My Uncle Carl

My uncle Carl was the first drunk I ever knew. He was a happy drunk. I never knew there was such a thing as a mean drunk until I was almost grown. Carl lived in a small house with no plumbing about a half mile from us. One luxury he did have was electricity so he could watch ball games on TV.

On Saturdays when my dad, my siblings and I drove to Carl's place to visit him, we never knew if Carl would be drunk or sober. My brother, sister and I always tagged along, because it was always a good time at Carl's. One time we used up all his ketchup and white bread making ketchup sandwiches.

If Carl was sober, my dad and Carl would have a conversation. If Carl was drunk, anything could happen. To be sure, he'd make his dogs, Babian and Laddy, shake hands with us, not once but many, many times. "Gud dag, Babian!" was the command. (Gud dag is a typical Norwegian greeting, "good day".) Babian would obediently shake. Again and again and again. We could almost see Babian roll his eyes and think "Oh, god, not again...." as he was commanded over and over, "Gud dag, Babian!" And my dad would just laugh it off.

But with my mom it was a different story. One hot summer afternoon my mom, siblings and I drove to Carl's house after Carl had spent the better part of the day at the saloon in Dennison. He'd bought a quart of ice cream for his two dogs on the way home from the saloon but was too drunk to cut it in half for the dogs. He wondered if my mom to do it. She cut the melting ice cream carton in half, but she was really pissed. Another time when my mom and I showed up at Carl's place, he and his friend Barlow were so drunk they couldn't stand up. My mom just closed Carl's front door, and we went home. In spite of the summer heat, it was a chilly drive home.

My all-time favorite story about Carl happened one August when I was about eight years old. A usual Saturday, my dad and I drove down to Carl's for our weekly Saturday visit. When we got there Carl was very upset. A pocket gopher was destroying his potato patch, chewing up all his potatoes. Completely distraught, Carl took us out to the potato patch to show us his wilted potato plants. My dad was sympathetic until suddenly one of the untouched potato plants started shaking from underground. By now Carl was in tears. "Goddammit, there he is right now!" screamed Carl. I'd never seen my dad laugh so hard.

Carl was probably the luckiest person I've ever met. He got drafted in WWII, four days before the end of the war. So he got a pension for being in the service for a few days. He never worked a steady job, he'd hire out as a farm hand, fish, hunt, trap gophers for the 25 cent bounty paid by the township. He never had the money to buy a house. But he did inherit one. He had a lady friend, Helen, with whom he lived. I barely remember Helen, she died when I was quite young. But when she died, she willed Carl her house. A few years after Helen died, I asked my mom, "Was Helen Carl's girlfriend, or what was the deal with them?" My mom mumbled something, all I caught was the phrase "living in sin". I didn't know what that meant, but it didn't sound very good so I didn't ask any more questions.

Carl taught me how to trap gophers. Look for a fresh mound. Find the small mound in the big mound to determine which direction the tunnel is running. Find the Y in the tunnel, this is where to lay the opened trap. Don't get your fingers caught in the trap, dammit! Lay a piece of board over the hole that completely covers it. Gently cover the board with dirt. Don't let dirt down the hole or you'll spring the trap, dammit! The next day check your trap. Pull the gopher out by the chain on the trap. Knock him in the head. No! You can't drown him, you'll rust the trap! Cut off his front feet and take them to the township board, 25 cents a pair.

One rare summer afternoon, my mom was in need of a baby sitter. In spite of Carl's love for alcohol, he could, for the most part, be responsible when it was called for, and he did have a good heart. Carl was asked to babysit me and my brother and sister. As a treat, my mom had bought a coconut for us to open and eat during the afternoon. Carl got the coconut cracked open with a hammer, and out of his pocket he pulled his jack knife, the only jack knife he owned, to cut the coconut up for us. "Yuck!" I cried. "That's the same knife you use to cut off the gopher feet!"

"No, it's not the same knife!" growled Carl.

I knew it was the same knife. I didn't have any coconut.

That was the week that was....

There was a TV show by that name when I was little. I think it had something to do with current events. My current week has been awful eventful. Awful. Eventful. That's why I'm on my second beer at 4 p.m. on a Friday.

This was the first full week of classes at St. O, and the first full week of work in the Science Library. I love the Science Library. I love everything about it. When things don't go right in the Science Library, it's like seeing my love interest do something repulsive and I'm at a loss about where to put my emotions about it. I can't talk about what happened more than that since it's a personnel issue.

This week the tomatoes finally started ripening enough that we could can a few quarts. I cut up and packed hundreds of tomatoes this week. I'll be glad next winter I did this, but, jeez, it's work.

Rosie The Puppy is needing attention -- more than I've got. If we're gonna raise her right, she needs that attention.

A time-sensitive Ace Bag shipment went to the wrong recipient. I spent two afternoons with the wrong recipient, the right recipient, and UPS getting it straighted out. The right recipient didn't get the bags in time. There's probably no way he can know how badly I feel about this except for a handwritten note, and a discount on the bags...if he even wants or needs them now.... He was a good customer. I understand his anger and disappointment. Maybe I should buy him a Target Gift Card.


So, last night I decided that Rose The Puppy is more important than the tomatoes. I can buy tomatoes in a can (yuk), but I'll have Rosie for a long time. She needs my attention now for her to be the dog I want her to be in the years to come.

Science Library -- it'll work out. These issues shake out in time. My love for this library makes the difficulties more intense. But the good times are just as intense. The best part of my week (so far, see below...) -- yesterday one of my former student workers stopped by with her 7 week-old daughter. I got to hold a baby at work. How many people get to that? I'm such a lucky gal to work at a place I love.

Speaking of love, it's Friday, Date Night. Maybe that will even be better than holding Baby Maya. Maybe. Larry is sleeping now (he's working nights). When he wakes up, if he doesn't do anything repulsive (!), spending Friday night with him will be the highlight of my week.

But I'm having another beer, just in case....

If you want to read about my trip to China...

...you probably want to start at the beginning. You can do that by clicking on the link for May 2nd at the top of the page. That will get you to the first entry about our trip.

Or you can scroll down to the bottom of this page and click on "Older Posts" a couple pages back to get to the May 2nd entry.

Day 12: Homeward Bound

The flight back to the U.S. was an hour shorter than the one going to Hong Kong. Still, it was a 14-hour flight and I couldn’t wait to get off the plane when we landed at O’Hare. We stood in line for a half hour going through U.S. Immigration. It seemed like hours. Customs was a breeze. We caught the tram to the main terminal, had a Chicago Dog and a local brew, and caught our last flight that would take us to MSP. Mary and Gordie were waiting for us at the baggage claim, and we were home within an hour.

It truly was a trip of a lifetime! I never thought I’d go to China or Hong Kong until a few months ago. If you, Dear Reader, ever are considering a trip to the places I’ve written about here, I’d be so happy to talk you into it! I walked a total of 223,406 steps on our 12-day trip. (I had my pedometer!)

Much of my travel the past decade has been to visit Wyatt wherever he is living. So my thanks go to Wyatt for having lived in such cool places that I would probably never have visited: New York City, Maine, Florida, and now Asia. And thanks, Wyatt, for arranging the trip to Beijing, and showing us a very good time. Also, thanks to Gordie and Mary for the rides to and from the MSP airport. Thanks to my mom for doing kitty, dog and fish feedings every day while we were gone (and for everything else you did!). Thanks to Kathy for being on-call for animal chores. Thanks to you, Dear Reader, for reading my blog.

Most of all, thanks to Larry for going to Hong Kong and China with me. I love how open you are to new experiences. A gal couldn’t ask for a better travel companion.

Day 11: Our Last Day in Hong Kong

Larry and I both woke up feeling tired and groggy on Thursday. The vacation was starting to catch up with us. Larry also had a cough and felt under the weather. We scrapped our plans to figure out Hong Kong’s bus system for a ride to the other side of the Island.

We went to Pacific Coffee for espressos.

During our second espresso Larry said, “Let’s go see the longest escalator in the world.” So we started walking west. We didn’t walk far until we found another one of those outdoor markets. This cheered us up – I don’t know why, except that the markets seemed to contain the unexpected. Larry bought a pocket watch with a picture of Chairman Mao on the face. Mao’s extended hand moved back and forth with the tick of each second.

About an hour, and a few purchases later we found another Pacific Coffee! Our mantra for the day, “Thank Buddha for Pacific Coffee!” We had another shot of caffeine and this one did the trick. We were raring to find the world’s longest escalator.

The escalator isn’t one long ride. It’s a series of escalators that go partway up one of the peaks in Hong Kong. It runs uphill most of the time (which is the way we rode it) and goes downhill during morning rush hour. It’s a total of 2,598 feet of escalator ride.

Larry was in the lead, going to each new level of escalator as we got off the preceding one. I followed, mumbling, “Ya know, we’re gonna have to walk all the way down…” When we finally got to the top, we walked along a few streets and found ourselves at the Hong Kong Zoo.

We meandered the zoo, had lunch, and eventually went back to our hotel. For our last night in Hong Kong we wanted find someplace special to eat supper. As we walked the streets of Hong Kong, we peaked in every restaurant we passed. Either the menu wasn’t in English, the seats looked uncomfortable, or the place just looked wrong.

Along Hennessy Road (one of the busier streets) Larry noticed a sign on a second story window that advertised a Korean barbecue restaurant. We checked it out and found that after loading up a plate of raw meat and veggies at the buffet, we would cook our food on a small grill in the middle of our table. Larry said, “Aww, we gotta do this!” It was a lot of fun. And our host, even though he didn’t speak English, was so helpful and made sure that I tried every dessert on the buffet table.

Our flight back to the U.S. was leaving in the morning. We were full, happy and exhausted. We went back to our hotel to pack and sleep.

Wikipedia on world's longest escalator:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Central-Mid-Levels_escalator

Day 10: Back to Hong Kong

My brother and I have a little tradition when we part ways and won’t see each other for a long time. Actually, it’s my tradition – I cry. The morning Larry and I were to leave Shenzhen and go back to Hong Kong, I prepared by tearing up as soon as I got out of bed. Some traditions are too good to break.

Wyatt accompanied us to the border, which isn’t far from his apartment in Shenzhen. It took one bus ride, and two subways to get there. One curious thing about the bus -- instead of a meter into which the riders insert their fare, there’s a real, live person inside the door of the bus who takes the riders’ money. After we paid her our fare, she gave us a small ticket, I suppose, to show that we paid to ride. During our stay in China we noticed that humans do the kinds of jobs that in the U.S. are automated, such as the workmen in Beijing digging up the street instead of using a backhoe. Some of it is back-breaking, but it does provide jobs.

We arrived at the border. Crossing the border between the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and Hong Kong is done inside a large building that spans the Shenzhen River. The river runs between the PRC and Hong Kong territory with immigration desks to pass through on each side of the river. We started our ‘thank yous’ and ‘good-byes’ and right on cue, I cried. I’ve never failed at this. My record is perfect.

We managed the immigration desks, and the drug-sniffing dogs as we entered Hong Kong customs. I left the PRC with silk scarves, Sichuan pepper, tea, teacups, a silk duvet, chopsticks and a week’s worth of time with my brother. A half hour train ride brought us back to the bustle of Hong Kong for our last day and a half on the other side of the world.

Day 9: Back to Shenzhen

On Tuesday we left for the Beijing airport to fly back to Shenzhen. Since we left so early we didn’t have time for breakfast at the hotel, but had espresso and pastries at the “Kiss & Bake” snack counter at the airport. We didn’t see any kisses being sold, but perhaps we just weren’t there at the right time.

Our flight was booked with China Southern Airlines. As we boarded the plane, we were each given a newspaper in Chinese or English, I suppose depending on what we looked like. After reading several English newspapers in China and watching the news on CCTV, the major Chinese television station, I realized that all I was getting was good news. Sure, it was nice to hear only good news – but not very realistic. (We saw the Three Stooges on TV one night in Beijing – they were speaking Chinese, but their voices sounded exactly as they do in English!)

We had plenty of legroom on our China Southern airplane, plus a footrest. And a real meal on the 3.5 hour flight.

Once we got back to Shenzhen, Wyatt walked to work and we tagged along so we could see his office. He’s an editor for the Shenzhen Daily, one of the few English newspapers in China. Wyatt suggested several restaurants for Larry and I to find for lunch (without turtle). We found the Bruce Lee fast food restaurant and were greeted with “Good Morning” as we walked in that afternoon. The meal was less than spectacular, especially compared to the meals we had in the hutongs of Beijing, but the cheerful and helpful young people behind the counter made it a memorable meal.

Back at Wyatt’s apartment, his friend and neighbor Lin Yan Jia stopped by to drop off the key she had to Wyatt’s apartment. She had been cat-sitting Carl while we were in Beijing. We had a very pleasant chat with her.

After Wyatt got home from work, we walked to the Nine Sisters Northern Dumpling Restaurant for our evening meal. The menus didn’t have any English, so several young people tried to help us order. We had a lot of good food on this trip, and the dumplings were my favorite.

It was our last day with Wyatt. On Wednesday Larry and I went back to Hong Kong for the last day two days of our vacation.