I don’t need Ms. Stepp to shoot a deer to prove she knows what she’s doing as DNR Secretary. I don’t need her to eat deer jerky and summer sausage. What I need is a DNR Secretary who is a sportsman/woman and who understands the bagging of game is secondary to the hunting and outdoor experience. That to be “out there” is why ethical hunters hunt. It’s not about shooting a deer, a grouse, or a pheasant. It’s a bonus if you bag game. Being “out there” is the reward. I doubt Ms. Stepp was able to learn that in the two hours she hunted. The fact she couldn’t look the animal in the eye tells me more than I need to know.
Each year about this time, we get the DVDs in order ready for the holidays: Christmas Vacation. Home Alone. It’s a Wonderful Life. Bad Santa. Elf.
Since I was up in Oshkosh with Mom the last few days, I’m a little late getting started. My favorite holiday movie of all time is an annual event just before Thanksgiving and I’m not afraid to say it should be at your home, too.
November 25, 1976, at the historic Winterland in San Francisco. The Last Waltz. Enjoy!
We’ve been hearing a lot of talk on how the Thanksgiving Day game in Detroit was going to be the back breaker for Green Bay – especially from the thugs that make up arguably the dirtiest team in the NFL. “I lost my balance and stepped on his arm. Yea….that’s it…I lost my balance,” explained Ndamukong “Tommy Flanagan” Suh after the game. Howie Long, years beyond being relevant, saw no problem with Suh’s behavior. He used to play with Lester “The Molester” Hayes and the Oakland Raiders so that explains that asinine comment.
Discipline, intensity, intelligence and talent win championships. Detroit has talent.
An empty house this Thanksgiving weekend was making PPenn and me hit the “let’s get creative” button. One boy in New Jersey and the other on the road had Mom a little blue. We decided to play it by ear but then came the phone call from Oshkosh late Tuesday informing us that Gert was headed to Mercy Hospital. A long night, a long Wednesday and lots of tests but my Mom is feeling better, fighting off an infection and a bum gall bladder.
95 years of living on her own – way longer than most – was no consolation to Gert when the reality that she could no longer take care of herself hit. I knew “the talk” with Mom was coming. Big Sis knew it was coming. We all knew it was coming. But that doesn’t mean any of us were ready for it.
Tonight, I’m alone in a condo in Oshkosh with a cat I’ve seen 4 times in 10 years. And PPenn is alone in Madison with The Bird Dog and The Scotties. But tomorrow, she’ll join me with pumpkin pie and that smile that always makes everything better. We’ll do The Paine and the two of us will keep our reservation for three at The Roxy. And take plate-to-go to Mercy. Mom gets to watch the Packers and the doctor said she can even have a Leinies. Just one. All in all, we’re truly blessed.
Forty eight years ago, the horror of 6 seconds in Dallas and an execution on live television a few days later stunned a nation. I was 6 years old but like many from that time, the assassination would fascinate me for years.