LEARNING LIFE'S HARDEST LESSON

My Dad has told me an awful lot of things over the course of 52+ years. Some of the stuff he’s shared with me have been good life lessons. A lot of what he said has made me think. Some of what he’s mentioned has gone in one ear and out the other. A good portion of what he’s shared with me has been kind of funny and made me smile.

Every year on my birthday for the past 20 years I hear about how Dad, sitting in a hospital waiting room, became nervous and agitated as the code blue was sent out for all doctors to respond to the delivery room. Code blue means respiratory distress; the delivery room was where newborn me lay naked, covered in goo, cold, lonely and a bit miffed. I was so pissed off about getting kicked out of my warm environment that I held my breath well past the point of turning blue. Eventually the medical team got me breathing and both Mom and Dad were allowed to hold me and adore the perfect child they’d FINALLY brought forth (see what I did there older brother and sisters?). My family never pass up the opportunity though to point out the fact that I’ve caused headaches from that first day on. I’ve learned that a slow beginning doesn’t always mean a poor finish. After getting over the initial shock and anger of leaving the womb I think I’ve done okay for myself. I apologize for all the fear and concern I caused for Mom and Dad that first day, and every day since, but I am what I am I guess.

A few years later I distinctly remember Dad telling me NOT to touch the hot iron that Mom was preheating to press some shirts that were just laundered. That got me wondering… How hot can that really be? After a blistered palm, a lot of crying, and a hand held under cold running water for quite a while, I learned the lesson that sometimes you just have to trust what people say, especially when those people are parents.

I came home from kindergarten one day proud to show my reading ability only to have Dad point out to me that Spot may not have actually been running, but the author wanted me to BELIEVE that Spot was running. Initially I was confused, later I figured out he was telling me not to believe everything I read, but to find out answers for myself. That lesson serves me well these days as I’ve found you can read just about anything on the internet, but you need to think for yourself to determine the truth.

Dad often preached Sunday sermons that addressed current events. He’d talk about civil rights, the insanity of war, and equal rights for all. Late in his career he started a Native American United Church of Christ congregation in south Minneapolis. A message I took from a lot of his sermons is that you shouldn’t judge another until you’ve walked a mile in their moccasins. Be compassionate, try to understand others, show some empathy. I think the world would be a better place if we all kept those thoughts in mind.

When I was young Dad showed me how to throw and catch a baseball, told me how to compute batting averages, and taught me how to interpret football play calls (first number was the running back, second number the hole he’d run through – evens to the right, odds to the left). The lesson I learned from all of that was that you have to work a little to have fun, but once you figure it out it all becomes easier. Incidentally, I still use the same computations Dad taught me to figure batting averages, all those years ago, every day still as an accountant at the U of M.

As I got older Dad used to take us on canoe trips with other kids from our church. He always told us we should try to leave our campsite in better condition than how we found it. I took that one to heart and try to do the same every day. That’s why I pick up trash on the street to throw it away.

Heck, sometimes that ‘trash’ is valuable. I’ve found $20 bills a few times and just a few weeks ago found $280 worth of Minnesota Wild(s) tickets. I kept the twenties, but the Wild(s) tickets got returned to their rightful owner and the team rewarded my honesty with tickets to another game. Junior used the tickets and had a good time. Imagine how nice a place we’d all inhabit if we picked up after ourselves AND others? If nothing else there’d be an awful lot of good karma floating around.

Years ago we helped Mom and Dad build their lake home in Ely. Dad modified plans drawn up by an architect to better utilize stock lumber and minimize unnecessary cuts that would waste time and lumber. On that project, and others projects Dad helped me with on our home, he showed me the benefits of improvising while also stressing the importance of measuring twice and cutting once. You can work your own plan, but take care to do it right. I’ve tried to do that on my path through life.

All in all Dad has told me a lot of important things that I’ve been able to apply to my life.

On Wednesday November 30^th, Dad called to tell me that earlier that day he’d been diagnosed with Esophageal Cancer.

Never has a phone call, or anything Dad or anyone else told me, felt like such a punch in the gut.
I was speechless.
My mind reeled and I couldn’t think of what to say.

In time the words came and we spoke of what comes next.
How he is feeling.
What the doctors will be doing.
What we can do for Mom.
There are so many things to consider when you hear that someone you love dearly,
have always relied on, and,
have learned so much from,
has cancer.

In the few days since Dad’s diagnoses he has already taught me a thing or two about dying. I plan to keep learning from him by being with him and Mom as much as I can in the time we still have. I hope to let him know how absolutely proud I am to be his son,
how blessed I’ve been for the time we’ve had together,
how grateful I am for the things he’s taught me, and,
how honored I am to carry the family name.
I hope I’ve made him proud.

An old guy like me still learning life’s most precious lessons from his Dad.

Who knew?

Ground Control to Major Todd*

The pace of technological innovation is amazing.

I write this blog on a laptop computer from various locations that have Wi-Fi using Google on the internet to find facts and photos. Sometimes I use some of my own digital photos, and I always link my posts to Facebook. Later this week I’ll be taking delivery of a Kindle Fire (Amazon’s version of the IPad).

The bolded items above did not exist when I was born, or when I graduated from high school. They’ve all been introduced in my children’s lifetimes. They’ve also all become commonplace tools for modern living. I use each of them just about every day.

The day I was born it would have cost my parents $.04 to send a birth announcement through the US Postal Service. Today postage would be $.44, or parents can send unlimited digital photos of their offspring with email for the cost of an internet connection which most households have these days already.

Pictures can be posted to social media sites as well for a mere pittance. In my day being the fifth kid in a five kid pastor’s family meant that very few baby photos of me exist. Evidently the cost of film and photo processing was prohibitive. Or perhaps the novelty of another kid had worn off, or maybe, I just wasn't that good looking as a young child as the sample above illustrates.

My parents were willing, and able, to their credit, to spend money on a set of Encyclopedia Britannica and the Oxford New English Dictionary. Those two items and a library card served as the information superhighway of my youth. That was the state of the art even through my high school years. Now the combined knowledge of the world is available at my fingertips as long as they are near my laptop keyboard.

Don’t get me wrong; there were computers when I was a kid, it’s just that people didn’t own them, and they couldn’t be carried around. Organizations owned them. They were large, they were loud, and they were not nearly as fast or powerful as the laptop I’m writing this on. They were not easily accessed and were limited in their usefulness.

Jason, I love that you refer to your computer as “The Naked Lady Machine”- and, as such, I can imagine how you make use of it. Kind of amazing what they can do with a series of 1's and 0's isn't it? But I digress.

My first known exposure to computers was in first grade when my teacher asked me to stay in from recess one day to help her with a project. My class would be taking a standardized test on new computer forms with fill-in bubbles.

It was determined that it would probably take too long for a lot of my class mates to figure out the write your name and fill in the bubble with the corresponding letters portion of the test form, so I was asked to help pre-fill them. (I’ve always been a giver!) Now those forms are commonplace for students and they can fill in that portion without even thinking twice.

In the years ahead children who have only known a world with Wi-Fi and IPads to access the internet may not fully appreciate how far technology has come in a short period of time. I’m thinking that with the rapid pace of technology can space travel by commoners like me be very far in the future?

Who knows?

*The title for this blog entry was inspired a lot of years ago. Two Gopher football player friends of mine paraphrased the line, "Ground Control to Major Todd." from the David Bowie song Space Oddity. (Thanks Peno and Donnie)

They were inspired to sing that song the day I gave them a ride in the Pacer that my parents bought, as a second car, when I was a junior in high school. I love you mom and dad, always have, always will, but for God’s sake, a Pacer? Really?

Through the looking glass

‘I don’t care for jam.’

‘It’s very good jam,’ said the Queen.

‘Well, I don’t want any to-day, at any rate.’

‘You couldn’t have it if you did want it,’ the Queen said. ‘The rule is jam tomorrow and jam yesterday but never jam to-day.’

‘It must come sometimes to “jam to-day”,’ Alice objected.

‘No it can’t,’ said the Queen. ‘It’s jam every other day; to-day isn’t any other day, you know.’

‘I don’t understand you,’ said Alice. ‘It’s dreadfully confusing!’

Through the Looking Glass, Lewis Carroll, 1872

http://oald8.oxfordlearnersdictionaries.com/dictionary/through-the-looking-glass

I come from the world of big-time athletics. I am FROM that world, but I am not OF that world. Like the world Alice encountered in Through the Looking Glass, the world of big-time athletics is hard to understand and very confusing.

I saw a lot of really memorable things and experienced some quite unique moments.

I was in the Gopher hockey locker room on April 1^st, 1989 moments after a Gopher shot that could have been the game winner rang off the post behind the Harvard goalie in overtime of the national championship game in St. Paul only to have Harvard win the game and the title moments later. The cruelest April Fool’s joke ever pulled on a fan base starved for a national championship. (I’ve pretty much hated Harvard since that night – a hatred passed on to my daughter who went on to compete against them years later)

I worked with the Buffalo Bills equipment staff for Super Bowl XXVI. The hype and hoopla was amazing. What I took from that experience was that the Bills coach, Marv Levy, was one of the nicest guys you could ever meet. Thurman Thomas (who wandered off the field after the game kicked off, just dropped his helmet and walked away from it –causing the equipment staff to have to throw a new one together and fit it to his head in the heat of the biggest game of the year) is probably the dumbest athlete I’ve ever met.

I’ve been on the sideline of every Big Ten football stadium on numerous occasions. The sea of red at Wisconsin’s Camp Randall stadium is breathtaking. The sheer size of the Big House in Ann Arbor, as you emerge from the tunnel is awesome. The noise that is generated by the Buckeye fans at the Horseshoe on the Olentangy rises to such a level that you can feel it. The narrow sidelines and pink visitor’s locker room at Iowa’s Kinnick Stadium are meant to intimidate.

I’ve seen some pretty unique things in the world of big-time athletics.

I’ve also observed some distressing things too.

I saw how disposable athletes become once they are injured and will not be able to help the team compete in next week’s game. Next week’s game is the biggest concern to the exclusion of all else.

I saw coaches play mind games with student athletes. Kids who needed to perform a difficult juggling act – balancing academic, athletic, administrative, social, and dating lives – while the coach’s sole responsibility was to win games.

I saw micromanaging coaches who, when hard questions were asked, played dumb and pretended they weren’t aware of what was going on. I don’t think a Gopher basketball player ever farted during Clem Haskins’ tenure that he wasn’t aware of. Academic fraud? Clem knew nothing about that though. Really?

I witnessed firsthand the unquestioning allegiance to the head football coach. The man in the corner office is the final authority, judge, jury, and executioner, for all things that occur in his realm. The head coach can forbid people from talking to the press and outsiders.

By no means am I saying this is right. I’m just saying that it is the way it is. That’s why I say I am from that world, but I am not of that world. I saw it, I experienced it, and when the man in the corner office became a man I couldn’t respect it was time for me to leave.

The world of big-time athletics is warped and skewed by the need to win – to avoid losing. It is a world unlike any most people experience. Most of us live our lives in shades of gray rather than the black and white of winning versus losing. With so much money at stake successfully developing and maintaining a winning program will garner a coach enormous power, prestige, and latitude over the decisions that affect his organization. I’m not passing judgment. I’m just stating facts.

Until a few days ago Joe Paterno had enormous power, prestige, and latitude over how Penn State football was run. Now, he has lost all of that.

Paterno Story #1

As an equipment manager at a Nike school I used to get some of the inside information on the world of big-time athletics as they played out at schools other than the University of Minnesota. I heard from a Nike rep that when Nike began to work with Penn State to design football uniforms for the Nittany Lions that the Nike designer who showed up to meet with coach Paterno was told, in no uncertain terms, that he would need to remove his earring before meeting with coach Paterno. Evidently Paterno had no tolerance for earrings on men. He could not abide them, and would not accept them.

When I first heard the story, years ago, I kind of admired the idea that he had his own sense of right and wrong and he enforced that code of ethics in his realm. Unfortunately his sense of right and wrong did not extend to young innocent boys.

Paterno Story #2

Nike finalized designs for the Penn State football uniforms by basically leaving the plain blue and white uniforms the same but adding a small Nike swoosh to the jersey and pants. They believed that the no-frills Paterno would be pleased that they basically changed nothing on the uniform. The Nike contingent was shocked when Paterno saw the design and raged, “I knew you’d go and fancy them up!” They asked him what he was referring to and he explained that he wasn’t sure he liked the simple blue stripe they ‘added’ to the helmet. About 10 minutes later, after showing him pictures of his team from the past 20 years they managed to convince him that the stripe was not new. Penn State had worn that stripe for years.

Evidently he concentrated so fully on football strategy and schemes that he never really realized what his teams uniforms looked like even though they have not changed in years. Not seeing the forest for the trees may have cost him in the end.

Paterno Story #3

October 18^th, 1997 Beaver Stadium, State College Pennsylvania. #1 ranked Penn State has just eked out a 16-15 victory over Minnesota. Outside the Gopher locker room while moving equipment to the truck for the long journey home I was amazed to see Paterno approach. He asked me if he could address our team – a highly unusual request – unheard of actually. When allowed inside he explained to the crest-fallen Gophers that they were the better team on the field that day and that in his locker room they were counting their blessings that they had stolen one away. He encouraged the Gophers to keep on working – they had much to be proud of - better days were ahead.

I was blown away. None of us had ever experienced anything like that. It sure seemed like Paterno had a good perspective on competition. Sure, winning was his #1 priority, but letting a worthy opponent know you admired their effort was a thoughtful, though unusual gesture. He seemed to empathize with us. Unfortunately his understanding, kind words, and actions will be coming too late for the victims of the horrible scandal that he’ll now be infamous for.

I used to respect Joe Paterno. Now I just view him as Icarus, the tragic Greek mythology character who flew so close to the sun that the wax that held his wings together melted and he hurtled down into the Aegean Sea. Paterno soared to unbelievable heights in the unreal world of big-time athletics. I believe the world he thrived in, the power he accumulated, the things that made him succeed in college football, also contributed to his downfall. His consuming passion to win in that fantasy world made him turn a blind eye when a friend of his needed some moral guidance, when he needed to step back and see the bigger picture, and when he needed to empathize with the young victims of this scandal. He needed to do more. Somehow the world he lived in enabled him not to. For that he deserves more scorn now, than praise he accumulated previously.

A modern day Greek tragedy. Who knew?

Don't You know who I am?

I never have understood celebrity and hero worship very well.

As a kid I idolized sports heroes and a few other famous people. I got a few autographs and had my picture taken with a few celebrities. What did I know? I was a kid and was taught that’s how it worked.

Over time though, I never knew what to do with the autographs and pictures I had. Does one display them? Should I be proud of the fact that at one brief moment in time a “famous” person and I each stood next to each other for a brief second? Do I need to provide photographic evidence of this chance encounter? Or, is the autograph I asked him/her to sign for me a more apt indication of my brush with celebrity?

Then clarity occurred, reality set in.

After the first football game of my freshman year at the University of Minnesota, upon leaving the home team locker room (as a student equipment manager) a young fan, asked me for my autograph. Apparently this person was confused. Obviously they had no idea that I was just a regular Joe.

Why would ANYBODY want MY autograph? And as I thought about it even more I wondered why would anyone want anyone’s autograph? I’ve never asked for another autograph (except once for my lovely bride) since that day. And, I’ve only posed with a few celebrities for pictures, but I chalk that up to being in group shots with friends I was with.

The autograph I got for my lovely bride was from Michael J. Fox (she was a huge fan). He was at a function we attended years ago. He appeared briefly, looked terrified and uncomfortable and left after fulfilling his obligation.

Michael Keaton was there and after 5 minutes talking with him you knew he was as funny in person as he is in his movies. Richard Dean Anderson (MacGyver) was there too. Nice guy, but he was far less impressive because he wasn’t saving the day with a gum wrapper, a shoe lace, and a AA battery like he did every week on his show.

I learned a lot about celebrities that night. They’re just like you and me.

Only they’re famous. They may be more talented. Generally better looking. And they have more money than we do. Other than that, they’re just like you and I.

The part of celebrity I have trouble understanding these days is the way our society idolizes celebrities.

Dancing With the Stars? Who are these people?
The Kardashians? What have they accomplished?
And who the hell is Ryan Seacrest?

I get perverse joy from the stories where people try to work their way out of situations by asking, “Don’t you know who I am?” Well, sweetheart, if you had to ask, no, the police officer evidently,

A. Doesn’t know who you are.

B. Doesn’t care, or,

C. Knows but doesn’t care.

Any way you slice it, you’re still in a jam, and have made an ass of yourself by having an inflated sense of yourself.

I’m most impressed these days though by the celebrities who are who they are and don’t flaunt their status or use their station in life to get what they want. I’ve seen it first hand in two instances, and was impressed both times.

Years ago, front entrance the Ritz Carlton in Atlanta. I was there to meet with my rep from Apex One (designers of THE worst looking Gopher football uniforms in history). The weather was nice, and I was early so I stayed outside and chatted with the doorman. A very sweaty, disheveled, red-faced man in running apparel approached and attempted to enter the hotel. The doorman I was chatting with asked the runner to please use the side entrance rather than walk through the lobby from the front door.

I was incredibly impressed that Phil Knight, founder and majority stock-holder of NIKE, merely told the doorman, “Alright,” and proceeded to the side door. The man could have bought the hotel and had the man fired. Instead he decided to do as he was asked and not raise a stink. Pretty cool.

A few years later, working with the food service at the HHH Metrodome during a Vikings game against the Raiders. A hapless security guard is attempting to keep Al Davis (the President and Senior Operating Partner) of the Raiders out of the press box because he didn’t have a press-box pass. I had one, but it was in my back pocket instead of being displayed. The guard knew me and had let me enter all the time without seeing my pass.

Before Mr. Davis had a chance to protest I mentioned to the security guard that his life would be a lot easier, and his afternoon would go much smoother, if he allowed the guy with the modified Elvis Presley getup, with the slicked back hair, and the bling, into the press box. Upon entering Mr. Davis said to me, referring to the passes needed in NFL stadiums, “Thank you young man, I never remember to wear those damn things.” I replied, “Yeah, I never remember ‘em either.” He laughed and patted me on the shoulder.

I guess celebrities are just regular folks who happen to be famous. Some just handle celebrity (and celebrities) better than others.

Who knew?

Do you ever wonder why...?

Members of my family have long enjoyed the weekly musings of Andy Rooney when he appeared regularly on Sunday nights on the TV show 60 Minutes. Recently it was announced that at age 92 Andy would be stepping back and making only occasional appearances on the show.

More often than not, at some point in his video essays, Rooney would pose the question that I’m using as the title for this post, “Do you ever wonder why...?” He’d pose the question, make his feelings known and then conclude the essay with his own slant on the issue.

Mr. Rooney has been referred to as a curmudgeon, a crank, and an old fart. I always fancied him an older, more famous and successful, version of myself. We both have eyebrows that grow to prodigious lengths and in a myriad of directions. I get mine trimmed regularly. Rooney has not attended to his since, I’d guess from the looks of it, the Nixon administration.

We both like to ask questions to gather information, to evoke a reaction, or, sometimes to just make people think. I’m guessing we could all use a little more time to just sit and ponder, think our thoughts, dream our dreams, and generally just figure crap out.

Now that he’s semi-retired Andy Rooney will have more time to figure things out.

Me? I’m still workin’ for a livin’, so here is a list of things that I’ve given some thought to but haven’t been able to figure out yet.

Do you ever wonder why the people who complain that government is too big (read Conservatives), that it limits their freedom, are most likely to be the ones voting in favor of a constitutional amendment defining marriage in the state of Minnesota as being only between a man and a woman?

These people don’t want government up in THEIR business, but, they are willing to put the government in the bedrooms (sex), hospital rooms (visitation rights), and homes (rights of survivorship), of their neighbors who may love someone of the same sex. How do they rationalize that contradiction?

Who knows?

Do you ever wonder why a faith and belief system (read Catholicism) that holds the Virgin Mary in such high esteem so adamantly opposes even considering allowing women to become priests? (“Catholics campaigning for women priests detained at Vatican.”) http://blogs.reuters.com/faithworld/2011/10/17/catholics-campaigning-for-women-priests-detained-at-vatican/

Really?

Mary is a saint.

Catholics recite Hail Marys, good Catholics do so daily.

But women are not allowed to preach the gospel in Catholic churches? Not allowed to lead Mass? What’s up with that?

Who knows?

Do you ever wonder why you ended up with the career you have? Every time I hear about people starting their careers or changing career directions midstream I always hear talk of, “follow your passion.”

I still haven’t decided what I want to be if/when I grow up. Don’t get me wrong, I like my job and the people I work with, but sitting in a cube working with numbers hardly stirs my passions.

Maybe I should have gone to Rodeo Clown College all those years ago before my freshman year at the U of M. Trying to stay alive, keep a cowboy safe, and a crowd entertained, while a ton of fierce animal attempts to stomp me into the ground, kick me around the arena, or even gore me beyond recognition - I’d like to think THAT would stir my passions.

I'll keep enjoying the job I have, a lot of people are not as fortunate to have a job as good as mine. I’ll just use my spare time instead to follow my passions. I just need to figure out what my passions are.

Who knows?

Coloring inside the lines

As a young child I was taught, both at home and in school that when coloring in a pre-printed coloring book the correct method was to color only inside the lines. That was problematic for me as it took too long and made the activity, which was supposed to be fun, become a chore.

At one point I was given the tip (probably by one of my sisters, or maybe it was my brother) that making a thick line inside of the pre-printed lines with a crayon made the job go quicker. I think housepainters refer to this technique as ‘cutting in’. They typically do this, with a brush, around windows, doors, and trim. Then they finish up the other broad areas quickly with a roller or larger brush. It is a good first step to use in preparation for coloring too.

As a young lad I was impatient and figured I’d never be very good at coloring pictures that someone else had already drawn. I’m not very good at painting houses either. Anyone who visits my parents’ lake home in Ely will attest to that fact. I don’t mind doing it; I like to help when I can. I’m just not good at house painting or coloring, but both of my kids are good at both coloring AND painting. I guess at times the acorns DO fall far from the oak. But I digress.

Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate the value in preparing properly for each and every task. Whether it be studying for a test in school, getting ready for a day at work, or planning a weekend day of just farting around. Ya gotta be prepared.

I guess my real beef with coloring, was being handed someone else’s work in black and white and then being told to ‘be creative’ by filling in the blanks and staying inside the lines.

REALLY?

That’s not creativity, that’s conformity. Maybe I’m a rebel, but I’d rather color MY OWN artwork.

I guess my kindred spirit Peewee Herman summed it up, saying, “There’s things about me you WOULDN’T understand, you COULDN’T understand, you SHOULDN’T understand….I’m a loner Dottie, a rebel.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SvVqWqi36vE

I know Peewee was not the type to stay within the lines.

I’m guessing that Phil Knight, the guy that started Nike, didn’t color within the lines. Now his company offers shoe and clothing lines in every color you can imagine (though he prefers to wear basic black).

Bill Gates? Probably drew his own lines. Then he figured out how to make a lot of money off of them.

Bill Clinton? Well, we all know he crossed a few lines. But he was a pretty good President, an even better ex-President in my view, and an outstanding speaker at my daughter's college graduation. But I digress (again).

School is now back in session, summer has ended, and time marches on. I imagine there are a lot of kids starting school with the Crayola 64 pack (the one with the sharpener built into the back) like I started kindergarten with.

I’m hoping that schools now encourage creativity differently than they did when I was a student. I didn’t enjoy staying within the lines (when coloring nor anything else scholastic), but I figured out early on that doing so made life as a student much easier. So I played the game and soldiered on. I did as I was told, played their game, and blended in and faded into the background.

Having now reached a ripe old age though, I encourage any and all who read this to, when the opportunity arises;

Color OUTSIDE the lines.

Draw YOUR OWN lines.

CROSS a few lines.

Life is short so you might as well stand out. Enjoy the journey. Listen to your inner voice. Do what you must to pay the bills (to avoid becoming a drain on society) but have fun at work, and more importantly, WORK AT HAVING FUN.

Travel even if money is tight.

Take up a hobby even if you’re not great at it.

Sing as loudly outside of the shower as you do while showering.

Dance with those you love even if you have two left feet.

Visit with friends often even if you’re busy.

Cherish family always even though they may be far away.

Help those less fortunate even though it’s easier to ignore their plight.

Instead of always looking ahead, look around and realize how truly blessed you’ve been.

I’m recalling that the most memorable parts of my life, the stuff that has made the whole experience worthwhile, have occurred more often than not, when I wasn’t coloring inside the lines.

Who knew?

We miss you Grandma Ole...

My mother-in-law passed away on 9/20/10.
I am borrowing this song from the Broadway play Rent to use as a tribute to her.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBoLHqLM7S4


"Five hundred twenty-five thousand Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?


In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In five hundred twenty-five thousand Six hundred minutes
How do you measure A year in the life?
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?

Measure in love
Seasons of love.
Seasons of love
Five hundred twenty-five thousand Six hundred minutes!
Five hundred twenty-five thousand Journeys to plan.



Five hundred twenty-five thousand Six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life Of a woman or a man?
In truths that she learned,
Or in times that she cried.
In bridges she burned,
Or the way that she died.

It's time now to sing out, Tho' the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends
Remember the love!
Remember the love!
Seasons of love!
Oh you got to got to Remember the love!
You know that love is a gift from up above
Share love, give love spread love
Measure measure your life in love."

I always liked the tune of this song. I never really used to pay too much attention to the lyrics. It kind of sums up the way my lovely bride and I have been able to cope with this loss; Remembering how loving Ole was. (The burning bridges part doesn't really apply though. EVERYBODY that ever knew Ole loved her to the end and beyond.)

Song lyrics as a coping mechanism and a salve to heal the wounds of loss.

Who knew?