Busy Busy Busy

Encampment along the Missouri River at Crow Creek

Thursday morning, August 4, 2011
Quick Update:


I'm up early again and will be leaving soon. Gonna make some miles while it's cool outside. Not sure when I'll return as this trip has no time line. 


Peace to all.

I’m glad I’m up early. I have a lot to do today. My bike has been in the shop for a little cosmetic custom paint. Giving it that retro look with a stripe on the front fender. I have to travel into the big cities with Mrs. Spadoman today when she heads for work so I can get a ride to the paint shop and get the bike.

It is suppose to rain with the forecast saying that thunderstorms are likely. I’ll take my chances and the worst thing that will happen is that I’ll get wet on my ride home. I have to complete this task in the morning because as soon as I get home, I have to go back to Minneapolis for an appointment at the VA. Gonna see the doctor on a follow-up from a previous visit.

From the VA, I go to the airport, which is only a minute from the VA Medical Center, and pick up a stranger from Florida. This fellow bought my other motorcycle on Ebay and he is flying in to finally pick it up. It has been bought and paid for and has spent the last three weeks sitting in my garage.

I’ll bring him back to my house with a stop off at the local River Falls police department where he can get a 30 day temporary license tag, Then, we’ll come home and he’ll ride it away into the sunset.

That should fill my day quite well, but I won’t be finished yet. I have some other parts to install on my motorcycle and I also have to pack for an upcoming six day trip to the Dakotas.

I’ll be participating in the annual Wounded Knee Memorial Motorcycle Ride. A two day affair from Fort Yates, North Dakota down through Eagle Butte to Wounded Knee, South Dakota. A map of the route and the itinerary can be found in the link.

The ride commemorates the mass slaughter at Wounded Knee of men, women and children on December 29, 1890. Read about the basic details of what happened HERE.

Of course Wounded Knee is also the place in history where members of AIM held off the FBI goons in the famous1973 standoff. I am proud to say I personally know AIM leaders Dennis Banks and Clyde Bellecourt, and was a close friend of active AIM leader Dave Wilson.

That's a special reason I have for going. My friend and fellow motorcycle rider, Dave Wilson, passed away a couple of months ago after losing a long battle with Leukemia. Dave was an AIM, American Indian Movement, member and local Twin Cities leader and we rode on many of the Crow Creek Memorial Motorcycle rides together over the years. 

My friend Dave Wilson during the Crow Creek Ride, 2008

I like the idea of the thunderstorms that are forecast as the Thunderbeings that will visit me at this time will have a lot to say. I'm about to embark on a spiritual journey once again and it's always good to have their blessing. They make a lot of noise so the message is loud and clear. The rain they bring will cleanse the roadway, the journey will be on a fresh trail. I'll have these Thunderbeings to thank as they keep me focused as to what the purpose of this trip is all about. When I get wet or hot or have any problem, I'll know it isn't about me at all, but the journey, the spirit of my friend, the spirits of those that died at Wounded Knee in 18900, and those that live and die there still.

Once again, Dave contemplative at the fire, during the first Crow Creek Ride

Since my friend Dave’s email address was Wounded Knee Vet, I knew of his connection with Wounded Knee and involvement with AIM. I made up some black arm bands and the few of us from here and the Crow Creek Longriders that knew him will wear them in his honor. 

I’ll be riding for Dave this year seeing as he can’t make the ride with us.

We’ll get to Wounded Knee on Saturday evening for a program and that will be followed by a feast. From there, I’ll travel home via Northern Nebraska, visiting the sandhill country of Valentine and back through Minnesota via Sioux City, Iowa.

I’ll be getting packed up tomorrow and ready to leave early on Thursday morning. I’ll have to make around 400 miles to Mobridge, SD on that first day. I’ll be riding alone and will take the two lane US Highway 12 across Minnesota and into South Dakota.

Yours truly along a stretch of South Dakota prairie some time ago

I’ll have a camera and will file a full report when I return. Since I’ll be traveling light, I’m thinking I won’t have a computer, so no Haiku or Shadow Shots this week. But I like the weekly Haiku so much I might just write in my head during those long prairie miles and share the results when I return.

In the meantime, take care and be well, all of you. And above all, have Peace in your hearts.

Monday Mystery Tour, August 1, 2011

I wrote this article and posted it in the Spring of 2007. I’m reposting here today and have added a short 30 second YouTube video of a ship at the harbor in Duluth, MN at the end. If you click on the title, you will have an audio of Gordon Lightfoot's "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald"


Recently, I spent some time at the South Shore of Lake Superior. When I wrote this article, I was living in a two-room cabin on the shores of the Great Lake. I miss living there immensely. I visit the lake frequently and I am always drawn in to the water and its uses in so many ways.

Originally Posted in April, 2007


The ship Philip R. Clark, part of the Great Lakes Fleet arrived in port at Ashland, Wisconsin on Friday, April 27, 2007 with a load of lumpcoal destined for for Xcel Energy power generating plant. The coal was out of Toledo. The ship will head for Two Harbors, Minnesota after unloading in Ashland, to pick up a load of taconite ore bound for Detroit, Michigan.

We don’t get many ships in port here any more. I don’t remember a one last season. The year before that, I think I saw one deliver coal. The water level is very low, the lowest in 80 years. A full twelve inches lower than last year. The Corps of Engineers claim that this will continue until September and even then, a rise of only 1-3 inches is expected.

The cause of the low water is drought. Dry conditions in the area. Many inland lakes are also at lower than normal water levels. Boating this season will be a nightmare for many. Those that make their living relying on water use may suffer economically. Boats may not be able to dock, swimmers won’t have safe beaches and in some cases, no beaches, on the Great Lake Superior and many other inland lakes here in Northern Wisconsin.

When I returned from doctors appointments in Duluth early Friday afternoon, the ship was just coming into the port. They are quite large, the Philip Clark is over 760 feet long. But when it was made in the 1950’s, it was only 647 feet in length. They cut it open and added a 220 foot section at Frazer Ship Yards in Superior. Now, at 767 feet, it is a very large vessel to be getting into Ashland. And although loaded with coal on this latest delivery here, it was not a full load as the draft of the ship, fully loaded, would have made it impossible to maneuver with the Water level of the lake at this historic low.

This ship was built as an order of three such ships made by the American Ship Building Company for the Pittsburg Steamship Company. One of the others was the Arthur M. Anderson. The Anderson was the ship that followed the Edmund Fitzgerald the night when the famous Gales of November brought her down and the lives of 29 crew members were lost, November 10, 1975.

One night in 1994, when I lived in Duluth, MN, we saw that the Arthur M. Anderson would be coming into port around midnight. It was a late season arrival and the weather was cold by the lake shore. We bundled up and stood there and watched the lights come from the distance towards the harbor entrance. As we stood there and the giant ore boat slipped quietly past us into the harbor, we felt an eery surreal feeling as we knew the story of the Anderson and it’s history of the last people to hear Captain McSorely  of the Fitz say, “We are holding our own”. The Anderson followed the Edmund Fitzgerald and had her in sight up until its fateful end, 15 miles short of Whitefish Bay, Michigan.

While I haven’t lived right on the shore of the Great Lakes, as I do now, for quite some time, I was born in their shadows and have lived near them all my life. Born in Chicago and the Great Lake Michigan. Living in Two Harbors, Grand Marais and Duluth, Minnesota over the years, and close enough to be influenced by Lake Superior from a standpoint of weather and energy.

I remember once wanting a glimpse of a NorEaster storm. We went to the shore near Duluth and donned every bit of cold weather gear we had. We tried to look at the waves, but they were not to be seen from the literally blinding sideways falling snow and sleet. the wind taking our breath away and the impossible task of getting any closer to the lake for fear of a rogue wave taking us to the depths and certain death.

Although I don’t read as much as I could or sometimes think I should, I have made my way through many a ships log, fact finding investigation, non-fiction story and/or fictionalized version about the Edmund Fitzgerald and other great lakes ships and ship wrecks. Web sites abound about the Great Lakes and the toll of ships taken as the ocean vessel Captains will tell you that they’d much rather ply their trade on the ocean than on Superior.

In 2004, we attended the launch of the United States Coast Guard Buoy Tender Alder at the Manitowoc Shipyards on the Menominee River in extreme Northeastern Wisconsin. This was quite the experience. Up close and personal with the ship as it lay in it’s crib, then watching it slide sideways into the river to start it’s service, replacing the Sundew, an older cutter harbored in Duluth. If you ever get a chance to watch a large ship be christened, do it.

Launching of the Coast Guard Buoy Tender Alder

I guess watching that ship come into harbor in Ashland moved me as I thought of a former life or of a bygone era on the Great Lakes. Less than 50 ships remain from a fleet of over 350 in the 1950’s. A theme of my fictional writing is set on the waterfronts of the great lakes and includes a longshoreman, Joe Nighthawk, as the main character. He’s still in print in someones old comment section.

The lake changes everyday. Its color changes with the color of the sky. Its surface with the strength and direction or lack of the wind. The wrinkles change from the gulls and ducks flying across the waters and the pods of waterfowl dotted around in sight. The energy flows as the big lake cleanses itself of unwanted debris, the waves pushing old logs to the shore and scouring rocks into round edged nuggets.

Go to the water. Stand by its shore. Enjoy this short video of the Gordon C. Leitch pulling into the Duluth Harbor one fine sunny day a couple of years ago.

Epilogue: In 2010, Lake Superior's water level has returned to its pre-2006 level. From 1998 to 2007, however, lake levels dropped steadily until they reached near-record lows in 2007. The time of this story, April 2007, was the lowest water level recorded since records were started to be kept in the late 1800’s.

This data taken from the Minnesota Sea Grant Report from 2010. Minnesota Sea Grant is a program run by the University of Minnesota and studies properties of the Great Lakes throughout the region.

Peace

Bottle of Wine, Fruit of the Vine

Shadow Shot Sunday
July 31, 2011

Shadow Shot Sunday is a fabulous meme. You can see great photos from all over the world. Find out how you can participate or just browse the great photography at Hey Harriet's Photography.

We were out to eat last week at a place that we used to frequent regularly when we lived in St. Paul. Since we moved in 2005, we get there only so often. The name of the place is Cafe Latte' and I have never ever had a bad meal there.


Our celebration was a birthday. In attendance were Mrs. Spadoman and my two daughters, Alyssa and Jayne. We all had dinner, and we all had dessert. I didn't take pictures of the delicacies we had after dinner, but I should have. For the sake of a story, I'll mention them, and if you're so inclined, look them up on their menu which can be found by clicking on the highlighted link above.


Mrs. Spadoman had the Lemon Tort, Alyssa had Vanilla Cheesecake, Jayne tried the Tre Leches, (Three Milks), and I had Raspberry Tort.


At one point, the "girls" went to the rest room and check out a store window or two. I sat and saw shadows and took pictures. I chose the best of the shots for today's Shadow Shot feature.


We didn't order wine, and I'm not sure I would order Hob Nob if we did. But I did look it up after I posted this photo as my shadow shot. They have a very lively web site. 
Take a LOOK.


By the way, I used the camera feature on my cell phone. The light was low overall, but the wall display cast the long shadow of the bottle and the lines of the shelf it was mounted on.

Peace

Headin' Out

My own selkies

We'll be leaving in a little while for a weekend trip to visit the Great Lake Superior. Taking the Grandchildren for some swimming and hiking along the South Shore. We'll visit some friends in Ashland, collect rocks, picnic and generally have a great time. This excursion may turn out to be the only "Vacation" we take together this Summer.

That photo above might be what the kids will look like as they swim in the big lake. A bunch of Selkies. They love the water. I'll stick my toes in they'll turn blue and go numb, but they will love splashing and frolicking no matter what body of water it is. From the bathtub to the Great Lake, and all temperatures in between, water is King!

I'll be back Monday morning to tell you about why I'll be going to South Dakota soon.

In the meantime, treat each other with kindness and practice Peace.

Happy Birthday Maggie

Margaret Ellen Spado

July 26, 1973

We were living in Brookfield, Illinois. Our house was on the corner of 31st and Harrison. It was a single story two bedroom affair built on a slab of concrete. The washer and dryer were at one end of the kitchen.

Our first born, Maggie, came to us that day and we became parents. We lived and loved. Then, on a fateful late Spring day, our lives would change forever.

L to R: Bobby, Maggie and Adrienne, Graduation Day, June 4, 1991

June 8, 1991

We were living in a cabin at Minneapolis YMCA Camp Menogyn, where I worked as a cook and caretaker. A one room affair with a sleeping loft, a screen porch and an outhouse. We had one 4-gang electical outlet.

We got the message early that morning via a knock on the cabin door by the camp director. Maggie was killed in an aotomobile accident in St. Paul. We were 300 miles away.


July 26, 2011

Maggie will be 38 today. We will celebrate with family and go out to dinner. We'll have decadent dessert, in the form of chocolate chocolate cake, at Cafe Latte' in St. Paul. We will all be together.

Please, my friends. I don't look for sympathy. I just wish to tell you we are still here and we acknowledge and celebrate Maggie's life and our loss on this, the day of her birth.

Maggie's Song
By: Dad

When I was young
I followed my dreams
My friends thought I was crazy
With some of my schemes

You stood by me, baby
Through good and through bad
This world is crazy
The end is so sad



Through twenty years of marriage
The love did divide
Twas a Pearl named Maggie
So sweet and sublime

She awakened our spirits
And of others around
Made her mark on the world
Her legend lives on

Chorus:

Maggie
(Maggie won't you) Please come back
I knew you would
If you could


Life is a card game
It was the luck of the draw
It was comin' up aces
But fate had a flaw

Something has happened
No more smilin' sweet song
My world is empty
Maggie is gone


Repeat Chorus:

Maggie
(Maggie won't you) Please come back
I knew you would
If you could

Repeat

Sometimes we think we'll wake up from this horrible dream. Deep inside we know we won't ever live happily ever after.
Happy Birthday Maggie, we love you.

Peace

Rock, Paper, Scissors, But Mostly Rock

Rocks, stones, pebbles, boulders, scree, outcroppings. What do they mean to you? Do you cast your eyes downward when you’re at the beach or on a trail? Do you look at some, pick up a few, and put some in your pockets? What force is at play for the entire process? The process of going to the beach in the first place? The process of looking at, or for, rocks? What attracts your senses? Color? Shininess? Shape? Size? Is it something that’s out of the ordinary?

Inukshuk on the windowsill

I believe all of these things, individually and collectively, are the spirits at work. The rocks are the spirits. Each has its own soul. Every grain of sand was at one time part of a mountain or the mountain itself. Worn down through time from wind, rain, flowing water, frozen water, snowed upon, sun drenched, fogged, clouded over and exposed to temperatures from so cold no human could live and breathe, and so hot the same.

Each one we see, that our eyes are drawn to, a masterpiece. None other like it. Similar, yes, but no two the same, like snowflakes. Some colored bands, some with cavities within sheltering gemstones. Translucent, opaque, solid, light, heavy, granite, chert, jasper, crystal, metallic, cinder, coal, diamonds.

I have an affinity for rocks. I have been taught that they are our ancestors. They are our Grand Mothers and Grand Fathers. They have seen all that man has ever done. They carry all wisdom because they have experienced everything in the world.

Think about it. The pebbles that are cemented together with tar to make an asphalt road are still pebbles. The accident that happened last year. The speeding car or motorcycle. The slow moving sightseer. The hitchhiker, the bicyclist. When she got out of the car to rebel from mistreatment and walked the rest of the way to town. 

Each pebble laid witness 

The pebbles of that road have seen it all. The explosions of the tumbling of the World Trade Center or the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. The pebbles saw it all. They know what happened in every detail. They know who did what. And there might have been a stone sitting on a sidewalk. It becomes part of the rubble. 

Small pebbles gathered together, sealed in tar, connecting us

And it lives with every bomb we drop, every human sacrifice made, I’m sure there was a rock or a grain of sand, a particle of the Great and Sacred Earthen Mother nearby to witness. Taken from the Earth. Made into a structure with cement, then blown apart and released as a stone again. They never die. They never disappear.

Wall Street Journal photo from a bomb explosion in Iraq. The stones are set free to wander once again

So, what about it? Big deal. Eh? You can walk amongst them, or ignore them. I choose to pay attention. To wonder why I pick them up but not ever really expecting an answer, not ever to actually know the reason why the ones I have are with me. The ones on the windowsill. The ones on the dresser. The ones I carry in my pocket and travel with me. The ones I hold and ask questions to. The ones I pray with while holding them in my hands. The ones I look at from afar on pages of magazines or on a computer screen, telling them. “I’ll try to get there to visit you in person.”

Maybe it’s these rocks that call me, make me want to be on the move. Begging for a visit. I know I love them. And they let me walk over them, or up to them, touch them, feel their textures, their sharp or smooth edges. Their grain. Their hide.

Large crystal in rough, (unpolished) form

These are some I have around me at home. Believe me, I have asked the Great Mystery if it is okay that I take them home and have them live with me. I give gifts to the Sacred Earth Mother in return for the gift given to me. Some stay for a while and then find new homes by me giving them to someone or bringing them to a Sacred place to rest.

A scraping or digging tool perhaps?

Some that have come into my life are unique to where I got them, but not unique in their existence. This almost turquoise piece was cleaved and can be held in two positions. One for digging, one for scraping. It was found way atop a coastal hillside, one of the highest points around Cape Mendocino on the Northern California coast, along the Bear River Ridge Road. A place the locals call Monument. 

Scrape, with a place for the thumb

It was found with just a small edge, the rounded part that might be fitted into the palm of your hand, sticking up out of the ground. The rest of the rocks in the area was whitish in color and jagged, fractured flagstone. This was the only piece like this. Anything that resembled it was miles away on the black sand beaches of the Pacific Ocean.

Dig, or gouge, with this tool

This is my heart. This one was sitting in the sand on the Oregon coast. I had just had a heart episode that almost killed me. This heart was given to me by Mother Earth and was telling me that my heart is solid and the arteries were open for the business of carrying the blood I needed for survival.

Heart Rock

Can you spot the resemblance?

This one was but a small pebble in the sand, with more than 95% of its mass buried beneath. This agate looks like someone’s butt! In the sun, it glows.

Large agate butt

These are from the shores of the Great Lake Superior. Others are from the lava beds of a place called Craters of the Moon National Monument in Idaho, and still others found while walking around the desert in the American Southwest. It’s funny that I use that word “found”. Like many that say Christopher Columbus could not “discover” America since there were already people here when he arrived. How could I “find” a rock that has existed through millennia?

From the Great Lake Superior

From lava flows in Idaho

I’ve been shown relics in the city, in the streets. How did they get there? Why are they there? Do the spirits send them out to observe us, to report? Are they, might they be, aliens? Do we ever see them move? Are they really inanimate? 

That blueish one from the top of Monument traveled there somehow. Who cleaved it? Did a human being that walked there long ago work with it and carry it here? Did a child that had it in their pocket, and got tired of carrying it, bring it?

And the question can be asked why for every instance, for every rock, pebble, stone and grain of sand. Do you ask these questions? Do you also ask them of the trees and plants, the grasses and flowers?

These are some of the thoughts I have about rocks. What are yours?

Peace

Vintage Pipes

Shadow Shot Sunday
July 24, 2011

This is a wonderful meme every Sunday that features submissions of Shadow Shots from all over the world. To see more and find out how to participate, go to Hey Harriet's Photography.

I love the detail in this close-up. The subtle shadows within the cylinder head fins and under the fender draw me in. Click to enlarge.


Guess the make, year and model and I'll send you a Dream Catcher.

No guesses. Oh well, here's the answer:

1973 Honda 500 Four

Gabba Gabba Hey and Peace to All