Thanks Dad

Thought For The Day

I was more inclined to complain about the limitations of my father than to praise him. He knew that he was not the object of adulation, but went right on working anyway.

I grew up with five sisters, a stay at home mom and an absentee father. Not really absent, but he was gone most of the time. Gone because he worked an eight hour shift, unless he could get overtime, at Saginaw Steering Gear, a division of GM. He also was the proprietor of a small shoe repair shop, Economy Shoe Rebuilders where he spent another eight hours or more. He was not given to sports or other activities with friends, save an occasional get together with some musical pals with whom he could exercise his musical talent. And, his talent was considerable. Whatever else occupied his time, spending it with his family was not where he shined.

He and my mother had a tenuous relationship at best. This is not the place for that discussion, but suffice it to say, they needed each other, and that seemed to be the driving force in their relationship. What that need was is between them and that's where it belongs.

Dad began each week day by going into the Shoe Shop. He stayed there until about 3:00PM, then came home to a hamburger and canned peaches. There was no variety here, that was the daily fare. After eating he would either drive or have mom drive him to the Steering Gear where he worked until midnight. Quite often mom would go over and have "lunch" with him at work, then go and pick him up after work was completed.

On Saturdays he worked full time in the Shoe Shop unless overtime work was available which he would very often take. Sunday was a church day and dad would participate most of the time but not always. Church was not his preferred venue.

Sunday dinner was the weekly reward for going to church. We normally had quite a nice dinner and we all ate together. Sometimes we would go on picnics. When that happened it usually involved cousins and lots of good food that was punctuated with musical renderings by talented aunts, uncles and cousins along with my parents and sisters.

Dad was never offered the Pulitzer Prize or a position on the president's cabinet. He never ran for office. He wasn't a great hunter or fisherman. He didn't graduate from high school or college. What he did along with mother was provide a home, food and an education for six children. He taught us that not all that you do is reflected in what you personally have, but has a way of showing up like a vein of gold through hard rock and scrabble in the people you touch.

I do not believe I ever said so much as thank you to him for all the years he gave to make my life better than his. I even had the audacity to think he should have done more.

I was sitting in the funeral home alone one afternoon before his interment and a friend from high school came by to visit. It was a surprise to see him. He told me some stories about dad and visits he had with him. It was good to hear a friend talk about the man I barely knew in a warm and friendly way.

Happy Fathers Day, Dad. I wish I had gotten to know you better. And, thank you dad, thank you ever so much for all you did for me.

©Herb Ratliff, June 15, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Justine's Part 2

Her smile was relaxed and easy like she was greeting an old friend. She waited for an answer.
I was having a little trouble finding my voice.

She was very attractive and still in that ethereal place between the picture and reality. I'd been going since 5:30 AM and it was now past 9:00PM. I managed to utter something.

Then, she said, "I'm Justine."
And, capturing the situation perfectly she quickly took control and began a commentary about the food, what was fresh, a little about home grown vegetables and then how splendid the weather was and wasn't it a pity the Gazebo was full? It's such a fine place to have dinner.

She was so elegant, so charming and so welcome after the long day I had spent criss-crossing the country. I asked her if she would like a glass of wine.

Her reaction was measured but swift. "Yes", she said, so I stood and held her chair.

She asked if I would mind if she had a bottle of her favorite wine brought out and then began a conversation filled with interest and coincidence of remarkable proportions.

Things like that don't happen very often. As a matter of fact, I can say with considerable certainty that nothing like that will ever happen to me again. You never know when you lift your head from the pillow what the day holds for you, so no matter how it goes for the the first few hours, do not despair. What is waiting for you at the next bend in the road may make it all worth while.

I know that you would like to know a bit more about that evening and frankly, I would enjoy spending a bit more time remembering it, but I've shared all I am willing to. She was as much a lady as she appeared and I was as much a gentleman as I ever hoped to be.

The restaurant was closed a few years ago, 1995, I believe. The name and facility was auctioned off but the ambiance was not for sale. So, while you may be able to find a restaurant named Justine's in Memphis and a few other places, you will not find the one mentioned in this remembrance.

©Herb Ratliff, June 12, 2012, All Rights Reserved

The First Opener on the North Branch

Thought For The Day

Thirty one years later: August 2008

 back row l to r Paul Stenglein, Dave Stenglein, Jim Trembley, Jim Allerdyce, Me

Front: Jeff Stenglein, Bill Stenglein

During the winter of 1977 Jim Trembley and I had bought a piece of property on the North Branch of the Au Sable. A large section, about sixty acres had been split up into parcels, we had gone to Grayling, MI and got five of them, acres, with a little over two hundred feet of frontage on the river. We couldn't see it very well, it was wooded and pretty steep but it was ours and we were anxiously awaiting a chance to see it in the Spring. So on the Friday before the opener, it was the first official Arbor Day,  we headed north to our new spot to investigate.

The drive north is about two hours. We were pretty worked up about seeing it. We talked of building a place that overlooked the river, teaching our kids how to fly fish, lunkers just waiting for our mighty fishing skills and all the years we would get to fish together. When we finally arrived we were out of the car like a couple of kids going into Disneyland. The land looked absolutely pristine. I felt like the lord of the manner, OK, co lord. It was beautiful. The land sat near the foundations of the halfway house where the road crossed the river. It was a rest stop between Grayling and Mio. The fireplace stood high even though the hotel was long gone.

We wandered down by the river. It was difficult to walk because the ground was knotted up with grass and bog, a minor inconvenience. The stretch of water was straight, flat and deep, a perfect place to watch the surface dimple when the trout were feeding. We were mesmerized. It was getting late and dark and we had to find a place to spend the night. So we headed back toward the car. We were going in a different direction than our trip in and so we ended up passing near a cabin. A man was standing in the doorway. We waved and Jim said, "Let's go introduce ourselves." That shocked me because Jim was not the most social person I knew, especially when we were fishing. But, I said sure and we walked over to the house and met Bill Stenglein, the owner of the cabin.

He invited us into the cabin to have a beer. We said yes. We ended up having a pizza, meeting his sons and some family friends, spending the night and becoming life long friends. Telling you about Bill Stenglein and his family will have to happen another day. They deserve a lot of space. Enjoy the weekend friends, I will miss being there with you.

 And to you Bill, what can I say? I've never met a better fly fisherman or a better man. Thank you, my friend.

Herb Ratliff, April 27, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Little Girls, Fly Rods and Early Mornings

Little Girls, Fly Rods and Early Mornings

Anyone who knows even a little bit about me knows that I love to wade streams and tempt trout with hand tied flies. It has been a part of my life for a long time. So it would probably come as no surprise to people that wanting my children to join me in such an activity would be a logical next step and they would be spot on. The story begins with a trip the family took to Frankfort , Michigan sometime in the seventies, my guess is about seventy six. That would make Bud six, Julie four and Lindsay a coming attraction.

We were to be there for a week and the weather had been very nice. Bud and Julie wanted to get up early and go trout fishing with dad so we planned for each of them to have their own morning to go alone with me. So far, so good. Bud's morning began with twittering birds, light on the horizon, the sun's head just beginning to rise and so we went to a dandy little breakfast place and had hot chocolate, pancakes, sausage and the lot. We trekked off to the river and gathered some trout and went back to the cabin for the cheers of the waiting crowds of expectant, adoring fans. We were not disappointed, they treated us like royalty returning from battle, victorious.

Julie's morning was somewhat less idyllic. It was raining torrents, we could barely see out the window. I meekly suggested we put off the adventure for a better day and Julie howled her disapproval and demanded we not let a little rain stop our adventure. What could I do. I did not have appropriate rain gear for a four year old or sufficient creativity to come up with a reasonable alternative plan to satisfy the desire of a four year old to go fishing with her dad. (This single minded determination was not a single incident. Did I mention that she is a CPA?) I tried a variety of approaches all designed to try a delay but that was useless. Finally, I had to come up with some kind of plan that would come close to keeping her protected from the elements. I searched through my fishing equipment but sizes were simply not compatible and so I had to take another tack. 

Garbage bags. Yep, that's what this great mind came up with to solve the problem. A cutout for the head and arms would work for the torso, the corner cutoff for a hat, a small bag tied at the thigh for each leg, (wading) and sleeves fashioned out of other bags. You've heard of  "The Man From Glad"? This was a little twist on the theme.

Dressed and protected, at least momentarily, for the elements we took our gear to the car and went as fast as we could to the little breakfast place for hot chocolate and warm food. I won't detail the fishing because what I remember most clearly is that I was with my little girl dressed in fly fishing gear and we were on our way to a glorious adventure. And do you know what? That is without a doubt one of the finest fishing or fathering experiences I have ever had.

©Herb Ratliff, January 26, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Gratitude

This picture is from 1993. Left to right back:Bud, me
Front: L to R:Julie, Lindsay, Dora holding Nick, Cory holding Lindsay.
There are now ten more grandchildren:Lindsey,Kirkland, Joshua, Skylar, Zachary, Logan, Keaton, Xander, Zoe, Brayden.

Have you ever thought carefully about the things you are most grateful for? 

I'm very visual and so my eyes are at the top of the list. Ears that function reasonably well, taste, touch, smell and a little esp now and again. I have enough athletic ability to engage in most sports and compete at a better than average level if I choose. I am teachable. That is what I may be most thankful for on another level. Second chances are high on the list too. If it weren't for second chances no one would ever see this blog. Good health, the ability to heal: physically, mentally and spiritually.

I've had numerous opportunities to apply my skills in a work environment that provided rich rewards. Sometimes I did it with a high level of competence and creativity and provided exceptional service to my employer and clients. Sometimes I did not and that's where some of those second chances I spoke of come into play.

I have met and been befriended by some of the finest people in the world. Many of them have taught me about life. All of them have given something special to me: their time, their experience, their forgiveness in some cases, their disdain in others. Most everything I have received has been as a direct result of my actions and attitude. I must add here that while complaining about results that were less than complimentary to me I was complaining to a friend about things not being "fair or just" and he looked me in the eye and said, "Herb, of all the people I know, you are the last who should be asking for justice. You should be praying for mercy." He was right and I hope I never forget it. I also hope I never forget there are a lot of people out there just like me.

Some parts of my life have been a train wreck. There just isn't any other way to express it. I have fallen hard and often on this journey but, I have never laid there and quit. I have hurt other people, sometimes on purpose, sometimes without intent and sometimes from just being too fixed on my own interests to care about anything else.

Most of my life has been a miracle. More good has come into my life from the generosity of others than I can begin to list. But I cannot continue without acknowledging the best part of my life, my children. They are smart, thoughtful, generous, forgiving. They are wonderful parents. They are dependable friends and they are good neighbors. I hope you get a chance to meet them someday.

Give some thought to making a list of your own. I think you will find that life is good, hope enriches it and experience can be the catalyst for change or plunging you deeper into the denial that life isn't fair. Thanks for stopping by, I'm grateful for you too.

Herb Ratliff, January 24, 2011, All Rights Reserved

What Color Are You?

So I wake up in the morning and the first thing I see is the red light. At least it isn't that really white, white, bright light that is like the search light at the airport, you know the kind they used during world war two when there were air raids and all of that noise. It's softer than that and thank goodness for that.
If it were that bright, I don't think I could function.

And it could be all blinky, blinky like some Christmas trees that are pre-packaged with lights.

It could have been green and you know, it's not easy being green. So, for that I am grateful too.

Orange, I don't think so. Orange, what like a Popsicle maybe? Nah, that just wouldn't work.

For a regal touch it might be purple, but Barney's purple and that's enough, don't you think?

Yellow? You mean like sunshine yellow? Whoever said that should be removed from the lighting board. That would make everything look jaundiced and ill.

Blue, the house of blue lights. That was a song wasn't it? Anyway blue is a nice color but it's kind of a sad color and all melancholy. I don't think that would be such a good thing. I'm not at all against melancholy, but not for all the time.

So what does that leave? We've done red, green, orange, purple, yellow, and  blue. It reminds me of the song, the rainbow song:

Red and yellow and pink and green,
Purple and orange and blue,
I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow
I can sing a rainbow too.

I remember that song from a movie called "Pete Kelly's Blues". It starred Jack Webb (the original Dragnet guy) and the female lead was Peggy Lee, a jazz singer. But I digress, we were talking about colors.

Anyway, I see red and that's OK with me. I like the red and you all recognize me because of it, so how bad can it be. The first thing I see in the morning is the very thing that makes me special so I think I will celebrate it.

Your friend,

Rudolph.

Gifts

I remember working my way into a corner one Christmas. I had a specific item that I wanted above all else and made it clear that nothing else would do. There was a strange look on my parents faces when I confronted them with this ultimatum and ended it with the closing argument of: "If I cannot have that, I want nothing at all." There was some short, gentle persuasion from them asking me to reconsider my position but,  I would not budge. Finally, they conceded the argument and there it was, a line drawn in the sand not to be challenged. I doubt I will ever forget Christmas morning that year. After all the gifts had been distributed, opened and clean up was under way, I still was without a gift. I had younger sisters and so there was no forum for argument. There was only the clear message that my ultimatum had been honored. I had nothing.


If we are diligent in our measure of things it will become evident that we are among the most blessed people on the planet and live in a kind of favorable bubble of generosity. Many will find areas to complain about, others will find injustice, still more will find inequity and so there will be sour attitudes in abundance. But, do not be deluded into believing that you are an unfortunate beggar of alms in the town square. What we have as members of a free society is priceless.

As you consider your lot this Christmas, exercise caution in your demands, both spoken and whispered. You may get what you say you must have. I wish you bounty, blessings, and enough to share with others less fortunate. It costs nothing to look with kindness on another, a squeeze of the hand, a hug perhaps would lift someone's spirits or your undivided attention for a few minutes. Be generous in your giving and your receiving.

Herb Ratliff, December 16, 2011 - All Rights Reserved

Christmas from the Loge

Christmas from the Loge

Sit beside me for a moment,

Let me hold your hand,

take a breath,

close your eyes,

Smell the pine,

It's Christmastime.

The fire's blaze is softening now

the embers will take over

so while the warmth

caresses us

Let's caress each other.

The train set is another's job

that's not for us to do

we'll watch them play

and scurry fast

That's what is left to do.

I loved each toy I put together

I savored every moment

Well maybe not so much

right then, you know

But now ....

And don't you think I didn't know

how carefully you planned

each moment, every hour

And how your touch

your smile, your voice

Gave Christmas so much power.

Merry Christmas.

Herb Ratliff, December 14, 2011, All Rights Reserved.

The Magic of Believing (Part II)

This behavior, some might call it “expectation”, and what it does, lays the groundwork for later actions. Sooner than later, there is a minor shift created by parents, television and the community at large. (It is that early work with fictional characters: The Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, Leprechauns, Gold at the end of the rainbow, The Great Pumpkin and I won’t even say it but, you know who I am thinking of. (The business Anne Rice started with Vampires a few years back and now the Zombie thing has left me speechless on those issues.) It all creates a theater which asks us to withhold judgment, go with the flow and buy into the commerce and creativity associated with holidays. But hold on, there is a lovely side to this world of imagination.

There are things that happen in this world that are often not of it. The stories of these events emerge from real life and imaginary circumstances. My favorite Christmas Story is “The Gift of the Magi” by O. Henry. It is my favorite because it represents love so unselfish that what is given to one another is the most important material possession each of them have and it is given because each of them can see that and wish to honor it. You’ll have to read it if you want more than that.

The Saginaw News, the local newspaper in my home town, would run a serial story during the season that culminated on Christmas Day. My sister, Jo Ann read it to me before I could read it myself. Sometimes it took her an awfully long time to get around to it but, she read it. Each segment would take you to a cliff of expectation and leave you hanging on it till the next day and then the same thing would happen again. Following the crescendo of expectation the little boy or the little girl would have a magical experience that had seemed out of range before that.

There are many stories that come from believing so sincerely that the event occurs as a manifestation of that belief.  The magic is the believing. Call it faith, trust, or hope, it doesn’t matter. When you are fortunate enough to have a small child to hold in your arms during the Christmas holiday season, do it. Then, as you are holding them sit in a chair and rock and remember your childhood, your children’s childhood and your grandchildren. Now, believe that their lives will be filled with wonder and beauty and work as hard as you can to make it possible. That is the magic of believing.

Herb Ratliff, December 11, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Today

Today

Yesterday, late morning, I was on my way to the gym for a workout. I stopped at the intersection kitty-cornered from the county jail. I had been fully stopped only about thirty seconds and was struck from behind by a car driven by a woman about my age, I think. The impact was so extreme it dismantled the GPS from the windshield, opened the moon roof and dislodged the ear bud from it's seat in my ear. I had no hint visually or otherwise that it was coming so the event was a complete surprise. 

There is no pain in such a situation, just a high-level visual acuity. There isn't even any sound that I can recall. (I wrote a little about this kind of experience December 1st.) My immediate response was to get out of the car and see if the driver of the other car was injured. I think that may be a common reaction if you are a parent. 

The driver of the car was a woman who was about my age. She was on her way to a nursing home to pick up her mother for a concert. That she would be late to do that was her greatest concern. She asked if she could do that and then come back. I knew then that she was likely in shock so I asked her to remain in the car until the police came to sort out the situation. She agreed, so I returned to my car and realized that I was a bit dizzy. There was a tapping on my window that startled me moments later. She had come to apologize and explained that her brakes had failed. It was a fairly new Cadillac so this just confirmed my notion that she was in shock. She then began to explain that her father had died, she needed to go to the concert, she was so sorry and the tears came in buckets.

I got out and escorted her to the car again. The officer came and settled things rather quickly. I went to the emergency room for a check of injuries and the matter was resolved without any further difficulty. The thought that remained was simply: This is not a dress rehearsal. Every day is precious, every moment is dear. What impacts your life is often without warning. Do not delay the nagging thoughts that keep reminding you to live your life in the first person, present tense, right now.

Just do it!