En Roulant Ma Boule

Right around Spring of 1980, we sold our home in St. Paul, MN and moved into a small rickety mobile home on 20 acres near Pine City, MN. The land was at the water’s edge, right on the Snake River between Cross and Pokegama Lakes. A small dam at the East side of Cross Lake allowed the river to flow slowly past our home and be more like a lake than a river.

The view upstream from our home along the Snake River, Pine County, MN
The Northwest Company Fur Post Historic site is located right around the point that can be seen at the Left in the photo.

But a river it was, and back in 1803, a competitor of the famed Hudson Bay Company called the Northwest Company, opened shop along the banks of the Snake River, long before the dam was built. This place was a small structure of a line of rooms surrounded by a stockade and run by a partner of the company and his staff of voyageurs. It was a wintering place. A trading post used in Winter to gather fur hides for the hat trade in Europe.

Arthur Heming's untitled painting of voyageurs plying the rapids in a large Canadian birch bark canoe

These trading posts would have the local Native people do their hunting for food and the valuable furs and the voyageurs pack the trade goods in and the furs out, down stream and up stream via large birch bark canoes, using the waterways to get them to their ultimate destination.

Stock photo of the Northwest Company Fur Post historic site at Pine City, MN

So little is mentioned about fur trade history. But so much is available. You see, the partners that ran the wintering posts kept comprehensive journals of everyday goings on, the movement of beaver hide, how much was hunted and gathered for food, the weather, the terrain, personalities of the voyageurs and the Indians, everything.

The Northwest Company Fur Post Historic site, run by the Minnesota Historical society, was up stream from our little patch of land just a ¼ mile or so. Mrs. Spadoman wandered over there one day and before long, we found ourselves working there as tour guides doing costumed living history.

I used my own name, and took the liberty of making it French, to become Josef Spadeau, French Canadian Voyageur. This was just a day 'working' at the historic site in the 1980's 

Many times, we would paddle across the river to go to work. We were aware of the historical significance of using the waterway to get to our place of employment. In fact, we lived “in character” for some of the time even on days we didn’t work. It's been a while since I thought about being a tour guide and demonstrating fur trade history by living it. The title of this post stems from a widely known Voyageur song and these songs rang through our household on a daily basis.

Mrs. Spadoman played the part of Le Chienne, the Dog Woman, who was mentioned in Sayers journal several times as a female Indian hunter. Here she is giving one of the tours at the historic site

But talk about living “In Characrter”?  This special friend of ours that was the director of  the site, and was an employee of the Minnesota Historical Society when we met him, took his character seriously. Everyone called him Jacques, the name stemming from a voyageur, whose name was written in the original journal by the partner that ran the post in the winters of 1803 and 1804. Jacques Deseve is his name and he has been known as Jacques for the 30 plus years that we have known him.

Jacques was a working man, a voyageur on the staff of the partner, a Mister John Sayer, the writer and keeper of the journal for the Snake River wintering post in 1803 and 1804. Jacques grew up in St. Paul, MN and had a ‘real’ name, but I am not at liberty, nor will I ever be, enough to divulge his birth given name. Besides, he was known far and wide as Jacques and still is. Although he did take on the persona of John Sayer for a while. Long enough to be carried from a birch bark canoe to the shore of the Great Lake Superior at Duluth, so as to not get his 'fancy' shoes wet, complete with bagpipe accompaniment.

A bearded Jacque Deseve, on the left, breaking bread with my three children, my wife, (taking the picture), and myself. We enjoyed many a dinner  together, especially during the holiday season.

Jacques did presentations of fur trade history throughout the area, in schools and at civic functions. He was a teacher and entertainer extrordinaire. He is retired now, but still dons a costume of the era and now takes on the persona of a character from this historical time and mesmerizes us all with his wit, wisdom and charm. One thing that has never left him is that so many people only know him as Jacques and have for so many years.

Jacques is a self proclaimed hermit. When we met him, he lived in a hand hewn one room log cabin with a small sleeping loft. He had an outhouse, used a sauna to bathe, carried water, chopped wood and read his many and varied collection of books by oil lamp and candle light.

Nowadays, in 2012, he still lives in a log cabin, it is basically one room, a large one, and has a sauna built right inside. He has accepted electricity on the premises and a telephone line. He still carries his water in bottles filled from local sources, but uses an outhouse for other matters. He reads his now tripled in size hard bound book collection by electric light.

Jacque now has taken on the role of Charles Jean Baptiste Chaboillez, a senior retired partner of La Companie, The Northwest Company. He shaved his beard of 42 years for this occasion, but now it is in full growth mode again.

The wood stove is gone and has parlayed into a propane burning affair that is so much easier to manage than the gathering, (or buying), along with the chopping, cutting, splitting, stacking and hauling of fire wood.

He sleeps in a bed that is on the main level of the cabin now. A fall or two from the warmer nether regions of the loft helped him make this decision.

The reason I know all this about the more recent times in his life is because we got together and rekindled our close relationship just recently. Being with Jacques again is delightful. We continued our conversations, reminiscing, hockey discussions and silliness right where we left off when we left Pine City in 1989.

Jacque lives in Northwestern Wisconsin. Over the past ten years, I can safely say I drove past, or very near to, the township, or at least the County, where he lives several times per month. It’s not such a veer off of our fetching water trips that we couldn’t fit a visit in. I’m going to try to make that a reality as I realize how important having and sharing life with a good friend can be and how important it is to each other.

You know that saying that says People are in your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime? All three fit here. Jacques started being in our life back when we met him, and although we moved on and only saw Jacques now and again over the years, with the last time some 12 or 13 years ago, he never left our thoughts. 

But that’s what true friendship is. Always being friends. Not judging other’s actions and motives. Not forgetting them because our life’s journey has taken us far away and kept us busy seeking other adventures. Now, we’ll share with each other what we’ve been up to with our old friend. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.

Peace

I Remember Crow Creek

Today's post is my contribution for the Art of Remembering. This time of year, around the end of October, just before Los Dias de Los Muertos, or, The Days of the Dead on November 1st and 2nd, the spirits are active and traveling. The spirits of the people of Crow Creek paid me a visit and I needed to remember them today.

More remembrances and similar connectedness can be found at Rebecca's recuerda mi corazon

What a dream. I was riding my motorcycle through the summertime breeze with a bunch of friends. Some I knew, some were new friends. We were along the river. The vistas were fantastic. Through woods and prairies, corn and beans, the river flowing at our side throughout the journey. Together, as one, we rode for days. Our stops at night for rest and food were at beautiful wooded campsites. It was hot and muggy, cool and rainy, calm and windy.

When we got to a place in South Dakota, there was a car parked on the side of the road. A man was holding a camera, an arm waved from the front seat, little arms, those of children waved from the rear. Then another car, and another, then a bunch all parked near an old cemetery. All with arms waving as we rode by.

We arrived at an overlook. A prometory with a view of a great river. We gathered there and people spoke. We rode again and after a short distance, two riders on horseback came out in front of us and led us into a grassy circle. The circle was full of teepee lodges with a great fire pit in the center. Over the pit was meat from Tatanka, the bison, hanging and drying. We were along the river once more. Spirits were all around us. Spirits of long ago and spirits of not so distant past. People were around the circle, standing around, some in their cars, some in lawn chairs in the shade of large cottonwood trees.

The mounted riders led us and we lined up one after another in the circle and got off of our iron horses. The people gathered and formed a line and came by each of us and shook our hands, Some were crying. Some hugged us. Some shook our hands holding ours with both of theirs. The children were there as well in great numbers and their shyness made them choosy about who they offered their little hands to.

A man played a small hand drum and sang a song in Dakota language. He told us the words to his song. He told us he wrote this song especially for us. The song sang the praises of a group of riders on iron horses that came to give him hope, give hope to all his people.

An old woman, an elder, sat in a lawn chair. She held a feather of an Eagle upright in her hand. The small children were gathered about her like a magnet would gather paperclips. A younger man held an umbrella over her to shield her from the hot South Dakota Summertime sun. She brushed him aside and got up and she sang and old song. An honor song, for us, the iron horse riders.

She beckoned, and each of us walked up to her one at a time. She sat there. Her eyes ahead, vacant, holding the feather. We put our hand in hers and she prayed, silently. Tears streamed down our cheeks as they have been since we saw the first car along the side of the road.

The people came by and shook our hands again. The children now less choosy, and more were crying, more people grasped our hands with two of theirs.

This was a dream. A dream I lived. 

A feeling so incomprehensible. A feeling of pride, honor, struggle, sorrow and peacefulness.

The removal of over 1700 Dakota Indian people occurred during the spring of 1863. This dark chapter in American history is scarcely a footnote in American history textbooks. 

The media vilified the Dakota for their actions and 303 Dakota men were sentenced to death by hanging by a hastily organized United States Military Tribunal. Then President Abraham Lincoln pardoned most of them, but the largest public mass execution occurred in American history with the simultaneous hanging of 38 Dakota warriors at Mankato, Minnesota on December 26, 1862. 

The following Spring saw this Nation of people exiled from their homeland in Minnesota when they were forcibly moved by riverboat and rail car to an Indian reservation near Fort Thompson, South Dakota called Crow Creek.

Proud riders holding up the Crow Creek Tribal Flag

Our motorcycle ride was to remember this event in spite of the history books and a society disinterested in their own brutal past.

After we left the circle we ate a great feast of buffalo and cake, stew, soup, fry bread, lemonade. We talked and made new friends. Some came up again to talk and say thank you. Thank you for remembering us. Thank you for giving us hope.

I told them that I was the one to be thankful. I gave them nothing, they gave me the greatest gift. A smile at the end of my ride. They allowed me to honor them, the survivors, the self determined few.

Motorcycle arriving at Crow Creek on the First Commemorative Ride in 2006

The people of Crow Creek were happy, happy with tears that anyone remembered that they were there, remembered their ancestors from the boat rides in 1863. Remembered that they are a proud Nation of poor but forgiving people. People who were happy this day as the riders on the iron horses came to say we know you are here.

Epilogue:

This narrative was written shortly after the First Crow Creek  Commemorative Motorcycle Ride in 2006. I took part in three more for a total of four years.

I chose this story as my Art of Remembering as it brings back some fantastic memories of an event that not many people knew about. I was a part of it. I experienced it and it taught me much. So much sadness and joy all at one time. So many feelings, all gathered together by people of different worlds. Unconditional acceptance of each other without judgement of politics, color, religion or personality.

These are the people I am remembering today. 

Peace to all

Serendipity

Haiku My Heart
October 19, 2012

Haiku My Heart is a weekly event hosted by Rebecca. You can see more Haiku and join in when you visit recuerda mi corazon.

Matters in our hearts

Not at all unnatural

Serendipity

What do you consider to be a miracle? How about coincidence? And that saying, “There are no coincidences”. Serendipity? Is serendipity and coincidence the same thing?

I wonder about these things as I have had many experiences, right in a row lately, that can fall in either one of these categories specifically, or all of them. Let me explain.

I think I mentioned to you the story about the recent funeral of my friend, Gene. Gene, if you remember, was a Spiritual Elder in the Red Cliff Tribe and besides being my friend, he was my mentor and teacher. He was also a Vietnam Veteran.

When we got to the cemetery on the day of his burial, the color guard was there and after a 21 gun salute, a lone bugler played taps.

It was during the rendition of taps that all eyes were skyward and saw an Eagle soaring in large circles over the people attending Gene’s service. Then, the Eagle left and headed to the West.

Symbolic of so many things, the Eagle showed itself at that particular time, at that particular place, while that particular event was taking place. And to soar around, then retreat to the West. The color black designates the West. Blackness, or night, where the sun goes down. The West, the end of the day, before the new beginning of another day with the sunrise to the East.

One of Gene’s teachings was to tell us that we honor the Eagle because it might be the Creator showing himself to us. Eagles and Eagle feathers are an important creature in the lore of the Ojibwe as well as other Indian Nations.

With this said, I must tell you that the other morning, while sharing breakfast with an old friend that we hadn’t seen in a dozen years or so, I started talking about Gene to my friend, telling him the station that Gene held in my life and the lives of so many people.

As I spoke, we saw movement outside the window of the restaurant where we were eating. It was the restaurant of the Ike Walton Lodge  and we were on the shore of Yellow Lake in Burnett County, Wisconsin, where we had spent the night after attending a dinner function fundraiser.

It was at this precise moment that we all spotted an Eagle soaring, down low, close to the water, then land in the upper branches of a pine tree near the water’s edge, directly in front of the picture window where we were sitting.

I made reference to the fact that the Eagle decided to show himself to us when I was talking about Gene. After a few moments of conversation, we had changed the subject and the Eagle moved on across the water. We watched it as it flew away.

I’ve made up my mind already. That was no coincidence. As much as any faith based religion asks you to believe that passages in the Gospel are true and tell you exactly what they mean, I will tell you that the Spirit of my friend Gene follows me and tells me I’m on the right path by these showings of powerful winged animals that come around at precise places and at precise times.

Why not? Proving that this isn’t true is just as hard as proving it is.

The evening before, we attended an event at Fort Folle Avoine. This resurrected fur trade post from the early 1800’s is along the shores of the Yellow River in Burnett County, Wisconsin. The Burnett County historical society runs the site and presents living history and demonstrations seasonally. Saturday night, a dinner was held to raise operating funds.

The dinner was to be taking place in the year 1808 in a fashionable place in Montreal. It was a dinner attended by the prestigious Beaver Club, a fraternity of fur trade partners who rely on being voted in to be in this club.

As paid visitors from the future, 2012 to be exact, we witnessed the bagpipe rituals and mockingly funny bits about the upper and lower class of that fur trade era.

At one point in the program, Charles Jon Baptiste Chebroilles, also known as Jacques, our good friend for many years and the host of this dinner, recognized some of the people in attendance. He introduced me as Joseph Spadeau, a French Canadian name I used when I was a living history tour guide in the 1980’s working at another fur trade site in Minnesota. I got up to the acknowledged applause and told a short story. 

I introduced myself again and used my real name, the name I use in 2012, Joe Spado.

I told my story and sat down. The people in the hall resumed eating their dinner. It was during this time that a young woman came up to my table. She was one of the many volunteers that were there to help prepare and serve in the fundraising effort.

Since it was the first time I was there, I didn’t recognize her, but she spoke directly to me and said, “Are you Joe Spado?”

I answered, “Yes, I am.”

Then she turned to my wife and asked, “Are you Barb?”

Barb acknowledged that she was indeed Barb Spado.

The the woman started to cry and related to us that when she was around twelve years old and living in St. Paul, MN, that she lived in an apartment building next door to where we were living and that she had done some baby sitting for our children. She also remembered that her own home life was miserable when she was a child due to a Mother that wasn’t up to the task of providing a caring and loving home.

She recalled that it was Barb that fed her and her brother and sister. Barb had also given them warm clothing and shelter along with the meals she provided. Barb told me later how she remembers calling the  county welfare department to report the neglect in hopes of getting their mother to feed and care for them.

This woman’s name is Pam. And she remembered Barb for the good deeds she had done way back in 1976. I was proud to be there when this happened. The stranger part is that Pam was at this event as a volunteer. Her daughter has been a volunteer in the past and has helped out at Fort Folle Avoine before, but Pam had never been there and done anything like this. Her daughter talked her into coming along and helping out.

Had she never come to the event to help out, she would have never ran into Barb to thank her for the help and care she gave willingly to her and her family. Had we not taken the time and made the effort to go out to a dinner well over  100 miles away from home, we never would have met Pam and recalled those days back in 1976. I might remind folks that it was more than a casual decision to travel a long way from home, especially for dinner out, as I am still without teeth and eating is still quite the chore, and I’m not feeling my best yet and being away from the comforts of home were questionable.

Coincidence? Serendipity? Small world story personified? 

Being where we were supposed to be at the time we were supposed to be there? Yes, all of the above. Like that Eagle that came to listen to what I was saying about Gene.

We came away with a good feeling and were very glad we attended the dinner. It was a delight to see our old friend Jacques and another friend from that era, Angie, and to meet Pam and hear her tell how she remembers Barb’s kindness and how appreciative she was, and still is, to this day.

All this for being at a place in time. And I believe the forces that put all of us in this place at the same time were not of our choosing. These things happen because they are supposed to happen. It is serendipity.

Peace

Dream On

Haiku My Heart

October 12, 2012

Haiku My Heart is a weekly exercise on Friday. We gather and speak to each other with our minds and hearts, sharing the fabric of life through words, art, photographs and pleasant greetings. Join us at Rebecca's recuerda mi corazon.

Catching energy

Snatching it out of thin air

Saving the good stuff

Expecting pleasant

Thoughts, messages to appear

The bad sent away

Bold round energy

Keeping some, some discarded

Accepting my fate

Still expecting dreams

Confident that they will be

A gift in my life

Dream Catchers, Dream Nets, Spider Nets. These woven strainers, adorned with beads, feathers and leather, made of wooden hoops and sinew, are to allow the dreams that are sent our way to be filtered. The  good mojo passes right through to your soul, the bad gets held in the web.

There are stories that explain it. Here in the upper Midwest where I live, there are two dominant cultures, Dakota and Ojibwe. Each has a story about what a Dream Catcher might be and how they originated. Both are similar. This one is about the Lakota and their idea and an excerpt taken from a site namedDream-Catchers.org

An old Lakota Elder and Spiritual Leader was high on a mountain and had a vision. In this vision, Iktomi, the great trickster and searcher of wisdom, appeared in the form of a spider. Iktomi spoke to him, and as he spoke, he picked up the Elder’s hoop of willow, which was decorated with feathers horsehair, beads and other offerings, and began to spin a web.

He spoke to the Elder about the cycles of life, how we begin our lives as Infants, move on through Childhood and on to Adulthood. Finally, we go to old age, where we must be taken care of as Infants, completing the cycle.

Iktomi said, as he continued to spin his web, “In each time of life there are many forces, some good and some bad. If you listen to the good forces, they will steer you in the right direction, but if you listen to the bad forces, they’ll steer you in the wrong direction and may hurt you. These forces can help or interfere with the harmony of Nature.”

As the Spider spoke, he continued to weave his web. When Iktomi finished speaking, he gave the Elder his web and said, “The web is a perfect circle with a hole in the center. Use the web to help your people reach their goals, making good use of their ideas, dreams and visions. If you believe in the Great Spirit, the web will filter your good ideas and the bad ones will be trapped and will not pass.”

The Elder passed this vision onto his people. Now, many people have a Dream Catcher hanging over their bed. The good will pass through the hole in the center to the sleeping person. The evil in their dreams are captured in the web where they perish in the light of the morning sun. It is said that the Dream Catcher holds the destiny of the future.

The elder passed this vision on to the people and now, many Indian people have a Dream Catcher above their bed to sift their dreams and visions. The good will pass through the center hole to the sleeping person. The evil in their dreams is captured in the web, where they perish in the light of the morning sun. It is said the dreamcatcher holds the destiny of the future.

I like this story. It’s not such a matter of believing every word of it to be true, but rather the idea, the essence, is true, that there are forces of good and evil and they have to come from somewhere. Why not in your dreams? And then, why not try to filter this energy as it passes near to us? Why not attempt to protect ourselves from the evil. Why not seek the good?

And since life has it’s ups and downs, ins and outs and is not really totally rounded out evenly for every person, then the circle may not be perfect.

This is my interpretation. When I am influenced to weave a Dream Catcher, I see life this way and see the circles, or rather enclosures, are like our lives. No two are the same and all have their own unique twists and turns, but eventually do complete this cycle of life.

My Haiku today are a reflection of the Spirit in which I discover what twists and turns have been in my own life, and how the journey gets side tracked and moved off course at times. Then again, “off course” is the course. It isn’t off then, is it? And what is good and what is bad, and why do we judge what happens in life and put a label on any event? 

A lot to think about. The Dream Catcher allows me to believe the idea that the bad is gone and never reached me, and that all I live is good. All I need to do is to find it if it isn’t immediately evident.

With the advent of Fall, when cooler weather and shorter periods of daylight appear to take over our lives, as well as the convalescence period I’m involved with since my accident, leaving me with hours of sitting in one spot as I’m unable to be as physically active as I once was, I find myself creating these “Tools”, if you will. Plying my creativity in my choices of wood, sinew, beads, feathers, leather and findings.

I’m pleased to have this idea of Native American influence and this form of Folk Art in my life. With each circle I work with, I see places where life has twisted or turned, for good or bad, or what might have been perceived as good or bad, and the idea that the circle continues on its twisted convoluted journey and path and connects us all.

Mitakwe Oyasin

Peace

You're Invited

This year, our Annual Los Dias de Los Muertos Celebration will take place on

Saturday, November 3, 2012

You are all invited. Here's your invitation:

Click on it to see it larger and clearer.

 Los Dias de Los Muertos means Days of the Dead. It is a South American/Mexican celebration that brings family and friends together for an evening of fun, laughs, memories and remembrance of the loved ones in our lives that have passed on before us.

As the legend goes, On November 1st and 2nd, it is said that the spirits can move freely between our world and the spirit world. This is the time that the spirits, of those we love and have lost, might be traveling through the realms from the other side.

The celebration includes a large altar where pictures of our loved ones are placed. We also put a momento or two on this altar, something the person liked when they were with us, something that would bring a smile to their face. Our daughter Maggie, who left this world in 1991, loved Doritos and Diet Coke. There will always be a can of coke and a small bag of Doritos on the altar along with her picture.

Over the years since her death, we have been having this celebration on November 1st every year. Some years, if it is close to a weekend, we have the celebration on a weekend day so more people can make it to the party. This year, November 1st is on a Thursday, so we will celebrate Los Dias on Saturday, November 3rd. 

We will place some items on the altar that will welcome all spirits, what they might need to travel, bread, water and salt and candles to light their way. This is not a religious holiday, but if you are religious, all religions are welcome as well as all people of all Nations.

It is an open house. Bring something to share, like a pot luck. We will have some food and dessert as well as some beverages. Pop and Ice for sure, BYOB. We’ll also have great coffee from my friend Steve’s J&S Bean Factory Coffee Shop!

We will have a large altar set up. It will have flowers and pictures and momentos of our loved ones. You may bring a photo of the person or people you have lost and momentos of their lives as well to display on the altar. You may leave these items, or take them with you when you go home.

This is a celebration of life. We remember our loved ones all the time, but this is a special day of remembrance. Stories will be told as we sit around the living room and out by the fire pit. You may think about bringing a chair for outside by the fire and make sure to dress for the weather! We will laugh and we will cry. We will see old friends and meet new friends. We will learn about the lives of people both living and dead.

This year, the loss of my friend, your Dad, Gene Artishon, is fresh in my mind. He will join the other people that held a prominent position in our lives, our daughter Maggie, our parents and other close friends. We are looking forward to seeing each and every one of you at this gathering. 

Since it is a Saturday, we will start later in the afternoon, 4- 5:00 PM. Stay as long as you like. Tent space available in the yard, crash on the living room floor with your sleeping bag or get a motel. We do have a couple of sofas. I’m sure some kind of breakfast/brunch will be made for all that stay over.

Children are welcome and encouraged. Bring your spouses, significant others and partners, husbands, wives and children. Try to leave the pets at home. Above all, bring an open mind to live like the people we are remembering are in the next room. This is what this celebration is all about. The lives of those that will never be forgotten. This is how we carry their spirit with us until the next year when we will do it again.

Any questions, feel free to call, write, text or e-mail. Enclosed is an invitation to share amongst yourselves. If you need directions or more information get a hold of us.

Hope to see everyone here.

Joe and Barb Spado

Peace

"Lost" Year

The government and most corporations operate on a fiscal year. Instead of the new year starting on January 1st, like the calendar year, the fiscal year starts at some other date and usually has to do with accounting or budgetary concerns. But what do you call a year that starts and ends with another date other than the First of January but has nothing to do with money or the budget?

I’m making up a name right here and now. I’m going to call this “Lost” year. It’s kind of a take-off on the phrase Last year. It’s lost because everything aged by one year, yet I barely had time to live most of it as I was laid up or affected by some kind of malady or disaster.

From October of 2011, when I returned from a great New Mexico motorcycle trip, things changed drastically. It was near the end of the month that I was sitting here, like I am right now, typing a story, in this same chair, and I felt funny. I felt a popping in my neck and could see my chest move rapidly with the beating of my heart.

That was the start of atrial fibrillation and other heart related problems. I found out I also had Congestive Heart Failure and when an angiogram was taken, I was told there isn’t much left by way of arteries in my heart to do anything about it. There was also a blood clot in my heart and that needed to be broken up and dissolved before a procedure known as ablation could be done to get my heart back to a normal beating rhythm.

I got out of the hospital on December 29th, 2011 and started my recovery from this episode. I didn’t go anywhere until March when I decided to venture out to Albuquerque and fetch my motorcycle. I had left the motorcycle there at a shop for routine service in the hope that I would return and get it right after November 1st. I never made it, so I stored it at PJ’s Motorcycle Shop until I could come and get it, which happened in Mid March, 2012.

I did get some travel in during May and June. I went out to California, with my bike in tow, and drove out there with my good friend Dave, Hal’s brother-in-law. We played some music and did some visiting. I towed Hal and his bike back with mine and we rode Michigan’s Upper Peninsula as well as did some projects here at Spadoville. We played more music.

After that trip, I was wondering about my future as far as riding a motorcycle was concerned. I had a few problems riding on rugged terrain and had the thought that maybe I should sell my motorcycle and put all the many miles I have ridden into a slot called “memories”.

I mentioned selling my bike at that time. A friend from Madison, WI showed a lot of interest and talked me into selling it. I turned around and purchased a new bike and kept on riding, but with the hot humid summer and busy schedule doing day care with my Grandkids and finishing all the projects we started when Hal was here, I didn’t ride too much.

I took a trip, via motorcycle, down to Taos, New Mexico, in early September. That was sheer joy. It was just a few days after I returned from that journey that my friend Steve called and suggested we meet in Manitowoc, WI and ride together for a couple of days. I did that and that’s when I had the accident.

The bike is totaled and I’m not sure what kind of permanent damage I’ll be left with as far as my mouth, jaw and teeth are concerned. I go to oral surgery to start treatment this coming Tuesday.

Besides my illness and the accident, there were more episodes that took place during this “Lost” year. We were notified that a very close friend was diagnosed with breast cancer. She is like a daughter to us and the news was a kick in the stomach for our whole family.

Adrienne, is the friend of my daughter Maggie. She was in the car accident in 1991 that took Maggie’s life. She is undergoing cancer treatments now. Mrs. Spadoman has taken her to the hospital for these treatments and will continue to do so as needed.

So far, things look very hopeful, but it is a scary thought while it is going on, especially with such a close friend/family member.

Around the same time that Adrienne told us about her breast cancer, my good friend Gene was heading down to the VA for a health issue. Gene lasted about two months from the onset of symptoms to his death from liver cancer.

Since Gene was a Vietnam Veteran and exposed to the chemical known as Agent Orange, I don’t doubt that his death was caused from this exposure. Another death from Vietnam that will never make its way to “The Wall”. I pray that the grief that his wife and children are going through is not too harsh on them.

Wait, there’s more. The Father of my Grandchildren underwent a major heart surgery last month. He seems to be pulling through so far, but there were other problems mentioned and this situation is not yet resolved.

Anyway, it has been one hell of a year from Last October to now. I’m not looking forward to the oral surgery at all and I sure hope and pray that they take care of Adrienne and that she pulls through. That means it’s not over yet by any means. I just hope “Lost” year comes to a close swiftly and in a good way.

I’m hoping and praying that this “Lost” year is over and that a new year starts today.

Peace

Silver Lining in Real Life

It’s been little more than two weeks since I had the motorcycle accident. I’m healing, slow but sure, but still in a lot of mouth pain. The bruises on my rib cage and my left leg are almost totally gone, but the teeth and places where I lost teeth, along with the lacerations on the inside of my mouth and my lip, are still quite painful. 

On top of that, I will go in to the Dentist and have oral surgery on a piece of tooth that has broken off and imbedded in my upper gum as well as another tooth that has broken in half, exposing the sensitive nerve endings. After that, my dentist will look at the situation and offer me my options for getting a set of teeth made, either a plate or a partial.

9/17 The day after the accident

I do have teeth on the right side of my mouth, upper and lower, but with the mouth pain and the lack of chewing surface, it has been virtually impossible to chew anything. This has forced me to change my diet and either eat only soft food that doesn’t need chewing or use a blender or food processor and make food so it slides easily through my mouth. At first, this wasn’t so much of a problem as my appetite wasn’t so great anyway, but now that I am feeling better and my appetite has increased, I am feeling the need for more nourishment.

Sure, I can eat pudding and ice cream and malts along with the creamy soups, but being a diabetic, that precludes me from having a diet rich in sweets and fat.

Mrs. Spadoman has done a magnificent job in the kitchen and using the blender, has made many vegetables palatable by smoothing them into a spoonable edible portion.

Squash, potatoes, corn, peas, rice, beans, mushrooms, apples, pears, plums and even spinach are in neat 1 Cup portion containers in the refrigerator. I simply microwave them and enjoy with a small spoon.

My favorite meal these days is brown rice and pinto beans with a couple of soft poached eggs on top.

That brings me back to my diabetes. It seems my body responded well to the portion control. Or maybe it was the easily digestible smooth texture of the food. Either way, I eat a controlled portion, and since I am not driving because of taking the pain drugs, (not safe to operate equipment or drive a car the label says), I am home to eat at prescribed times, which was another problem with my before-the-accident diabetes routine.

No bread, crackers or meat as I don’t want these things put into a blender and liquified. I’m using fresh food, not canned or processed foods, so it’s all good for you. Even the brown rice is mashed so it is easily spooned into my mouth and digested.

I’m not getting any salad, but I am eating plenty of greens. This diet has allowed me to slowly shed weight. I weighed around 240 pounds last October when I fell ill with the heart episode. I went down to 224 pounds by the end of December and managed to keep this weight off of me until now.

This morning, I weighed 211 pounds and it seems like I am still losing weight. I haven’t started doing any exercise, but that is the next obvious step that I will pursue. I have a bicycle and I will attempt to ride until the weather says I can’t get out there by being too cold or icy to make it safe. I have joined the gym where I received my cardiac rehab after last Winter’s heart stuff and will attempt to make it a habit to ride the recumbent bike and/or step machine at least ½ hour 4-5 days per week.

9/29 Still black, blue and purple

At home, I have some small weights, 5 pounders, that I will do curls and some leg exercises that I was doing last Winter. With the eating habits changed and the addition of exercise, I’d like to see myself get down to 199 pounds. This is not for vanity, but just to feel better and combat the Congestive Heart Failure and other heart ailments that plague me alobng with the diabetes.

Now, there’s the matter of being a diabetic. You may or may not know that I do take a once-per-day long lasting insulin at bedtime each evening.. Well, I do, and I was taking 70 units each day. Even with this amount plus the addition of taking an oral pill before breakfast and again at the evening meal, my blood glucose readings, that’s the amount of sugar in the bloodstream, averaged around 200 to 220 when I took the reading after fasting, I couldn’t seem to get it down. 

Most of this problem, I was told, was because I didn’t eat measured portions and I also didn’t eat on a regulated schedule. I also ate a few too many of the wrong things, or, I ate them at the wrong times, like too late at night or mid afternoon.

With the loss of weight along with the portion control and eating on a regular schedule, I reduced the insulin down to 28 units. From 70, that is quite a jump. The doctor wants me to have a blood glucose reading of 110 to 120 in the morning when I get up. It has been lower than that by quite a bit, and I’ve even woken up in the middle of the night with an extremely low blood sugar and had to eat something to get regulated again!

I’m reducing my insulin by 2 units every day until I get to that 110-120 reading in the morning. This is on the orders from my Primary Care Physician. There may be a time when I won’t have to take insulin any longer. I contribute this breakthrough mostly to the weight loss.

So, now I feel like I want to incorporate some of these measures into my life and make them habits. The portion control and blended food for ease of digestion. I knew I needed to do something, but since I was trying all the obvious weight loss ideas with no luck, it had to be something drastic. Because of the accident and injury to my mouth, the drastic measures I took happened to help my overall health.

The big challenge will be to keep this going, even after I get a new set of teeth. 

I hope I am equal to the task as I’m sure folks don’t get these second chances too often when it comes to diabetes. Thanks so much for the thoughts and well wishes from all of you. I appreciate it so very much. I’ll do my best to stay on track and do something with this chance.

Today, 10/3, 2012

As you can see, I'm still a bit swollen here and there, but the purple bruises are just about gone. ( I would have smiled, but with no teeth, I look hideous. I guess i do have just a little vanity) The hematoma I have, at the lower part of the left side of my face, is still there and puffs out that side of my mouth a bit, but overall, I feel much better and can't believe how lucky I am to have come out the other side of this accident with my life.

Mrs. Spadoman is so enthusiastic, she wants to open a diner and call it The Toothless Cafe. I’ll leave you with this recipe for a delicious Portobello mushroom sauce that is low in  calories and carbs and tastes great over a couple of smashed up boiled baby red spuds, brown rice or pasta.

Barb’s Mushroom Gravy

1 Pound of Portobello mushrooms, sliced

¼ on an onion, sliced thin

Olive oil

Garlic powder, Onion powder

Sautee’ the mushrooms and onions in a frying pan using the olive oil until fully cooked.

Place in a blender with ½ Cup or so of water and a teaspoon of chicken or beef soup base.

Blend on high until a liquid or gravy consistency.

(You may use 1 Tablespoon of flour or some Cornstarch to thicken to personal taste if needed)

Serve

Peace