong.

These little jaunts through mosquito-infested woods would average about half a mile, but were often two or three miles long. This may not seem like anything to those who walk a couple of blocks in the city to get your espresso and morning paper, but over rough terrain with rocky craigs, carrying either a 100 pound pack on your back with your paddle in one hand, a tent in another, OR carrying the damned canoe all by yourself balanced upon your shoulders, in 80 or 90 degree heat, being bit by mosquitoes relentlessly, often through literally two feet deep mud "paths"... it was hard.

Then, when you finally reached the next river you didn't get to rest. Oh no. We had a pace to keep up after all. No, it was back in the canoe and more paddling. The lucky one was the guy who got to sit in garbage (the middle place in the canoe between the stern and front paddlers) after a long hot portage. The garbage was responsible for navigation, of course, but that beat pounding the water.

It was beautiful scenery. Here's an example of what we saw after finishing a particularly long portage. See? Very nice. However, we couldn't really stop and look and take it all in. Instead we had to take a picture and then be on our way. What you don't see, however, is the sweat caked with dirt and dry grass that covered us here. You can't feel the mosquitoes still biting, and you can't feel the aching muscles in your legs and back. You can't feel the overpowering thirst that you can't quench until you've placed everything in the river and started paddling for a bit (at which point the garbage would simply dip a cup in the river and drink... the water was cold and the best tasting stuff I'd ever drank. Those paddling couldn't stop to use a cup, but we were taught how, after completing a paddle stroke, to quickly move the blade of the paddle to our mouths, allowing the water still on the blade to run off into our mouths... quickly, without breaking the stroke rhythm that much... before plunging the blade back into the water to continue propelling the canoe forward.

Our meals were actually very good. We'd spent the weeks before the trip preparing the food... bagging, etc. For example, Fred (my cousin, and the guy who has been doing these trips with his students for almost 30 years now) would buy brownie mix... regular Pillsbury mix, not some special camping thing... and open the box dumping the powder in a plastic bag, along with the cut-out directions. This would be tied with string, then placed in another bag, which was also tied with string. Before tying each bag we'd suck the air out of them. We did this with pudding mixes, brownies, cakes, etc. I wondered why so many desserts, but on the trail we really craved these. He knew what he was doing.

We also had some powdered eggs, powdered tomato sauce, about 6 cans of bacon, and a bunch of dehydrated stuff that he dried himself: peach pieces, ham, beef, etc, along with raisins. Then we also had plain flour and baking soda and baking powder and sugar, pasta, dried cheese... so on the trail we could actually make pizzas, or peach cobbler... whatever... using this thing that basically converted a fire to an oven. We'd pick as much fresh fruit, mainly blueberries, as we could along the way, and use this in pancakes or added to biscuits or muffins.

Lunch was always the same: "monk bread" spread with peanut butter and jelly, along with Kool-aide made with water from the lake (the kool-aid had all been pre-done prior: sugar and powder added to plastic bag; see above) and a piece of chocolate. Monk bread was sort of like this home-made granola bar that was made with oats, etc, and formed in empty paper quart milk containers. I didn't like the sounds of it, but it tasted good midday. Again, Fred knew what our bodies would crave.

All this food along with the fish we'd catch (Walleye, Northern Pike, etc) meant we ate very well. In fact I think I gained about 15 - 20 pounds on the trip, from the eating and from building muscle.

I took a lot of pictures (we all had cameras), but they're all in slide format. Yesterday I got a couple of them made into prints when I was working on an unrelated photo/video project, but I need to do all of them eventually. Until then I'll share a couple of my favorites. One is the above pic of one of the ends of a long portage. The other is a photo of my hiking boots. These are my boots after the trip. They were brand new before the trip (though I spent about a week walking all over with them to break them in). However, after probably 100 miles of hiking not to mention the constant walking through knee-deep water that we did really took its toll on them. I've black and whited the photo because I think it looks better. Someday I'll blow it up and hang it over the fireplace in my oak-walled study and gaze upon it whilst smoking a meerschaum pipe...

From the road

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Dallas from high

Dallas from the top of the ball via cell cam

Sniper's Nest?

Lake geneva

Lake geneva, WI, via cell phone cam and Blogger Email post.

Christmas party at Neiman Marcus

Cindy's office Christmas party this year was at the Neiman Marcus store, downtown Dallas. Six floors of food, drink, and music. You could also browse the very expensive wares whilst you sipped on your white wine or white russian. I still don't get why NM is willing to allow this. Sure, they didn't allow red wine, but they had cranberry juice (cosmos, you know), which stains just as red. So you had a bunch of drunk party goers with their glasses of wine and drink and little plates of pasta or roast beef or dumplings milling about in the Fendi purse section, or the $20,000 wedding gown room, placing the wet glasses and dirty forks on the rosewood cabinet tops.

Oh well. It was fun, anyway.

Fourth

Fireworks at Lake Geneva

Leather

In case you can't read that scrawl, it's "Ryne Sandburg, '84 NLMVP"

Awww

Talahi