Category Archives: About Me

All Keyed Up

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We celebrated my grandmother’s 100th birthday this past week. Leading up to her party, I think most of us grandkids were looking forward to her birthday more than she was. Normally, I can be rather reticent; as my grandmother knows, I answer most any question with yes, no, or fine.

But for the past week or so, no matter what the question or conversation, I managed to work in that my grandmother was turning 100.

At the café, the barista might say, “Good morning.”

My normal response: “Good morning. I’d like a small coffee for here.”

My response this past week: “Good morning. Since my grandmother is turning 100 this week, I think I’ll have a cappuccino.” Continue reading →

My Tent: Olympic National Park

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Minnehaha Creek is pretty in the snow – even if it is April.Minnehaha Creek, Minnesota

I was walking home late along the creek the other night, a clear night, when the urge to go camping hit me.

As I walked I was struck by the beauty and the stillness of the night. I currently live in a suburban neighborhood of the Twin Cities, which can be quiet, but walking along the creek that night was quiet like the quiet of a perfect night camping. It made me want to strap on my backpack and head up north (before the mosquitoes settle in).

I’m making this sound like I come from a family of woodsmen or that I can be left alone unsupervised in the wilderness. As a kid, the closest I came to camping was RV trips we’d take, but even then I think we drove the RV to hotels. Continue reading →

The Century Mark

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“I like to ask questions.” That’s what my grandmother said to my dad and me yesterday when we went to visit her. We both chuckled, because that’s a bit of an understatement.

When I was growing up, my grandmother lived next door to us. Whenever I opened the back door, if she wasn’t already in the kitchen, she’d pop up from her living room chair to greet me.

“Oh, Patrick, me boy, how are you?” Continue reading →

The Sound of Spring

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I just finished my first full winter in Minnesota in more than 20 years. When I say it wasn’t that bad, it’s perhaps important to know that my body was designed for cold weather.  I did get a little cocky last week though, switching from wool sweaters to mere flannel shirts and thinking spring was just around the corner.

The wool sweaters were back on this week as winter was getting its last laugh with a snow storm just days before spring’s supposed arrival.

And now, according to the calendar, it is spring. Over the last twenty years, I’ve been home to Minnesota plenty of times in the dead of winter, but never during spring. I had forgotten what spring meant in Minnesota.

Puddles.Minnestoa puddles

Continue reading →

A St. Patrick’s Day Resolution

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Last year to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, I went to my first ever boxing match. Boxers from Ireland were invited to Oregon to challenge a local club. I was a little surprised by how much I enjoyed it. And I was a little fearful that I did, because I’ve secretly wanted to try boxing for years. (That would also create a better back story for the chip in my front tooth.) So far though, no boxing ring for me.

This year as I was watching my niece Irish dance in the courtyard of the IDS tower in downtown Minneapolis, I made a resolution.IDS Tower, Crystal Court, Minneapolis, MN

A resolution in conjunction with St. Patrick’s Day is perhaps an odd pairing, since it’s with a heavy head the next morning that we resolve a great many things. But it’s on days like St. Patrick’s Day when a pint or two inspire us to greatness.

“Let’s!”

That affirmative is the start to all great road movies. Continue reading →

The First Anniversary

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One year ago today I began PFM Reports – the online version. (The family version began a few years earlier as letters home.) I struggled to find what I wanted to say today to celebrate. I thought about lists – My Top 5 [insert topic]. My friend and editor, Max, despite being rather darkly written, nixed the idea of bringing out my soapbox (probably to save topics for himself). So I pondered. Continue reading →

Ishmael, nothing from the sea for me.

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“And I only am escaped alone to tell thee.”

Closing the book, that’s how I felt – a lone survivor – as I finished Moby-Dick, a novel that had become my white whale. That’s also how Melville closes the book; in the epilogue he is quoting the messengers from the first chapter of the Old Testament book of Job.

“I alone have escaped to tell you.”

Epilogue.

Let’s be honest, that’s how I felt after the first chapter of Moby-Dick. It’s one slog of a book. Job was still blessing the Lord in Chapter One. Not me, unless you ignore intonation. Continue reading →

Call Me Ishmael

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What book are you reading?

I get asked that question quite often, not for any reputation of brilliance, mind you. I just happen to carry a book with me most of the time. And I don’t mean I have a book in my backpack. I actually carry a book in my hand.

A person with a book in hand is more likely to get asked what he is reading than a person without a book. (Alas, my insight is merely logical, not brilliant.) Continue reading →

OFG: The Fat Tuesday Weigh-in

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(For non-regular readers of PFM Reports, OFG is Operation Feel Good, a plan my siblings and I have to get fit.)

Last Tuesday wasn’t just any old Tuesday. It was Mardi Gras.  I may not have been in New Orleans celebrating (one of my long standing wishes), but I think I did the day proud. I celebrated in the evening with my sisters eating fried ice cream. A second round for everyone. (I’m a firm believer that “a second round” isn’t just for drinks.)

Last Tuesday wasn’t just Mardi Gras.  It was Fat Tuesday. I’m not simply translating the French, Mardi Gras meaning Fat Tuesday in English. Nor am I referring to the fried ice cream. Nor the second round of fried ice cream. It takes more than that to make a Tuesday fat.

I had gone to the gym.

Let me explain. Continue reading →

Eatin’ Pants

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I own “eatin’ pants.”

Yet I’ve never been to New Orleans for Mardi Gras.

Sure, I’ve been to New Orleans – one of my favorite cities – many times, but never for Mardi Gras.  Just seems kind of odd for a man with eatin’ pants. Mardi Gras, after all, marks the end of the Carnival season with its parties, parades and balls that began with the Feast of the Epiphany. As Midnight strikes, the gluttony of Mardi Gras gives way to Ash Wednesday and the far more abstinent Lenten season.

St. Louis Cathedral, Jackson Square, New Orleans, Louisiana

St. Louis Cathedral, Jackson Square, New Orleans, Louisiana

In secular terms, one week into our New Year’s resolutions, we break them. (Yes, that was me eating the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup behind the bus shelter last night.) We go on a bit of a bender for a few weeks or more depending on the year. Technically, it’s determined by the spring equinox and a full moon, but I say the finite quality of elastic has something to say about it, at which point we decide to be good for 40 days.

New Orleans can be decadent any time of year, but to celebrate Mardi Gras in New Orleans must be incredible. I’m not suggesting I deserve to see New Orleans during Mardi Gras just because I own eatin’ pants. No, I’m not the only one to belly up to a buffet in Vegas with a little comfort stretch in my waistband.

What I am saying is that I deserve to see New Orleans during Mardi Gras because I once bought a suit just to go out to dinner. Continue reading →