On Friday, I was moved to write a post about some of that day’s events. When Saturday came I was flooded with thoughts that crowded out that post and came up with the three There is not there posts which allowed me to share a mild version of my contempt for the report outlining Art Johnston’s failings. I thought it important enough I even proof read them.
On Saturday I listened to NPR and realized that it was the anniversary of the Fall of the Berlin Wall. There was a particulary touching Google Doodle that moved to write a reminiscence about my Dad, the optimist who made me believe that even after 75 years of Soviet Communism that system was destined for failure. Saturday was the 25th anniversary of the fall of the wall. My Dad died two years before its fall. But after posting on the Rice Report I decided to wait to write that reminiscence until I had the energy to do it justice.
On Sunday it was family time and Claudia was going to head down for one of her two-day Seminary marathons. But a winter storm was coming and she wanted to get to the Twin Cities early to avoid treacherous driving so I did a little solo grandfather duty with the grandsons. As for Monday the weather Claudia had fretted about hit Duluth while I was caught up in a flurry of phone calls and an absence of transportation and well, I’ll start there and see if I can work back to some of those earlier posts I punted on as well another one touching on today’s celebration of the end of the Great War 11-11 since renamed Veteran’s Day in honor of all America’s wars. I put an American Flag up so that will have to do unless I find the energy for that post too.
So, I had to begin yesterday by driving my Toyota to a dealer to manage a recall fix up, put on snow tires and replace a newly burnt out front headlamp. The snow was falling as the courtesy car took me home where I was waiting for two yards of sand to begin filling the great cavity that our broken water line had washed out over the summer. The sandman called while I was enroute to ask if I still wanted the sand since up to twelve inches of snow was forecast. You bet I told them and headed into my house to prepare for the transfer of sand via wheelbarrow to the depths.
I looked out the window once before I got my boots on and saw three then six cars tangled together on icy 21st Avenue East. The sixteen cars that eventually piled up made it to the Trib’s front page with my house in the background. This is what the scene looked like from my house:
and this:
I called Four Seasons to warn their driver that driving up 21st would be treacherous. They must have reached him as he began dumping sand on my driveway because he was on the phone when I scurried out. He told me he’d leave by a different route.
I’ve been inspired in the past to sculpt traffic accidents. Here’s one of my earliest snow sculptures that went up the year the Berlin Wall came down.
I had my red wheelbarrow ready to go and managed to get about twelve loads of sand out to the hole I’d dug with my posthole digger a few days before. Of course, I had to flit around the accidents first taking photos for the blog. I beat the Trib’s Bob King. When he showed up I complimented him on his post on the recently discovered solar disc found some million light years from our sun. I had to pat my fellow blogger on the back.
After my twelfth load I got a call from Art Johnston. It was my first of two calls from Art during the day which totaled about an hour and a half between them. He’s rightly exercised about Jane’s treatment at our last Board meeting and wanted to talk about our HR and Business Committee meetings that were planned for late afternoon. I came in from the cold both times to talk. After Art’s first call I got another from my Brother who regaled me with the sunny 64 degree weather he was enjoying at the moment in St. Louis. I kept making a dent in my sand pile but everytime I came back it was covered in snow. After about yard and a half the hole began plugging up so I got a long board and kept thrusting it down as though churning butter. A forty minute call from my brother-in-law led to my next interruption, not counting a quick ham sandwich lunch. He wanted to know all about my sink hole and warned me that the hole could take out my foundation.
Sometime out in the snow I got a call from the dealership with my car and was told my water pump was on its last squirt. I told them I had a 4 O’Clock meeting I had to get to and was told it could be managed and I could get picked up by 3:30 in time to get to my meeting. That was reassuring. When 2:45 rolled around I got a call from my son in law telling me that he was at the bottom of 21st Ave and couldn’t get up the hill.
He wondered if I could get my grandson from his daycare. I explained the problem I had and suggested that he try going up Missabe Ave which I hoped would have a more gradual slope he could climb. I was racing to get the final loads of sand into the hole when the courtesy car drove up. I left the last couple loads to accumulate more snow while I retrieved the car. This was the time that the daycare was supposed to close and I’d not gotten a call from my son in law. I had told him that if he got stuck I knock on doors until I found someone who would help me retrieve my grandson. That would not prove necessary. After I got back I took a nap.
