Christmas Eve - Lincoln

So I’ll be heading out for some last minute Christmas shopping. Probably hit Ben Simon’s, Dirt Cheap, Miller and Paine.  Then maybe Barrymore’s or McGuffey’s upstairs for a cold pint and conversation with the likes of Patrick O’Brien, graduate of Prescott, Steve Solomon, one smooth cat, Tom Strasheim, always innovating, and myself. It was alway great to be back for the holidays and you boys and your friends and families made it easy to transition in for a few weeks over the break and etched an indelible memory for me. Anyway, after a pint or two at McGuffey’s the next step may have been related to a bing in the car and then off to wrap a present and have those darn baked mushrooms at Pat’s. As I recall that afternoon set the stage for blending into Christmas Eve like the third big sip of Pinch scotch going down in a Solomon basement. Before heading home I may have slid downstairs with Tom at the Lincolnshire house for a little football on the console and a nap.  

And, with those noted, I need to recall that fateful trip in the Honda with Stras driving (and exhaling) and the quick stop at the bank and the warm greeting we had from Jerry. Oh yes, another close one averted.

Good times gents! 

Just wanted to share this little story and say thanks and Merry Christmas. 

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All in the Family...

Dateline: Weekend of May 5, 2019. Place: Mt. Pleasant, Iowa. Purpose: Accompany my sister Paddy on an ancestry trip that will lead to meeting our mom’s half brother and cousins that we never knew about. We don’t know them and they don’t know us. I think about my mom, Rose, contemplating how this weekend adventure will turn out.

We are in the heart of the Midwest. A little over 8,000 people in this little town. The Courthouse occupies a full block. A mix of vacant storefronts and mom and pop retail and restaurants are in the town square. Very similar to Falls City. We stop at a flower store for a gift to take to the family then head out of town about two miles to the home of John Lambert.

Ernie worked 35 years at the state prison nearby. The prison is the City and region’s biggest employer. Ernie is the husband of Kelly Manning, the daughter of John Lambert, my mom Rose’s, half-brother on her Dad’s side. Kelly is also retired from the prison. It was Kelly and Ernie’s house we were at with John having an attached apartment to the home.

John, age 81, has health issues, needs canes and wheel chair for mobility. Very articulate and cogent though. Good manners. The house looked out over a small pond, a barn and acres of trees and open space. A quintessential setting one might imagine when thinking of the midwest countryside. This is a place where they still burn their garbage and there is a riding mower in the shed.


Ernie was doing some big time grilling today. Homemade sausages and hamburgers from the local area. He had several types of sausages too. Jalapeño-cheddar, plain bratwurst, and pineapple amongst others. Asked if he was going to eat one of those “flavored” sausages, he responded, “if I’m gonna eat pineapple it’s gonna be out of a can!”

John Lambert. Retired. Said he made his living building manufacturing plants. Went all over the U.S. for work, including stints in California. His Dad left the family when John was very young, repeating the pattern that happened with my Grandma Rose. Marry, have kids and then move on. John is from Vermont. Over the years, he only met his Dad, James E. Lambert two times. I never met my Dad either but spoke to him on the telephone several times when I was in my early 20’s. Anyway, back to John. There was resentment and disappointment in his voice when he talked about his father. His mother, Ruth, had a nervous breakdown when James E left her and the kids. Apparently she had to be admitted. According to John, she was never really the same again. She never remarried.

We stayed at the Comfort Inn Suites outside of the airport near Cedar Rapids. Brand new lodging, just opened. Next to some ag land and the interstate. On Saturday morning, Paddy asked the front desk for an eating recommendation. The response was “there is an A&W close by.” Really, you are directing people to an A&W? I found this kind of odd but then thinking about it, genuine at the same time. Lots of fast food and lots of people that are on the obese side here.

John’s kids and their families came by Saturday night as well as Kelly’s kids and family. Both of John’s sons worked at the prison. I wonder about a whole town of people working at the state prison and the culture and mindset that might create for the town. Inside the prison everyday and dealing with all there is there. Probably not a happy place to work, but work it is and as we heard from everyone, the state provides a good pension. Ernie worked maximum security for several years. Kelly worked directly with sex offenders. Makes you wonder what dinner time conversation was like. Wow. I feel especially grateful for Brookfield as I write this.

Anyway, Kelly’s son in law, Vegas has his own mechanic shop. Fixing cars and trucks in Mt. Pleasant. Three bays and lots of work. Kelly’s daughter, Liz is an ER nurse in Iowa City, just up the road 30 min. She also is in the Air Force reserve. No prison work for these two. John loved having his family here and seemed very thankful that we came. And despite the separation his Dad and our grand dad created amongst the families he started and left, there we all were all these years later, blood relatives, with our Uncle and cousins that we never knew of, connecting and having dinner together. Rose would have liked this very much.

The Neighborhood

Today’s Trail

Today’s Trail

Walking in the foothills of the Santa Ana Mountains about a 15 min walk from my house, we’re able to hit this trail and be in the semi-wilderness. Bright sunshine on this crisp winter morning is on the eastern horizon at about a 35 degree angle creating the juxtaposition of warmth against the cool breeze from the north coming off the crest of the ridge above me.

I can feel the grade rise in my feet but the ground is moist and soft from the light rain and early morning dew. The ground has an almost sponge effect; like a gymnastics mat, allowing for a little bounce and assist with every step.

The prickly-pear cacti strand appears on the western slope to my left, absorbing as much sun as possible as I head up a steeper portion of the trail to get a view of “Old Saddleback”, top of the OC.

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The Importance of Being Unemployed

As 1:00 pm rolls around, I lay half-awake and think about the effort to be exerted if I choose to get motivated. After deliberating an instant, I decide against my conscience and let my thoughts drift away far enough to keep me from getting out of bed.

I have been unemployed now for twenty-one days and I am a good prospect to go another twenty-one. My speculation of returning to the conventionalism of employment fills my thoughts in perpetuation. In time, I realize with money and my stomach as the motivating factors, I will have to return involuntarily to the ranks of the employed. Until that time arrives and after, I will continue to appreciate the importance of being unemployed.

By being unemployed, you have a certain amount of time in which you can be with yourself. This time used profoundly can be very beneficial in the development of your character and individuality. New interests and and new ideas of old interests will arise if one’s curiosity and imagination will take those creative steps to discover them.

The initial step is to destroy your television set. A simple 9-iron or a hammer should prove sufficient.

(circa 1983, Tucson, Arizona.)

The Beauty of the OC

On a trail accessed from San Juan Hills HS near Rancho Mission Viejo. Classic view of of the peaks. Turning around to take this photograph of a man and woman on horseback and just then, a woman with two dogs show up and sit...almost on cue with this great backdrop. I walked passed this as it was forming and looking back got the picture. Look closely, the trail has a little round-a-bout or cul-de-sac, making a great meeting place…as it probably has been for hundreds of years. 

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Two Birds with One Stone

The best thing since sliced bread is that you can't bite off more than you can chew. It's a piece of cake to have the best of both worlds which would be a blessing in disguise. But don't beat around the bush if you're going to burn the midnight oil because if do it may cost you an arm and a leg. 

I'll play the devils advocate and say we should cross that bridge when we come to it. Otherwise we would be crying over spilled milk which is a far cry from putting all your eggs in one basket. So for now, in the heat of the moment, let's not let the cat out of the bag until there is a method to the madness. 

But to make a long story short, I heard it through the grapevine that once in a blue moon we may both miss the boat if we are not on the ball and don't see eye to eye. On the other hand, without stealing's someone's thunder the whole nine yards should be taken with a grain of salt; unless of course you hit the nail on the head, and kill two birds with one stone.

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The Space Before the Twilight and the Dawn

Van Morrison's "When the Leaves Come Falling Down" was one of the two songs Kenny Stabler was listening to as he was dying of complications of colon cancer in July 2015. The other was "Sweet Home Alabama", the state in which Stabler called his home. The All-Pro QB of the Oakland Raiders in the 1970's was a maverick, a super bowl winner and one of the most creative and clutch performers of his time. I was taken with an article paying tribute to Stabler by former teammate, David Humm, "I Got This."  Click and read it before scrolling and reading on. If there's no time for that right now, the gist of the tribute is that no matter the predicament, the football situation, the bad luck, when asked about the situation, Kenny would always repond, "I Got This".  And he ususally did, responding beautifully to adversity, finding seams in complex defenses, snaking and winning in pressure situations. But please go back and read the article for yourself. You will not be dissapointed. 

Being the Van Morrison enthusiast that I have been the last 30 years and the Kenny Stabler fan I was as a young man, I decided to take a closer listen to that song Kenny decided to be one of the two last things he would hear before dying. It must be good, right? Take a listen: When the Leaves Come Falling Down.

It's one of those songs that get better the more you listen to it. Discovering the nuances, the rhythms, the simplicity of the lyrics, flow of the music and instrumentations. There is a refrain in the song, ..."follow me down to the space before the twilight and the dawn" that kept coming back into my thoughts.  What is that space? How long is it? How big is it? Dawn and twilight; yep I think I know the difference, but is there a space in between? Let's explore. 

According to timeandanddate.com roughly speaking, twilight is the time between dawn and sunrise. This morning I snapped a photo at twilight heading up to Chiquita Ridge to catch the sunrise, or perhaps the twilight. The nice little extra I received is the full or nearly full moon that was rising in the west. Notice the Ladera Ranch Christmas tree in the left center. So this is twilight...pretty sweet. 

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Anyway, back to the story. Come to find out, there are various layers or stages of both twilight and dawn. Each stage depends on how the angle of the sun is hitting the earth's lower atmosphere below the horizon, lighting up the rest of the sky and the surface of our own earth. It creates the beautiful and lovely times of day in which the earth is neither completly lit or completly dark, creating various times and layers of illumination. 

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Astronomical dawn is apparently the first phase of dawn the moment when center of the sun is 18 degrees below the horizon. Essentially, below 18 degrees, it's night. At 18 degrees it's astronomical dawn. Above 18 degrees it's phases of twilight; until 18 degrees at which point we have sunrise.

So, the question is: How long is the sun at precisely 18 degrees below the horizon, at astronomical dawn, before twilight?  The quick answer according to google is about 4 minutes. It takes about 4 minutes for the earth to spin or rotate one degree. Is this the space between the twilight and the dawn that Van was so eloquently contemplating in the song?  Is this considered a somewhat magical or mystical place or space that physically exists? Or perhaps this space exists more metaphorically, philosophically, maybe in our imagination or in a particular state of mind. Maybe this is where Van takes us when he goes Into the Mystic, where "we were born before the wind, oh so younger than the sun." Maybe this is where Kenny Stabler was that July day back in 2015.

The space before the twilight and the dawn? Yea, I got this. 

 

 

Who is Dave Watters?

My name is Dave Watters and I was born in Africa.

The part of my story I’m focusing on today is what you might call my formative years, where I was finding my way, weaving through the tapestry, discovering, adventuring, experiencing setbacks and disappointments…this was from about the age 18 through about the age of 30. These years included five different states, 20 different domiciles, several different jobs and universities, starting a business, several trips to Europe, and rounds of airport roulette, where we would drive to LAX and literally find a flight to somewhere once we got there. Looking back, this movement was my Zen, something that balanced my mind and body and allowed me the time to “transition”.

Yes, Africa. I might win the award for distance between home where I was born to home today. 6,046 miles. Born on a Navy base and lived on an Air Force base in Morocco. My mom actually moved there when she was pregnant, so my zeal for adventure actually came from her DNA. We moved back to Lincoln, Nebraska when I was two where I grew up as Dave Watters.

My mom was unlucky in marriage and our family grew up for the most part without a Dad in the household. Rose was an extremely hard worker and was the original Dave Ramsey of money management after she cashed her check each week putting money in envelopes for various categories (mortgage, utilities, groceries, etc.). Her work ethic, our solid middle class upbringing, various touch points with religion, understanding the differences between right and wrong, respect, compassion, consideration for others…these fundamentals were taught by example by Rose. I did not know it at the time, but I was grounded and when I left home at 18.

At 18, I headed to the University of Northern Colorado on a football scholarship. I found myself surrounded by lots of good players, including one guy who was a few steps ahead of me in the depth chart who eventually became an all-pro QB for the Kansas City Chiefs. I had to work hard, I had to play hard, I had to study film hard, we trained hard, and everything was extra tough. Two years later, in my sophomore year I found myself living with some teammates in a trailer park, next to a feed lot and although playing football, not playing as much as I wanted [Read: Redshirted] One day, I said to myself as I looked around and smelled the air, “I need to get out of this predicament”.  I felt boxed in and the output was not equal to the input. One day later my car was packed and I was headed east back to Nebraska. My mom was devastated. She didn’t understand and quite frankly neither did I. It was more of a gut feeling at the time that I needed to move on.

I needed some space between me and my Mom after this. Some friends of mine were living in a small town in western Nebraska, Benkelman.  No stop lights, two bars and one restaurant. Pop. About 1,200. Today there is less than 900 people. One guy, Kevin Johnson, was the assistant editor of the Benkelman Post. He wrote about me coming to town (this was news) and the whole county knew I was now there. Anyway, I stayed with them and quickly got a job putting up grain bins for farmers. This is where the value of a hard day’s work for a good day’s pay bonded with me.  We went from farm to farm over western Nebraska, experiencing some of the simple pleasures. Sunrises and sunsets, working hard, getting paid every Friday, home-made lunches and dinners at various farmer’s homes, simple conversation…about the weather most of the time, Nebraska football, cold cheap beer, waiving with your figure on the steering wheel while going down a two lane road. This was important! EXPLAIN THIS.

After several months there, I made way back to Lincoln and enrolled at the University, joined a fraternity, attended the Nebraska football games and started to blend into the Nebraska landscape.

Blending in was never a strong suit of mine.  My friend, Bob Pollock and I decided we wanted to go west. His grandmother lived in Sun City, Arizona. So one night, we put a map of Arizona over a dart board. Yes, we threw darts to determine what City we would move to. Flagstaff was the winner and two weeks later we were off, driving into and eventually out of one of the worst snow storms of the winter. I got pulled over in the Arizona desert, my car was packed, and everyone was being pulled over as they were looking for a bank robber. The officer asked me for my driver’s license and as it turned out it was somewhere packed in my car full of stuff. He asked me to keep looking. After about 15 minutes, I found a frisbee in the back of my car and it had my name, address and phone number written on the inside. The officer came back and I handed him the frisbee. He looked at it, astonished at first, then somewhat accepting and shrugged his shoulders took the frisbee with him. I saw him walk over to another officer holding the frisbee and them both inspecting it. They talked for a bit and the original officer came over handed me the frisbee and said, “we are going to have to have a second ID.”! Yes, the Frisbee counted as the first ID!

That year may have been the most grueling of my life. Hamburger helper or canned tuna for most dinners, late rent and utilities being turned off, bartending for a while at a black discotheque, lots and lots of snow, but eventually landing a job at the State of Arizona on a survey crew. EXPLAIN HOW I GOT THIS JOB. Unconventional approach. And I worked there every summer for the next three years to pay my way through school.

The University of Arizona was my next stop now that I had earned the right to pay in-state tuition. I tried out for the football team, did not make the cut, but looking back, trying in that situation was the key. It was like going for that next unknown. I was definitely outside of my comfort zone, but overall my experience was a good one, except in the coach’s office that final day when he gave me the word. I knew at that time, the play calling, the handoffs, the two-minute drill, the TD passes, it was all done and I now I was disappointed and felt the rush of mom’s disappointment from quitting the university and football earlier.

Soon, I was on the Rugby pitch and for the next few years as I had several university internships related to planning and building, as we played Rugby all over the southwest and pacific coast as well as England and Wales. Lifelong friends were made along the way. I had found an avatar for football and the adventures were at full tilt.

So back to Dave Watters. When my Mom was married a third time, I was about six or so. There was talk of officially adopting me so when I entered school, I enrolled as Dave Watters, my mother’s new married surname. The adoption never happened, she got divorced, the name stuck and I was Dave Watters. My sister is Paddy Watters.

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You can google Dave Watters, Lincoln East High school and get several hits. My friends back there still call me Wads or Watts today. I was asked to join the HS football Hall of Fame and they said do you want to go in Watters or Bartlett, and I said Watters. People always asked why I changed my name. Well, I didn’t. I just started using the name that I was originally given.

My name is Dave Bartlett and I was born in Africa.