Author: kwundrow
And There It Was
Sometimes you can cruise through life. Some bumps here and there, but otherwise, smooth sailing. You begin to take things for granted. You go to bed each night knowing that tomorrow is another day. You go through your day, bumping into friends, talking to co-workers, doing what you do. And then it happens. You encounter a situation that you previously believed only affected others.
That something happened to me. It started innocently enough. It was a routine doctor’s appointment to have my hearing checked. Something was off. “Maybe it wasn’t my hearing” she said. She sends me to an ENT doctor. The ENT doctor finds something that worries her. Next stop, a CT scan and then the request to “come back in.”
My wife and I arrived at the appointed time that next day. Our anxiety was ramping up all the while I was busy thinking of other less worrisome possibilities. There is a knock on the office door. The doctor enters the room with her team of three other members. As the door closes behind the last doctor, we sit fearing what we are about to hear. “You have cancer.” And there it was. That diagnosis I had imagined other people hearing, wondering how that must have felt, are now mine to feel. I have cancer.
Most importantly, I have received a reprieve. My cancer is highly treatable with a ninety – ninety-five percent cure rate. If you are going to contract cancer, this is the one to choose. I will undergo the full series of radiation and chemo treatments. This will last 33 days. If and when all goes well, my cancer will be gone.
I am writing about this because putting it in the open is cathartic. It makes me accept it and it keeps me focused on what lies ahead. I am also hoping that by laying this out, those of you closest to me will worry less. There are three categories of cancer. There is cancer that offers no hope and requires incredible courage to deal with. There is a second category that I call “the hopeful” cancer. This category offers hope that if you can make it through treatment you have a better chance to beat it. And then there is my kind. I am describing it as “the common cold” cancer. Though it is not “nothing,” it is clearly less scary. There is more than hope, there is a high probability. I am thankful and humbled that my treatment journey will be far easier than so many others facing theirs.
Getting cancer has made me feel mortal. but the healing will make me feel stronger, more determined. It seems clique to remind people that we need to be more conscious of every day we get. To find the positive in it. To be grateful for every opportunity to make another person’s day just a little brighter. For every chance we get to be better than we were. When you see me, and I hope we get the chance, a hug is all I need. Let me be a reminder for you to value your life as much as that hug will value mine.
Chain of Events
We were on the veranda of our river boat, our sliding glass door closed and locked behind us. My now very unhappy wife emphatically declaring that this is my problem to fix. She is correct in her accusation. After all it was I who had insisted the door would not lock if I pushed it shut. And I had, pushed it shut.
I began looking for a way out. There was always jumping into the river. but besides being unappealing, we were on the third deck. I could try peering around the divider hoping to find someone else out on their deck. Tried it, both sides, no luck. My wife, now getting anxious, reminds me once again that we are locked out of our comfortable cabin! Still guilty!
Desperate times call for desperate measures. I began yelling, to anyone who would hear me, “Help, anyone, I need help.” And suddenly, a head pops out from two decks down. “What do you need?” I explained that we were locked out, coincidentally without reference to blame. I asked that he find a porter and send them to our room. “Can do” was the answer and the talking head disappeared. Then, as the porter unlocked the door, he pops back out and declares “Hi, I’m Chris.” I replied, “I’m stupid but you can call me Ken.” And that was it, we knew our names and nothing else.
Two days later, I climbed the stairs to the top deck. A gentleman called me by name and said hi. The look on my face must have signaled that I didn’t recognize him. “I’m Chris,” he declares and extends his hand. As I thank him again, he introduces me to the group he is traveling with. One woman, Jada, begins a conversation with me. In short order, we find a connection. Though now from San Diego, she had grown up in Wisconsin. Upon further digging, it turns out she lived next door to my wife’s brother! She had actually babysat our nephews. Once my wife caught up to us, I introduced her, and her surprise was a treat.
There is an important take away from this story. Besides the fact that I had been rescued from an embarrassing situation, we had made new friends. Even if it was just for our week down the river. Experts say that as a culture, we are losing the art of conversation. We don’t know how or don’t want to engage with each other, let alone strangers on a boat. If Chris hadn’t gone beyond the rescue. If he hadn’t made the effort to tell me his name. If he hadn’t taken the risk in stopping to say hello. I would have never, halfway around the world, met the women who babysat my nephews.
Chain of events are funny things. What starts as an introduction, can often result in an interesting connection. But only if we pursue the conversation. In my case, Chris might not have shared his name. I would have thanked the porter and that would have been the end of this story. I would simply remember it as a very uncomfortable situation. Instead, it became a great story with a happy ending.
If I have to be, I will be a soldier in the war to save the art of conversation. Next time you are in the waiting line we were assigned to, be prepared to converse with me. I am betting we can share a great story and even find our connection. But don’t wait for me. See that person ahead of you, try it out. A simple hello might just be the start of a beautiful relationship. My nod to Casablanca.
Are we the frog?
A study suggests that if you place a frog in a pot of chilly water and gradually increase the heat, the frog will stay in the pot. As its conditions worsened, the frog would simply adjust until it was finally too late.
I did not vote for President Trump, and I certainly did not vote for Elon Musk. Yet I cannot help but feel like that frog. It is for that reason that I have chosen to speak out.
Our environment is something we should care about. The next generations deserve the right to breathe clean air and to enjoy healthy rivers, lakes, and oceans. I will not tolerate the current disregard. Executive orders are now reversing regulations meant to rescue them. What will my grandchildren and my children’s grandchildren inherit?
All humans have rights. These rights are equal for everyone, regardless of race, gender, religion, or sexual orientation. Those rights include the right to have unrestricted access to health care. That as citizens, they have the right to vote without fear or impediment.
I believe in a global economy based on free trade. As the strongest economy and the greatest nation in the world, we need to be initiative-taking members of it. Nationalism does not serve that belief.
I DO NOT believe that every immigrant is a terrorist, rapist, or violent individual. To honestly believe that, is to be a racist. We need to offer realistic paths to citizenship for those who would enter our borders peacefully.
I believe in the right to own a gun, but I refuse to accept the right to own an assault rifle. As a society, we have the right to feel safe in our schools, churches, and other public buildings. Our children should not spend more time learning lockdown procedures than they do learning to read.
I believe in fiscal responsibility, but I do not believe in raising revenue through tariffs that hurt our own economy and the consumers who support that economy. I believe in fair taxation, but I do not believe in a war on taxes waged by those who could afford to pay them.
I believe in our judicial system and abhor those who would seek to ignore it while all the while using it for revenge on their advisories.
I ache for a return to election campaigns based on honesty and integrity. I prefer to cast my vote through an understanding of my candidate’s positions and beliefs rather than manipulation by fear.
I believe the current administration does not serve our best interests. I also fear that as a society, we will not react until it is too late. I urge you to attend a rally, write letters, and support each other by not being afraid to speak out.
I have made my decision. I am getting out of the pot before it gets too hot.
Remembering Bob Uecker: The Heart of Baseball
I was a child of the sixties. I never had a Nintendo or anything like it. I had an Etch a Sketch. My cell phone was a neighborhood party line, and my computer looked more like a ruler with a nifty slide. My TV had three channels in snowy black and white. We invented our games and created the rules. But I’m not complaining. Life was good, mostly because it was simple.
When it came to sports, I had the Braves, not that they were still in Milwaukee. They had moved to Atlanta and left me brokenhearted. How would they have done that when we had been so loyal? Still, I collected the team player’s cards and followed Hank Aaron on my trusty transistor radio. It wouldn’t be until 1971 that Milwaukee would once again have a team. The Seattle Pilots became the Milwaukee Brewers and finally I had a team for my displaced loyalty. Baseball was where my dreams could take me. Game tied, bottom of the ninth. I stare down the pitcher. First pitch, low and outside, but I don’t bite. Next swing up in the plate and tight, ball two. And then the pitch I was waiting on and I don’t miss. The bat cracks and the ball heads out to the wall, home run.! This might not have been every kids dream, but it was mine. I loved baseball.
Before I go on, the game of baseball and its fans deserve some clarity. Those who love it, love it unconditionally. Those who don’t, complain that it is too slow. The thing is that the beauty of the game IS its speed. It’s designed for a lazy summer afternoon. You can listen to the game and visualize it. The diamond, the outfield grass, the warning track and the wall. And then, the crack of the bat. The crowd erupts as it comes to its feet. All eyes follow the arc of the ball. It sails toward the wall. And if you’re lucky, the announcer declares “it’s out of here.”
When baseball came back to Milwaukee, the team found a second string catcher turned sports caster named Bob Uecker. Turns out no sportscaster could spin a yarn like Ueck. When the game was tight, he was the voice that kept you hanging on every pitch. His attention to detail made you feel you were right there in the front row. But his rare talent came out when the game got out of hand. It was then that his stories would keep you listening. Some of those stories would stretch over several innings. Uecker added both depth and excitement to the game. No one called a home run like Ueck. “Get Up, Get Up, Get Outta Here, GONE.” That call will forever resonates in my baseball soul. But he also brought humor to the game. Sometimes it was stories of the old players and teammates he knew. A lot of the time, they were the fun he poked at himself. When telling of his first home run in the majors, he claimed the fan threw it back on the field. When the outfielder tossed it back in the stands, yet another fan threw it back. Ueck finished the story by saying “I still have the ball.” He once described his talent this way. “If I came up to bat with three men on and two outs in the ninth. I would look in the other team’s dugout and they already had their street clothes on.”
Sadly, when Bob Uecker passed away last week, the game lost its greatest fan, and we lost its heart. I love the game of baseball, always did, always will. If the game left you down, Ueck gave us hope. If the game went our way, Ueck made you part of it. But no matter the outcome, he always put us in the front row. Thank you for stories and for making the game a whole lot richer. Every game you called was a home run. When you rounded the bases for the last time, and the crowd roared, did you hear them? Those cheers were for you Ueck. Thank you for making my favorite sport come alive each and every time you called the game.
RIP Bob Uecker
So I ask you, Is there a Santa?
Please understand, I am a grown man who has been around the block a few times, many times in fact. So when I am asked, “Opa is there really a Santa?” How am I, a man of logic and reasoning, supposed to answer that?
I believe the evasive answer is that children certainly believe there is. Marketers for the likes of Coca Cola, Macy’s, and every department store out there, certainly seem to believe there is. There ads certainly imply that they do. There are a dozen or more Hallmark movies. These movies feature the jolly old soul as real. He can often be found lounging about in one of those Hallmark Christmas towns. Who am I to question it?
I think that Santa is a belief, no a necessity that lives inside the heart of each of us. When we feed the imagination of a young child, Santa lives. Santa is here when we reach out to someone in need. Santa lives when we give to a charity or give our change to the person on the street corner. Santa is there when we buy the anonymous gift for a coworker or neighbor. In that act, Santa lives. We become Santa.
Children need no proof that there is a Santa. They don’t need an explanation as to how he can visit every child in the world in one single night. They need no evidence that reindeer can fly. They just know it. I know it every time I see an act of random kindness. I see it whenever someone opens their heart and their wallet. Santa lives in everyone of us. When we get old enough to question reality, we need to step into the myth.
Well its almost midnight and my grandson is fast asleep. Guess I better get those Santa gifts under the tree. So when did I stop believing in Santa? Simple answer……I didn’t.
A Little Effort Goes a Long Way
I am hoping the men out there are not going to shame me for what I am about to share. I have been working on perfecting this technique for the past month and today I think I successfully pulled it off. the technique requires both timing and taking one’s time, but if done properly the results are very pleasing, both for you and your partner. I find that there is no better way to start the day if you do this right. In fact, with more attention to detail, it will generally leave her with that smile one can’t erase.
I also find that paying attention to the stroke will leave you with better results and more of the affirmation us guys are always looking for. Mixing up the pattern also enhances the overall performance as well as making sure you haven’t missed any steps. Take it from me fellas, practice leads to perfection and perfection leads to lots of hugs and kisses for an act that will be pleasing to both of you.
Well, I just finished the last room, so I figure it’s time to put the vacuum cleaner away and get ready for the inspection. I just know I got it right this time.
Why Christmas is the Happiest Time of the Year
Baby, Please Come Home for Christmas is playing in the background. I can hear my wife singing upstairs as she puts the finishing touches on her Christmas decorations. The Christmas trees are all up and decorating our home, yes, that’s Christmas trees plural. And thanks to our talented elf, aka my wife Deb, every room is resiliently staged in its own Christmas theme. Christmas lights are bedazzling my front yard, sans an inflatable Santa, one has to draw a line somewhere. And, there is snow in the forecast. It’s still a month away, but I am ready for Christmas. To be perfectly honest, I may have started counting down the days on December 26th a year ago. Who can deny that Christmas is simply the best time of the year, unless of course you’re the Grinch.
Christmas is a time of traditions. It’s a time for memories and for memories made. It’s a time for snowmen and snowballs, warm drinks by the fire, hot chocolate, and holding hands. It’s a time for inspiration, for sharing, and love. Christmas is that time of year when everyone is just a little more compassionate. Just a little more aware of the people around them. Just a little more generous with their time and their treasures. Just a little more than they might have been the rest of the year.
Christmas is a season of rebirth for me and when I say that, I mean literally a rebirth. I am once again young, if not in body, at least in spirit. It is at Christmas that I get to be playful. My grandchildren make sure of that. They get the toys, I get to play. I can’t wait to see what Jackson, Adela, Faye, and I get this Christmas. I am sure we will enjoy it. This Christmas Day the room will be covered in wrapping paper, ribbon, and bows. The walls will echo with sounds of glee, and we will smother each other with hugs. I ask again, how can one deny that Christmas isn’t the happiest season of the year?
Unfortunately, this is not true for everyone. There are families who live with need. Families with no gifts under the tree. Families not knowing for certain where their next meal will come from. For those families, Christmas will only be a reminder of the happiness they can’t find. This leads me back to what Christmas is and should be, the chance for sharing. My wife and I have been blessed. Our children and grandchildren enjoy good health. Deb and I enjoy our health as well. We have the financial ability to take care of our needs and to practice generosity. This year, just as we always do, we will pick the charities for our giving. Our children and grandchildren will also get to pick and the chance to tell us why. When we do this, we experience the true happiness of Christmas.
Each person has the right to celebrate Christmas in their own manner. I choose to celebrate Christmas with friends and family. I choose to celebrate it in the spirit of sharing and giving. I will sing along with every Christmas song they play before they stop playing them. I accept the challenge to share a smile with everyone I see and a hug with anyone that needs one. And I will tell you once again, Christmas is the best time of the year. At least it is for me.
Merry Christmas.
We Can Heal
The election is behind us, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I was disappointed in the outcome. For those who know me, that won’t be much of a surprise. I just returned from interviewing a volunteer. We talked about the importance of making connections and building relationships. I couldn’t help but think about the irony of elections. Both parties stress how important is to get rid of the divisiveness that divides us as a nation. They each tell us how they will be the one to heal the nation and bridge that divide. To me, the idea of party politics is just the opposite. In elections we are asked to pick between two candidates. Whether you choose A or B, you have chosen a side and that generally deepens the divide. Our elections seem to come out near 50:50. This speaks volumes to the fact that as a populace, we are more undecided than we admit. If we really want to heal our divide, it won’t come from our elected officials. After all, they are bound to their party affiliate, and that is what divides us.
My wife and I recently attended an impromptu block party in a neighbor’s driveway. This neighbor had wanted the two newest homeowners on our block to have a chance to meet their neighbors. She had gone door to door and invited everyone on our block to come to her party. I expected a handful of them to seize the opportunity, but to our amazement, everyone showed up. The term neighbor implies someone in proximity and undoubtedly someone you know, maybe even friends with. Even though we had lived on this block for thirty plus years, we met people we had never known. That night we shared stories, the stories, of how we had come to live in this neighborhood; our neighborhood. We shared our phone numbers and our emails. We became neighbors who knew each other.
There is a point here. For those of you who have been readers of my blog, you know that there is always a point. Throughout that evening, we never talked about our politics. That would have divided us. We talked about our families, our kids, and our grandkids. We shared pictures and stories. We talked about life. If we are to heal the divide in this nation, it will start at gatherings like this. We heal through our interactions with each other. We heal as a nation when we rely more on each other and less on our politicians. They have the power to legislate, it’s what we gave them when we elected them. We have the power to set policy, we do it through public opinion. If we are going to close this divide. If we are to heal, it starts by first putting aside our differences and instead, accentuating our commonalities. Let’s realize that we are all neighbors who need to get to know each other. Let’s throw a block party for the nation, no judgments, no choosing sides, just conversations. I’ll invite you; you invite your neighbor. Welcome to the party, let me introduce you to the neighbors!
Lessons from the Trees: Part Two
Last week as I was hiking with my grandkids on our favorite trail, I couldn’t help but make several observations. The first of these observations was that at my age I should know better than to think I can match the energy of a seven-year-old and a ten year old. To my surprise though, I came in a close second. As they explored and climbed and ran; I watched, and admired, and jogged. And except for their sprint to the finish line as they neared the end of the trail, I was there with them.
My second observation involved the trees. As I followed the trail through dense groves of cedars, maples, and oak trees stretching up from the forest floor, reaching to find the sun, it became clear that some of those trees had failed in their effort to survive. Some had succumbed to age while others had been pushed down by the fierce winds of a storm. While destined to crash to the ground, there were those whose fall had been arrested by a neighboring tree. Those trees hung suspended midway between their captor and the forest floor below. It was as if those trees refused to let one of their own give in to its fate.
As I walked, I thought about how people can be like those trees. We too can be knocked down. We too can fall. Sometimes it is life itself that knocks us down, but other times we might be pushed down by the very society that should be lifting us up. It might be another person who pushes us down, or maybe it’s an entire group of people that chose to push us down or hold us back. What can we as a society do to stop their fall? How do we catch them, or do we simply let them fall? It is said that until we fall, we cannot learn to rise, but is it their destiny that we let them fall, or our responsibility to be there when they cannot rise on their own?
We are in a very divisive political time. As we face this election, we have a choice, the choice to vote from our pocketbook or from our heart; to vote to protect our wealth or vote to protect our society. We get to make the choice. Will we offer a branch to catch the falling tree, or will we let it fall? We are that grove of trees, a society that whether we like it or not, depends on each one of its members to keep that society strong. The issues our society faces are numerous; our culture, our rights, our climate, our security, and our livelihoods. As you go to the polls, and I hope you do, consider the importance of these issues and then cast your vote to protect them. Let’s not be the one to just let the tree fall.
kenisms 