tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38079943967642120142024-03-05T22:41:23.419-08:00Round CircleThe Truth is Spoken Here.Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.comBlogger584125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-76920678193848582792014-06-23T21:26:00.001-07:002014-06-23T21:26:52.476-07:00<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 18px; margin-bottom: 5px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Final Arrangements for Barb AND Joe </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Services for both Mom and Dad will start at Fort Snelling National Cemetery Friday June 28th at 11:15 a.m.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">After the internment we will gather at Steve VandeWaters Home; Food and coffee will be served but feel free to bring a dish to pass and BYO alcohol. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We will eat and share stories and play music.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Steve VandeWaters</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">693 Butternut Ave </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">12:30pm-6pmish</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">On Saturday June 28th at 2p.m. we will continue to honor Mom and Dad with a "launch" on the Great Lake Superior at the Friendly Valley Beach just North of Washburn WI. (from Washburn, take hwy13 north approx. 5 miles, turn right on Friendly Valley Road, cant miss beach)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We will gather following the launch at the Humbe Be in Washburn</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Again, some food and coffee will be served. Bring a dish to pass if you wish and BYO alcohol.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We will play more music, tell more stories and eat some more. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">All are welcome. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Peace</span></div>
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Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-29468220898839926202014-06-19T18:39:00.000-07:002014-06-19T18:39:37.983-07:00Honoring Mom and Dad<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;">
<span style="color: #545559; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">I am trying to realize my Moms vision to honor my Dad. When I asked her what she would like for just herself she said nothing. She wanted people to tell stories and play music so I will do the best I can to honor them together in the way my Mom thought my Dad should be honored and we will play music and tell stories. And of course. Eat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">I will have more specific details finalized for the Memorials by Monday. For now, this is what I know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Service at Fort Snelling June 27th at 11:15am. Meet at gate 5. Gathering at Steve Vandewaters home in St Paul immediately following.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">On Saturday June 28th, we will travel to Ashland WI area for a "launch" on Lake Superior and gather after at the "Humble Be" in Ashland.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">There will be food, coffee and soft drinks served but please bring a dish to pass at one or the other events if you wish. BYO for alcohol.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Specific times and addresses will be provided soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Peace.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #545559; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Jayne Spado</span></div>
Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-33303118575988658802014-03-31T22:56:00.000-07:002014-03-31T22:56:03.012-07:00Joe Spado Memorial Information SAVE THE DATES JUNE 27 & JUNE 28, 2014<div style="color: #515151; font-family: 'Gill Sans'; font-size: 18px;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>FRIDAY, JUNE 27, 2014</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Joe’s time here on earth ended December 2, 2013. He entered the spirit world at the start of a very cold, long winter. The family decided that we would wait to give family and friends a chance to give him a proper send off, to have time together to reflect and remember him. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Plans are for a ceremony at Fort Snelling Cememtery, Minneapolis, MN <a href="http://www.cem.va.gov/cems/nchp/ftsnelling.asp" target="_blank">http://www.cem.va.gov/cems/nchp/ftsnelling.asp</a></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">at 11 am on June 27th, where he will be memorialize with the full military honors he has earned.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Luncheon will be served after at Steve VandeWater's home, 693 Butternut Ave, St. Paul.(about 8 miles from the cemetery)Deli meat, cheese and vegie trays will be provided Pot luck offerings will be accepted. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVfcmwHOGgh1NmrJOdMOp_5narjeKYnw40jXADw8jPbYKQmld_Vkw4mIvJVi0A29tJSd57Y3cUC6rBB2whQ9o5RAIuze30VSojbnNmuNgdVu7kQFw8sv3AArTP3Dy2IfgVEnG92pNZ-Zj/s1600/0524121536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVfcmwHOGgh1NmrJOdMOp_5narjeKYnw40jXADw8jPbYKQmld_Vkw4mIvJVi0A29tJSd57Y3cUC6rBB2whQ9o5RAIuze30VSojbnNmuNgdVu7kQFw8sv3AArTP3Dy2IfgVEnG92pNZ-Zj/s1600/0524121536.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>SATURDAY, JUNE 28, 2014</b></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The plans for Saturday, June 28th is to escort Joe’s ashes up to Lake Superior, where we will launch some of the “captain” in a miniature canoe out into the lake. Joe always told us that when he got too old and sick that we should just put him in a canoe and send him out into the lake he loved so much. To honor that wish we decided to make this symbolic gesture. Joe will be driven up by motorcycle escorted by more motorcycles and vehicles. The tentative destination will be Maslowski Beach on </span>Chequamegon Bay, just off Hwy 2 <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">in Ashland, WI. After the launching a memorial service will take place in Washburn, WI at Humble Be (</span><a href="http://www.humblebe.org/public_html/event_rental.html" style="letter-spacing: 0px;">http://www.humblebe.org/public_html/event_rental.html</a><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">) where food will be served, music will be made and we will all have a chance to remember Joe. I will get more information out for people who wish to stay in the Ashland/Washburn/Bayfield area as well as times for departure from River Falls, WI (base) to head north. It is approx a 4 hour ride. If I don’t get your questions answered please feel free to call or email me. My cell is 715-209-6599 and email is </span><a href="mailto:spado@mac.com" style="letter-spacing: 0px;">spado@mac.com</a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Camping and crashing is available at my house in River Falls for Friday night or any time you need to. I have a couple tents and plenty of back yard and floor or couch space available.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">looking forward to seeing you</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">more info will be coming, promise!</span></div>
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Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-70064824556959169652013-12-15T20:23:00.001-08:002013-12-15T20:23:17.232-08:00DEAR JOE 5-10-49 to 12/2/1312/15/13<br />
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Dear Joe,<br />
Still can't believe you are gone. For a while it was easy to think that you were off on a trip/adventure, but then you would have called. Even if you were in a spot with no service, you would drive as long as it took to get a signal and call me. I still carry the stupid phone around, just in case, but it rings and it's not you.<br />
Jayne and I arrived back in River Falls with you around 11:30pm on Tuesday. The sacred fire was burning for you. Your friends were here to tend it 24 hours a day. Steve parked his RV at the house so they could take turns resting and warming up. He was here most of the days, only leaving to check his shop and mother. People brought wood, food, drinks, paper goods, tobacco and of course, their love and Joe Spado stories. It began raining and then got cold enough to snow and blow and still someone was there, at the fire to honor you. It was wet and very cold and still there was always someone at the fire. Jayne and Ben spent all night at the fire on the coldest of nights. I got up around 5 to take over and sent them in to sleep in our bed where the electric blanket was blasting.<br />
I kept thinking how much you would have loved to see all the activity around the house, kids all over the place, people stopping by, people drinking coffee, crying, hugging, eating.<br />
Jan and Ron came for the weekend, leaving Florida at 85 to be here in the sub zero. Sonya just left for Colorado after being here for 10 days.<br />
The mail, posts, emails that have arrived all have such beautiful things to say about you. I know that because of your PTSD you felt that you did not deserve the praise, but Honey you did! There are so many lives that have been touched by you and they are all the better for having known you.<br />
Loosing you has been so hard on the kids, especially Anna. I will tell you more about that in another letter.<br />
I am very tired, hope you visit me in my dreams. So much to tell you, I will write again soon.<br />
Give Maggie a big hug for me, I am glad you are together again.<br />
Love you,<br />
Me xoxoxoxoxoxSpadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-76055122150186277952013-11-22T08:02:00.000-08:002013-11-22T08:02:24.281-08:00Doggy Bag Please<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Haiku My Heart</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">November 22, 2013</span></b><br />
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Join the fun and fellowship. See more Haiku at Friday's regular feature at Rebecca's Blog, <a href="http://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/">recuerda mi corazon.</a><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Really, you can’t make this up. Uncanny might be the word, (Yes, pun intended), to describe the reality of this. Let me explain. I’m admitted to the Minneapolis VA hospital last month. I actually had two three day visits there. I was settled into my room and playing a waiting game.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Doctors were waiting for the outcome from blood tests and to see what my pulse rate was going to do as it had shot upward drastically and they were medicating like crazy to get it to go down to what they considered an acceptable level.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was close to mealtime and Mrs. Spadoman was in the room waiting with me. We gave up on getting any further results of medical tests this particular day. We were content to just wait on dinner before we started another cribbage game.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Can you believe it?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">You expect me to eat this?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Dog food looks better</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Mrs. Spadoman was paging through a magazine that she had found in one of the waiting rooms. A Good-Housekeeping or Redbook I think it was. In her usual way, humor-wise, she showed me an advert for some new kind of dog food and quipped, “This is what you’ll be getting for dinner when it comes.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I looked at the photo and it did indeed look like some kind of beef stew. I think the ad was actually touting the dog food as close to being like people food as it possibly can be. We discussed the topic for a few minutes and made jokes about it.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Then, as if on cue, my tray arrived. I saw the small carton of milk, the ½ Cup serving of canned fruit and the salad, the napkin and silverware along with condiments scattered across the tray. In the center of the tray was the plastic insulated cover with the entre’ on a plate underneath. I lifted the lid and looked at the slice of bread, the vegetable medley of potatoes and carrots.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Then we looked at the dinner portion of what was being served that night.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Which one should I choose?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Flatulence personified?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Or plain horse meat stew?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We laughed until our eyes were watering. Mrs. Spadoman found the magazine ad and placed the dog food photo up close to the edge of the plate. The photograph immediately below this paragraph is what was on my plate.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3y9Zj4wRu2v-QZnslnqASQNdp101uBJynRmenSFiFTWAielA6C4q80HgZaIF91c7qDNjxmBbBsyWnrhK6RTNegaF3W7uQH68aCO0cnLCOZsyUAVymBktvZhD1Oz00d_C-o3rmiUVTtrny/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3y9Zj4wRu2v-QZnslnqASQNdp101uBJynRmenSFiFTWAielA6C4q80HgZaIF91c7qDNjxmBbBsyWnrhK6RTNegaF3W7uQH68aCO0cnLCOZsyUAVymBktvZhD1Oz00d_C-o3rmiUVTtrny/s320/photo+3.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The similarity of what was on my plate and that magazine photograph was unbelievable<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKHpJcjKAqH-RQqrtc5ZseXNf6cvWqY4AUB9j2nkJw5l5zfGaCNPYLGjES2TQ_OyP54feveuSSvoT1oJcA95HJB3A99cxr2ImutnvwcRvmtRyOdrOs7EimYIvO2jtWYO8X13KYZDNgrHR/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKHpJcjKAqH-RQqrtc5ZseXNf6cvWqY4AUB9j2nkJw5l5zfGaCNPYLGjES2TQ_OyP54feveuSSvoT1oJcA95HJB3A99cxr2ImutnvwcRvmtRyOdrOs7EimYIvO2jtWYO8X13KYZDNgrHR/s320/photo+4.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I must tell you, care at the Minneapolis VA hospital has always been top notch. I’ve been going there since the mid 1990’s. The food hasn’t always been the best, but having experienced the food service in other VA and private hospitals over the past 25 years, none of them are what I would call excellent cuisine. But this experience was over the top and had us laughing well into the next month.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">In other news, today, November 22, 2013, marks the fiftieth anniversary of the </span>assassination<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> of President John F. Kennedy. An event in American history that will always be remembered as one of the greatest </span>tragedies in the history of the United States.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A modicum of Bon Appe’tit, with a large helping of </span><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace</span></b></span></div>
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Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-35678063906291546522013-11-08T10:40:00.002-08:002013-11-08T10:43:48.208-08:00Haiku My HeartHaiku My Heart<br />
November 8, 2013<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another week gone</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I did not post for haiku</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, maybe I did</span><br />
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I've been extremely busy this week. Four appointments at the VA and then did duty to take all four Grandkids to the dentist today. I do have a few posts and stories I've been working on and hopefully will get something of interest going here soon.<br />
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See more, (and better) Haiku at Rebecca's <a href="http://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/">recuerda mi corazón </a><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace to All</span></b></blockquote>
Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-64638850953208171532013-11-06T07:09:00.002-08:002013-11-06T07:10:46.448-08:00First of the Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67gfywQXcEAnkaDkxhZpywkuceEAswoCcswphtff8_nndcLvqtapZ2be4KGmrotJk1UCCpSzrP4uu4Vlaqgp-OnnExJrhLr3WOIB1651Aw1gCkY1behiJelnHdoER86t9kfCnmyEb7xwt/s1600/1stSnow2013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67gfywQXcEAnkaDkxhZpywkuceEAswoCcswphtff8_nndcLvqtapZ2be4KGmrotJk1UCCpSzrP4uu4Vlaqgp-OnnExJrhLr3WOIB1651Aw1gCkY1behiJelnHdoER86t9kfCnmyEb7xwt/s320/1stSnow2013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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November 6, 2013. A Wednesday. Although there were a few flakes of the white stuff last week intertwined amongst the blustery drizzle and rain, the actual noticeable, measurable snowfall was evident this morning upon awakening. The grass was coated with white. Green and brown blades and piles of leaves still poked through, but for all intensive purposes, it was this Winter season's first snowfall.<br />
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I'm going to jot this date down and count the days until I hear the first Thunderbeing's voices next Spring. Maybe I should make a prediction. I will. I'll say it will be April 16th, 2014. That would be 161 days. Just about 20 days shorter than six months, or one half of a year, that is Winter. Of course, I'm guessing. It may be longer or shorter than 161 days, but it gives you an idea of how long this season lasts up here in the Northland. It encompasses large parts of three actual seasons. Fall, Winter and Spring.<br />
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My point being...? There is no point. It's here. A seasonal change that can be seen, measured, and now must be dealt with. The Radio Flyer little red wagon still sits outside, on its side, next to the swings. The Weber didn't get covered after we used it last night. I had to scrape the ice from the rain that froze before it started snowing on the windshield of my truck. Well, Mrs. Spadoman actually went out and scraped it for me because she knows I like to run over to the Dish and the Spoon Coffee Shop to chit chat a bit with whoever comes in that deems me interesting enough to sit down and have a conversation with. And I will, as soon as I finish this and post it.<br />
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Grandfather Sun gleams from the sky, a little farther to the South than a few months ago. More sunshine on parts of my house as the leaves on the deciduous trees are gone. Forecast to be near 40 degrees Fahrenheit today, so this snow will be completely gone before dark. But it was marked and calculated and proclaimed:<br />
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The First Snowfall of the 2013-2014 Winter Season.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace</span></b></blockquote>
Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-32076023746203594402013-11-01T01:54:00.000-07:002013-11-01T08:02:01.551-07:00Dreaming On<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Haiku My Heart</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">November 1, 2013</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5ScM0rOUKTlej9VOoJe119S-vqCRTkA3cTdwfoWGjA4tQnNDlLjwEcfWqD8XVHLobpVVyErwfJtnGpuQsvm5vBrv3DAOz1XU434biYpihcctu8Jgy72BuT7BfgoS-ZSZrWhbobVyCLel/s1600/AAAHaikuHead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5ScM0rOUKTlej9VOoJe119S-vqCRTkA3cTdwfoWGjA4tQnNDlLjwEcfWqD8XVHLobpVVyErwfJtnGpuQsvm5vBrv3DAOz1XU434biYpihcctu8Jgy72BuT7BfgoS-ZSZrWhbobVyCLel/s1600/AAAHaikuHead.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Every Friday, friends gather and share their art, stories and haiku thoughts through Rebecca's blog, <a href="http://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/">recuerda mi corazon</a></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Can I buy more time?”</span><span style="font-size: 24px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> I </span><span style="font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">asked the Creator.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“You’ll have all the time you’ll need”</span><span style="font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">, Creator responded.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Then let’s get started”</span><span style="font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">, said I.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’ve been staying busy between hospital and doctor’s visits by being an artist. I’ve completed a few pieces that were promised to people and have some “inventory” on hand. I even completed two pair of snowshoes for a Christmas delivery. I promised the buyer that I would store them until such time that she wants them to give as Christmas gifts. She is a marvelous soul and lives here in town. She bought them for her husband and daughter so they might take up the activity and bond together more closely.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1s4ERhf1C8-xi_EHeI17pcKf5tMsQ2624qcvK0bezjLJmvYXPG0zhWb8Q-qJLP6G1Cikq0djQNRXsJZA5xXVFyuYPT1wyfNw0iQpQom-kSnO2JuxlqewJnsapmvXVXMIOTjsqkllmNADa/s1600/Peaceshoe1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1s4ERhf1C8-xi_EHeI17pcKf5tMsQ2624qcvK0bezjLJmvYXPG0zhWb8Q-qJLP6G1Cikq0djQNRXsJZA5xXVFyuYPT1wyfNw0iQpQom-kSnO2JuxlqewJnsapmvXVXMIOTjsqkllmNADa/s320/Peaceshoe1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tip of the snowshoe with a familiar decor</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY5-z0h3nmxpIXEgQC6FyfHfCGGExWeLUzcs6NZ8T-CnSOryN7wpTShsuD2HLVqAnbGqCnT-uomgZp9B4ugQiBbp8IBU9kvviamgm0F97AK_x7zodX1PhdoecbkbGw7BO1-637iipd4cXr/s1600/peC+ESHOE2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY5-z0h3nmxpIXEgQC6FyfHfCGGExWeLUzcs6NZ8T-CnSOryN7wpTShsuD2HLVqAnbGqCnT-uomgZp9B4ugQiBbp8IBU9kvviamgm0F97AK_x7zodX1PhdoecbkbGw7BO1-637iipd4cXr/s320/peC+ESHOE2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for Christmas delivery</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I came across some unusual sticks. I gather these pieces, like one would gather rocks, and just bring them home. Eventually, I get them uncovered from a resting place somewhere underneath the junk piles on my workbenches, (yes, I have three workbenches here at Spadoville, two in the garage and one in the furnace room), and I try to remember the patterns I was pondering when I picked them up. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMXTAtJQYcN0PTtVXSYnnEvaDq2w_uwhC-3hYU2yBHVpP9XhXZvtuh1vRtgiYRaAYRd18q9maALlpxnIwHUo3b7xlHK8KkvE0A2cSv1YI-M8nwcBonQJVQAJrVY3qMF-Uoxr56knoqeqze/s1600/Dream4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMXTAtJQYcN0PTtVXSYnnEvaDq2w_uwhC-3hYU2yBHVpP9XhXZvtuh1vRtgiYRaAYRd18q9maALlpxnIwHUo3b7xlHK8KkvE0A2cSv1YI-M8nwcBonQJVQAJrVY3qMF-Uoxr56knoqeqze/s320/Dream4.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Dream Catcher will be mounted on a platform and sit on a table or shelf. Kind of looks like a flag waving</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">These sticks of odd dimensions are attached together to form a jagged circle, or enclosure, if you will, and then randomly grabbed, when I’m in the mood, to be laced into a Dream Catcher. I hang them up, if I am satisfied with the results of the main body of it, then decorate them with feathers, leather and beads, braided embroidery thread or horse hair tassels. The chosen decor is also random, but the ideas of what to use comes to me in deep thoughts about the reasons and the person that will receive it.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTI6uxEXwNdRiHB5WlLcp4TRegrMest8Q_RTKfKW6QJH6nXPuMFWpyYMVyXGDRRR39ps5gVjRBB4cLzBEFEk86pun7VsjeiN4zIEa7qe38RiSrplfxkERfwKzqGL-kKYL4HnRrTa_XSiiN/s1600/DSCN5270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTI6uxEXwNdRiHB5WlLcp4TRegrMest8Q_RTKfKW6QJH6nXPuMFWpyYMVyXGDRRR39ps5gVjRBB4cLzBEFEk86pun7VsjeiN4zIEa7qe38RiSrplfxkERfwKzqGL-kKYL4HnRrTa_XSiiN/s320/DSCN5270.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I apologize for the blurry nature of this photo. This piece was sent to a friend recently. This is entirely one piece of wood. I found it naturally bent and pulled a branch to itself, (can be seen at the top left corner of the piece), when I found it in a raw green state. The wood then dried. I have had this piece of wood in my possession for over 5 years before weaving it into a Dream Catcher</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have some hand drums to make and will start on them as soon as our annual Los Dias de Los Muertos celebration is over and the out-of-town guests depart for home. My sister and nephew will be here from Chicago and some good close friends from Colorado will also attend the doings.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">After this weekend, I will be entering two or three of my pieces to the River Falls Public Library for an art show which will feature local artists. This is not a juried show, but rather a showcase of art in our community by holding an All Community Art Show from November 10th through December 8th.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSGGK32jYTJmiWXhugk8OyLmBT0Zr1GFHXJkytVlbA6SSzyUsKgQnoewvgcWtiJVYUTsiJet_EcFaYr40qBAAG735npc36-cUNxaT2uakIDIf6TS0ZpTusK5qmF96aeA0XLI0zUM29dOZc/s1600/Dream1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSGGK32jYTJmiWXhugk8OyLmBT0Zr1GFHXJkytVlbA6SSzyUsKgQnoewvgcWtiJVYUTsiJet_EcFaYr40qBAAG735npc36-cUNxaT2uakIDIf6TS0ZpTusK5qmF96aeA0XLI0zUM29dOZc/s320/Dream1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two colors in the weaving pattern<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qAqaRw259F3Khcy0vNoc6voQHQcclMtboxOl6s_I4vYOesCP-MCoRrYmu58rH81H-2cMYhYDygzAOiEX5FYFJJLlRkXAbHRCRYjxpTdcUtlaA8dcQcz5uzCXmhsPtEZCz6YymOfW5HuY/s1600/Dream2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qAqaRw259F3Khcy0vNoc6voQHQcclMtboxOl6s_I4vYOesCP-MCoRrYmu58rH81H-2cMYhYDygzAOiEX5FYFJJLlRkXAbHRCRYjxpTdcUtlaA8dcQcz5uzCXmhsPtEZCz6YymOfW5HuY/s320/Dream2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wood gently embracing itself at the top</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m feeling better, but seem to be tethered to the doctor for a while due to the latest heart episodes that had me in the hospital twice over the month of October. Looks like the trips to Albuquerque and Tucson over the winter are on permanent hold, if not cancelled all together. I need to get used to some changes in medication that was warranted by strange symptoms stemming from a long life full of diabetes, heart disease and more recently, (the past two years), Afib. At least now I seem to understand my Pacemaker/Defibrillator, what it does, and what it doesn’t do, and why I have one in the first place, a little better.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Qyi-FnU9tUSpumtvwciSX9mA4XHhKfWC6FkpIrS2aGFGc7lnU0U_hqZSdKr7cf45WLXuuOkX7oBTSs8NHcBQDGCrMLULuLLo9oBKTA57bnmqN_xq2S3UMlIIWhl1P2cz35VfBpRtphzh/s1600/Rattle2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Qyi-FnU9tUSpumtvwciSX9mA4XHhKfWC6FkpIrS2aGFGc7lnU0U_hqZSdKr7cf45WLXuuOkX7oBTSs8NHcBQDGCrMLULuLLo9oBKTA57bnmqN_xq2S3UMlIIWhl1P2cz35VfBpRtphzh/s320/Rattle2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This rattle looks like some kind of Alien life form. This is called a Maranka Gourd, or a Dolphin Gourd. It sure makes interesting shapes</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This next set of photos shows a Dream Catcher I made for a good friend. She is a Grand Mother of an 11 year old that suffers from a very rare disease called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanfilippo_syndrome">Sanfilippo Syndrome.</a> The child sleeps with her Grand Mother. I tried to show this close connection and wove one Dream catcher into, or intertwined, with another, showing the bond that exists in real life for this pair of souls. The feathers match, but are opposite in their leaning, the horse hair tassels are symmetrical as well.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycCKwCMfKx8epr37aAcrqhTCuQlAkaxPTXerBrrjNJaUO378GT1T6cSg5VaGHVLGaC29XBpveehuQI0JDDzVYq6oE6hpLqLf08mfcoUiF4BaYdKVJ6KzcyGcVAQCd4u2tPOn6MV4YceOa/s1600/entwined1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycCKwCMfKx8epr37aAcrqhTCuQlAkaxPTXerBrrjNJaUO378GT1T6cSg5VaGHVLGaC29XBpveehuQI0JDDzVYq6oE6hpLqLf08mfcoUiF4BaYdKVJ6KzcyGcVAQCd4u2tPOn6MV4YceOa/s320/entwined1.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Here are a few more photos of what I have made lately. I’d like to do custom or special orders, but don’t want the pressure of deadlines. If you’re interested in anything you see here, or would like more information, Email and we’ll discuss it. Looks like the creative juices are flowing out of necessity, but I am enjoying finally working at a life-long dream. I still need some larger more dedicated work space. The garage and shed are just too cold in winter. The fluorescent overhead lights stumble and flicker and buzz until the temperatures get above 50 fahrenheit.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzIKujFO8lCXdFSvuHsZ_63lvkuV6YIVxrANA5NkrKBWO7yysIwM7ojQ5rGbFRSP6haGvJIyc8mH_Mss-2QCSObDnMtyvwIa9v1EPpzptDvlDBufqvKBtorSDcQnFdkIUceP0SgshJSmx2/s1600/Dream3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzIKujFO8lCXdFSvuHsZ_63lvkuV6YIVxrANA5NkrKBWO7yysIwM7ojQ5rGbFRSP6haGvJIyc8mH_Mss-2QCSObDnMtyvwIa9v1EPpzptDvlDBufqvKBtorSDcQnFdkIUceP0SgshJSmx2/s320/Dream3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wood found in the Desert, broken from a Juniper bush</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dogwood, bent while green, with branches left on</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sKKOggXcyZwoQEj9ZkkDrOjA1c3MQVdXEwkGZEe8voZ8QS4Z0xowj1Va6CZyEm-T4wgs0eoB1PCnNrHF3rkwbAvtCyuTZgo1xIH-crvN55osiMzj06oaWdWspdHF12WH4uMwJhV-VSzj/s1600/Sun+rattle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sKKOggXcyZwoQEj9ZkkDrOjA1c3MQVdXEwkGZEe8voZ8QS4Z0xowj1Va6CZyEm-T4wgs0eoB1PCnNrHF3rkwbAvtCyuTZgo1xIH-crvN55osiMzj06oaWdWspdHF12WH4uMwJhV-VSzj/s320/Sun+rattle.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Gourd Rattle was sent to a friend. The design is wood burned, then painted</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We Celebrate Los Dias de Los Muertos, the Days of the Dead, here at Spadoville today and through this weekend. The Spirits of our loved ones are here. I am also remembering my good friend, Gene Artishon. Today is his birthday. He left us way too soon. I can feel their Spirits. We have been visiting already.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace to all</span></b></span></blockquote>
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Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-88679431159777755892013-10-30T14:05:00.002-07:002013-10-30T14:05:38.555-07:00Looking Forward to the CelebrationWe're setting up the ofrenda. Already talking to these wonderful spirits. We'll be working at it for a couple more days transforming this wall of our living room into a shrine, but for now, here are a couple of photos.<br />
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Peace to all<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The newest edition</td></tr>
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<br />Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-13113077066325411222013-10-18T09:36:00.004-07:002013-10-18T09:36:55.288-07:00Haiku My HeartFrost on the pumpkin<br />
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Colorful leafy carpet<br />
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Changes evermore<br />
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PeaceSpadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-43317946277547288202013-10-12T01:42:00.000-07:002013-10-12T01:42:02.573-07:00What's Going On<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Let's try this. Let's see if I can actually sit here and write. It's been harder than ever for me to pay attention to anything long enough to consider it a thought. Been a lot of extracurricular activities around Spadoville. Still trying to continue on like normal, but normal has been slowly changing over the years and now it's like I'm a full blown chameleon and have changed from one person to another.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Let's take this morning, for example. My routine is far different than it was twenty years ago. Back then, I'd get up and drag myself out of bed, grab a cup of coffee and run out the door headed for work. I'd linger between the warm blankets as long as I could with one eye checking the clock so I wouldn’t be late.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Grabbing a banana as I hurried out to the car, I’d get on the road and drive way too fast in morning rush hour traffic to chase the almighty dollar, just to come home after a long day and be too tired and lazy to cook dinner and instead, spend the hard earned moolah on dinner, eating some crappy processed food service concoction that added to my current condition of heart attacks, congestive heart failure, diabetes and the Medtronic Pacemaker that keeps my old broken heart in rhythm.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">These days, I’m always awake by 4:30 am and out of bed by five. Just can’t lay there any longer. I need to toss and turn to get comfortable or to allow me to be in a position where I can breathe.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I get up and sit in my leather chair until six am. It’s not a recliner. Just a good sturdy tan leather chair and ottoman. My blanket is there. Lately, I’ve been using it to cover my cold blood starved legs and feet as the morning temperatures are dropping and the house is much cooler than the 72 degrees we keep it in Summer by way of Carrier air conditioning.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">At six, I take my blood pressure. That little portable unit sits on the lower shelf of the end table on my right. At the left side sits another end table that is loaded with plastic boxes of sinew and beads and assorted tools for making Dream Catchers. After the blood pressure routine, I get on the scale and weigh myself, then to the bathroom for check my blood glucose level. Somewhere during this ceremony I do get to relieve myself as the diuretics (water pills), I take have made my bladder full and is usually the reason I had to get out of bed in the first place..</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I go to the computer and with a quickly failing short term memory, I try to transcribe these numbers from the carried out operations onto a chart to show my doctor and clinician next time I go to the VA for an appointment.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">By this time, I am freezing and I head for the chair and the blanket again. Still haven’t had a cup of coffee. There are teen agers getting ready for school, milling around the kitchen and grabbing their own banana and swilling down a cup of hot chocolate made from hot water that their Grand Mother has put on the timer to be hot precisely when it is needed.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">After these two have gone, the smaller versions get up and have their morning routine. They start one hour later than the teens. How convenient the timing schedule for catching the school bus is. I can’t imagine all four of them getting ready to get out the door at the same time. If it’s anything like dinnertime, when we all gather at the table and rush through the meal to get on with playing with friends, phone calls, face-booking, you-tubing, Net-flixing and video games, it would be total morning chaos for sure!</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mrs. Spadoman has her coffee and she always asks me if I want a cup. I usually say, “Yes, please”, and wait patiently in my chair for the morning elixir to be set down at my right side, on the table top, right above where I keep my blood pressure monitor. I may wander now to my bedroom and the shelf where I keep the line-up of prescription medicine bottles and small plastic Walgreens compartmentized holders where the pills from these bottles are distributed by days of the week and time slots.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I take the ones before I eat first and in a half hour, I eat. Cereal, hot or cold, depending on my level of laziness. Rarely do I cook anything like eggs or make toast. I still usually get the banana, but it is eaten at a much more leisurely pace than when I rammed it into my mouth while on the superhighway going to a job site like I did for 33 years prior.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I finish my coffee, if I’ve had one, and eaten breakfast. It’s time now to take the rest of my morning medication. I do my bathroom experience which varies from day to day. Sometimes I shower and shave, sometimes I don’t. I pull a brush through my hair and sometimes splash some water on my palm to slap an unruly wave or curl into just the right place to satisfy the little bit of vanity I still have, which would be hair on the top of my head.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">What I do next varies greatly. If I’m not going to the VA for another doctor’s appointment, I try to get something done with a project I have going on in the house, or an art project. There is always something that needs attention when you’re a home owner, and I always seem to have some Dream Catcher or a pair of snowshoes that need to be completed sitting around.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have actually completed some projects and fulfilled obligations. I’m working on two pair of snowshoes now for a husband and child of a woman here in town. The woman asked me if the art work can be peace signs! Right up my alley. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Some days I I think I want to have a studio or shop space where I can spread out my work and come and go to it as I please. Then, I figure that I’ve gotten through this many years without one and managed to get a few items done, why would I need a studio. The leather chair works fine to sit and weave.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Usually, if I’m not needed elsewhere, I go to the local Dish and the Spoon Cafe and have an Americano. It is impossible to go there and not see someone I know and chit chat a bit. I’ve given up political conversations. I’d talk sports, but not many sports people hang out at the Dish and the Spoon. River Falls has 14 bars. I think that’s where I’d find the sports conversationalists.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Last week, I varied the routine as I had some chest congestion that lingered on longer than I needed it to and I finally went to urgent care at the Minneapolis VA hospital. The chest X-ray showed pneumonia and an antibiotic was prescribed. The routine blood test showed some enzyme abnormality and I ended up being admitted and checked out via an echocardiogram and a nuclear stress test. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">More pill bottles were added to my collection. I’ve slowed down a little more as the left side of my heart has a place that is starving for blood. In most cases, folks get a stent put in to the narrowed artery and blood flow is restored. In my case, the last angiogram showed that there isn’t anywhere on any of the heart arteries where such a measure can be performed. Medication is the answer, and if that doesn’t work, the heart tissue will die, and if it’s bad enough, so will I. I can see it now, the pacemaker/defibrillator exploding with shocks to restart my heart. I hope I’m alone and no one has to watch that.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">One step closer to the end of the diving board. I am upbeat for the most part, but still I sit there and wonder if and when it’s gonna happen. I’m not afraid, in fact, I want to experience death just like I experience life, with my eyes and mind open. May be a while yet though. I took my pills this morning.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace to all</span></b></span></blockquote>
Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-7645180627396625822013-10-09T06:44:00.000-07:002013-10-09T07:30:44.826-07:00A Special Day<span style="font-size: large;">Today, October 9, 2013, Mrs. Spadoman and I celebrate 42 years of being married.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It will be low-keyed for the most part. We will go out for dinner tonight and eat red meat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am very fortunate that I have her in my life and hope she feels the same way. I love you Little Honey.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Peace to all.</span>Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-79697734649523572052013-10-06T03:04:00.000-07:002013-10-17T08:49:48.577-07:00It is That Time of Year Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Blackmoor LET'; font-size: 36px;">Los Dias de los Muertos</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This years “Days of the Dead” Celebration will take place:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Saturday November 2, 2013 At Joe and Barb Spado’s: </b> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>523 E. Johnson Street in River Falls, WI</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Come anytime after 5 p.m. Bring a dish to pass </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Traditionally, “Los Dios” are a time when the Spirits of those departed from our lives are thought to pass through the realms and visit us</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We await them with something they were comfortable with when they still walked the earth. Feel free to bring something and a picture of someone you’d like to have pay us a visit, we’ll put it on the Ofrenda</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>We’ll eat and drink and talk into the night with old and new friends, and invite these souls here to join us for the evening, </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">in Spirit</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Campfire, bring a folding chair, dress for the weather</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Main Dish, Coffee, Soft Drinks and Juice on hand. BYOB</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This is our fifth year in River Falls. Come celebrate with us</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Joe and Barb Spado (715) 209-0241</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">This is your invitation to come and celebrate with us. Everyone is invited. Call or write if you have questions about this celebration. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace</span></b></span></blockquote>
Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-89636477933882352172013-09-18T07:51:00.000-07:002013-09-18T07:51:03.572-07:00On the RoadVermillion, South Dakota is the destination to attend the Red Road gathering. Be back in a few days.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace</span></b></blockquote>
Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-62663336763907578632013-09-13T07:48:00.002-07:002013-09-13T07:48:28.965-07:00Casey at the Bat<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Haiku My Heart</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">September 13, 2013</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Please go to the fabulous <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3C/span%3Ehttp://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/">recuerda mi corazon</a> blog for more Haiku</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lost Derek Jeter</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The blemish could be neater</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">A-Rod's a cheater</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Nearing the end of September. As a fan of the game of baseball, I watch the contested races with enthusiasm, but I can’t get over how money makes the game cheap and slut-like. Still, the ball is thrown and caught and sometimes hit, and that is what keeps me intrigued. That a game invented over 100 years ago has the same measurements today. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace</span></b></span></blockquote>
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Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-88643449608932617242013-09-03T03:33:00.001-07:002013-09-06T01:56:31.286-07:00The Great Lake SuperiorHaiku My Heart<br />
September 6, 2013<br />
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See Moore posts at recuerda mi corazon.<br />
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Lake Superior<br />
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Companion travel around<br />
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Clockwise is the way<br />
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Left Tuesday morning for a road trip around the Great Lake Superior. Headed clockwise from Duluth. What a fun time. Great scenery, Great weather, Great Lake Superior. I'm traveling with a good friend, someone that we treat like another daughter.<br />
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In Marquette, MI last night, and headed to Ashland, WI today to meet Mrs. Spadoman and middle daughter this evening.<br />
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The Lake is powerful and full of magic. Full report and many photos when I get home on the computer and off the iPad.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace</span></b></blockquote>
Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-31611680104965100782013-08-22T20:51:00.001-07:002013-08-22T20:51:16.245-07:00Last Tango, the Death of an Era<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">August 23, 2013</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span>We meet and greet each other every Friday here and on other pages for Haiku My Heart. See more and find out how you can participate at Rebecca's <a href="http://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/">recuerda mi corozon</a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18px;">Author's Note: </span>This is a long post. If you don't want or need to read the history of my motorcycle ownership, skip down to the last couple of paragraphs for the gist of this story. Thanks</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first bike</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If you ponder the question</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">No motorcycle?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As the photo can attest, I have been riding a bike since I was two years old. My first one was a three wheeled affair, and it was powered by me, myself and I. Fast forward to my first ride on a motorcycle with my Uncle Louie. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOh0FCO4UDbdzOJOLCQXAk7BBU8caULwgMxW-KdKO_8kQIb7pTC1BHdURVNBhNGhRJAoTdUFyhUJFSv0GlN3jafZMrKSwI3Wn8479rZb0GtfMbZrAGFfoV-1NbnTAygBm6b1Q_Os95Ru7/s1600/DuoGlide.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOh0FCO4UDbdzOJOLCQXAk7BBU8caULwgMxW-KdKO_8kQIb7pTC1BHdURVNBhNGhRJAoTdUFyhUJFSv0GlN3jafZMrKSwI3Wn8479rZb0GtfMbZrAGFfoV-1NbnTAygBm6b1Q_Os95Ru7/s1600/DuoGlide.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Louie had one like this, with that big solo seat</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">He had a 1958 DuoGlide Harley Davidson in baby blue and chrome. It had a big solo seat, but a 9 year old was able to fit behind him with my legs spread wide apart and my hands gripping his thick wide black leather belt as I reached around his sides.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I tell you, I can still remember that ride. The roar of the pipes. The inertia from the acceleration. The wind through my hair. I knew right then and there that I would someday own a motorcycle. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij14Rc5BaAxktalFHNZsd_b57H69SYVA4ETVCYwyTFwArCAELKM8-2WDspxrWz_pZueuJ0pdaWt2n81Nathq8IO_8mim8hsntFnXoXU_rJKXcMmFGrGfe6s2SvN44NIMrCUt7lVR6Qb8ai/s1600/sears+allstate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij14Rc5BaAxktalFHNZsd_b57H69SYVA4ETVCYwyTFwArCAELKM8-2WDspxrWz_pZueuJ0pdaWt2n81Nathq8IO_8mim8hsntFnXoXU_rJKXcMmFGrGfe6s2SvN44NIMrCUt7lVR6Qb8ai/s320/sears+allstate.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Advertisement for a Sears Allstate motorbike</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Right around that time, my brother had a motorcycle in the garage. It just sat there. It was an Allstate, sold by Sears Roebuck. I found out later that my brother had broken the cardinal rule of not giving rides to anyone, and when he had an accident and Jimmy Wilson’s Mom and Dad sued my Dad, that bike got put away and eventually sold. I only remember seeing that bike running one time, coming down the alley to go back in to the garage, then it was gone.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqACkRGEfe6Gjk4AsnIlH4_ZpF6Yrqn56RT_z5dTp-wYIFrFMhsB87Gxnq_cmDjBfqO1KZffDS-0Cu4cFVGrVFps-saeMSp9q9kitN6ZxThywCMXuLdN8sr6W4lmVRXnTwxZX5FklaUPuu/s1600/Dadon+Bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqACkRGEfe6Gjk4AsnIlH4_ZpF6Yrqn56RT_z5dTp-wYIFrFMhsB87Gxnq_cmDjBfqO1KZffDS-0Cu4cFVGrVFps-saeMSp9q9kitN6ZxThywCMXuLdN8sr6W4lmVRXnTwxZX5FklaUPuu/s1600/Dadon+Bike.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Dad on one of Uncle Louie's older Indian motorcycles, circa 1946-47</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I think we were 14 or 15, no one had a drivers license, but there was a place that opened up in the Chicago suburb of Melrose Park that rented these small Bridgestone motorcycles by the hour. They were barely bigger than the modern day mopeds that are on the streets these days.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">They had 60cc and a 90 cc for a little bit more money.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">We would rent bikes for an hour every chance we got. We spent every cent on riding. Renting those little motorbikes is where I cut my teeth, and in 1970, when I returned from Vietnam and got out of the Army, I bought a Gold and White 1970 CB350 Honda.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkoPUPU72rS3jDmj29JplCwop4fl8fO93jj4qMuQQMK16cZ3UvGXF2PxUwqXEGfzzx4YBNE8BJ0ynptrwJ4X1pCX3bz9sBAmnggQGmmgpv4mITj5t03IfPgJIQdX8h_Swd6h4EUARxzCBm/s1600/70Honda.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkoPUPU72rS3jDmj29JplCwop4fl8fO93jj4qMuQQMK16cZ3UvGXF2PxUwqXEGfzzx4YBNE8BJ0ynptrwJ4X1pCX3bz9sBAmnggQGmmgpv4mITj5t03IfPgJIQdX8h_Swd6h4EUARxzCBm/s320/70Honda.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Actual photo of my 1970 CB350 Honda motorcycle</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">That Honda was my first motorcycle. I got it one day, and the next morning, I rode it to work. I was on Wolf Rd., headed South from 22nd Street through the Forest Preserves. The brake lights of the car in front of me came on and I put that bike into a sideways power slide to keep from hitting it. I went down and scraped my arm pretty good.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">No helmet, no riding gear like leather. Ballistic material hadn’t been invented yet. When the woman driving the car in front of me stopped and came back to see if I was all right, I asked her, “Why did you stop in the middle of the road?”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">She told me, “There was a duck crossing the road.”</span></b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I managed to ride from that incident, in 1970, to 2012 before I’d have another crash. I’d also have a few more motorcycles in between that first Gold and White Honda and today.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I met Mrs. Spadoman in January of 1971, we got married in October of the same year. She was pregnant with our first child and I sold the two-door sport car and motorcycle and bought a station wagon. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">That mind set didn’t last long. By 1973 I had a first born daughter that we named Maggie and a 1967 Yamaha 360 DT Enduro.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHfoBnlKBaViWBA6-h2Q8tjqDlTF-rSZrMS9yMqLUYryCpwp-jV0F64HSWODR9TmW4ex_ts1M-OwBAsbPvTsHNN9MuBtVwErwBAwnVUkzcjShs04w15echtweXYFrH6PXIbYIC-53kL07/s1600/67+yamaha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHfoBnlKBaViWBA6-h2Q8tjqDlTF-rSZrMS9yMqLUYryCpwp-jV0F64HSWODR9TmW4ex_ts1M-OwBAsbPvTsHNN9MuBtVwErwBAwnVUkzcjShs04w15echtweXYFrH6PXIbYIC-53kL07/s320/67+yamaha.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1967 Yamaha DT360. I had one like this in 1973</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I rode the Yamaha into the ground and used it to get to work as well as towed it to the motocross track and roughed it up a little.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6CCnANDBn3WrFvCJz2RyZNDQYtwzWkp4x1Ir32RQw4Z85PMzpGnXF9yT-0AtRzhVq7ISIMAAcOUpZIZMLivp37kC9hKipwGsAiwoA6OTL8dd9iuIQPVT9UdE7V1WKiSXhblbF_LfITOv8/s1600/honda450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6CCnANDBn3WrFvCJz2RyZNDQYtwzWkp4x1Ir32RQw4Z85PMzpGnXF9yT-0AtRzhVq7ISIMAAcOUpZIZMLivp37kC9hKipwGsAiwoA6OTL8dd9iuIQPVT9UdE7V1WKiSXhblbF_LfITOv8/s320/honda450.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also around 1973, I owned one like this in blue and white</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">There was a drought of motorcycle ownership for a while, but I did have a Honda CL450 for a while. I actually burned a piston on that twin cylinder, but got home with only one working. Those old Honda bikes were bulletproof!</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh227OE6ECE08_k9nLg5EQ-D5ndTexMav8ZYZ_zv84O7c-H5UT90qQwQMwxUnlYH2t4KFaMtKXJ7jACb6l-QR69MNy6SI2RGr3hPnfo_nzshUBs3dsJ8wxFJKlYcFGCv4bocJCF5f9x5bh/s1600/76Honda.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh227OE6ECE08_k9nLg5EQ-D5ndTexMav8ZYZ_zv84O7c-H5UT90qQwQMwxUnlYH2t4KFaMtKXJ7jACb6l-QR69MNy6SI2RGr3hPnfo_nzshUBs3dsJ8wxFJKlYcFGCv4bocJCF5f9x5bh/s320/76Honda.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My 1976 Honda CB400F</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I actually owned both of the bikes in the photo above. I originally bought the red one brand new in 1976. My friend Bruce owned the blue one. In the photo, we are packed to the gills headed for Canada. I recall that trip as one of the first long distance motorcycle trips I ever did. Bruce sold his to a friend of mine and i sold my bike. Then, a couple of years later, my friend was selling the blue one and I bought it from him, hence I have owned both of these bikes, at different times.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQjr2RvVXZ_-34oXtHrnjDGqcvC5Po4kpFFxwe6QUmgsdpE61IgGFRsq8o4PmgemZI3M-p5suEMVk1arSCcUnfX91TBZaF_YbfWskN5OiH4OAidlxaTaG6lWhE1aCjkqmMmgPcCXazJLDk/s1600/1993Fatboy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQjr2RvVXZ_-34oXtHrnjDGqcvC5Po4kpFFxwe6QUmgsdpE61IgGFRsq8o4PmgemZI3M-p5suEMVk1arSCcUnfX91TBZaF_YbfWskN5OiH4OAidlxaTaG6lWhE1aCjkqmMmgPcCXazJLDk/s320/1993Fatboy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Douglass Pass in Colorado with my 1993 Harley Davidson FatBoy</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">When we moved to Colorado in the early 1990’s, 1993 to be exact, I bought a new Harley Davidson FatBoy. I was right in</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">the middle of another round of heart attacks, but got the bike anyway. Ownership didn’t last long as feeding the family came first and the luxury of having a brand new $14,000 motorcycle while out of a job because of health issues made me have to sell it.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">That was in 1994, I believe, and I didn’t have another chance to get another bike until 2001, when I bought another Honda 750 from a friend. I was going to fix this bike up. It ran, but needed some tires and some tweaking on the engine. Someone came along and wanted to buy it, so I sold it without doing anything to it.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">In the late 1990's, I bought a used 1982 Yamaha SR500 Thumper. A Thumper is a single cylinder motor. This was a really great little bike and would most everything that i wanted to do on a </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: medium;">motorcycle. Here is an actual photograph of that bike in 2000:</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ26V6AA7p9P7hIjcksnyg7720qmiCpF88b89ddihuirMGOAUGFi3LLyoG49GtkKZ-IQzsHmuvx_YOpiBHoohXkbhwMh2jvLe7Gg9kIdJbuLbDDIq1J_9HovRvx0W3-eR_VU2zlwCR7LFJ/s1600/SR500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ26V6AA7p9P7hIjcksnyg7720qmiCpF88b89ddihuirMGOAUGFi3LLyoG49GtkKZ-IQzsHmuvx_YOpiBHoohXkbhwMh2jvLe7Gg9kIdJbuLbDDIq1J_9HovRvx0W3-eR_VU2zlwCR7LFJ/s320/SR500.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1982 Yamaha SR500</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: medium;">Then came the Harley Davidson Sportster 883</span></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwep7g1ceJZrYAzxrr0UHYDqFZbQtBbObcqqnuhSLrmUlZEV1XpT-GDSEHWEuDu4NWBkzzNkanf-l6fCmvmm3-kTRB7f34KxTbwYge5p0RS0O1nK_yFl99bsnbiBlNuBordARCWyng_0pM/s1600/04Sporty.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwep7g1ceJZrYAzxrr0UHYDqFZbQtBbObcqqnuhSLrmUlZEV1XpT-GDSEHWEuDu4NWBkzzNkanf-l6fCmvmm3-kTRB7f34KxTbwYge5p0RS0O1nK_yFl99bsnbiBlNuBordARCWyng_0pM/s320/04Sporty.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not much of the bike, but my two oldest Grandkids liked my 2004 Sportster</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">In 2004 I bought a new Harley Davidson Sportster. Harley, as do most manufacturers, sell their bikes plain so the buyer will spend oodles of money buying aftermarket doodads and farkles to personalize the bike. I was no exception and bought doodads and farkles for every bike I’ve ever owned.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The Sportster was okay, but I really wanted a Dyna Glide. I had seen one on the showroom floor and returned to the dealership with the Sportster and asked them if I could trade it in. They accepted, and in fact, had a promotion in place to take the smaller less-expensive Sportsters in trade for the bigger bikes.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAZjOTDe7QeeoX1j9rXjx8wVwQTS4iLHMqoBOJD2M3MzyrYUoCbhWFNoUVFdxxvlnGvWox_rj_fBRdp93GBGFF5RaGbK4EFr3E6eYzOIoD0vgkXGYM-sK1PYAUQqvtSibrbSI9UFl9_UW/s1600/04Dyna.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAZjOTDe7QeeoX1j9rXjx8wVwQTS4iLHMqoBOJD2M3MzyrYUoCbhWFNoUVFdxxvlnGvWox_rj_fBRdp93GBGFF5RaGbK4EFr3E6eYzOIoD0vgkXGYM-sK1PYAUQqvtSibrbSI9UFl9_UW/s320/04Dyna.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My 2004 Dyna Glide Sport at the Delta Diner in the Northwoods of Wisconsin</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I traded the Sporty in on a 2004 fuel injected Dyna Super Glide Sport. I really liked that bike and had it rigged up so I could cruise with it in town, then convert it, via quick release windshield, luggage rack and saddlebags, into a traveling highway bike.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">After riding the Dyna for a few years and many thousands of miles, I sold it and bought a bike I had been reading about, the newly designed and engineered Triumph Tiger 1050i with ABS braking system.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCMCgqs4jNJa2ZYEoOjIWAUTcnUJgWVdaA6Lt3gQ-eDN2bv2k6sr2L9qHweZflzpZuVAqRXRrQpPB7oB_LENRlcbQ8ECh-w_jEYkVZYeZfc3XXJj-f-gHITTsIz3KdTKvuOOY3QFLbCUA/s1600/_DSC1379+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCMCgqs4jNJa2ZYEoOjIWAUTcnUJgWVdaA6Lt3gQ-eDN2bv2k6sr2L9qHweZflzpZuVAqRXRrQpPB7oB_LENRlcbQ8ECh-w_jEYkVZYeZfc3XXJj-f-gHITTsIz3KdTKvuOOY3QFLbCUA/s320/_DSC1379+-+Version+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my first rides on my 2008 Triumph Tiger</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I put over 30,000 rounds on that Tiger and rode it to the West coast a half dozen times. I had a metamorphosis of a sort and started buying bikes so I would have one for each purpose. My thinking was that if I wanted to go riding on a gravel road and splashing through water-crossings in the mountains, I would need a bike suitable to do so. The Tiger was not the right bike to get the job</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">done.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqEw2hwol0hpp83V6po9OlPhPjiYszEPJzNmdkI3pUGBWr3YamoO5xFauCCD219YzojCf2uPLcHVMHlc3oIKsrugecZ_YmYy_AdQGY-0fI8VfAyVnIlyjYzwb80-iRoEKsgjyjuUHejEf/s1600/2010BMWGS.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqEw2hwol0hpp83V6po9OlPhPjiYszEPJzNmdkI3pUGBWr3YamoO5xFauCCD219YzojCf2uPLcHVMHlc3oIKsrugecZ_YmYy_AdQGY-0fI8VfAyVnIlyjYzwb80-iRoEKsgjyjuUHejEf/s320/2010BMWGS.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2010 BMW G650GS</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">So, I bought a 2010 BMW 650gs, a bike to ride on and off road, what they call a dual sport bike in the industry. I didn’t like the way the seat was and the configuration of the bike and gas tank made it impossible to buy a new seat that would satisfy my tastes. Of course I had to ride this bike considerably on and off road to determine that I didn’t like the way the seat was engineered, and I still had the Triumph Tiger.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVymxKGUokyUPJ3krqLgofRjELJYqD9A9Q29h1K3JyjVouJ6F_JEa57TcQTtKIUW50TxNlr2uxz74nBrVqRLiXXFFRZNCgWgUJzK5MOcXkkH_46nNX76qo6K3aksdeJyMJyViJ-Wwt2duK/s1600/1973+HondaCL.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVymxKGUokyUPJ3krqLgofRjELJYqD9A9Q29h1K3JyjVouJ6F_JEa57TcQTtKIUW50TxNlr2uxz74nBrVqRLiXXFFRZNCgWgUJzK5MOcXkkH_46nNX76qo6K3aksdeJyMJyViJ-Wwt2duK/s320/1973+HondaCL.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1973 Honda CL350</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I also bought another old vintage Honda, a CL350, which is called the Scrambler. I was going to restore this Honda back to original condition and have a collector bike that ran and looked truly vintage.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I sold the BMW and bought a Triumph Scrambler, then sold the Honda so I could have more money to spend on doodads and farkles for the Triumph.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoOqgf5_m_1DXl9WK3AlQ4PfHyzYaatSereYH1CDqVIKGDUp8IYsr6xDdKqiTb4VPNCXTGbNeCkuMFApC8mWqK0gjffbu_g8lvAad_7bH_i_c6ZRlJCCUwu8Y8UAex44yO9o5OkGB__FFL/s1600/2008TriumphScram.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoOqgf5_m_1DXl9WK3AlQ4PfHyzYaatSereYH1CDqVIKGDUp8IYsr6xDdKqiTb4VPNCXTGbNeCkuMFApC8mWqK0gjffbu_g8lvAad_7bH_i_c6ZRlJCCUwu8Y8UAex44yO9o5OkGB__FFL/s320/2008TriumphScram.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My 2008 Triumph Scrambler 900</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I rode the Triumph Scrambler for a couple of years and really enjoyed that bike before I sold it and bought another Triumph, but this time, I opted for the Bonneville SE. I rode that SE a lot last Summer. I had some great thrills on that bike as these next two photos can attest:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkSNH974xWhGmmB5Oq5xiH9qnl8cY6jQW465kBRx-4l1TzeUPtl_CtrQ-vmShjL5dOVEB4NDvAGzz9BCPIHNjIG_Bbfu6yL74R7HZsMmEqNyw3e_HhCWihPMfWWBXsUf0jmeGJYIs2R5a/s1600/100mph1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkSNH974xWhGmmB5Oq5xiH9qnl8cY6jQW465kBRx-4l1TzeUPtl_CtrQ-vmShjL5dOVEB4NDvAGzz9BCPIHNjIG_Bbfu6yL74R7HZsMmEqNyw3e_HhCWihPMfWWBXsUf0jmeGJYIs2R5a/s320/100mph1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGWHVOFcDQ5mw_-I1qqpzTEi6VL-4SJMt_p_HYCUZ78N2bDVcSyRtnga8GKuimYrvTV3tAj-b0-4AlVGYw02geecfyXS7_v_u3zpkw-NsVBPfe003JARBNnCPWYycszYMpf-du7b1hyye/s1600/100mph2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGWHVOFcDQ5mw_-I1qqpzTEi6VL-4SJMt_p_HYCUZ78N2bDVcSyRtnga8GKuimYrvTV3tAj-b0-4AlVGYw02geecfyXS7_v_u3zpkw-NsVBPfe003JARBNnCPWYycszYMpf-du7b1hyye/s320/100mph2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click on this one and check out the speedometer. 105 MPH!</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I also went for a 2005 Moto Guzzi Nevada Classic, but I didn’t like the Guzzi at all and sold it.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKkSrTng0_tVSYqPZPBphvWVzkTYbl4tvqmo7ByrULXhNMdGbpHvd-RfanNx5zXlFD7I-U2ICYz87Eqbib-f5jswnMmFtBdzmzvQEQguNNS8Sx7_KnYAY3uprNy_hZTmd7AgqtMLiugf6A/s1600/1995+MotoGuzziNevada.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKkSrTng0_tVSYqPZPBphvWVzkTYbl4tvqmo7ByrULXhNMdGbpHvd-RfanNx5zXlFD7I-U2ICYz87Eqbib-f5jswnMmFtBdzmzvQEQguNNS8Sx7_KnYAY3uprNy_hZTmd7AgqtMLiugf6A/s320/1995+MotoGuzziNevada.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2005 Moto Guzzi Nevada Classic</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Last September I was involved in a wreck and the insurance company totaled the SE. I went without a bike through the Winter of 2012-2013 and in Spring, bought yet another Honda, a 1977 CB500K, and rode that for a while.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqnrasqb9bn7KO3WrvqPAL6Jlj_UArP0fzFGNGI9p4U7mOFJB_5h_oioAGI6OV-XKPFe6murVdR7c1E0vztP7oX-kD1hyphenhyphenm00bDsjQYKyqalYAM04uOKul1nxdB5jUfvvX-WCHKWcA09Ujk/s1600/2011TriumphSE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqnrasqb9bn7KO3WrvqPAL6Jlj_UArP0fzFGNGI9p4U7mOFJB_5h_oioAGI6OV-XKPFe6murVdR7c1E0vztP7oX-kD1hyphenhyphenm00bDsjQYKyqalYAM04uOKul1nxdB5jUfvvX-WCHKWcA09Ujk/s320/2011TriumphSE.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first 2011 Triumph Bonneville SE</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I wanted another Triumph Bonneville and bought one in April of 2013 and sold the 1977 Honda. I just finished a deal and sold the Triumph Bonneville and I now own no motorcycles.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGX9ecbgrLSmZ5G48Z8u4VwQYqXfOvcKp9ZDnAPXc-ITE9pNARcYYGLmg8q9f_loK_vc_rN6UYFaR9yPdvm_gfniFjat4kBipB2I4AxaljYOOSHgzfQBs3eFGKNyQFVtrA6JZaJwm2mUu/s1600/1977HondaCB.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGX9ecbgrLSmZ5G48Z8u4VwQYqXfOvcKp9ZDnAPXc-ITE9pNARcYYGLmg8q9f_loK_vc_rN6UYFaR9yPdvm_gfniFjat4kBipB2I4AxaljYOOSHgzfQBs3eFGKNyQFVtrA6JZaJwm2mUu/s320/1977HondaCB.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My 1977 CB550K Honda</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQxNym_f_qV2l9OUC-9lpuIe5XXasQZI9vBdcr7dkRhV5mIactN4Urn82bw1WvHOsJM_XLWY5SEgy63lUt0c4PkfjP1EsOgycOq-tq8qTSmfXcTU7wq5HKQH4V2s_60RyoQnZJlfFzmhF4/s1600/2012-09-25_15-20-27_227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQxNym_f_qV2l9OUC-9lpuIe5XXasQZI9vBdcr7dkRhV5mIactN4Urn82bw1WvHOsJM_XLWY5SEgy63lUt0c4PkfjP1EsOgycOq-tq8qTSmfXcTU7wq5HKQH4V2s_60RyoQnZJlfFzmhF4/s320/2012-09-25_15-20-27_227.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last one, 2011 Triumph Bonneville mag wheel</td></tr>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">So, It is finished. The end of an era. A slow death, if you will, or at least a part of my soul is dead and gone. </span></b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I sold the last of my motorcycles and I have hung up my riding boots. The decision was easy to make. Complications from health problems and small ailments all together gave me many reasons to stop. It’s no longer safe for me or the motoring public.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">My philosophy is simple. If I can’t do everything that ownership and riding requires, like checking the tire pressure, lubing the chain and checking the oil, then I shouldn’t be riding. Doing any kind of activity that has me bending down, like regular maintenance on the motorcycle, is painful and next to impossible for me. I don’t deserve to ride a motorcycle.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">My feet are numb and legs are tingly, a condition called neuropathy, from years of uncontrolled diabetes. Sometimes I can’t feel the shifter on the left or the brake pedal on the right. I take insulin and could go into diabetic shock if my blood glucose levels go too low. I have a heart pacemaker that regulates my heart rate, and although that keeps me from having rapid heart rate episodes, with my heart history, that sucker could go off and defibrillate me at any time. That would, in essence, be like having someone putting their hands on my chest and pushing me off the bike while I’m riding it.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I have congestive heart failure. This causes shortness of breath and fatigue in my muscles. The arthritis in my hands keeps me from having a tight grip on the hand grips, making some quick response maneuvers impossible to perform. The retinopathy in my eyes, also an after effect of the diabetes, makes it hard to see, especially with dark glasses on or at night. Light glares at me, sunlight or headlights. I have hearing loss. I have less than normal flexibility in my joints, especially my neck and I can’t turn my head to the right or left far enough to see the road to either side.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If that isn’t enough, I am on a fixed income and can’t afford bike payments, taking trips or insurance along with the aforementioned doodads and farkles.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There you have it. My motorcycling history, from beginning to end. An end to an era in my life. Am I sad? Yes, very much so. Do I have memories? Yes, very many of them. But I’ll tell you, there is nothing like blasting along a two-lane highway in the dessert at 100 miles per hour, wind in your hair and the telephone poles going by so fast they look like toothpicks.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I will miss riding motorcycles, and I’ll cry when I see others enjoying them. I’ll drool when the new models come out. I’ll imagine what it would be like to swing my leg over the saddle and put one through its paces. I’ll sit with maps and find the roads that will take me there and plan trips that I’ll never be able to take. You bet I’m sad.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Maybe I should be glad that I’m alive. Maybe that’s a good thing, but maybe a small part of us dies every time there is a wholesale change in our lives. I think so, I think this is how we die, losing bits and pieces, a chunk at a time. This is a big chunk.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfLdUSdQSZK_6NLuzczIYn6zcDshu9-yuBHfYVdSfz9uBV-Pjl3qJBU57kr53sA0URsEOnrV4MP2oqYCwUbypiVQozQEpHPht21qr2rW33sITQC_Qlf-9u55MkF-yiCKevPUr0vdZRRdZ4/s1600/Sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfLdUSdQSZK_6NLuzczIYn6zcDshu9-yuBHfYVdSfz9uBV-Pjl3qJBU57kr53sA0URsEOnrV4MP2oqYCwUbypiVQozQEpHPht21qr2rW33sITQC_Qlf-9u55MkF-yiCKevPUr0vdZRRdZ4/s320/Sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day is done</td></tr>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace</span></b></span></blockquote>
Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-64383243187431052682013-08-12T17:23:00.004-07:002013-08-12T17:29:56.643-07:00Maytag Saga<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Just got back from Sears. Had to buy a new refrigerator. The old one was only 21 months old, but it died, compressor seized up, and since I didn't buy the extended warranty, I either had to pay what the fridge cost new to repair it, or buy a new one, so we bought a new one and got a great deal at Sears. They are even going to deliver it tomorrow! The next day! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
Maytag, which is Whirlpool, won't stand behind their products. We expected to pay for repairs since we didn't buy a service agreement, but we never expected a major part like a compressor to take a dump before the $1500. appliance was less than 2 years old. Home Depot sold it, but they can't do anything. </span></div>
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Sears, even though they are made by Whirlpool, will stand behind this new appliance, and I did opt to buy a service agreement. I am 64 years old and I don't ever remember having a refrigerator die like this. I realized that I never had that experience before because we, and our parents before us, always bought our appliances at Sears. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
It was in November of 2011 when we purchased new kitchen appliances. If I remember correctly, we went to Home Depot because</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> they were having some sort of a sale and we actually got a few hundred dollars off for buying three appliances, a microwave, a stove and a refrigerator.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was the microwave that petered out and quit, and although we don't use it a lot, my daughter and the Grandkids that live in the same house with us, use it. The one in question was a built-in that came with the house when we purchased it in March of 2009.</span></div>
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We went to get a replacement for the microwave and we saw this really nice stove. We like to cook with natural gas and we had a stove, but the one we had was old and had been moved around quite a bit. It was also the cheapest model stove you could buy and it was poorly insulated. It had absolutely no frills like a timer or thermometer. It seemed like a good time as any to replace that old stove while the appliance sale was going on. The model we bought was made by GE and the price was good as it was on sale, so we bought it.</span></div>
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The refrigerator was also on sale and with the purchase of the other two, we saved another hundred bucks. That, along with my 10% discount for being a disabled veteran, gave us a pretty good deal. We did purchase a service agreement on the stove because it had a lot of electronics on it. We didn't on the microwave because we could replace the entire microwave for under three hundred dollars, the service agreement was half that, so we opted out.</span></div>
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The refrigerator? Well, as I mentioned, I never had a refrigerator go out in my lifetime. A switch here or a control there, but never a compressor. Guess what? We were really surprised when everything in the freezer started to thaw and the whole thing died.</span></div>
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The repairman from the appliance store came out today to take a look at the Maytag. He tried to jump start the compressor and told us it was dead and seized and would not start. He told us it was junk and that a new compressor would be upwards of $700.00 for the part, plus the labor at a small town rate of $80.00 per hour. You'll probably pay more per hour in Minneapolis or St. Paul.</span></div>
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We called Home Depot. They sell them, but don't service them. They tell you up front not to call them, but rather call the manufacturer for repairs. Since we didn't buy the service contract that goes beyond the one year warranty period, the warranty was non-existent after 1 year from November 2011.</span></div>
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We called Maytag, but couldn't get through their automated phone system. We did a "live" chat. The minimum wage phone correspondent answered our questions, but offered nothing as far as even a chance to talk to someone in a position of accountability. In other words, "No", we couldn't speak to a supervisor. The phone call center clerk was as far as we get to go when dealing with a problem with a Maytag/Whirlpool appliance.</span></div>
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In the meantime, everything we bought and put in the freezer was salvaged by some quick work. We have a second refrigerator in the downstairs and it was almost empty. It's filled now, but that made it quite a nuisance to go up and down a flight of stairs, a chore i don't do well anyway, to fetch the milk or orange juice.</span></div>
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It's been like this since Friday morning. Today is Monday, and Sears will deliver the new refrigerator tomorrow, and they apologized that they couldn't give us a firm time as other deliveries that were scheduled might take longer than expected in some cases. We were more than willing to accept that. We'll be home tomorrow and be waiting for the new fridge.</span></div>
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I am disappointed with Maytag/Whirlpool. I didn't expect a new refrigerator or to do the repairs for free, but I thought they would at least be sympathetic to our plight. Well, I got news for them, I can't put them out of business, but I'll be grinding on them about this for a long time to come. If I stop one person from buying a Maytag I'll be happy. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Maytag Sucks, pass it on.</span></b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace </span></b><span style="font-size: medium;">anyway, (except to those that make the policy at Maytag.) </span></span></div>
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Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-22908735805220058262013-08-08T22:51:00.002-07:002013-08-08T22:51:58.338-07:00Joe Matradatz<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRpodWHGjxAkaq0gp4G-vpQjSywPossUUy8tKMtLlG2TDuvmQn4YyZgS8yaw1k-xbEdjAWXs4RV7KHf6WLBpgCl1DNkVQlhjURky8LXHQxS9ntXv-2aIAI422lH-iqVLTpXtHhYePVd5QC/s1600/AAAHaikuHead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRpodWHGjxAkaq0gp4G-vpQjSywPossUUy8tKMtLlG2TDuvmQn4YyZgS8yaw1k-xbEdjAWXs4RV7KHf6WLBpgCl1DNkVQlhjURky8LXHQxS9ntXv-2aIAI422lH-iqVLTpXtHhYePVd5QC/s1600/AAAHaikuHead.jpg" /></a></div>
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It's Friday, <b>August 9, 2013</b>. On Fridays, a bunch of us gather from around the globe and write haiku poetry, tell stories, display photos and generally just visit back and forth and share bits of our lives with each other. We call it <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Haiku My Hear</b></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">t</span></b><br />
Join the fun. Visit Rebecca's blog, <a href="http://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/">recuerda mi corazon.</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiO4hnGrXREc0e1s16qUdxNGgFQI-v0y3tYqODnXoNVYyHdezhJCpNkRu4y9jKPf6sj0-rbm5fqEuaqSBIHSAnxLugg3Ff4xqMC7BRViMyqU_g6aiZhxjjKuRzaFwA2JyQnOh0aQYssxBz/s1600/joe.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiO4hnGrXREc0e1s16qUdxNGgFQI-v0y3tYqODnXoNVYyHdezhJCpNkRu4y9jKPf6sj0-rbm5fqEuaqSBIHSAnxLugg3Ff4xqMC7BRViMyqU_g6aiZhxjjKuRzaFwA2JyQnOh0aQYssxBz/s320/joe.png" width="294" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What is excitement?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Finding your name in bright lights</span></div>
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Maybe I'm famous</div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When I was a young boy growing up in the Chicago suburbs, we had a name that we would use when we wanted to tell a story or a joke or tease someone. It was a name for a nondescript male of the species. We would say Joe Matradatz. That’s Mah-Trah-Dots’, with the accent on the Dots. It isn’t unusual to use the first name of Joe, as that is customary in many cases, like when I referenced it in a previous post of mine entitled "The Name Game"</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">I revolted. “If Joe isn’t more popular than that, why do we have so many references to Joe?” </span></b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Who hasn't heard these phrases; Hey Joe, (Where you goin’ with that gun in your hand?), Cuppa Joe, Morning Joe, Joe Momma, Plain Old Joe, GI Joe, Say it ain’t so, Joe, Joltin' Joe, Joe from Kokomo, Joe this, Joe that, Joe the other. Joe the plumber. Joe the bartender. Joe’s Bar. Joe’s Diner. Joe’s Bar and Grill, Eat at Joe’s. Joe Mauer, Shoeless Joe Jackson, Joe Namath, Joe Montana, Joe Hill. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Cowboy Joe, Joe Millionaire, Joe Blow, Average Joe. Not to mention the use of Joe as a middle name. Billy Joe, Bobby Joe, Randy Joe. There is a town called Joe, North Carolina and a Joey is what they call a baby kangaroo in Australia. And how many more using the shortened version, spelling Joe without the “E” on the end like Mary Jo? Who is Joe Blow anyway?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Why when I was a kid, a fictitious character we all sought to mock was a character we called Joe Matradatz! I mean, if James is so damn popular, why don’t they use his name for coffee? Cuppa Jim, or Jim Matradatz?</span></span></div>
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Anyway, you get the point, I think. But in real life, o<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">ne of the things that was more than subtle that we noticed while on our recent trip to British Columbia was the common, and even frequent, occurrence of the name Joe, or a derivative, in the form of what my Mother called me when she wasn’t angry. That would be Joey.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Joseph was what she used to call me when she wanted my attention or was angry. Joey was what people called me when I was growing up and what most of my family and some old friends call me even today.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The first Canadian town we stayed in, Cranbrook, BC, had us finding a suitable place for dinner on a very hot sultry July day. In a handy guide to area restaurants that we found in our motel room, we spotted a place that served fish and chips and on Tuesdays, you could get all you can eat.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Guess what? It was a Tuesday, and the place wasn’t far from the motel. In fact, you could see the sign for the place from the motel room window.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">It was called <b>Joey’s Seafood Restaurant.</b> I guess there’s a chain of them in Canada. But the weird part of this story is that before dinner, we were spending some time shopping for little gifts and post cards we could send to our Grandkids and we saw the big Walmart Supercenter, but we didn’t want to shop somewhere that was familiar. After all, we were in Canada, a foreign country.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Besides, we usually don’t go to corporate chain stores or dining establishments, but since we were in Canada and didn’t know any better, and since it was named Joey’s, which is my name, we thought it okay to try the eating place out for dinner, but not the Walmart for shopping.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We wandered down a street that intersected the main drag through town and saw a large stand alone store with a hugh parking lot. It turned out to be the <b>“Real Canadian Superstore”</b>. We parked and went in. We were giggling to ourselves at the prospect of not having any Canadian currency in our pockets and how conspicuous we seemed to be. A stop at an ATM and a hundred dollars in Canadian bills later, at an exchange rate of $0.97 American cents to each Canadian dollar, thank you very much, and we were in business.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What caught our eye was in the clothing department, where we shopped for close-out bargains of T-shirts that were left over from Canada Day, which had past. Now, like Christmas wrapping paper on the day after Christmas and Halloween candy in November, said T-shirts were reduced up to 50%. Yes, the bargain had our attention, but the designer label for all apparel at the Real; Canadian Superstore was <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3C/span%3Ehttp://www.joefresh.com/en/">Joe Fresh.</a><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Joe Fresh</span></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-_Of9XbiOLz87IRSYnhuzgaOSBfwyfmovu7MfLf3qt2-fIjVveuZK4QiOaklUAIvHKV8ay4vpHo8gIf_f2Jx_hvYojnyC20ZHtMzVdH4i1-o9zupbXv7SKxlSTYrZATEMCO5LXALWBr5/s1600/Joe's+Store.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-_Of9XbiOLz87IRSYnhuzgaOSBfwyfmovu7MfLf3qt2-fIjVveuZK4QiOaklUAIvHKV8ay4vpHo8gIf_f2Jx_hvYojnyC20ZHtMzVdH4i1-o9zupbXv7SKxlSTYrZATEMCO5LXALWBr5/s320/Joe's+Store.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">After shopping, it was time to eat and we went to <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3C/span%3Ehttp://joeys.ca/home.html">Joey's Seafood Restaurant.</a> <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">as planned.The food was so-so. Service was terrible as the place got slammed with fast-arriving customers when we were there. Aside from that, we still thought the name unique.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipQxSuITkd_9wvuODahl_BbWtr0D_wRwGz6EsVxbyizam5xFIrqc28nEzEHfsjZKc4PLX81qGX9LPG58DKC_oyrLpXWwMsYJub16egXC80syMCJqrJrFcpMqBz4jsb234SOpbuVDFauV4-/s1600/Joey1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipQxSuITkd_9wvuODahl_BbWtr0D_wRwGz6EsVxbyizam5xFIrqc28nEzEHfsjZKc4PLX81qGX9LPG58DKC_oyrLpXWwMsYJub16egXC80syMCJqrJrFcpMqBz4jsb234SOpbuVDFauV4-/s320/Joey1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNLt3tnv4jh_eqMsC14qyROO2wPc6MtVJsSIqK6sCuKubQzeVe0jMyHtPaSGiLIsAz-IDPcxGOsyIwFZ-0e_6V_N6VaGawwWzpsoTzqWRIqWFcU-xh66WZm99FZWJUi8A65VaTO-8zGs1/s1600/Joey2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNLt3tnv4jh_eqMsC14qyROO2wPc6MtVJsSIqK6sCuKubQzeVe0jMyHtPaSGiLIsAz-IDPcxGOsyIwFZ-0e_6V_N6VaGawwWzpsoTzqWRIqWFcU-xh66WZm99FZWJUi8A65VaTO-8zGs1/s320/Joey2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I took a paper napkin with the name on it as a souvenir. Imagine, a restaurant with my name. How cool was that?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Joey’s Seafood Restaurant</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It wasn’t long after, the next evening to be exact, we stayed in the town of Hope, BC. Sure enough, we spotted <b>Joe’s Restaurant and Lounge</b>. We considered eating there, but opted for some fresh fruit from the local grocery instead. Still, another eating establishment with that all too familiar name, my name, Joe.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The next day, while we were getting around and seeing some sights in Vancouver, we saw another place named <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3C/span%3Ehttp://www.joeyrestaurants.com">Joey Broadway<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">.</span></a> Turns out, these too are a chain of Joey restaurants throughout Canada. We didn’t eat there either, but we did go around the block, in very busy traffic I might add, to get a photo of the <b>Joey Broadway </b>sign.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Next, we were in Klamath Falls, Oregon and saw this gas station deli sign. Sure enough, <b>Joe’s Deli Mini Mart</b>. That’s where I filled the gas tank on the Edge, at Joe’s.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9woa9ot6YSGRhZdJVRmKImmqWH01S8csIVwGXCXDOPXjReXIUB1fERBPBq293iaTqEwkZVPbVgC1n02_aVYllzFsNKRvdfTV-3En_0qhfvevOv8pb_EaB0QkEvl-pL28G7AmHsjSBJHKQ/s1600/JoStateside.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9woa9ot6YSGRhZdJVRmKImmqWH01S8csIVwGXCXDOPXjReXIUB1fERBPBq293iaTqEwkZVPbVgC1n02_aVYllzFsNKRvdfTV-3En_0qhfvevOv8pb_EaB0QkEvl-pL28G7AmHsjSBJHKQ/s320/JoStateside.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I tell you, there were a few other places with that name on them all over the place. Joe’s Cafe, Joe’s Diner, Joe’s Barber Shop, Joe’s Lock and Key, and on and on. So many, I stopped turning around to take pictures of all the signs. Joe this and Joe that. Seeing my name being so popular could have gone to my head. But it didn’t. I did comment to Mrs. Spadoman that I never saw one place that was called Barb’s or Barbara’s along the entire trip.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Anyway, mundane as it seems, it is a thrill to see something with your name on it publicly. Plenty of Joe’s and Joey’s out there this trip. It was fun joking and laughing about it and taking pictures of the signs.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Here a Joey, there</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">A Joey, everywhere a</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Joey Joe Joey</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace</span></b></span></blockquote>
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<br />Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-74260905433766907642013-08-02T02:23:00.000-07:002013-08-10T04:48:54.427-07:00From the Personal Archives<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Haiku My Heart</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">August 2, 2013</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">A long time ago</span></span><br />
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<a href="http://youtu.be/AkvLC1tFPNc">Personal Photos and Video</a> (Click on this to view video)</div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">To be honest, I don’t know if I’ve ever posted this YouTube video before. I’ve had it for a while, just can’t remember if you’ve seen it. If so, I apologize. The Haiku is new, I wrote it this morning. If not, it is unique in that these are my personal photos from 1969 in the Republic of Vietnam. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This YouTube video was made from snapshots. Most of them taken in the Republic of Vietnam in 1969 when I served in the US Army’s 25th Infantry Division. A few of them were taken a short time after I returned home. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Disclaimer:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">None of these depict the ravages of war from a standpoint of the death and destruction or combat operations. Read that to mean there are no dead bodies or photos of people shooting guns.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What is evident by some of these photos are the grim facial expressions on some and the terrain in the background as well as the armament by way of vehicles and weapons. Also, there are many with smiles on our faces. War was not a 24/7 affair. We were not locked into mortal combat every minute of every day. In fact, most of these photos were taken when we had a chance to relax and we did indeed have smiles on our faces. We didn’t have time to grab a camera when we were involved in combat operations.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The soundtrack is unique in the fact that it was recorded on a small battery powered boxy cassette recorder that was simply activated as we were in a bunker in a base camp near the city of Tay Ninh. I’m sure there was pot and alcohol involved. Down time like this was a time to let loose. The day the music was recorded was the day before one of the guys was leaving to go home. A going away party for a fellow soldier.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It is a little over nine minutes long. Having these memories as a YouTube video doesn’t allow the viewer to dwell on any one photo for long unless you have the stop gap capability on the equipment you are using to view the video. Of course I have the original cassette tape and the actual photos. I also have more tapes of other times during my stay in Vietnam, and a 10 minute piece of video taken during my last days in country. I offer to share this part of my life on my Round Circle blog.</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Enjoy the film, enjoy the music, enjoy...</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace</span></b></span></blockquote>
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More Haiku My Heart can be seen at Rebecca's blog, <a href="http://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/">recuerda mi corazon</a><br />
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Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-74390766058894890402013-07-26T05:18:00.003-07:002013-07-26T05:18:36.671-07:00Lost Heart<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Haiku My Heart</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">July 26, 2013</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Don’t get an opportunity like this too often. Today is Friday, the day I participate at Haiku My Heart through my friend Rebecca’s blog, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3C/span%3Ehttp://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/">recuerda mi corazon.</a><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> It’s also my first born daughter Maggie’s birthday.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Please cut and paste if link doesn't work: </span>http://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/</div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As everyone in our family has their mind on Maggie, I guess we have decided to get together and have a birthday party tonight here at Spadoville.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We couldn’t think of anything that Maggie really liked a lot other than Diet Coke, so, we’re making shish kabobs and the youngest daughter will bring dessert. That will be a surprise.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In the meantime, that’s where my mind is these past few days, so please indulge me as I pay tribute.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Maggie, Please come back</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I knew you would, if you could</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Love and miss my child</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaHIa29CUSU950qhjMzBS0xopauWOp5s28fTn6j4LwvZCdcu0UwRlrwYOOZdQH1FuHvtni6vUBECNulVMfGNtVQDgJXB8oDlaCCb-3x_QZrwcKMjiz3ufc7q7HUlkTPwdV5LpOKQfGqLF/s1600/Kids+1978.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaHIa29CUSU950qhjMzBS0xopauWOp5s28fTn6j4LwvZCdcu0UwRlrwYOOZdQH1FuHvtni6vUBECNulVMfGNtVQDgJXB8oDlaCCb-3x_QZrwcKMjiz3ufc7q7HUlkTPwdV5LpOKQfGqLF/s320/Kids+1978.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is one of my favorite photographs of the children. Maggie is in the middle with Jayne on her left and Alyssa on her right. This had to be 1979 and Jayne was 2 years old, Alyssa 3, and Maggie 6. They are playing in our backyard when we lived on Laurel Avenue in St. Paul. Click it to enlarge. It's a rich warm black and white.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">July 26, 1973. We were living in Brookfield, IL back then. Mrs. Spadoman’s dad gave us some money for a down payment to buy a house. We lived across 31st Street and one block West of Raymond, the street where Mrs. Spadoman’s mom and dad lived, and where she grew up from around eight years old until she married me and moved out in 1971.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was a small two bedroom affair that was built on a cement slab. No basement, just the two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen and bathroom. There was a single car garage that we tore down so we could build a two-car garage.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I sold my 1970 orange Plymouth Barracuda when Barb got pregnant with Maggie. I bought a station wagon. A 1972 Ford Torino Station Wagon. Traded in a two door hard top sports car for a family truckster. Maybe I was thinking we’d have a bunch of kids. Maybe I didn’t know what I was thinking, or don’t remember. But by August of 1974, just one year and one month after Maggie was born, we traded in the station wagon, bought a Dodge van and moved to Minnesota. We haven’t looked back since.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We had her name picked out already. We didn’t know what sex the baby was going to be before she was born, but we picked out a boy and a girl name. If I’m remembering correctly, I think we had Andrew for a boy so we could call him Andy. That was after no one in particular.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We had it in our mind to name a girl Margaret so we would call her Maggie. Margaret Ellen, with Ellen for a very dear friend who is still a very dear friend and someone we love and respect deeply.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Maggie was born in the middle of the morning. Back in those days, I was in a waiting room and the doctors and nurses took care of the birth and all. I was shown the baby in the nursery behind a glass window. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">No matter, she was a precious dear little soul and I still feel the feelings I had when each of my three daughter’s were born. The second two, I was involved with the birthing by being there, in the delivery room, and in the case of the youngest, I participated by actually wielding the scissors that cut the umbilical cord. I was given the baby to hold immediately after their Mother held them. It was Barb that handed them to me to hold.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Last month, on June eighth, we remembered that it was 22 years ago that we lost Maggie. She was involved in a car accident that took her life and the life of the driver, young Jim Cooper. Also in the car was her friend Adrienne. We are so fortunate to still have Adrienne around and get to see her now and then.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So, this day and this Haiku is dedicated to my daughter, Maggie. I’ll save some cake and ice cream for you.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">Peace</span></b></span></blockquote>
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Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-14511819826052734412013-07-21T19:51:00.000-07:002013-07-21T19:57:02.278-07:00Food Glorious Food<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Monday Mystery Tour</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">July 22, 2013</span></b><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Everybody has to eat, right? And some are more adventurous than others when it comes to eating. I’m one of those people, and along with Mrs. Spadoman on any kind of trip, whether it be to the Twin Cities to the “big” thrift store or on a 5000 mile road trip like we did the first two weeks of July, we wonder where our next meal will be.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Let me tell you, “We’re not fussy eaters”, but the kind of place we try to find when traversing territory strange to us far far from home is so important to us that we’ll skip a meal rather than accept dining at someplace we just don’t like the looks of. All chain corporate franchises are out of the question and never considered.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Of course we carry a couple of bags of assorted tidbits of food, condiments and essential utensils along with a well-stocked cooler that ices down plenty of fruit, veggies, cheese, cold water from the Lake Superior springs and the hallowed half-and-half for our coffee, but at least one meal, taken in a place that hopefully satisfies the adventurous spirit while traveling, is always on our daily agenda.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We had several great scores on this recent trip. Some good places across the breadth of the journey. Places like The Starlite Cafe in Vale, Oregon and the Tall Town Cafe in Lakeview, OR will receive honorable mentions as places we’d definitely go to again. In this group are also Gills By the Bay in Eureka CA. and the Montana Coffee Traders coffee shop in Whitefish are definitely on the ‘mention’ list as well.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The top places, which I will review individually in due time are The Dragonfly Cafe in Salmo, BC, The Owl Spirit Cafe in Port Townsend, WA and Ma Mosa’s in Grants Pass, Oregon. In the meantime, let me tell you about our experience at a seafood dining establishment we found to our liking in Victoria, British Columbia, called Nautical Nellies.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><a href="http://www.nauticalnelliesrestaurant.com/gallery/">Nautical Nellies</a> was billed as the best restaurant in British Columbia and seemed to be a famous and expensive seafood restaurant in the bustling downtown of Victoria proper.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Here, <a href="http://www.nauticalnelliesrestaurant.com/gallery/">at this link,</a>is a gallery of photos <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">of their fare from their website. I’ve included a few photos that I took as we had a late afternoon/early evening dinner that included deviled eggs, with blue crab and proscuitto, as an appetizer along with the raw oysters on the half shell that only I succumbed to.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deviled eggs, sorry, we had them almost all eaten when I decided I was going to take a picture</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Incidentally, one of my reader friends used the word, if it is a word at all, “Gak”, when I mentioned raw oysters. I don’t think it’s a word but rather a guttural sound made from the back of the throat. The same one I get when I smell curry. But I have no “Gak” reaction to raw oysters, well chilled, on ice, served with lemon, horseradish and my choice of five different kinds of Tabasco brand Louisiana Hot Sauce.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPgBMvnYjOq3j7sXfUKi76QMwLjO0Xpk9i-5zj1bf7ZulKuq61EvNtMQcWTC0fXLCpK-G31kFBYllhtoMTxSGkeUgj-EXafjEe5ngLdnnVia38Msj2Y63_I-Mi-qoWDMTzHfYUzPtph0hm/s1600/2Neloysters.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPgBMvnYjOq3j7sXfUKi76QMwLjO0Xpk9i-5zj1bf7ZulKuq61EvNtMQcWTC0fXLCpK-G31kFBYllhtoMTxSGkeUgj-EXafjEe5ngLdnnVia38Msj2Y63_I-Mi-qoWDMTzHfYUzPtph0hm/s320/2Neloysters.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oysters on the half shell</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Mrs. Spadoman enjoyed a “small plate”. It was called the “Bag O’ Doughnuts” which included Crab, Lobster and Shrimp Fritters. These were all battered and deep fried and served in a small brown paper lunch bag that had the uppermost part of it torn off so the diner wouldn’t have to stick their hand too far into the bag to retrieve the delicate seafood morsels.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tHBlbXy8zUcqxrNBklkgac3Iy3x_vc2tDBjDR4kTfFhazcPC-rODmnfjRI2h-uK5gmooawAIhqa2CCGuN9x3YN3t1loRUAKnrcC1laH_xP8UCGHrp237dfkWI3FjlfG9rJoCMaMM6VVl/s1600/4Nelbag.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tHBlbXy8zUcqxrNBklkgac3Iy3x_vc2tDBjDR4kTfFhazcPC-rODmnfjRI2h-uK5gmooawAIhqa2CCGuN9x3YN3t1loRUAKnrcC1laH_xP8UCGHrp237dfkWI3FjlfG9rJoCMaMM6VVl/s320/4Nelbag.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mts. Spadoman's "Bag O' Doughnits"</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Prior to the Bag ‘O Doughnuts, she opted for the French Onion Soup that was to die for, or so I was told. It certainly had a beautiful presentation and looked like a fountain exploding from the vessel it was served in.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1d7n0O8Yo4kzu32ylJIDbAoYQOomAiLJFPp-Kw4VUp2GE-bDBZVRcpLaY078U7RozJTRnLCIZCIW4k2-OICAiSzj-ux31wn1mqHK6XM9Ycz3QifJE27x2DDNerIZTRz2I9zTiUG_wMLkJ/s1600/3Nelsoup.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1d7n0O8Yo4kzu32ylJIDbAoYQOomAiLJFPp-Kw4VUp2GE-bDBZVRcpLaY078U7RozJTRnLCIZCIW4k2-OICAiSzj-ux31wn1mqHK6XM9Ycz3QifJE27x2DDNerIZTRz2I9zTiUG_wMLkJ/s320/3Nelsoup.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">French Onion Soup</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I had the West Coast Paella which included Halibut, Salmon, Scallops, Shrimp, Bistro Prawns, Chorizo sausage with peppers and onions, all with a spicy creole rice topped with Mussels. That is a mouthful, literally and figuratively., and it was delicious!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhKimXAMl2-vGjK2f3CR30-Y2zu5_Qj-exFtViueu_W8RQEAVPG7sVIfgpmDyUj5Xuv5kD4cj-r0fW86Oc1bVRz7NuJ3jsZd9OrMwZQrvMhQUDxfl-qiaaDE7CXQaydyXtbK0F2zhVGMU/s1600/5Nelpaella.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhKimXAMl2-vGjK2f3CR30-Y2zu5_Qj-exFtViueu_W8RQEAVPG7sVIfgpmDyUj5Xuv5kD4cj-r0fW86Oc1bVRz7NuJ3jsZd9OrMwZQrvMhQUDxfl-qiaaDE7CXQaydyXtbK0F2zhVGMU/s320/5Nelpaella.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freshly ground black pepper was being added to my West Coast Paella</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Of course, I lubed up with a couple of Vodka Martinis since I wasn’t going to be driving. Nautical Nellies is right next to the Black Ball Ferry dock on the inward harbor where we would catch the evening ferry to Port Angeles, Washington later that day.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The waitstaff were neat and orderly and very friendly. As much time as was needed was taken with our choices, including comments about who was in the kitchen on this particular day and if that chef does one dish or the other exceptionally well. It might have been lip service, but we enjoyed the conversation and tipped handsomely for the time spent with us.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Besides, here we are in Canada and the waiter was from Ohio. It was the Fourth of July and we all mentioned the peacefulness born to us by the lack of fireworks in the “foreign” country. Of course that was over after our evening ferry ride to Port Angeles, where at dark, when the ship arrived in the American Port, the blasts and colorful displays occurred for a few hours and were seen clearly in all directions from the second story balcony of the Flagstone Motel.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’d return to Nautical Nellies. It was expensive, but we were on vacation and sometimes expenses and extravagances like this are not only unavoidable, but mandatory.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Next, breakfast somewhere along the journey.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace</span></b></span></blockquote>
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Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-67494233859115742692013-07-19T02:42:00.000-07:002013-07-19T05:32:42.837-07:00Form Mimics Function<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Haiku My Heart</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">July 18, 2013</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Each week, on Friday, many gather and share their life, art, comedy and tragedy under this Haiku My Heart heading. All started over three years ago by my friend Rebecca, a vibrant soul that gives us all a lift in all her beautiful postings.</span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You can see more Haiku My Heart and find out how to participate at her blog, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3C/font%3E%3C/font%3Ehttp://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/">recuerda mi corazon.</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small; letter-spacing: 0px;">(I can't get the link to work, so here's the blog URL. Please just cut and paste it, I'm a dunce)</span><br />
http://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reflected sunset aboard the M.V. Coho, Strait of Juan de Fuca</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aL2QhyPiff3EsMyrq6D7e-drNX754-KSf7S3G5wlHF8xj0988XWZFwjKRmsa5NMIuAs16s19SbBAjxu2umYNRUDLx0qNZyR5RLHHu4D9cCwzmY0JpF5nbX5B-1KTrfnXJ9XYlhYAHhfX/s1600/hippo+1A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aL2QhyPiff3EsMyrq6D7e-drNX754-KSf7S3G5wlHF8xj0988XWZFwjKRmsa5NMIuAs16s19SbBAjxu2umYNRUDLx0qNZyR5RLHHu4D9cCwzmY0JpF5nbX5B-1KTrfnXJ9XYlhYAHhfX/s1600/hippo+1A.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The amphibious Hippo Bus</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If you’ve stopped by recently, you’ve seen that we have been on an adventurous road trip. I wrote about the trip itself in the posting previous to this one entitled <a href="http://spadoman-roundcircle.blogspot.com/2013/07/motoring-west.html">Motoring West.</a> <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">One of many highlights of this trip were the three ferry rides we took from Vancouver on the Canadian mainland to Vancouver Island and the British Columbia Provincial Capital, Victoria. From there, we ferried again to the USA across the Strait of Juan de Fuca.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The city of Victoria is a pretty large metropolitan area and in fact, is the 15th largest city in Canada. Being near the sea, there is a lot of tourism and many of the attractions include the water.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We could have driven across the border as we traveled from the East of Vancouver through the mountains of British Columbia, but we chose to use the ferry and have that experience.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Of course we saw a plethora of boats of every shape and size. Kayaks, small aluminum fishing boats, cabin cruisers, Coast Guard vessels, cruise line ships in port, freight haulers, the ferry boats themselves and the many water taxis and novelty watercraft that lured the tourists in for fun, adventure and sightseeing.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">One of these boats was called <a href="http://www.victoriahippotours.com/">"The Hippo".</a><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The photo at the beginning of this post is a stock photo of a "Hippo" from their website. These giant vehicles are amphibious and can move about on land and in the water, yet they are the size of a bus, a very large bus.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 0px;">We had seen them driving around Victoria as we were looking to park so we could eat at Nautical Nellies, <span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; letter-spacing: 0px;">a famous and expensive seafood restaurant in the bustling downtown of Victoria proper that has, as we were told, been voted as the "Best Restaurant in Victoria, BC". By the way, a full restaurant review of Nautical Nellies and a few other great dining </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0px;">establishments we encountered along our journey will be forthcoming in the days ahead. Finding unique coffee shops and places to eat is a passion that both Mrs. Spadoman and I relish to the max.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I didn’t snap any photos of the Hippo Buses we saw that were on dry land, but I did get a couple of shots from the ferry as we were waiting to depart the dock. These behemoths do indeed float!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So, we were relaxing on the rear deck in the sunshine. The weather was pleasant. A lot cooler than the high inland temperatures we had just experienced, so we sat outside, even though many folks sought the coziness of the inside cabin during the ride. Locals, I’d guess.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">When I saw the Hippo bus coming towards us, and as I was grabbing the camera out of the case to get ready to take some pictures, I pointed in the direction where I saw the very large bus/boat coming from and exclaimed, rather loudly, to Mrs. Spadoman:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: x-large;"><b>“Look, here comes the Hippo!”</b></span></blockquote>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Hippo on the horizon</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As if on cue, a cue that would have been good enough for any Hollywood producer either of us had ever worked for, a woman of portly proportions walked up the metal stairway and stepped onto the sun deck, directly in the path of my gnarled pointing finger!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I put my arm down and quit pointing immediately and got up and walked to the rail to take the pictures. I never looked back to see if the woman saw me pointing “at her” or nearly shouting with enthusiasm what I had said about her size.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I mean, what if this happened to you? You or I walked into a room and someone pointed and called you a hippo? I’m still a large framed man, and although I don’t weigh in at a svelte 270 pounds, (122 kilograms), like I did in 1985, I still have some girth to contend with and would have easily accepted the fact that someone could perceive me as a hippo, or a rhino, or even an elephant! Yet I would never believe in a thousand years that any normal human being, who was a stranger, would call me any of those things to my face! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Maybe if they knew me well enough to get away with it, but an imbecile in a place as public as the sundeck of a ship that holds 410 cars and 2100 people that has just pulled away from port for the nearly 2 hour journey across the sea!!??</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Oh well. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice, Mrs. Spadoman informs me long after she left the area. But all the while, I was waiting with one eye scanning fore and aft of the ship and keeping plenty of space between myself and the rail for fear of being pushed overboard. Imagine, a Pirate Cap’n, well seasoned such as meself, in fear of his own life on any ship, even if it wasn’t under my command.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Avast Ye Mateys! Thar be large animals aboard. Shiver me timbers. Retreat to starboard and pass the cutlasses and flintlocks. Ye can’t know when trouble will strike.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Next time through Victoria, BC, I’m gonna take a ride on a hippo.</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Late edition to this post is this short, 1 minute, 22 second YouTube of the Ferry and the Hippo:</span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">http://youtu.be/elbl6MjOoR8</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace to all</span></b></span></blockquote>
Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-62302135912911743232013-07-16T05:29:00.000-07:002013-07-16T05:29:06.939-07:00Motoring West<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We’re home! We actually got home Sunday afternoon, but after 15 days on the road and 5180 miles, (That’s 8336 kilometers), we had a lot of unpacking and laundry to do. It’s not easy unloading sticks, rocks, t-shirts, sweatshirts and trash out of the car after such a journey.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We had great fun, and we actually went to places we have never been to before as well as the more familiar haunts revisited, and driven on roads I have never driven on in both familiar and strange </span></div>
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places!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsVdmqnDH17PPjrPe5YvXP_8EdNEGKrnbn0ZraLHyiGvAjX9LARr1fjJ8GR9GXcOqimXkppI2p2-YxmKegh11BqKXCvk9TyyyYBfKrQGRLg8_qAA0-WIxVDn1P9yo3bEd4NqMnwEhCtZw/s1600/2CanLake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsVdmqnDH17PPjrPe5YvXP_8EdNEGKrnbn0ZraLHyiGvAjX9LARr1fjJ8GR9GXcOqimXkppI2p2-YxmKegh11BqKXCvk9TyyyYBfKrQGRLg8_qAA0-WIxVDn1P9yo3bEd4NqMnwEhCtZw/s320/2CanLake.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Christina in British Columbia</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmkRHVL2-9PiGHsnhj5cbRPm7urW2BjWPADSym62KU3PhyphenhyphenjnDRflgYsv15r6ytN3MD3_ugW94UDe0sq_dZ8tybZG1-a7QLooHzIovzxJbD8C6GEshks1Uj5Kxy_2fN_hfK12atzB5BEHnA/s1600/1CanFlag.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmkRHVL2-9PiGHsnhj5cbRPm7urW2BjWPADSym62KU3PhyphenhyphenjnDRflgYsv15r6ytN3MD3_ugW94UDe0sq_dZ8tybZG1-a7QLooHzIovzxJbD8C6GEshks1Uj5Kxy_2fN_hfK12atzB5BEHnA/s320/1CanFlag.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canadian flag at the Roosville border crossing</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We got an early start and left Sunday afternoon and made 265 miles to Fargo, North Dakota. We spent the night there and avoided driving through St. Paul and Minneapolis in Monday morning rush hour to head West. Monday morning had us on I-94 and well into Montana, Great Falls to be exact, by Monday evening.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYJ6UJKcMaZeId4Ewez6BRxZhDwQLac7sf2CXMBfmpv8gw0avf5L4bdQlPhqOx-6ksqywBG2xkI7Lyu3t8z4CspUxwx1AhpqLKDQ3KiHm7veE-VHOdSvTHtTM9223b9rpBqsp1SJ7TWMr/s1600/7CanHouse.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYJ6UJKcMaZeId4Ewez6BRxZhDwQLac7sf2CXMBfmpv8gw0avf5L4bdQlPhqOx-6ksqywBG2xkI7Lyu3t8z4CspUxwx1AhpqLKDQ3KiHm7veE-VHOdSvTHtTM9223b9rpBqsp1SJ7TWMr/s320/7CanHouse.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Provincial Government, complete with totem pole on the far right of the photo.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">From there we traveled North through Glacier National Park and rode the Going to the Sun road before meeting the Canadian border at Roosville.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Our border crossing was totally uneventful and besides the showing of passports to the agent, there was no difference from the numerous times we crossed into Canada when we lived near the border in the very early 1990’s. I got a kick out of the question, “Do you have anything with you to protect yourselves?”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I answered, “No, should I?” </span></b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">That response was greeted with a smile. I’m glad he had a sense of humor. We had no guns, ammo, plants or items we were going to sell in Canada.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil7n1pOddW70ra7KRjxKGF7qNbidkfH8ltQ5wtClKcupnhF9Xk1Sd7vDVSAhZnkUcMDXu2u7DtOYsvfIWgIWBsCs9xy11O3ocsZvUV6o1RjHrWeqJjurgdlJvSgITuvSsff1erWFBq1GI5/s1600/3CanFoot.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil7n1pOddW70ra7KRjxKGF7qNbidkfH8ltQ5wtClKcupnhF9Xk1Sd7vDVSAhZnkUcMDXu2u7DtOYsvfIWgIWBsCs9xy11O3ocsZvUV6o1RjHrWeqJjurgdlJvSgITuvSsff1erWFBq1GI5/s320/3CanFoot.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mrs. Spadoman and Bigfoot are old friends. Who knew?</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We got to a town in Eastern British Columbia named Cranbrook and got a motel room. It was very hot, over 95 degrees, (That’s 35 Celsius). The room was cheap enough, and so was the old almost expired air conditioning unit. We did get some air to move around and got a good nights sleep despite the heat and headed out early the next day to travel on the Crowsnest Highway, British Columbia Highway 3.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqlg8i_PlZ9uOZ5GcIHKVBN-yMj4L37Kp2JSQFEluPUz1nuXweRwGnaBdVFWSPFnaahxmnFQzanEgyttjFAi_ZSC3f381SsxSH3SqzaVr-mSX9eVtN89PnB8UsokR7zWwQnIZ-AJsK0MF/s1600/5CanHighway.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqlg8i_PlZ9uOZ5GcIHKVBN-yMj4L37Kp2JSQFEluPUz1nuXweRwGnaBdVFWSPFnaahxmnFQzanEgyttjFAi_ZSC3f381SsxSH3SqzaVr-mSX9eVtN89PnB8UsokR7zWwQnIZ-AJsK0MF/s320/5CanHighway.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BC 3, Crowsnest Highway</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We were in the mountains the entire journey towards the coast and Vancouver. Beautiful vistas overlooking large expanses of fertile valleys, deep blue lakes, rivers plump with water and pine laden mountain tops. We stopped for the night with an easy 2 hour drive to Vancouver in sight, but we were sorry we made reservations on the ferry lines as we saw many roads that we wanted to take. We even missed a chance to meet a blogger friend from that way that hinted to us that there were not one, but two, great coffee shops in thew town near where she lived.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwBbeDwItI6cbJTPuQSp_XIXvdkLfb7oUjaZ_OEmboANhP17eKW4VyqdeDtaVnWcxAtcLKuRo5xhaXqhZMrjrwQb2keJxvnbggouGZH139TjOXUMbUoAiXJt8MXYiiS7tNFag2YnpoeIf/s1600/4CanFlower.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwBbeDwItI6cbJTPuQSp_XIXvdkLfb7oUjaZ_OEmboANhP17eKW4VyqdeDtaVnWcxAtcLKuRo5xhaXqhZMrjrwQb2keJxvnbggouGZH139TjOXUMbUoAiXJt8MXYiiS7tNFag2YnpoeIf/s320/4CanFlower.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We took time to smell the flowers.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We did get to eat at a couple of great little cafes that we found along the way. I’ll write about there in depth later when I do separate restaurant reviews. One was the Dragonfly Cafe in Salmo, BC, the other was The Round Up Cafe in suburban Vancouver. I wasn’t aware of the Russian/Eastern European influence in this part of the continent. I had fried perogies, eggs and potatoes with Ukrainian sausage for breakfast, complete with sourdough toast and local jam.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFLaQ_w1YXQX275HNDFCMV5x-4JrUgPO-l_jJpGsotdo1zEkHgfeS5Z4JqEuOrTJS8A1CKVH8FCWC0z4ooDgTvIJH50EhkZZ2QcSvMbJNiNBml6n89xba6mTe_NyjNEIttLJ82uCLO9cD/s1600/6CanTunnel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFLaQ_w1YXQX275HNDFCMV5x-4JrUgPO-l_jJpGsotdo1zEkHgfeS5Z4JqEuOrTJS8A1CKVH8FCWC0z4ooDgTvIJH50EhkZZ2QcSvMbJNiNBml6n89xba6mTe_NyjNEIttLJ82uCLO9cD/s320/6CanTunnel.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A shot through the sideview mirror in a tunnel, Vancouver, BC</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We took a ferry from Vancouver to Victoria Island and the Provincial capitol of British Columbia, Victoria and had a wonderful seafood dinner at Nautical Nellies where I satisfied my craving for raw oysters. We took another ferry to Port Angels, Washington, USA later that evening, just in time to see firework displays for the Fourth of July. On some level, we both wondered why we didn’t stay in Canada another night to avoid the noise!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgK_XRtd5jdNTwvLajwBjCxgoCT6dqFD24LMkLIb28OVF774CI7H3vJkPGQacSbl_q1d7qVE6RUC8f4xuUW0m8liDbx_oef3IzwVfxKHcDJo9K9RPbqljcu31hDdx-UNL_J5RWxd2AwQ5/s1600/8CanFerry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgK_XRtd5jdNTwvLajwBjCxgoCT6dqFD24LMkLIb28OVF774CI7H3vJkPGQacSbl_q1d7qVE6RUC8f4xuUW0m8liDbx_oef3IzwVfxKHcDJo9K9RPbqljcu31hDdx-UNL_J5RWxd2AwQ5/s320/8CanFerry.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ferry service!</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The next morning, we traveled the Olympic Peninsula and took yet another ferry to Seattle after a great breakfast in Port Townsend at The Owl Spirit cafe. (Yes, this place made one of the top three that I will review in the days to come). In Seattle, we were greeted by a fellow I have known since I served in Vietnam as a young soldier. I hadn’t seen him inn44 tears. We have been in touch via e-mail for the past year or so. It was a delight to connect with him.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVR4_jLy5txhl1FJsLumx3R9pianmdL-8SJ4vO88LP64ptBOOES08RM-hm_EIKnFMq4jpJFxrx6MxpKIq3LYRsazAt_eYFV5hwPtKhq40yYDS00ckNwQ4YqPscoHYXd5UjdvYqzAsAc1l_/s1600/9CanJoes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVR4_jLy5txhl1FJsLumx3R9pianmdL-8SJ4vO88LP64ptBOOES08RM-hm_EIKnFMq4jpJFxrx6MxpKIq3LYRsazAt_eYFV5hwPtKhq40yYDS00ckNwQ4YqPscoHYXd5UjdvYqzAsAc1l_/s320/9CanJoes.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lot of places named Joe's or Joey's in Canada. I like that!</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Although we only spent 24 hours as a guest of my friend Howard, we came away feeling grand for the experience. We shared the highlights, and maybe a few lowlights, of out lives since we parted company in 1969. We made a pact to get together again, within the next year. Either at my place or his, or maybe in between somewhere.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZu3iJAh4bJ2K_igbY_xeftHUhejvWLJ7cNoPZhN4mBvGrxY41X4h8cWlrlHE7B8XKObUqfs_oC2-B_HxDaUdn34EOJiUU2MuVpGiJ5QEoqQuWYnu2iUh7hMmhJI4GQZBfxlu227CyIjuO/s1600/10CanOysters.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZu3iJAh4bJ2K_igbY_xeftHUhejvWLJ7cNoPZhN4mBvGrxY41X4h8cWlrlHE7B8XKObUqfs_oC2-B_HxDaUdn34EOJiUU2MuVpGiJ5QEoqQuWYnu2iUh7hMmhJI4GQZBfxlu227CyIjuO/s320/10CanOysters.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raw oysters on the half shell with tabasco and lemon. A real treat for me.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">From Seattle, we traveled South through Oregon and spent the night in Grants Pass, a great town with great scenery and weather on the Rogue River. Found yet another fantastic eclectic eatery called Ma Mosa’s for breakfast. This one also made the cut as one of the top three.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9TNae2ITI3mXXwaMCeOAhF6VQSfskq-mE0o0bToPVANlw0d5aBnu2eq9wdNZee9ZVnLszguL8RRvSMMoq4TKKO2q4Bf77KMALbVTkp7dyHrwyGxeCdQgbB0STfrebgJcyZ84UXsGAweG/s1600/13Howard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9TNae2ITI3mXXwaMCeOAhF6VQSfskq-mE0o0bToPVANlw0d5aBnu2eq9wdNZee9ZVnLszguL8RRvSMMoq4TKKO2q4Bf77KMALbVTkp7dyHrwyGxeCdQgbB0STfrebgJcyZ84UXsGAweG/s320/13Howard.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend Howard after breakfast at one of his hometown places. Friendships have no time limits.<br />(Howard on the left)</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We drove into California and spent the next 4 days at our lifelong friend’s place where I got out on one of Hal’s motorcycles, played music with Hal and another friend from long ago and visited friends and friend’s Grandkids.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF0lfclvC2NmTWKitg_UfPlBD-J1O3LHFcUisDiGHqAq-8mIPAwUT9DKI45R3GQQbpjaO3kfNbl4yr73wDgyfBx8_hRbOBzuROqpOxcsgf40iXWYExMHjTnUhqSjrRh85p92xUEivx5S77/s1600/12Ocean.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF0lfclvC2NmTWKitg_UfPlBD-J1O3LHFcUisDiGHqAq-8mIPAwUT9DKI45R3GQQbpjaO3kfNbl4yr73wDgyfBx8_hRbOBzuROqpOxcsgf40iXWYExMHjTnUhqSjrRh85p92xUEivx5S77/s320/12Ocean.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Actually a color photo taken in the morning fog along the Northern California coast</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was time to go home as all good things must come to an end. Took us four days, with the last two being long drives, but that’s because we spent the first two days on the road towards home cruising through parts of Oregon, Idaho and Montana we had never been.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_o_GaDrS2dn8R0G1xjhA9dU3L1M3lAeryZPOF9Zf9Xo4tZASkZSwVdxjsxP-CW7UB4amllNZ1OMUgdkyqLWudvkqwPqo4ISeLYhnviKURNABdlWyHSaVPC_f3pDucMZdfhaK_ajDUE6m/s1600/14Joesagain.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_o_GaDrS2dn8R0G1xjhA9dU3L1M3lAeryZPOF9Zf9Xo4tZASkZSwVdxjsxP-CW7UB4amllNZ1OMUgdkyqLWudvkqwPqo4ISeLYhnviKURNABdlWyHSaVPC_f3pDucMZdfhaK_ajDUE6m/s320/14Joesagain.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another business establishment with that great name!</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We made it, and vowed that next time we make a spontaneous road trip, we would make no reservations for any motels or ferry boats and would call our friends we were to visit when we got to town.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxRL05ICc63uFW-B1IKTY-5vCKKpuY8ywhHhPemT21Jp99dqxo9f9uE2CFDCrfBn3aNC8iQpOBhabpfQZs4aMm_C6CquXK6KAPrIbRdioD0Cc9q8STSQVJWIYTUQa2WE_95tRklaOutHB/s1600/15Music.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxRL05ICc63uFW-B1IKTY-5vCKKpuY8ywhHhPemT21Jp99dqxo9f9uE2CFDCrfBn3aNC8iQpOBhabpfQZs4aMm_C6CquXK6KAPrIbRdioD0Cc9q8STSQVJWIYTUQa2WE_95tRklaOutHB/s320/15Music.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend Steve with his new Fender Stratocaster 1962 reissue guitar.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We took over 275 photos and several short movies that I have yet to edit. As I said, restaurant reviews are to come along with more photos.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBEW1MtFH7WDKqLcIDaItmb_PCtIKmnYjfMaeNwL2L4m9y6B83DTkO6MmtjZogwleArcaJcG_Odz2DrRaDyObrXJYeZvZ73bJT0atfMB1IoGsz3CwZ3hcIj7f8xBnAV7jQDZQTCvsCFsJ/s1600/16Rainbow.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBEW1MtFH7WDKqLcIDaItmb_PCtIKmnYjfMaeNwL2L4m9y6B83DTkO6MmtjZogwleArcaJcG_Odz2DrRaDyObrXJYeZvZ73bJT0atfMB1IoGsz3CwZ3hcIj7f8xBnAV7jQDZQTCvsCFsJ/s320/16Rainbow.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catching up to a thunderstorm while traveling at sunset gave us this rainbow as we entered North Dakota</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Inn the meantime, It was good to get back out on the road. It has been a while. Health concerns have kept me from doing what I love, driving through the country, and now, through the continent. Did you know there is a whole ‘nuther country North of us? They use strange numbers to figure things out like kilometers, celsius and meters. How do I know this? I got a “courtesy” parking ticket in Vancouver because my vehicle was over three meters. (metres) in length. They have weird money too. Loonies and Twonies, (or is it tooneys?) Did you know they got rid of pennies?</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDEBU3jpW-y5efPpOojdUnXwE1dXgsmRVy5hZtBquapH1bfV6nbQcOt_LShJJ193oSA3oRI4B5OXaSBO-XQLbfFjExRAHvpksh3699cxpryr_hIgRJYP-m6I0IDdxoYcV0wOlhnVeF_zN/s1600/11CanSunset.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDEBU3jpW-y5efPpOojdUnXwE1dXgsmRVy5hZtBquapH1bfV6nbQcOt_LShJJ193oSA3oRI4B5OXaSBO-XQLbfFjExRAHvpksh3699cxpryr_hIgRJYP-m6I0IDdxoYcV0wOlhnVeF_zN/s320/11CanSunset.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canadian Sunset on the straits</td></tr>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Peace to all</span></b></span></blockquote>
Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3807994396764212014.post-32233535816244148262013-07-11T20:49:00.002-07:002013-07-11T20:49:49.957-07:00Haiku My Heart, July 12, 2013<span style="font-size: x-large;">Oregon tonight</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Making our way towards home</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Report to follow</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">See more at: <a href="http://corazon.typepad.com/recuerda_mi_corazon/">recuerda mi corazon</a></span>Spadomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17781369901345409341noreply@blogger.com15