Doing pretty good for an old guy

How about you?

On this sparkling Tuesday morning in August, the gentle aroma of purple and white phlox wafts into the home office of what I euphemistically call Stately Blaska Manor. In the meadow outside my window, tall yellow cosmos dip and weave in the gentle breeze. 

It’s great to be alive, which, given the foolishness of my youth and the dire warnings of a fevered news cycle, is not taken for granted.

 Summer time in the city

Our fur ball of a kitty cat is content to observe the animal kingdom from any open window but the other day, Enzo, a Himalayan breed, was munching on a small bird on the kitchen floor. The door to the fireplace insert was open, evidence that yet another creature had flown down the chimney flue and into the living room.

The Head Groundskeeper, another of this writer’s imaginary personages, reports the summer of 2024 has been a bust for his beloved Romano green beans. Just a handful here and there. Asparagus was scarce. But the Buttercrunch lettuce could feed a homeless shelter.

Getting my pet project tractor going again is our greatest achievement this summer. The starter motor was kerflooie. Nephew Jared, a wizard with tools, super-heated the two bolts that probably had not been disturbed since the bug-like Allis Chalmers model G came off the assembly line 74 years ago. A shop called Finicki Electric here in Madison WI rebuilt the device and, to my amazement, I was able to reinsert it into the tractor with help of Number One son Max. Had this tractor as kids, working tobacco.

I made a movie of starting the thing which won’t win the awards Max has won with his licensed adaptation of a Stephen King story.  

 Breakfast has been served

We interrupt this self-absorbed narrative to report that the Lovely Lisa just shoved under my iMac screen a breakfast of scrambled eggs marbled with bacon and store-bought asparagus. Lisa makes me food and it is good. Which reminds me that this year, for once, your favorite bloggeur will not forget our wedding anniversary, that being number 50. It amazes me that I am now older than my grandfathers ever were.

Brother Mike (less than one year younger!) and his bride Peggy offered to host us where they relocated in Sands Point NY, on Long Island.  Want to see a Broadway play and the World Trade Center Memorial. Jabber with Mike. Eat fresh sea food. As Clemenza said to poor Paulie, “More wine!”

Served with brother Mike on Dane County Board and we were a wrestling tag team. Was proud to work for Tommy Thompson in his press office. Still amazed that The Capital Times put up with me all those years. Can say I was an alternate delegate at the 2016 Republican national convention in Cleveland OH. Got a selfie with Charles Krauthammer. Running for Madison school board in 2019 was a blast!

Have a tee time later today at Odana Hills with a former mayor of Madison. Playing the driver plucked out of a bargain bin for $10 has improved my game. Was admitted as the token Republican to a book club where another former mayor is a member, along with a brace of former Democratic legislators. The club looks askance at any suggested book numbering more than 400 pages.

Continuing a semi-monthly breakfast group that meets at Sofra’s in Middleton with a former governor and a past county executive, among other notables. (Lot of “formers” in my life these days.) Also look forward to monthly breakfasts at the Parkway with former co-workers at the WI Department of Revenue. Yeah, life is tough. Here’s to the WI Retirement System, Vanguard Investments, and a lifetime of saving, born when dear mother gave me a passbook savings account and explained a thing called interest.

Here’s a shout-out to dad, who said, “You always got to be thinking.” He hated stupidity.

 Has Blaska mellowed?

Don’t ever remember having so many friends. Going to help set up for a get-together with about a dozen classmates from Sun Prairie high school’s class of (date redacted). It’s been a special blessing to reconnect with maybe my best friend back then (mine, but probably not his). He saw heavy action in Vietnam, and later, the Wisconsin National Guard which deployed him to Kosovo, Kuwait, Honduras, and Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. Me, I hid my heinie under a college dormitory bed until the coast was clear. Was editor of the school newspaper when UW-Oshkosh in the late 1960s was psychedelic! The Beatles Hey Jude! was our soundtrack. Creedence and CSN (and sometimes) Y, too. And Jimi! We had our own anti-war riot, during which the house I rented was fire-bombed.

Just now remembering how the Lovely Lisa smelled and felt as we shared our first kiss in the photography dark room. (What’s a dark room, daddy?) I was so shy then! (For good reason, some would say.)

Every one of the individuals of my generation (the Boomers) referenced here, as it happens, are more prosperous. Some are sitting on millions of dollars worth of land. But others who passed through our lives are dead and gone. Fortunate to survive arterial sclerosis and Stage 0 cancer. Like grandma, the obit pages are must reading. We did alright.

Someone is going to be elected President later this year (or next, if recent history is a guide). Many voters are going to be outraged. No matter who wins, Blaska will be disappointed. That’s something new under the sun! But asteroids are predicted to keep missing mother Earth for a few more millennia. If I had a complaint, it would be that time is going by too fast. Relativity, rela-schmidity! Now, if this scribbler could lose a few pounds … Best man at my wedding all that long ago was surprised to see me last month in Omro; he remembered me as the thinnest man he knew.

Blaska’s Bottom Line: has yet to be written.

Where did you tend bar?