happy father's day or the one which ends up being about fish

it's father's day and that has me thinking of what it was like growing up with my father. the last time, i wrote about how we used to leave him at home alone on father's day while we went to the big paint-o-rama in huron. a bit of peace and quiet at home, a round of golf and a few beers with his friends was undoubtedly the best father's day present we could give him.

i thought that in honor of father's day, i'd share a few of my memories of growing up with a dad like ralph:

~ as some of you know, ralph isn't the most patient person in the world. i remember on one occasion when he attempted to teach me and a friend a bit about golf over in the swimming pool park. and i recall him rather quickly putting up his hands in frustration and wandering away. i never did really learn to golf.

~ he used to encourage monica and i to get on our horses and race. we had susie and BJ so trained for a particular race track up the second row of the shelter belt (couldn't do that today, the trees are too big!), that as soon as we turned the corner, they took off. and i always won.

~ fishing in the little green boat. i recall a storm where we were across the river. my friend was along and  we were way up in the front of the boat. dad crossed in really bad conditions and on an unreliable motor. he later admitted what a white knuckle trip it had been and there were my friend and i, giggling away with each slam down into the waves, all the way across the missouri to wheeler. we're probably quite lucky to have survived the trip.

~ when we went fishing, i was constantly being cussed out for not paying enough attention. i always had a book along and would devote most of my attention to it. i'd put the fishing pole between my big toe and my second toe, so i could feel if there was a bite and i always put the book down when there was.

~ there was a lot of talk on fishing trips about setting the hook when you got a bite. after particularly violent hook settings, there was a lot of talk about fish lips, but i never did see any that had been detached from the fish.

~ when monica was really little, we were out on a particularly cold, windy day and she had on a coat with a string through the hood. she got a fish on her line and set the hook and began to reel it in. being rather little (i picture her as very little, but she was that for years, so she could very well have been 10), she would reel the correct direction for awhile and then her arm would get tired, so she'd reel for awhile in the other direction. at one point, the strings from her hood got wound onto the reel along with her line. i recall quite a lot of cussing on that occasion as well, tho' i also recall that that fish, while tired when it was finally landed, was the biggest one of the day.

so i hope my dad got to go fishing today if that's what he wanted to do. or golfing. or whatever. but i wish him a happy father's day. we'll see you in a week!

once upon a time...

a very long time ago, i was a page in the SD legislature. one fine day, in the midst of doing page-like things (running errands, picking up papers, running mrs. kosher's notes on how to vote down to mr. kosher), i found myself in the elevator. with governor janklow. he smiled and looked at my name tag. "nachtigal," he said, "charles mix county," there's a ralph nachtigal down there. i said, "i know, he's my dad." the smile faded from governor janklow's face and he said, "oh." conversation over. after what seemed like an eternity, the elevator doors opened and i got out.

happy memories

i've got a wonderful new program called adobe lightroom 2. it's for people for whom photoshop is way too much, but who still want to be the author of their pictures in these times of digital photography. i've been playing with pictures from mom and dad's visit back in august/september. so enjoy...

there's something of american gothic over this picture

minus the pitchfork

that was fun now, wasn't it?

how about sharing some of your pictures, i'm sure you have some! :-)

100th post!

although i've done probably 90 out of the 100 posts on this blog, this time, it's really coming from my mom.  it's her story of a little exchange she had with ralphie this morning regarding english muffins. here it is in her own words (and even with capital letters):

* * *

I am commencing to make the English muffins for Dad. I found real fine farina in the “scratch and dent” grocery store, packaged by Quaker and called Creamy Wheat. It is quite fine. I am wearing my new Christmas gift, the apron. According to a conversation with your Dad this morning, he wondered why I hadn’t made these in 40 years. I said I hadn’t run onto a scratch recipe for them before. He said I don’t need recipes for everything. HE could make anything without a recipe. (He had informed me that he would be VERY CRITICAL when trying them.) My uncontrollable laughter ushered him out the door, but not before I assured him that if he didn’t like them, I would frisbee them to the cats out in the barn.

* * *

a couple of explanatory notes:

* yesterday mom and i had a conversation about what exactly "farina" was, since her recipe called for it. we discussed (rather extensively) whether one could just use cream of wheat. (i said yes, she was skeptical as to whether it would be ground finely enough.)

* i sent her an apron from the fabulous anna maria horner for christmas, so that's why she mentions the apron.

* bravo to mom for writing this. if there are others out there who have something to say, but don't want to/know how to post it, please send it to me and we'll do just like we did with this post.

* i'm sure the english muffins will be fabulouso.

words i'll never hear again

when i studied in kazan, russia, in 1994, dad and norm huizenga came to visit me. i went to moscow to meet them and we took the 13-hour train ride back to kazan. along the way, there was a stop (the name of which escapes me at the moment) where there was a crystal factory.

times were tough in russia back then and the people who worked in the factory were paid in the crystal products that they made. chandeliers, cut glass pitchers, wine glasses, vodka glasses. some in beautiful cobalt blue and other vibrant colors.

the stop came very early in the morning...around 4 or 5 a.m., as i recall. despite the ungodly hour and no matter the weather--bitter cold, driving rain, blizzard conditions--the people from the village swarmed the train with their wares.

i remember my astonishment when dad handed me a $50 dollar bill and said, "get out there and buy something!" words which i'd never heard before and that i'm sure i'll never hear again.