All Story Telling

These pages will reflect the art of story telling and may involve my family stories as well as history and travel. They are a hodgepodge of topics with antidotal comments, but always involve the attributes of a good story.

On My Way Home

Posted on by kwundrow

So here I am on American Airlines, bound for home.  My morning started at 3:30 am when I awoke, got ready and caught the hotel shuttle for the airport and my way too early flight.  After a two hour layover in Dallas Airport, we just left the tarmac and in a few hours I will be home.  This marks the end of my annual teaching schedule.  Please don’t ask what I am out there teaching unless you are short on both sleep and sleep aids.  My circuit begins in Wisconsin where we zig zag across the state but ends with a week travelling across the State of Mississippi, finishing just in time to still get home for Christmas.

I guess what I wanted to write about was the amazing experience of not just visiting another state, but working and interacting with the locals as well.  My experience is one of meeting incredibly gracious people with a very easy and much more laid back view of life.  I will say that the term “fast food” is kind of lost when you are down here in the South and believe me, when you are crisscrossing the state and driving between your hotel sites, you get a lot of opportunity for fast food.  Down South, they just aren’t in that same frenetic hurry that we seem to be in up here in the North.  Never the less, I do look forward each year to my “Journey’s Across Mississippi”.  I will shamelessly add that I can take extra heaping helpings of the “can I get’cha anything honey” or “how’s it go’en sweetie” any day and miss it every time I return home.

One of the fringe benefits I look forward to each year, is leaving the cold of Wisconsin weather in December for the subtle warm weather of that same time in Mississippi.  I would pack for sixty and seventy degree weather looking forward to even donning shorts on my day off.  So what went wrong this year?   It seems the cold weather somehow purchased an airline ticket along with mine and showed up to accompany me across Mississippi.  Though we did get one day of fifty degrees, I feared for snow on the rest.  What was humorous, was their reaction to this weather.  The term “oh my God, Hell is freezing over” seemed to be the general reaction.  That and blaming my wife and I for bringing it with us.  Newscasters warned the fearful citizens to bring in all animals, wrap your pipes and head to the grocery store for a week’s worth of provisions before the shelves were bare.  We saw all forms of warm weather gear as they prepared for this onslaught of “death by cold”.  Now in fairness, we in Wisconsin, given this same degree of cold, would at least have put away our shorts and flip flops.  We may have even donned a sweater.  But gloves, ski masks and parkas?  By the way, I still packed for seventy degrees.  Rather wore out that one sweater I had somehow packed, or was that the one I wore to the airport the day we flew down?

But I am on my way home now and I apologize to the Deep South for bringing that taste of winter with me.  I am told a good old snow storm waits for me to land so that it can blanket us with a beautiful layer of white.  The more I think about it, the more I look forward to it.  Poor Mississippi, suffering through the cold without the one beautiful benefit of winter, snow.  After all, what would winter and especially Christmas be without it?

So I will sign the end of my trip, gently dozing off on the plane while dreaming of a white Christmas and glad to be home once more.

 

My Favorite Thanksgiving

Posted on by kwundrow

I was recently asked to share my favorite Thanksgiving memory.  As I am sure it would be hard for you, it was a difficult task for me as well.  I had so many to choose from.  I thought of the first Thanksgiving with my family as I brought my then new girlfriend and eventual wife, Deb, to meet my mom, dad and siblings.  I remember the stories we told around that table and the laughs we shared.  I of course thought of those first Thanksgivings we spent at our own home with my daughters and the traditions we started.  I thought of those spent with my brother in law and sister in law at their home in Wausau as we merged our families and the “cousin’s club” was formed under the basement stairs.

I eventually settled on one very different Thanksgiving.  It was Thanksgiving on a cold November day in 1985.  We were moving into our new home that next morning and my brother had come down to help us pack and move.  This would be his first Thanksgiving away from the family we had grown up in and he was letting me know how hard that was.  Since the kitchen, and whole house for that matter, were packed away in boxes, there was no way to have a dinner at our house.  We decided to go out to Crandall’s, a local restaurant, that was actually serving Thanksgiving dinner.  When we arrived, I took the waitress aside and explained our situation.  She recommended we take the home style meal being offered and she would do her best to recreate the family feel.

Dinner was served with heaping helpings of mashed potatoes, turkey and gravy.  The stories ensued and we were feeling better.  Eventually, the waitress slid by our table and asked how everyone was doing?  My brother complimented the food and then requested some more potatoes and gravy.  With out missing a beat, the waitress put her hand on his shoulder and said “They’re in the kitchen, I’m sure you can get them as easy as me.”  My brother’s look was priceless.  The slack jaw, the rolled up eyes.  The waitress smiled and said “Thought I’d make you feel right at home.”  Needless to say, she had performed perfectly.  It was if my mom had been there all along.

Ironically, all these years later, we are more or less in the midst of repeating the story.  My younger daughter and her boyfriend are about to move into their new home tomorrow morning.  It is amazing how life circles back.  We will all be together for turkey at our home and we will share the stories that we continue to pass down.  Today we will remember those Thanksgivings that have been and look forward to those yet to come.  I want to thank my brother and that waitress for one of my favorite memories.

So share your stories and your memories and remember,  there’s more turkey and gravy in the kitchen, go help yourself.  Happy Thanksgiving 2016.

Happy Thanksgiving 2016

Posted on by kwundrow

 

Happy thanksgiving to all my friends and family, not that my family isn’t counted among my friends. Just being careful. I am thankful for my life. It may not always go the way we planned but each change and turn defines us and leads us closer to ultimately who we are meant to be. My life has been so full of wonderful twists and turns. My wife, my family, my career are all were met and added to my life along the journey. I will sit with my family today and reflect on a great life. We will tell and retell our stories and laugh and love together as we celebrate thanksgiving together. May you all feel as blessed and may you all feel the warmth of a loving family and a rich life. Happy Thanksgiving 2016. Now go watch the parade and eat some turkey

Thirty-six years….and counting

Posted on by kwundrow

November 15, 2016

To my wife and partner of thirty-six years

Life is an interesting journey.  So many little things brought us together all those years ago.  Some of those things were good ones and some, unfortunately, were not but never the less they were the steps that brought our paths to the intersection where we met.  Not that you were ready for the likes of me.  You put up a fair share of resistance.  Fortunately, one of my traits was persistence and your resistance quickly wore down.

We started out small, dinner at the Checkerboard, Dutch treat as I had so little to offer you other than my wit and charm.  Nice to know we have outlasted the Checkerboard, long since gone.  We advanced to our first date, a movie left unnamed and attended by accident.  To eventually deciding that our feelings were mutual and it was time to stop being apart, if even for a day or even a few hours at a time.

We made it to Thanksgiving, our first holiday together.  There would be thirty-six more to come, many with distinct memories, apple cobbler served warm on a bed of concrete comes to mind, but none so remarkable as that first Thanksgiving.  I will forever refer to it as the Shepherd Inquisition.  How I survived is beyond me.  If I had been your father, I would have sent me packing.  But this is where your character trait came into play.  You are a strong person who when she knows she is right takes a stand that no one can move.  And so you fought for me.  This would be the first in multiple times that you would fight for me.  I am glad you have won every time.

I remember our first truly “big” date.  You know, the one where he surprises you with his willingness to spend way more than he can afford on a destination that is meant to impress.  Do you remember….the Top of the 95th in Chicago?  By the time we left dinner, the one with the lovely view of the kitchen, I barely had enough money to get us out of the parking garage.  But somehow you were impressed.  A trick I have managed to pull off countless times since and something I will continue to attempt far into our future.

Oh we have had our fights along the way.  Some trivial and others worth fighting for, but through it all we learned more about each other every time and we learned to fight nice, love more and laugh at life together.  When our careers distracted us, one of us always took on the role of supporter.  We soothed our frazzled nerves and reached out and pulled each other through.

And then there were children.  First Bailey and then all those years later, Kathryn.  We created them out of love and rededicated our lives to theirs.  We faced the challenge of raising two bright and beautiful, independent young women and we championed our efforts.  We learned the art of divide and conquer, the skill of compromise without losing sight of the goal and the pleasure only two lively intelligent girls could bring to our family.  By the looks of it, aka the last reality check, we have succeeded.

There are so many tales to tell, so little room to write them all down.  But at least a mention.  Our Christmas traditions, starting with that first movie, Pauley, and eventually growing into our dinners on the town and The Christmas Carol presentation.  Thirty-six Christmas mornings, thirty-two with children, one with a dog if I remember correctly.  The family trips; Italy, the Caribbean, Mexico, Yellowstone and Yosemite to name just a few.  So many wonderful memories and so many years together.

What has kept us together all these years?  Love and respect.  Sometimes just enough and other times more than enough to store for the years ahead.  Thank you for always fighting for me and for standing up alongside of me when I needed that support.  We are a partnership, forged in tenacity and built on a foundation of love.  I look forward to the future and if it is in the stars, another thirty-six years to build our continuing book of memories.

All my love on this our anniversary.

Ken

So who will you be for Halloween?

Posted on by kwundrow

Halloween, that one day holiday where we dress up and celebrate All Saint’s Eve.  The history of the holiday is a whole story of its own but that’s not what I am focused on this morning.  You see I just returned from our Sunday morning church service and having dressed up as everyone was asked to do, this revelation found its way home with me.

Our minister had posed this question “If you could dress up as someone, who would it be?”  He had chosen Batman and had explained why that had significance in the moment and for him personally.  You know, super hero, good guy.  His point was that we all are someone else behind the mask we wear.

There I was sitting in the pew, dressed as the picture above shows.  It dawned on me, that if I looked in the mirror, it would be my father’s reflection that I saw.  On further contemplation, I also dawned on me that it was a more subliminal choice of costume than I had realized.

My father was by many an account, a relatively quiet person.  He went about his business and quietly made his way in the world.  He raised six children, ran a dairy farm and held multiple odd jobs in government and labor.  Even though we probably had far less money than many we knew, we never felt poor or wanting.  All the while, my dad was a man of service.  Service in the positions he held, service to his farm community and service to his church.  The quiet man left a huge footprint.

It was fitting that I had without thinking about it donned the clothes he would have worn and in that moment of contemplation, I had come to realize more than ever before, how much of an impression he had on my life.  So many things that we do in life, so many mannerisms and characteristics can be traced back to someone who left their imprint on our life.  I believe that with that realization comes a better understanding of who we are and maybe even who we are meant to become.  We reveal the someone behind the mask.

My question for you this Halloween is who would you dress up as?  No matter who it is, take a little time to consider the significance of your choice.  Then, remove the mask and try to become that person. My hope for you is that your choice will be some super hero with super powers and that you will strive to use those powers to become a super you.

Happy Halloween and thanks for reading.

Family Matters

Posted on by kwundrow

I just returned from our first full family reunion.  Since our parents passing several years ago, we had talked about getting us all back together.  But, like so many things in life it kept moving away from us.  That is until we set our foot, feet down and made plans.  Suddenly it was off the talking list and and we were all busy planning our get together in Lake Tahoe.  Thanks to the tenacity of our displaced California now New York niece, the details began to come together and our reunion became a reality.  Thirty-eight members of our family came together for four beautiful days in the mountains of California.  Among the thirty-eight were eleven grandchildren, some who had never met each other, yet by the end of our four day stay, had become very much acquainted and even fast friends.  The children’s ages ranged on up to 13 with the youngest in attendance barely 3 months old.  For several, the pictures will have to serve as their memories.

Now bringing this many people together and dropping them all in close vicinity to each other sounds risky, but in credit to the closeness of the five families, there were no wars, no battles.  Instead, we connected and reconnected in a way that would have made our parents proud.  Each day we shared a meal at one of the four condos, created, cooked and served up by the host family of that day.  The stories flowed freely and the laughter lasted long into the evenings.  In so many ways, we had not missed a beat.

This is what family is.  This is what family does.  I am so proud to be a member of this family and in awe as I look up at the family tree and the many branches it now bears and the new branches that continue to sprout.  Within the next year there will be at least two more added to the tree.  My hope is that we will all come together again and these new members will be introduced to their relatives.

And so I challenge us to meet again a year from now and tell the stories again, celebrate our lives and our accomplishments, revel in our heritage and remind each other that family matters.  It is said that you can choose your friends but not your family.  I for one am glad that this family chose me. I can say that I am proud to be a Wundrow.  Thank you mom and dad for the legacy of the family you founded.  I hope….no I know that you are proud of us.

 

Angels Among Us

Posted on by kwundrow

It had started out like any other trip.  The plethora of planning items to check off, airfare, hotel, rental car and the never ending list of things to pack.  We were ready for our trip to the Seattle area.  And for the most part, things went as planned.  We arrived safe and sound, picked up our rental car and found our way successfully to the hotel suite.  One minor detail, and at the time it seemed like such a good thing.  The rental agency had offered us a free upgrade from the midsize car we had paid for to a brand spanking new full size.  Who wouldn’t take that deal and we did.  But more later on that.

We spent the first two days and evening exploring the downtown area of Seattle and took in some nice west coast seafood.  Day three found us on the road to Astoria, Oregon, a beautiful old fur trading center at the mouth of the Columbia River where it meets the Pacific Ocean.  On the way there is where my story begins.  Traveling down the interstate we suddenly hear a loud crack as a stone seemingly thrown at us out of the sky cracks the windshield of our brand new car.  Now had I taken the insurance coverage offered, that would be the rental agency’s issue, but then you see I didn’t take that offer.  When quizzed by my loving wife, I explained that the windshield, thanks to our $500 comprehensive deductible, now belonged to us.  “But fear not, said I, I am sure that lightening does not strike twice.”

We spent a really nice evening in a quaint hotel on the riverbank of the Columbia.  After a nice dinner and exploratory hike around town and up to the “heights”, we had almost put the windshield issue in our rear mirror.  Oh yes there was the suggested scrimping on our choice of restaurants due to the looming $500 bill, but all in all, the issue was fading.  Then came the morning of the next day and the realization that lightening does strike twice.  Sometime in the wee hours someone had pulled out of the stall behind us and managed with the precision of a demolition derby driver to scrape off most of the paint and some of the plastic of our rear bumper.  Of course they would be too ashamed to just drive off you think.  Well apparently the thought never crossed their mind.  My wife, god love her, shrugs and says, “Well at least we already used up our deductible, so it can’t cost us anymore.”  This is when I get to explain the difference in an insurance policy between comprehensive coverage and collision.  After a call to our insurance agent to verify what I thought was obvious and my wife thought was collusion, not to be confused with collision, which my agent explained was a $1000 deductible, we now owned the bumper of this car as well.  With our luck, we just might buy the car one piece at a time before we had to turn it back in.  The better part of this day would be spent getting my family to back away from the emotional cliff we were now poised on the edge of.  But thanks to resilience, humility on my part and a beautiful Oregon Coast beach, we were soldiering on.

We have by this time reached the city of Port Angeles.  Port Angeles is the exit point for the ferry to Victoria Island in Vancouver, Canada.  I wish to insert here several key facts.  You need a passport to get into Canada, Victoria is an island, coffee can cost a lot more than you think and the ferry is not cheap and even more expensive when one takes their car.  These facts will play a key role in a series of decision I will soon make.

We have spent a day and a night in Port Angeles in a motel booked weeks in advance.  On the morning of the second day, we are to drive our car onto the ferry and head to Victoria Island.  After doing a little math on the cost of the ferry, with car, and parking for same car on the island let alone getting a hotel room on the island, it has become obvious that coupled with the multiple car parts we will be paying for soon, that a more fiscally responsible plan might be the order of the day.  And thus the decision that will set me on my course to hell has begun.  I have decided, against the better judgement of my wife, to stay one more night in Port Angeles and leave the car there for the day.  Simple, go speak with the hotel manager to book our room for one more night.  Not so simple he explains.  There are no rooms available and we cannot leave our car in the lot.  But then what seems like our first good fortune.  There is a room available at a motel right next to the ferry and not only is it less than the cost of taking the car over to the island, we can leave our car in the parking lot all day, no cost.  And the die is cast, or as the French say, and I like the feel of this, “the carrots are cooked.”  We park our car and merrily board the ferry for the next leg of our vacation.  After a nice day touring the island and its quaint history, we are disembarking from the ferry and walking up to our motel.  As my wife actually mentions that this turned out to be a good decision, I am struck by the emptiness of my pocket.  Not just any pocket, but the pocket where there should be a heavy set of keys.  After a mad dash back down the hill to the ferry and a desperate request to search the boat.  Remember the passport, I left it with my wife on her way up the hill to our motel, you know, the one with our brand new car in its lot with all of our luggage securely locked in its trunk.  It turns out that the ferry is actually considered Canadian soil.  No passport, no getting back on the ferry.  After relaying my tale of woe they agree to have a crewmate search the boat for me, did I mention that this was the last ferry trip of the day to or from the island?  No keys!  Did I really think my luck would change?  I am thinking now that when we stopped into buy a cup of coffee at that inviting java bar on the island, my keys were left on the counter.  This may turn out to be a very expensive cup of coffee.

I am back up the hill now and explaining to the hotel night manager that our vacation has gone off the rails, our luggage is locked in the car and I have no keys.  Time to give you another fact.  Port Angeles interpreted means “City of Angels”.  Enter angel number one.  The hotel manager gets AAA on the move and offers us a free upgrade for a room, one my family can at least enjoy while I suffer quietly in the parking lot waiting for AAA.  By the way, misery DOES love company.  But the manager doesn’t stop here.  He next offers us his car to drive downtown to get something to eat and even offers us money to buy some clothes for the night.   Meanwhile, AAA has informed me of my next problem.  Any other car and they would come out, pick the lock and we would be on our way.  Any other car, but not the brand new car we rented and equipped with an electronic smart key.  Never fear, the driver would come out and tow it to the nearest Chevy garage, where I could go work the problem with them tomorrow.

Did I mention that when I parked the car early that morning the lot was empty and the last thing I was concerned about at that time was needing to have my car towed?  The lot is now full, and my car is neatly tucked in between three rows of tightly parked cars.  Enter the tow truck driver.  As I point out the location of my car, he groans and says “This is going to cost someone a lot of money….” but I stop him mid-sentence and painfully fill him in on our vacation story to this point.  The windshield, the bumper and now the lost keys.  He sucks in his breath and finishes his sentence “but not you.”  Angel number two has arrived.  He is going to call a friend with another truck and through a miracle, sounds better than what actually took place, they will drag this car out of there.  Once the extraction begins, he reminds me not to watch and when I ask if this is hard on the car, he reminds me in a calm and soothing voice “just remember, it’s not your car.”  After what seems like an eternity, I watch as my car, dangling from the hook of a tow truck, heads away on its journey to the garage.

Early, very early the next day, the night manager comes to my rescue again.  He has returned to the motel to give me a ride to the garage to retrieve my car.  This guy is amazing in his determination to rescue us.  Arriving at the garage, I am given more bad news.  They do not have the key codes to cut the key as the car is so new.  But they are not giving up either.  They are Port Angelinos and they are duty bent to save me.  After two failed attempts by local locksmiths, we have no luck with an ignition key but they have cracked the trunk and I now have luggage.  Enter angel number three and four.  The service manager knows a guy in town with a rental car business on the side.  It turns out he has an arrangement with our rental agency and that he is going to give us, yes give us, a car to continue on our way.  Ten minutes later he rolls in, throws our luggage in his car and beckons me to get in.  I tell him I need to settle with the service manager, who tells me “no cost, I didn’t fix anything.  Just enjoy the rest of your vacation.”  Meanwhile, as I enter the agent’s car, I ask “what about that car and the damage?”  His reply reminds me for the fourth time, “not your car, not your problem.”  He explains that he will deal with the rental agency and I should no longer think about it.  He then drives over to our motel, picks up the rest of the family and then at his place of business, provides us with a car and a full tank of gas.  As we drive out of town, we pass the garage and the “cursed car” as my family now refers to it.  Port Angeles has lived up to its name.  Facing a ruined vacation, they have not only come to our rescue, they have bolstered our spirits and reminded us of the power of generosity.

Upon returning to Seattle to turn in a car that certainly does not resemble the car we rented, we are actually greeted with an apology for all that has happened to us on our trip, a personal cab ride to our motel and a “no charge” bill of receipt.  To not put in a shameless plug for the agency would not be in the spirit of this story.  The company, I will now always attempt to get my rental from, is Enterprise.

I will end this story with this antidote.  There are angels among us and to recognize them is to acknowledge that we need to be no less when our opportunity arises.  Don’t miss your opportunity.  It just might be your only chance to be someone’s angel.

 

Courage

Posted on by kwundrow

I want to make it clear that there is a difference between bravery and courage.  When a firefighter rushes back into a burning building or a soldier steps in harm’s way to face down the enemy, these are acts of bravery.  They are willing to risk their lives for the sake of others and generally people they do not know.  Courage is the day to day acts that we perform.  They can be as small as telling your two year old “no” in the middle of the candy store or even just lying with your arm in that awkward position that only cuddling can create.  You know, the one where your arm and hand is slowly falling asleep but you are committed to the caring act.  At the other end of the spectrum lies true courage.  That point, where faced with the unknown or even the end of life, one carries on for the people they love and those same people surrounding them.

I was going to title this “Fearless Courage” but I believe that the true meaning of courage involves a certain degree of fear.  Without fear it would not be courage bur rather irrational behavior.  It takes courage to act in the face of fear.  It is in that unknown that we muster the strength to act even when our rational brain would tell us otherwise.  It is in that arena that true courage rises to the top.

As I sit here writing this piece, I have a dear friend demonstrating this courage.  Diagnosed with cancer and the inbred logic of a surgical nurse, Carol knew that the ultimate outcome of her battle was sealed in her fate.  Do not doubt for one minute that she did not put up the most valiant of fights but even as she spoke of the battle she was clear on its outcome.

In this setting, it would be so easy to be angry, be angry Carol, to give in, let us take care of you Carol, or just plain whine about your fate.  I need to tell you that from the moment we learned of the diagnosis there was never a moment when we thought that she would allow any of this.  She is sassy and full of life.  She is mine and my wife’s role model in strength of character, parenting and grand parenting and how to be your spouse’s soul mate while still keeping him in line.  Carol is courageous.

Through this all she has prepared her family and encouraged them throughout her ordeal.  And let’s not forget them in this battle.  They too are courageous.  I can see the concern, even fear in their eyes, but they carry on.  They love each other.  They are there for each other and they demonstrate in every imaginable way that they are all in this together.  As Carol reminds them of what she needs them to do, they give each other strength to be courageous.

Bravery is a lack of concern but courage is just the opposite.  Courage uses concern as its weapon against fear.  My dear friend has found her courage and she inspires me.  Not just to write this piece, but to live my life better and deeper.  I thank you Carol for the battle you have waged, for your courage you have displayed and for the road you have paved for all of us.  It is on that road that your family will live out their lives as a testament to yours.

Dominican Republic Day Eight: Homeward Bound

Posted on by kwundrow

It is hard to believe that we have been here for eight days.  We are somewhere over the Bahamas, winging our way back to the States.  I wanted to end this blog with some observations and memories that stand out.

While spending time here it became apparent that as Americans, we have come a long way with the fight for smoke free environments.  In the resort and its restaurants, in fact everywhere we went, we encountered so many Europeans smoking but far fewer Americans.  It took readjusting to sharing your dining experience with smokers.  Oh how I longed for a smoke free room.  Perhaps the European diet and propensity toward drinking wine offsets the damage done by smoking.  At least for their sake I do hope so.

Then there are the cell phones.  It seems civilization cannot go more than a few minutes without checking our phones for emails and texts.  So often, couples, here to relax and spend quiet romantic time together, would instead be staring intently at their phones.  So much for quality time.  I know this is a choice and if I actually had service outside of the US, (I might have but I didn’t want to check) I am sure I would have been no better.  Make a promise, next time you travel, turn off the cell phone and talk to people.  At least for a few minutes at a time.  They might be even more interesting than that email or text.

My favorite memory will be the night.  As darkness sweeps away the daylight, the whole place becomes so quiet.  Walking the grounds in the moonlight, palms swaying softly in the ocean breeze, will be my memory to revisit over and over.  One very special night provided us with the added highlight of a lightening streaked night sky.  The backdrop to the evening solitude was “perfecto”.  No photo could do it justice.

We have been pampered for the last eight days but then that is what we paid for.  Still, every once and awhile, a staff member would emerge that was more than just doing their job.  They showed genuine interest and a hope that we would take back favorable opinions of their country, its culture and its people.  They showed a passion for what they had to offer and delivered it with the skill of an artist painting a majestic landscape.  I will remember each of them and their spirit of generosity and friendship.

Thank you Dominican Republic for the memories and the pampering, because after all, everyone can use a little pampering once in a while.