Your great-grandmother sometimes sent Papa to a grocery store for a gallon of milk or a few needed items. There were four grocery stores within two blocks of our house. Off I’d go. I can’t recall whether I ever noted the cost of what I purchased. It was simple. I had a list, money in hand, items to carry home and change to return after accomplishing my mission. Later in life I started to pay attention to costs. Penny candy was about the limit of my understanding of the value of money in my early days.

All of this changes when you are on your own. When employed there is an in and out flow of money that very quickly becomes noticeable. Flush on payday devolves into watching declining balances until the next payday. The old paycheck to paycheck life. It takes a variety of experiences for folks to adjust to handling money. If ever. Some people never get money under control. Beware that excessive debt can rear its head. Papa was lucky to the extent that I did not have a credit card until near age forty. It only took a month or so to figure out the trap of living beyond one’s means. Pay your credit card balance in full each month is my best advice.

The price of chicken is on my mind because it is an item I remember from the start. Twenty-nine cents a pound ranged up to thirty-nine cents per pound when I first started to pay attention to prices. Unless you are born with a slver spoon, win the lottery or invent a super gizmo early in life your first working years may have a slug it out feeling. Keep trucking. However, there came a day for me when an uphill climb became discouraging. Chicken was sixty-nine cents a pound at one store. I found it cheaper elsewhere. I don’t recall the exact year but I had the distinct thought that if chicken ever went higher per pound we were doomed. Like a dollar a pound. Sixty-nine cents a pound became my barometer for the economy. Or, more accurately, what I felt was my personal sink or swim financial level.

Papa also developed a barometer for the democrat party. My hometown was blue collar through and through. Union membership was the norm. Wisconsin did not have voter registration by party but I assume most locals voted for democrats. I think the state representatives in the nearby area were democrats with one exception. A large Catholic population seemed democrat to my young eyes. JFK created excitement when he stopped by a few local factories in 1960. I equated republicans as richer, more advantaged folks. Not bad but certainly not in tune with the paycheck to paycheck existence of many families in my hometown. I think only 20 % of my high school class had the opportunity to go to college. After completing military service the boys were back to work in the city of homes and industry.

Party voting was galvanized in my mind one night in a local tavern. (City of homes, industry and taverns more appropriate?) At any rate, over the years I discovered a lot of wisdom near 72nd and National. I recall one discussion of politics and the state of the country. Three working men were talking issues. As I listened I remember thinking that they sounded more conservative than my concept of democrats. So, I asked the question. I don’t recall the republican candidate at the time but these men seemed more in tune with his views. They looked at me as if I was crazy. Of course not they protested. They’d never vote for a republican. Their families had been democrats since the 1930’s. Yet, they were certainly not supportive of the hippie/anti war crowd associated with the democrat party at the time.

Fast forward to 2024 and before the vote I calculated that whichever party lost should welcome the chance to make corrections. Change if the republicans had lost seems as if it’d be easier. With Trump and his personality gone the party could duke it out internally for a successor. However, it turns out that the democrats lost. Their comeback now may be a heavier lift. Papa is not a supporter/member/registered voter of either party. But, I love all things political/historical. 2024 has been very interesting.

In June of 2023 I wrote on this blog that all the criminal charges beimg levied against Trump by democrats might turn out to be a bad idea. There’d already been a steady negative media stream against him since 2016. The big Mueller investigation and then two impeachents. Finally, the old nail in the coffin of nearly 100 charges. It has always amazed me that Clinton, Biden, Harris, democrat party and most of the media is obsessed by Trump. The negative of his persona seems too apparent to remain so focused. I get it. He’s got issues. Now, move on. However, none seem able to move on from making Trump the center of attention. After his 2024 election the party might want/need to do serious soul searching.

Which brings me back to chicken. Papa is now comfortable in a financial sense. I routinely pay more than 69 cents a pound. Boneless, skinless has been seen at 7 to 8 dollars a pound in certain stores these past few years. At a high price point I pay some attention at the nusiance. I buy certain things with the mentality of a splurge. However, it is important to never lose sight that there are a ton of people who may not be able to put some items on the table at various price points. All through my life, especially on the bench, I tried not to lose sight of the working men and women from my hometown experience. They are good, hard working people. Somehow the democrat political party has to regain its recognition that these folks harbor their own version of Papa’s 69 cent chickedn stardard. They are the folks dreading tomorrow because they see an economic sinking. They can sense that things are not right. Nearly 100 criminal charges and a steady stream of shouts that votes are needed to save them from an evil person. How high can a pile be of more and more and repeated stacks of reasons proving someone is a bad person?

Everyday for years it was a “look how bad he is, ;look how bad he is.” The next day “look how bad he is.” And, the next and the next days awful proof of how bad he is. Exhausting. Getting folks riled up. Always working the fear angle. A monster. No, he’s not a monster. He’s worse. No, he’s Hitler. Are you riled up enough? Have to make sure no one votes for Hitler. Or, a crook as witnessed by charges in New Youk, Georgia and US courts. Almost 100 charges he’s so bad. Did the press mention he’s really, really bad? They can pile on more in order to support the democrat candidate. Is it possible that some around 72nd and National felt too much piling on made a mockery of our justice system and rubbed Americans sense of fair play the wrong way?

Well, I suspect that those folks in my hometown also had their own cost of living pain level. Chicken prices in Papa’s mind but gasoline, milk, eggs and butter for others. Those forever democrats in my memory changed and many voted for Trump. Mostly, I suspect they voted against hyper-inflation, 300,000 missing migrant kids toiling away as child labor or worse, millions of illegals driving down wages, easy peasy drug flow into the US with its attendant cime and a world on fire with wars. Nearly three years of war in Europe and it feels normal.

Knee jerk reaction from the press and most democrat party leaders to the 2024 election result again is “Resist!” Wow, that’s a lesson learned. However, there is some hope when a few democrats and a few in the media suggest that perhaps it’s time to do some soul searching. Perhaps getting back to basics of the party. I remember those common sense, lean a bit right men who’d never consider voting republican. Many probably claim it was the party that abandoned them. It will be interesting to see if voters can be recaptured or are lost.

It well may be time for democrats to get away fom the looney left. That was a cliff they took the party over. Thud!

Three of you will not be able to vote in a presidential election until 2028. Papa does hope that you are nonetheless paying attention this year. If so, you undoubtedly have heard the above phrase bandied about. Wow! I guess someone thinks this election is important. Papa’s first vote in a presidential election was in 1964. LBJ had a commercial with a little girl pulling petals off a daisy with a countdown from 10 to zero; at which point an atomic bomb blew up. Watching that mushroom cloud was scary. The message was clear. A wrong vote meant death.

Apparently the voters in 1964 were paying attention. They didn’t elect some crazed blow up the world candidate. The country was enough on edge; 216 soldiers had already been killed in action in 1964. Cold War was raging. Would not want to make matters worse by electing the wrong candidate. Country ducked disaster. Nevermind that 1965 saw 1.928 Americans die in combat; 6,350 in 1966; 11, 363 in 1967, 16,899 in 1968 and so on.

Every four years voters are told that this is the year of the most important election in history/lifetime/ever. Papa keeps waiting for a politician to claim that the next election is the 4th or 7th most important. However, it is always the election of doom or gloom. Get scared and vote for one or the other. Both political parties are never short on selling fear. Fears that flow right through the voter to the toes is best for getting votes. Who in their right mind would want to vote for a monster? Or, for a candidate who will take all your money, deny you health care/life support and enslave half the population?

When it is your turn to vote use your brain to overcome emotions. Don’t have high expectations for candidates/office holders. Lean a bit on physicians advice, “First do no harm.” Less may be the best first instinct when it comes to government/politicians. And, remember that 2028 will be the most critical vote you will ever cast. For sure. No doubt about it.

Papa has never been big on gambling. When I was young I did of course play Sheepshead for nickles. 5,10,15 cents double on the bump. Years later, after Kiwanis meetings, the stakes were the same. Have gone to Vegas twice and its tables were too fast for my style. I prefer to lose my money slowly without a frenzied pace that reeves up anxiety levels. Pace reminds me of the one gambling I have enjoyed for many decades. Pacing horse races at the Inverness raceway.

Everything is slow and easy at this track. It’s a community event as much as it is serious racing/gambling. Nothing frantic. It is one of the most comfortable venues for entertainment to be experienced. I don’t recall anyone anxious about a race or betting. There is no scurrying to place bets. Every now and then there might be a bit of a cheer for a win by a hometown favorite. After each race a few up to 20 or 30 people cross the track for a photo with the winning horse. Occasionally I will do what my dad did and place bets based on specific, meaningful numbers. On my last day at the races my mind was on high school so I bet a trifecta on my homeroom number and won. Good old 245.

The thought of high school was naturally on my mind. Two of you are juniors this year and one starts his freshman year. On crutches, after a broken ankle sustained at soccer practice. Papa thinks of all the soccer moms who were so happy their sons didn’t play football and avoided getting injured. My memory of high school remains vivid. The transition from freshman to senior was anything but seamless. It remarkably was one of floundering confidence at its start and overhyped vim by graduation. Solid formative years in retrospect. The last reunion of our class is history but I was fortunate enough to have the same 4 friends/ mates at the table as when we were at a school event fifty-five years previously. Not too common an occurrence at our ages.

I have limited insight what high school is like today. I simply hope it is as fun and rewarding for you as it was for me. Whether via our face to face interactions or modern device conduits I suspect there will be moments of social anxiety for you. It will not be serious in the long run. More like annoying speed bumps. Hormones are bouncing around inside and some days will feel like the entire student body woke up one fine morning and decided to judge something about you. Clothes, complexion or uncontrollable hair. Don’t let things get under your skin or too deep in your brain. It will work out. I hope that friendships develop that will bring fond memories as well as reunions.

What is different today is a phenomenon I can never understand. School violence. Crazy kids acting out with guns. I think the difference isn’t the guns part of the equation. We had plenty of guys in high school who hunted and had guns. Jerry, who sat near me in home room, often talked a lot about shooting his rifle over a weekend. He didn’t participate in any school activities. Never saw him at a sporting event, dance or clubs in high school. Shooting/hunting and working on cars is what I remember about him. He wasn’t fully engaged in high school as I thought one should be. Yet, at graduation I was surprised. He received one of, if not the only, perfect attendance pins awarded.

We all got sick and missed some school. But, there was no hard core truancy. Central High had a truant officer. It may have been one or two and done in those days. Mr. D. and a kid’s parents would have put a stop to that. I also do not remember thinking of another student as being any more dangerous than having the capacity to launch spitballs. There was a bit of talk about tough guys but no one that created fear of life or limb. Violence in school was best depicted by a movie of the times, The Blackboard Jungle. Insolence by smarty pants boys who defied classroom decorum while a gang was up to no good. It created quite a stir at the time mostly because of the effect of its rock and roll music. (Sorry, it’s a black and white film.) Even then it was hard to view Sidney Poitier as menacing. Much less “Klinger”. The movie was somewhat shocking at the time but not in the sense that it reflected the reality of my high school. We were in a very traditional blue collar, Midwestern environment.

it’d take a host of experts to know what has happened in the ensuing sixty years to create the madness of school shooters. Perhaps the failure to treat or separate mentally ill individuals that started in the sixties. Or, the dismissive attitude to the value of fathers in a child’s upbringing. ( In the 1980’s I was at a custard stand window and overheard two teenage girls talking about one’s pregnancy. The mother to be enthused about money to be received, rent/transport subsidies and freedom to live alone. Not a word about the boy’s responsibilities. What struck me was the reaction of the friend who didn’t say “whoa but for the grace of God go I” but rather that it was a way to independence. A very unlike reaction to the girls I recalled in high school.) How unfair was my other thought that the newborn faced high odds of doom? Tolerance for antisocial behaviors for years in schools may play a long term role. Consequences can be good for the soul. Glorying guns in movies/videos filled with gore can’t help. Political theater seems to divert from going after root causes. Limit the number of bullets seems akin to saying there is an acceptable level of dead people. No guns owned per some foreign countries results in stabbings.

You’ll be long out of high school before solutions are found, much less addressed. I would not count on either of our major political parties to step up on the issue. It’s too good of an issue to allow solutions. Beat the other party over the head with simplistic pros and cons. However, it’s not simple. I hope and pray that your school is not visited by such hate/craziness. Keep your eyes open is best advice to give. You and your fellow students plus teachers are the ones who may observe and know who is a danger. Don’t be afraid to speak out about legitimate concerns.

Picking raspberries along our paths stirred up memories of 1960. Per my Uncle Jim’s instructions, 2024 Papa was turning/twisting branches to reveal hidden berries beneath the foliage. I think the last time we picked raspberries in the North Woods was 1959. My uncle was a school principal in our hometown. He was single. A veteran of World War Two his American Legion post (Tanner-Paul, a great fish fry.) built some cabins near Lake Tomahawk. Starting around 1947 my brothers and later I spent most of our summers with Uncle Jim in cottages in and around Lake Tomahawk. It was a wonderful life for us. We now speculate that getting us out of town for polio season may have been a motive but the treks continued after the vaccine. At least until it was time to work summer jobs. So, from about age eight to sixteen I was on Uncle Jim*s berry picking brigade. As he was chief cook and bottle washer we knew it was in our best interest to pitch in gathering berries or landing fish.

Thus the year 1960 comes to mind. It was a year of significant change for me. No berry picking in the north woods. It was just my youngest brother we all waved to when Uncle Jim pulled his two door Ford out of our driveway. I was ready to stay home that summer. A driver’s license was opening up my world. The school year had ended with a strange mix of elation for the positive prospects of a senior year but with a pained heart when a first date/friend relocated. I think of three of you as you are at a similar age of transition. It’s not always easy, especially when concerns/interactions can be so intense. Plus, for me, I was starting in the world of work.

I began part time employment at my grandfather’s funeral home. I had done some chores there as did my older brothers. However, grandpa had died and there was a need. That summer there was more to do and learn than simple chores. Not that I didn’t learn and do my share of vacuuming. Three chapels to keep clean. Wash the hearse of course. Lugging caskets up and down stairs from storage to display room to use. Going on “calls” was a part of the duties, (ie picking up corpse) Learning the protocol at wakes. Guiding pallbearers during a service. Knowing the differences between a Catholic and Protestant ritual. (The first was easy with altar boy experience.) To this day I am amazed that a 16/17 year old was in charge when the adults went home for dinner during a wake. I had a suit and tie and could stand with hands clasped while directing guests with the best of them. I even learned how to slip $5.00 to a priest/ minister as a gratuity with a handshake.

In my senior year I worked three nights each week from 6PM to 9 PM. Even if there was no wake the funeral home stayed open until 9 each night. Then I’d lockup. My other duty was to answer any phone calls. There were no cell phones or even extension lines. I was surprised how many folks would stop by to chit chat. They’d talk about the old days with my family members. Some asked about a recent funeral hoping to gain insight into the “actual cause of death”. There were the crank calls of course. Asking for Mr. Stiff etc. And, there was walk in business not to be missed. Again, I marvel that as a high school senior I was at Grandpa’s desk taking notes from a thirty something widow who lost her husband to a tragic accidental death. It was what needed to be done.

I experienced a lot in that first job. For one, I had no desire for employment as an undertaker. The next seven summers of work doing garbage collection, light construction and one exhausting stint of heavier construction taught me on the other hand that office work of some sort would suit me best. Now three of you are possibly considering summer/part time employment. Good for you. When I was young a coveted job was as a lifeguard. Never lucky in that regard. My older brother once had seasonal work at a brewery bottling plant. Dream job. You will find a niche. First jobs offer experience and an initiation into the work world. Papa will miss extended times at our cabins picking raspberries, listening to primal screams of a neighbor and simply having fun. However, it is your time to venture out and explore life’s paths. Enjoy. Always have your fun.

This political cliche predates Papa by about 23 years. Presidential candidates were selected by varying and changing methods by the main political parties. Nominations were done by delegates at a national convention with attendees selected at local or state caucuses/conventions. Presidential primaries existed but they were often used to elect a state’s “favorite son” who in addition to being a potential candidate/dark horse controlled that state’s delegate votes for other candidates. Unlike most recent party conclaves both parties had sessions with multiple roll call votes. Bargaining for votes was usual. It is easy to imagine all manner of trades, promises and concessions as candidates inched closer to victory.

I remember 1960 as having two important primaries. One was in Wisconsin where JFK won. Because he was Catholic there was great interest in the primary in West Virginia, He won there also proving vote getting ability in a mostly Protestant state. I believe he arrived in LA still short of delegates. The deficit was made up in the ways of politics back then. Since 1960 there has been greater emphasis on primaries. Most states now select delegates by popular vote. The election season is extended for nearly a year with debates between declared candidates starting in the year before election year. Candidates must prove themselves to the voters. Or, so says the myth.

Papa previously wrote that he has distain for states with voter registration by party affiliation. My roots were registering to vote period. No registration by party that gives the impression that a voter actually agrees with party principles. If a citizen wants to join a party join. Pay dues. Attend meetings. Engage in establishing party principles. Don’t just be a lemming. However, lemmings are what political parties desire. Don’t think, pull the correct lever. Keep pulling that lever. That party designation gives you a voice. Follow that voice. Or, at least pull that lever. That is democracy in action.

Unless of course it is 2024 and you are a democrat lemming. You may soon have a nominee for President that has not won a primary. Has garnered no delegates to the national convention. Who is about to be anointed the party candidate by the 2024 version of a smoke filled room. Not as in a Chicago hotel but via modern communication between the party bosses who of course know what is good for the lemmings. Not bosses in the 1920 style but rather via messages between big time donors, the party’s gushing media and a very few party Poobahs. Why not? Who needs a democratic process? The best and the brightest knows that this election is so important because the Republicans want to end democracy and never ever allow voting in the future. It makes perfect sense to forego voting or mini-primaries when staving off folks who will forego voting and primaries/elections in the future. Doesn’t it? Don’t contemplate too long on that one. The media calls it a stroke of genius that an old duffer with millions of votes and nearly all the delegates should be jettisoned. Lemmings, pay attention and pull that lever for democracy.

Yikes. Whether Trump can be beaten is uncertain at this stage. That does not matter as much as the damage that would be done to party members down ballot if Biden was trounced. Even a Harris loss should be closer and more Poobahs will survive. Can’t have enough Poobahs. Strange that I did not see white smoke from a chimney announcing this year’s anointment. Miracles can happen. I think it took four primaries and one victory to anoint Biden in 2020. Who needs lemmings for primaries? Especially when a popular Hollywood star knows best. He’s so gorgeous he’s got to be smart.

is it possible that George Washington was right? Who needs political parties? Beware. It might be smart to use your noggin and decline becoming a lemming. A new era of good governance and country first. If only. Cheer up we have Progressives ; smack back to 1920.

Papa was barely six ears old when NATO was established. By the time I became aware of the world beyond the confines of my childhood, the protection of NATO made perfect sesne to me. Throughout the 1950’s the threat from the Soviet Union was a given. Communisim, with its inevitable dictatorships, was a clear danger. Memories of the horrors of World War Two were still vivid. A strong alliance against Soviet aggresion made perfect sense. A Cold War was real. When the Soviwt Union collapsed under its lumbering ineffecvtiveness a sigh of relief was the reaction.

The 1990’s didn’t pay much attention to European security as it might impact that of the United States. At times it seems as if the country has a need to lapse into a fondness for politicians that are weak on national defense. It could be reasnably argued that the fall of the Soviet Union was the time to nurture freedom in Russia. Other countries in Eastern Europe got the idea and flourished to some extent. Not much thought or attention seemed to be paid to who would and how Russia was to be led. There of course was a certain opening of cultural and business exchanges but that was mostly layered over a chaotic and corrupt government. The dream of peace in Europe began to fade. Enter Vlad Putin with the age old Mother Russia mentality. He also was equipped with tons of cannon fodder to cause heartburn on the continent.

During another 8 years of peace through placation in America, Putin made his initial move in Ukraine. Crimea was captured. After another wait in US administrations the whole of Ukraine was invaded. War in Europe again. Hard to believe. I know three of you rascals just returned from a vacation there with your parents. That is a wonderful experience. Good for you. There is a lot of cultural history to absorb. I think I wrote near the start of these musings Papa was struck by the contrast between the splendor of castles, manors and palaces and the presumed broken backs of laborers. Conceived grandeur by what I like to call Poobahs. A strange system of divine right to rule invariably prone to intrigue, conflict and changing borders was the norm. As a history major it was always difficult to keep track of all the European wars. Now, thirty years after the threat of communist expansion seemed gone Russia is back on the doorstep.

America’s revolution and ensuing westward expansion was forged by rugged individualism and an unhealthy dose of violence but no anointed Poobahs. Our most costly war nearly tore the country apart and there have been more than enough ups and downs internally to test the foundations. In Europe skirmishes and wars continued until the Great War which the US eventually entered. Afterwards, isolationist instincts took root in our country. The Second World War was viewed as more necessary. Isolation didn’t take a strong hold afterwards. NATO was created in an atmosphere that oceans could no longer protect us and that American active involvement/leadership was the best path for not being dragged into Europe’s conflicts. Some will argue that the crux of NATO is American force. Europe rebuilt and prospered under our military safety umbrella. They were living as if no danger to them existed after the fall of the Soviets. As stated above perhaps that was the time to ward off the rise of danger in the remnants that didn’t require big military investments by Europeans. With Ukraine smoldering it might finally be time to address strong militaries in Europe. I’m not holding my breath for most countries.

Enter American politics. Trump goes off script and wonders aloud why Europe isn’t meeting defined NATO financial goals. Democrats and many Europeans react with shock that those closest to Russia/danger should be questioned about being responsible for self defense; or possibly self-preservation. It is a treaty after all. If only American force deters then is it not logical Europe might want to lessen US influence over decisions that, at least preliminarily, impact their continent’s existence? From our side of the Atlantic it may not be outrageous to expect treaty partners to step to the plate and give a fair share. Unless the requestor is named Trump. This or a variation of the theme will be a part of 2024’s election cycle. While it might be nice that all NATO partners contribute per agreement I still have more regard for a partner that is not fickle, indecisive and de- escalating at all cost. I don’t like war. The big dog currently in NATO not doing well on those fundamentals.

Life has many moments that qualify as an intelligence test. Papa has a memory from the big snow storm of 1948. Drifts and shoveled snow was piled a quarter of the way up our rickety garage. I was young and very much in the mode of being wide eyed about “big boys” in the neighborhood. Play in the snow easily escalated to risky acts during that winter blizzard. That looks like fun that I can do passed through my developing brain.

So it was that that I found myself perched atop our garage, ready to jump. Or, was I? The height seemed greater when viewed from top down. Not too many years later I experienced that same epiphany when on the high dive board in Oconomowoc. No backing down that summer thanks to kids climbing/blocking the ladder back to safety. However, on my first go around your great-grandad was Papa’s lifeline.

”Just because big Bob Krause jumps off roofs doesn’t mean you need to prove stupidity.” His words, coupled with the daunting height, made sense. I didn’t need to jump as I had to do at Lake La Belle.

These thoughts returned when I read about an annual event in a country three of you are visiting during your current European tour. Our boys wouldn’t jump into a narrow Spanish street during the running of the bulls, would they? That’s an ultimate intelligence test. No, the photo received shows all three rascals on a beach in Barcelona. Good choice. Keep it up. You will encounter situations throughout life that may seem like fun/excitement but have the potential for darker outcomes. That’s why brains exist. To pass intelligence tests.