Wednesday, May 19, 2021

 Wednesday, May 19, 2021 70 degrees—While walking through Morehouse Park on my way to Central Park Coffee this morning, a dog ran from a picnic shelter and headed straight for me, while behind it was a middle-aged woman shouting its name.  I did what someone taught me to do, hold out my hand to let the dog smell it.  Dogs smell fear.  The dog sniffed my finger, then wagged its tail in a friendly manner.  The woman came up to us and snapped a leash on the dog’s collar, and returned to the shelter.  Bedding on a shelter table suggested she and the dog spent the night there.

Tuesday, May 18, 2021

Tuesday, May 18, 2021

 This morning after Gibson’s 8:08 call and breakfast, I walked down the Straight River trail  to Central Park Coffee for a blueberry scone and coffee in the alley.  Read more Hunter S. Thompson which seems to be getting better the more I read.  I wonder if Gibson would like it. Just as my walk back to Lake Kohlmier ended, a light rain began and I peed beside the car.  Both the walk to and back from downtown went well, a mile in 19 minutes. 

Friday, April 23, 2021

 Friday April 23, 2021   50 degrees—One of my odder days.  Up at 6:40 a,m,, had my usual breakfast, made a month’s batch of steel-cut oats, then went online to write a portion of today’s diary entry when everything went crazy.  Lost all of this year’s diary entries and most of last year’s.  While trying to recover the entries, the computer produced machine-gun-like sounds and froze.  Unable to shut down, I pulled the power cord out, then rebooted, crossed my fingers, 

Tuesday, September 8, 2020

 Tuesday, Sept. 8     45 degrees—Mona and Tom drove up from Blue Earth to get the four-poster bed I promised them.  They took everything but the futon mattress, will return some other day.  The subject of LaVona didn’t come up.

This afternoon I drove to Timberdale for a window visit with LaVona which didn’t last long because of rain.  She asked me to bring two pairs of panties next time.

I’m beginning The Notebooks of Malta Laurids Brigge by Ranier Maria Rilke.   Second time around but it’s been years. It’s an amazing work.

For three days I’ve been dealing with a painful eruption, something an enormous boil, on my left fore arm.  Fearful it may be more cancer.

Tonight I made a stir fry with shrimp, mixed vegetables, and brown rice.

Turned on the furnace today.

Monday, September 7, 2020

Saturday, Sept. 5, 2020

 Up at 7:00 a,m,, pulled the blues out of the freezer for thawing, got dressed, checked messages, received Gibson's 8:10 a.m. phone call.  He said he has tired of Swanson's frozen food pies.

Friday, September 4, 2020

 Friday, Sept. 4, 2020    69 degrees--After having a window visit with LaVona this morning, I picked up Gibson and drove to a park trail in north Owatonna, a park that included the Dartt Park baseball field, Buxton Trail, etc. In all we walked about four miles, then ended with coffee at KwikTrip.  As usual Gibson talked while I listened, asked questions, nodded. On the drive back, we stopped at Little Professor Bookstore to pick up my order made two months ago, a paperback of Rilke's The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge.

Friday, January 24, 2020


Friday, Jan. 24, 2020—Today I’m resuming the diary, mainly because for the first time in 32 years LaVona and I are living separately.  About a month ago, LaVona was ordered by a doctor at Allina Owatonna hospital to a memory care facility.  Her daughter Melody recommended Timberdale Trace just a few blocks from our house in south Owatonna.  Since she’s been in room 18 of Timberdale, her memory loss and general bewilderment has increased noticeably.  Several times this week she asked me if we were married. If I ask her the names of her eight children, she can’t remember a single one unless I ask her to sing a song that the doctor who delivered all eight composed for her, one that lists the names in a catchy rhyme and melody.  
   
   She continues to request to return home.  I continue to tell her Timberdale is her current home as prescribed by her doctor.  She doesn’t find that answer very satisfying.

  I’m writing this at Old Town Bagel where I stopped in for a bagel sandwich and coffee. Now it’s time to pack up and walk the two miles along the Straight River trail to the car and drive over to Timberdale for a visit before heading home to make supper.  

  Being home alone is a novelty after 32 years of living with LaVona.

Dec. 28, 2007

Dec. 28, 2007
In the waning years of WW II, we were living in Rockville Center, Long Island, I was about 12 and dad was dying of a brain tumor. Mom said NYC was no place for a widow to bring up a child, so she packed us up and we took a train to her childhood home in Detroit Lakes Minnesota. That's where she met and married this widower. He was a clothing salesman and outdoorsman.

Dec. 27, 2007

Dec. 27, 2007
Hamburger at Petes Place

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