Of Clocks and Clockmakers

Our pendulum clock died shortly before Christmas. Its mechanical heartbeat ceased. Its chimes that resounded at the top and bottom of the hour were silenced.

The absence of a clock ticking in the house was unsettling. Not to mention that my husband, who can become minutely focused on any project at hand, would lose all track of time.

We knew we wanted another pendulum clock, preferably old and preferably oak. A search of Duluth antique stores turned up nothing. An effort to find "the Clock Man," a dealer who used to have a nice collection of clocks at Father Time, failed.

In our effort, we found Al Hazebroek, who has cleaned and repaired clocks for more than 30 years. He and his wife are downsizing. He invited us to his home to look at some clocks with which he was willing to part.

We liked several, but chose this old schoolhouse clock. It was made by a Duluth man named Wittala or Wuotala, according to Al. I googled Duluth clockmakers by those names and got a hit for a John Leonard Wuotila. His obituary said he inspected arriving foreign ships as a plant protection and quarantine worker for the USDA. And, among many other things, he enjoyed making clocks.

It has taken us a while to get used to our new clock's tick and chime. It's of much better quality than the one it replaced. And I really like the fact that it's locally made.

New Rebel Forces

Tom and I accompanied this motley crew and others to Star Wars: The Force Awakens up at Lakes Cinema last night. I'm not so sure I'd want to meet up with these guys on Mos Eisley.

Paying It Forward

Six years ago during holiday break, my son started learning to ski. In the photo at top he is being helped by a Chester Bowl ski cadet.

In the image at bottom, he now wears the green jacket. On Saturday, Sam began his official duties as a ski cadet, helping others learn how to ski at Chester Bowl's week-long ski camp.

I'm incredibly proud that he has chosen to be a ski cadet. As such he needs to log 50+ hours on the hill. Already, he teaches non-skiers how to side-step up the cordoned-off bunny hill, catches them at the bottom, and helps them get back up if they fall. He accompanies beginner and intermediate skiers on the chair lift then skis down the hill with them, slowly following or leading, if necessary, or skiing alongside at their speed. Later on in lessons, he and other cadets will guide lines of new skiers in snake formations down the hill.

Outside of ski camp and Thursday night ski lessons, he will help other skiers on the slope -- retrieving runaway skis or dropped ski poles, assisting someone who's taken a tumble, going for aid if someone is hurt.

There are some perks. On days he's on duty, he receives free meals at the hill. And he gets to ski for a lot longer time than in previous years. But the best perks are mine and Tom's. We get to watch our son take on more responsibilities and make a contribution of his own to the world.

Fighting for the Not-So-Little Things

I discovered this week that our Health Reimbursement Account and I both paid the same medical bill. The HRA payment was made on July 7. My personal check was cashed by the Essentia Health system on July 23. I telephoned the business office of Essentia Health early this morning, seeking reimbursement of my $95.55 over-payment.

The woman on the line told me she couldn’t return the money until a medical bill from a service I received on Nov. 23 is fully paid. I haven’t yet received that bill from Essentia Health. But I shared with the woman what I know about its payment from my insurance account details online: My insurer already has sent payment for what’s covered and the portion that’s to be paid from our HRA “is pending.”

I reminded her that Essentia Health, aka, the Duluth Clinic, aka St. Mary’s Medical System, was founded on Benedictine values. I also explained that my husband teaches ethics at the College of St. Scholastica, which is run by the same Benedictine nuns who founded St. Mary’s. I told her that it didn’t seem very ethical to keep $95.55 of my money for five months without letting me know an over-payment had been made. And it was even less ethical to continue keeping it once I requested it be returned.

She, of course, would have to speak to her supervisor about this. I asked her to let me speak to her supervisor. “I will try...” she said. On hold for a fair amount of time, I anticipated I would hear the standard spiel about her supervisor not being available and I would need to call back. Surprisingly, the woman came back on the line saying she would process my refund.

It makes me very sad that I’m surprised when someone actually does the right thing, or almost the right thing.

Happy Hanukkah

One of my favorite holiday moments is of Sam and his friends lighting hanukiyot together.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

So how do you bring a new generation up to speed on a movie series they didn't grow up watching? In discussing the new Star Wars movie that's due out next month at our son's soccer games this fall, we realized that several of his teammates hadn't seen the original three or later three movies. The solution, a Star Wars movie marathon sleepover, developed from there.

Last Saturday, we hosted six boys for a viewing of the six movies on the big screen at our synagogue. They spread out camping mattresses and sleeping bags on the floor and settled in for the shows. In between they played Paintball together on networked computers, enjoyed pizza, snacks and breakfast, and got about three hours of sleep.

Good thing we decided to start with the original three movies, which lead into the new one. We ran out of time midway through the second of the later movies. The boys have a solution to that: have another Star Wars movie marathon sleepover. However, it might be a while before my husband and I fully recover.

November raspberries

We're into November here in the Northland, and yesterday I picked more fresh raspberries. I'm pretty certain this may be my last harvest of the season.

Dr. Who Conundrum

When my 10-year-old son decided to be Dr. Who this Halloween, my initial reactions:

• Way cool!
• Which doctor, and if it's the 10th will he fit into my old Converse high tops?
• Hope he isn't disappointed when people can't figure out who he is.

We headed out trick-or-treating last night. Imagine our surprise when, after knocking on the doors of just two immediate neighbors, we ran into two more versions of the 11th Doctor. The three "Doctors" lined up for the photo at right, their sonic screwdrivers engaged.

In case you're wondering what's on my son's head: To quote the Doctor, "It's a fez. I wear a fez now. Fezes are cool." (Bow ties are too.)

I only wished I had bought that fleece jumpsuit made to look like the TARDIS. I could have stood on a strategic street corner instead of traipsing about the neighborhood as J.K. Rowling's sorting hat.

October raspberries

We're well into October here in northern Minnesota. Yesterday I picked these fresh raspberries off our bushes, and harvested my beets and a little lettuce from the garden.

Customer Service Lament

I've been thinking a lot about customer service. Companies have entire departments devoted to it. You can call customer service, e-mail customer service, even chat live online with customer service. Management trains their frontline or first contact employees to provide customer service. Some businesses I patronize give great customer service. Sadly, most businesses do not.

On Friday, June 12, Waste Management failed to pick up our garbage. Our delivery is on Friday afternoon. I e-mailed customer service and received this immediate e-mail back: "A customer service representative will respond soon to your question." I waited. Our trash sat on the curb over the hot weekend. I e-mailed customer service again at the beginning of the week and received an immediate e-mail back: "A customer service representative will respond soon to your question." Frustrated, I called the Waste Management customer service phone number in the Twin Cities. They said they would schedule a pick-up of our trash which had sat on the curb over the weekend -- for Wednesday. That day came and went. My trash finally was picked up on Friday, a full week late on my regular service day. I researched the costs of two other garbage haulers that service my neighborhood and vowed the next time our trash isn't picked up to switch services.

A couple of weeks ago I completed a customer satisfaction survey Waste Management e-mailed to me. I rated my recycling service middle high, my garbage service middle low. And I took the opportunity to clearly explain that sending an e-mail back saying "A customer service representative will respond soon to your question" -- is not customer service.

On Thursday, Oct. 15, more than four months after I e-mailed customer service twice and received messages that a customer service representative would "respond soon," I received a phone call from a Waste Management customer service representative. I laughed that my service problem finally was getting an airing. She tried to make me a satisfied customer by explaining to me that my e-mail requests for service went to their national system but were never routed back to our service region. The collective "They" she spoke for, has no record of my requests for service. However, in the future, I can "chat online" for immediate customer service. Then, she qualified, but only during the hours of 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Friday.

I choose to laugh, rather than cry. My hauler made it today. He's even early. Let's just hope he doesn't miss any more pickups.

A Blue Ribbon Day

We watched a fair princess have her likeness carved in butter and robots play a game of tag. Sam got his Monkey with a Tool Belt book signed by author Chris Monroe. We walked through a haunted house and saw some cows being milked. We marveled at the prize-winning fair entries -- from commercial cheese and student art to pies and quilts. We ate fresh cut french fries while scoping out the midway, pausing for Sam to test his skill at a ring toss game. We walked from one end of the fairgrounds to the other -- for a second time -- just so we could eat meatloaf on a stick. We rendezvoused with Tom at the CSS booth and started a pin collection. We caught the tail end of a bee beard demonstration. We devoured deep fried Oreos. Sam rode his first roller coaster with his Dad, both coming off  the ride with big smiles and a little bit dizzy. We took pointers from a honey harvesting demonstration.

We liked everything we experienced at the Minnesota State Fair, except that Sam was a half-inch shy of being tall enough to drive a go-kart and we didn't have room for those deep-fried twinkies on a stick. There's always next year.

A boy and his sailboat

We took our inflatable mini-catamaran to the cabin yesterday. It's perfect for a boy of 10 on a lake the size of Sweet Lake. My husband spent the morning showing our son how to stay on course with the rudder and adjust the boom to catch the wind. Sam spent the afternoon sailing the lake.

A successful experiment

I harvested some beets yesterday. They were one of my gardening experiments. Last year's was potatoes and onions. This year's was beets.

I have never bought a beet in my life -- let alone grown them. But I bought two different varieties, golden and candystripe, at a fundraiser for my son's school. I transplanted them into two big pots, and watered them during dry spells.

I grilled these in the oven with olive oil and pepper. Then tossed them with some scallions and lemon juice, put them on some lettuce and topped them with crumbled feta. They were delicious!

The missed shot

I was checking on our blueberries when I noticed this young robin sitting in one of the bushes. He didn't seem to mind as I quietly observed him. In fact, he had barely moved in the time I walked back to the house, grabbed my camera and returned.

Several minutes later, however, he sent off a squawk when my husband reached for a few blueberries on his way out to the garden shed. "Help, I'm being attacked," I heard, rushing out the back door to see two adult robins squawking and flying wildly around my husband. One actually hit him on the head. The young robin, meanwhile, made a low escape through our backyard gate.

Too bad I didn't still have my camera in hand.

Beautiful, bountiful berries

I love this late July convergence of strawberries, blueberries and raspberries in my backyard. Today I used them to make these breakfast parfaits. Alas, the strawberries are almost finished. But the blueberries are coming on strong and raspberries are just beginning to ripen.

Great Literature

By sheer coincidence I find myself reading two books about the sea simultaneously. Both are turning out to be excellent reads, most notably for their absorbing tales and descriptive writing.

Our family read-aloud is Margi Preus' "Heart of a Samurai," a book that was gifted to my 10-year-old son. It's a story about a Japanese boy who is shipwrecked, rescued by a whaling ship, and comes to live in America in the 1840s. We're captivated by the boy's efforts to adopt western life, the cultural comparisons he makes, and his struggles to achieve his dream to once again see his family and homeland.

My personal read, E. Annie Proulx' "The Shipping News," is a true delight I discovered in a Little Lending Library on Minnesota Point. A widowed man moves to his ancestral home of Newfoundland with his two young daughters and aunt to start new lives.I'm awed by the vivid images of life in Newfoundland, the simple way in which the complex struggles of the dad in starting life over again are portrayed, and the depth the author has given her colorful cast of characters. I savor carefully crafted phrases, such as evoking his daughter's "Beethoven scowl." I'm smitten with the small-town newspaper stories the protagonist and his colleagues cover and, especially, the headlines that run through the main character's mind about his own life.

Both books received high prizes: Preus earned a Newbery Honor, Proulx the 1994 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.Reading them, makes me commit to writing more regularly and entertain the idea of returning to newspapering -- but at that small-town level where it can be a lot more fun.

DC Adventure: Which Smithsonian Museum?

We couldn't visit all of them, so we chose a few: Natural History Museum, Air and Space Museum, Freer Gallery.

DC Adventure: Money

After studying currency and the economy in his GATE class last year, Sam insisted we tour the Bureau of Engraving and Printing -- where all the money is made. So we did. Picture-taking opportunities were limited.

In many ways, it was like being back in the press room at the newspaper. But the printing process is more involved, quality control is more exacting, and the security level is way higher.

DC Adventure: The Monuments Tour

We spent the morning touring the impressive monuments and memorials on the National Mall.

We liked the iconic Washington and Lincoln memorials and overwhelmingly somber Vietnam and Korean memorials best. But we had the most fun at the Roosevelt memorial.

As the sun got higher in the sky and the temperature and humidity rose to sweltering, we debated renting bikes or Segways. Alas, Sam wasn't tall enough for one or old enough for the other. Next time, perhaps.

DC Adventure: The National Zoo

Josh and Erin came down from Baltimore to have lunch with us then take in the National Zoo. I particularly liked the ways different animals coped with the heat.

DC Adventure: Arlington National Cemetery

I wasn't in the right frame of mind when we arrived at Arlington National Cemetery.

We got delayed at our subway stop and were late meeting Mike and Cathy. I was annoyed that my Mom spent so much time at the women's memorial, considering all of the other sights in Washington that Tom, Sam and I wanted to see.

We got to talk with my sister-in-law about her time in Afghanistan and Iraq. We saw President John F. Kennedy's grave. By the time we got to the Tomb of the Unknowns and watched the changing of the guard, I was able to appreciate the experience.

Summer is officially here

I'm washing a load of laundry this morning. In it are my family's smoky clothes from our first fire of the season in our backyard last night, Sam's mud-splattered shorts and race t-shirt from the Congdon Cougar Chase yesterday morning, and some mosquito repellent-laden clothing from a hike I took earlier this week in Hartley Field.

Sam, by the way, had an excellent 5K run on the Lester River trails. He ran a time of 28:14, placing 7th in his age group and 41st out of 127 runners overall. I believe he would have placed higher if the mud hadn't sucked off his shoe and sock. He crossed the finish line carrying the sock but wearing the shoe.

The shoes, now clean, are drying on the front porch in the sun.

Alternate modes of transportation

My son usually rides the bus to school. For the past two weeks, he has been hitching car rides from his Dad in order to get there early for school Safety Patrol training. This morning, he rode his bike.

He left at 6:40 a.m., his Dad accompanying him on the 26-block, mostly downhill ride. He arrived at 7 a.m., about 15 minutes early. My husband called to let me know they had arrived safely. Sam had a great ride and received a bright orange t-shirt for participating in Walk/Bike to School Day.

I'm supposed to meet Sam and his Dad after school and running club for the mostly uphill ride home. When I walk to work, my 7-minute downhill jaunt takes about 14 minutes on the return. We'll see how this return bike ride goes. Getting to the school bus that stops less than half a block from our home seems so much easier.

Spring Break Adventure Day 1

Sam and his cousins shared an overnight adventure to St. Paul during spring break. Our first stop was the Como Park Zoo and Conservatory.

We got caught up watching a family of orangutans interact, two bison chase each other around their outdoor pen, and the polar bear swim past the viewing area window.

The warmth and humidity of the Conservatory pushed away Duluth's still-lingering cold. The boys were enthralled by the giant ferns, the koi ponds, fountains and the Japanese garden. I was delighted by the flowers in the sunken garden, the bonsai collection and the fern room.

Big Adventure

My son and I shared a very noteworthy adventure this past week. We spent three days at Wolf Ridge Environmental Learning Center with the entire fourth grade from his school.

We experienced the outdoors and challenged ourselves in a variety of ways. Seven birds, mostly chickadees, landed on Sam's head during his birds class. We both completed the high ropes course, rode a zip line, learned how to belay a climber and washed cafeteria dishes during our turn at KP duty. He climbed a rock wall, uncovered skeletal remains in an owl pellet and wove a beautiful dream catcher. I helped students stay safe, dress appropriately for cold weather activities, find their classes, make it to meals on time, get some sleep, and look for a glove dropped in the woods.

His survival class experience didn't go so well when someone in the group knocked the water for hot chocolate onto their fire (at least they got the fire started).  And I could have better coordinated my group of girls' three different schedules so all got to their classes on time.

I know I stretched outside my comfort zone quite a bit. I'm sure he did too.

"If not now, when?"

Hillel's teaching played through my mind as I stood on the platform of the first tower of the high ropes course at Wolf Ridge Environmental Learning Center. I had spent the morning guiding fourth graders through the process of switching safely from the first ropes event to the next. Now, I needed to decide whether to traverse four more events then ride a zip line to the ground, or retreat along a familiar wooden bridge back to the ropes course entry.

The day before, I had retreated, content with the accomplishment of having spent three hours on a platform 25 feet off the ground. As a college student 30 years ago, I had acquired a strong fear of heights while standing on a hang gliding platform in the Cumberland Mountains. Only once had I challenged that fear when, as a newspaper reporter, I climbed a fire spotter's tower in northern Wisconsin for a story.

I was pretty confident I could do the course's two log events. But it was the web and wire bridge before me that gave me pause and the single wire later on that gave me concern. Would I be able to get back up onto that single wire if I fell off and was dangling? Best not to think about that too much.

My inspiration lay in the children who had crossed my tower earlier in the day. My son Sam completed the course fully focused, slowly and deliberately, Peter, who is limited in mobility, went across in a special harness attached to his Dad. Grace, who quit after the first station, decided to try again. As Grace neared the end of the wire and web bridge, our instructor Carrie asked the question I had been contemplating all morning. Did I want to head back to the entry or "do" the course?

I'm already up here, I thought, standing at the edge of the tower, looking out over the "rainbow bridge," admiring the view of Lake Superior and the birch, aspen and pine treetops. When will I ever have this chance again?

I chose to "do" the course. "Sam, may I switch my first carabiner?" I called down to my son and self-appointed ground partner. After safely switching my second, I stepped purposefully out onto the wire. A big rush of adrenaline carried me more than half-way across. I paused when the wind caused the bridge to shake and buckle. I realized how much my leg muscles were shaking. Determined, I pushed out on the two waist-high wires to steady the bridge and continued walking. The last five steps up to the tower seemed hardest. But once there, I knew I wasn't going back.

The next challenge, walking across two logs while pushing my harness ahead of me, was a piece of cake. I waited on the third tower while Grace finished the single wire and switched ahead. I looked back and saw Jeana, the adult who had manned the second tower, coming across the logs. To turn back now meant I would only have the encouragement and guidance of my 10-year-old ground partner to get me back to the ropes course entry.

The single wire proved most challenging. I had to pull out  my harness straps for balance as I stepped across a single wire suspended 25 feet in the air. Thankfully, the wire was much shorter than the one on the rainbow bridge. I was breathing heavily by the time I reached that fourth tower, my legs and arms shaking. Although I wanted desperately to feel solid planking under my feet, it took great effort to take those last few steps.

Walk across one more log to the zip line tower and I'm home free, I thought.

Attached to the zip line, all I had to do was jump off the tower. Home free? What was I thinking? I decided to sit and edge off instead. Buoyed by the chanting of my son and his friends on the ground below, "Let go Mom, let go Mom," I took the plunge.

My sensation of fear switched to incredible freedom once the free-fall stopped and the line caught. I rode to the steps overwhelmed by the awesomeness of what I had just accomplished.

Party On! It's Purim!

My son played the monster Namah in Purim Monster's Inc., a play about a group of monsters who scare children in order to collect their screams for the Scream Gragger. I donned a more traditional Haman costume for the show.

For Friday night's costume parade, however, we had much more freedom to design our own. Hence Sam, aka, hula boy. I chose to wear my Super Jew t-shirt with a cape. Tom made a Leonard Nimoy tribute appearance as Spock.

Happy Valentine's Day

My 10-year-old son and my husband got up early and baked this cake as part of my Valentine's Day gift. It's all strawberry -- the cake, the jam between the layers and the frosting. We're saving it for dessert this evening.

Now, he and his Dad are hosting his first LAN party for friends in a computer lab at the college. The boys and their fathers will create their characters -- hobbits, dwarves, elves or men -- and train them to defend Middle Earth in Lord of the Rings Online.

I, in the meantime, will remain at home in the Shire cleaning up the kitchen. It seems they haven't quite figured that part out yet.

Who needs romance when you've got cake? Though I do hope my elf and hobbit stop at the store and pick up some milk on their journey home. Let's just hope they don't encounter too many orcs.

Young minds at work

Six Webelos from Voyageurs Pack 3043 gathered at the College of St. Scholastica in the early twilight on Thursday, Jan. 29, 2015. Their mission: to drop an egg 12 feet without breaking it.

Each boy worked for two weeks to engineer a device that would protect a raw egg in free-fall to the floor. They used common materials such as tooth picks, popsicle sticks, dried marshmallows, rubber bands, plastic bags, duct tape, paper towels, glue. Each device was different. Some designs relied on elaborate protective cages, some on parachutes, and others on egg cocoons.

Results were mixed. In the final tally: three eggs survived intact, two suffered minor cracks, one -- to the delight of all gathered -- simply went splat.

Consensus at the AAR (After Action Review): the devices that provided the egg with the most suspension had the best results.