...so it goes.

You wait long enough and someone  you care about no longer is busy being born and...is busy dying.  November 19, 2008 at 6:12 p.m. Dad finished his business.  And, once he made up his mind,  it took him less than a week.  On Thursday, November 13, shortly after noon, his oncologist, informed him that the chemo wasn't working, the tumor on his pancrease had grown, and the only thing left to prescribe for him, was hospice.  Dad was stoic, although he said later that he was surprised, that despite being bedridden for a month, he was going to beat it.  Like he did before.  That same night he told Bill that he would be dead in a week.  The nurse at Hospice House said "no way".  He was much too strong and would be around a few more weeks, at least.  But he didn't see the point in that.  On that last day, Mom and I took a break after 8 hours in his room.  Ten minutes after we left him, he let go.  He liked to be alone for moments like that.  

He had good run.  Here's his obit:

http://obit.petersonkraemer.com/obitdisplay.html?id=605574&listing=Current

Now, where was I...?

Oh yeah, a few days after the March 27 report on sugaring up north, MJ and I flew to Istanbul for a couple of days and then Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan until April 21 and 1400 photos later. One of those photos is at left, the tomb of Amir Timur (or, in the West, Tamur the Lame aka Tamerlane) in Tashkent, the Uzbek capital. A terrific odyssey into the post Soviet world of Central Asia 15 years after the Russians told the Turkmen, Uzbeks and others that, like it or not, they were on their own. Independent, as it were. Of course, for many, that meant independence from jobs, housing, pensions, education. From cradle to grave. Hello, grave. The strongest party boss took power while the Russians took much of the parts and hardware from the factories and the citizens took a look around and said "whoa! Now what?" Some reached back into the family traditions dusted off neglected tools, revisited the skills of the older folks and fired up the cottage industries of ceramics, paper making, fiber art, jewelry making, etc.

We visited many homes and small workshops and saw (and purchased) beautiful items while being treated to demonstrations and a meal. I'll get into more of this later but we also have a wedding being planned for September 27. 2008 and, to introduce the fiance, we shared Tickfest 2008 with the Schiavoni siblings. More on that later, too.

2005 & 2007 Sap runs

March maple madness

March 2008 is just about over. The vernal equinox passed by last week which occasioned Ma Nature to dump a load of snow on us Madisonions. Being the good northerners that we are, we cheered it on, somewhat, because, having already broken the old seasonal snow fall record of about 76 inches, we wanted to break 100, which we did with a follow up of about one half an inch after the post Spring 7 inches. Now its time to say good by to Winter. We have crocuses, snowdrops and helibores blooming although 150 miles north there's still a lot of snow. And its time for the sap to run. That's March Madness Up North. Tap them trees, collect that sap and boil it down over an open fire. And you all know that it takes 37 gallons of sap for one gallon of maple syrup. That's a lot of tapping, trudging and pouring. But I'll miss it this year. Uzbekistan calls. Samarkand. See you later.

The romance of night hockey

One week ago. Tomorrow we do it all again. I can't wait.

More iceholes

Just an excuse to post a couple of more photos that didn't make the transfer. That's Al, Tom, some kid, and Jack in the shanty.

Iceholes

Iceholers. January and Lake Mendota froze over. The shanty was hauled out and the games began. The games...and the shoveling, blowing, hauling, drinking, laughing, aching. Sundays at 1; Wednesdays at 7pm. or thereabouts. Last Wednesday, 6 of us, about average for the night game. Plastic puck with a glowstick in it. Snow falling, glasses fogging, beer and icehole going down. Shovel till 7:30, play til 10ish, drink and jaw until midnight. Superbowl Sunday; played for a couple hours, hung out until holers drifted off to various plans for watching Superbowl XLII. Icehole? Its a peppermint schnapps made over in Minnesota with an icefishing hole on the label. We've adopted it. Our pond hockey ID. All comers. Generations. Great piece of ephemeral real estate. Middle of Madison. View of the Capitol. Picture window, woodburning stove, candles. No rent. No electricity, no sound system. Voices and heavy breathing. Play to 5, keep going or take a break. Depends on how winded and/or frozen. Usually sweating and steaming. Sometimes subzero. A rush. Something special. Al, Jack, Paul, Tom, Eric, Tony, Chris, Jason, Mike, Jeff, David, Dave lately; in days of yore; Dave, Lauris, Beezer, Tom, Natasha, Sabrina, Angie and many others who have come and gone.