OUR NEW REFRIGERATOR

 

To me, our old refrigerator was good enough. 

True, the ice-maker was jammed 

and one drawer had a crack in it. 

I could have lived with that 

but Katja said 

it’s always advisable to replace things 

before they go bad. 

I learned early on 

not to question this line of reasoning. 

The new refrigerator 

was scheduled to arrive on Thursday. 

Wednesday night we emptied out 

the many pounds of food. 

The freezer contents alone 

filled a Coleman ice chest, 

two styrofoam coolers, 

a large Fed Ex box. 

The refrigerator guys 

arrived on time in the morning 

and dragged our old refrigerator

out to the driveway. 

But then, horror of horrors, 

the new refrigerator 

was one inch too tall for its niche. 

“Call your construction guy,” 

the delivery man said. 

“Sand down the board by one inch.” 

We have an old freezer in our basement

and I decided to store the frozen items down there. 

When I checked, though, the freezer 

was filled to capacity. 

Our basement is dark and dingy, 

so Katja rarely goes there, 

and food can remain in the freezer forever. 

It’s like Siberia for frozen foods. 

I checked the dates on the packages, 

2018, 2019, 2020 — pre-pandemic purchases. 

My AI chatbot told me 

that meat can stay frozen for years, 

but the taste goes bad 

after 6 to 12 months. 

We started throwing packages away. 

Turkey, beef brisket, lobster tails, 

steaks, lamb chops, shish kebob. 

Hundreds upon hundreds of dollars. 

The construction guy came the next morning 

and promptly pulled off the wooden bar 

that had blocked the refrigerator. 

No sanding needed, 

With our new refrigerator in place, 

we started filling it up. 

We’d thrown so much away

that it actually looked reasonably stocked 

and not crammed to the gills. 

The new start of a sensible

though temporary food phase in our life.

DON'T DESPAIR, OHIO IS NUMBER ONE

 

What with J. D. Vance, 

the rightwing state legislature, 

and the Trumper majority, 

I’ve become more and more disheartened about the state I live in. 

Searching for positives 

I asked Gemini, my AI chatbot chum, 

what Ohio ranks number one in. 

You will be surprised. 

It’s not smoking or obesity or child poverty. 

No sir, Ohio ranks number one in one major area: 

the production of buckeye nuts. 

I should have guessed. 

This is, after all, the Buckeye state. 

Buckeyes, while attractive to the munchkins, 

are bitter to the taste. 

Eating one results in nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, cramps. 

Eating excessive buckeyes 

one will first be paralyzed 

and then one dies a painful death. 

Despite this annoying side effect, 

our founders selected the buckeye 

to be the Ohio State Tree. 

If not for this, we wouldn’t be number one at all.

TIMES OF OUR LIVES

 

Whenever I dropped by Uncle Kent’s drugstore 

Lucien, the pharmacist, would tell me 

“Cheer up, this is the best time of your life 

“You’re as free as you ever will be” 

I didn’t believe Lucien for a moment 

I guess I was a most mopy youth 

But now I’ve made a list from those childhood days 

Holy mackerel, Lucien was telling the truth 

Crawl right through a barbed wire fence 

Overnight camping, pitch pup tents 

Boardwalk, Park Place, such huge rents 

Capture fireflies in a Mason jar 

Ride the toboggan behind our car 

Search the heavens, there’s the North Star 

Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, a cool double feature 

Bring a spring trillium to my teacher 

That’s a porcupine, a weird weird creature 

Press autumn leaves inside a book 

Catch wiggly tadpoles in the brook 

Dribble, dribble, shoot a hook 

Cops and robbers in the yard 

Twenty Questions, that’s so hard 

Love that Groucho, what a card 

Step on a crack, break your mother’s back 

Two oreos for an afternoon snack 

Put a penny on the railroad track 

Listen to neighbors on the party line 

Eat green grapes right off the vine 

Tie pine logs with heavy twine 

Ride no handsies on my bike 

Swim the river with our setter Mike 

Make a hole in the ice, fish for pike 

Laugh at Jack on the Benny Show

Bury two peach pits, hope they’ll grow 

Make an angel in the snow 

Turn a turtle upside down 

Go trick or treating as a clown 

Triangle Park, I score a touchdown 

Climb to the top of the willow tree

Spread mud on the bite of a bumble bee 

Tease little sister, so much glee 

G.I. Surplus, buy some gear 

Grade school football, give a cheer 

Sixth grade’s coming, one more year 

Ten cents for the matinee 

Make a jar from river clay 

Snapping turtles, stay away 

Poke the ant hill with a stick 

Easter morn, get a new chick

Back from hiking, find a tick 

Catch a crayfish by its tail 

Dick Tracy wristwatch, check the mail 

Put fishing worms in the pail 

Summer’s here, YMCA camp 

Night-time basketball, use a desk lamp 

Joe Louis, Brown Bomber, he’s the champ 

Acorn battles with my brother 

Make a valentine for my mother 

Eat one carrot, then another 

Headfirst on the slide at Henes Park 

Secret messages on birch bark 

Tell a ghost story in the dark 

Buck Rogers serials, endless fun 

Cowboys and Indians with my cap gun 

Ring a doorbell, turn and run 

Skip a stone across the lake 

Santa’s coming, stay awake 

Beautiful Mary Jane, first heartache 

Now I realize that Lucien was right 

All those fun things that I used to do 

A long time since I did any of them 

Perhaps I’ll go back and try a few

I'M JUST CRAZY ABOUT THE LAWRENCE WELK SHOW

 

I’m embarrassed to admit it 

but I’m absolutely crazy about the Lawrence Welk Show. 

When the champagne starts bubbling 

my heart starts beating in rhythm. 

There’s the maestro himself 

with his cool hairdo, 

his quasi-European accent, 

his sincerest of grins. 

Jo Ann Castle hammering at the piano, 

Myron Floren, accordion wizard, 

the Lennon Sisters, their voices like angels 

Lawrence and I both hail from 

rural towns in the North Central U.S. 

His ancestry is Polish, mine Swedish. 

We could easily be cousins. 

And all that wonderful big band music 

from the Great American Songbook. 

Plus Bobby and Cissy, 

so smooth, so flawless, 

the finest ballroom dancers since Fred and Ginger. 

When the camera shifts 

to audience members dancing, 

lots of oldies in suits and ties, 

nineteen-fifties hairdos, 

polka dot dresses, 

hearing aids, bifocals. 

My kind of crowd, 

all grinning to the camera, 

all thrilled to be there. 

Some know-nothings complain 

that the Lawrence Welk show is corny. 

That’s ridiculous. 

And even if it were true

there’s nothing wrong with corny. 

Corny is good old-fashioned Midwestern fun. 

My wife claims I watch the Welk show 

just to irritate her. 

There is a speck of truth to that 

but I also watch when she’s not around. 

 I’m just crazy about the Lawrence Welk show.

DEBATE PREP

 

Rule #1: Tell Them Who You Are 

The greatest since Kubla Khan 

As smart as Einstein or Ronald Reagan 

The richest, the best golfer 

A mistake to be modest 

Rule #2: You Are the Arbiter of Fact 

Facts are human creations 

The only difference between facts and falsehoods 

is whether people believe them 

The people accept everything you say 

Make up facts that are to your liking 

Rule #3: Breed Hatred 

Hatred is your most useful emotion 

Pit Whites against Blacks 

Christians against Muslims 

Native-borns against Immigrants 

Straights versus Gays 

Always align yourself with the white Christian nation 

Rule #4: Be the Entertainer Only You Can Be 

Politics is another form of entertainment, 

a spinoff from reality TV 

Make the audience laugh 

Tell titillating stories 

like immigrants will eat your pets 

or world leaders respect you 

Rule #5: Use Your Finely Honed Debating Skills 

Never worry about the question asked 

Change the topic, wander off, attack the moderator 

Spew out gobbledygook 

If all else fails, blame the illegal immigrants 

And if the communist pundits say you’ve lost the debate 

Go to the spin room and set things right

A TRIP TO MENOMINEE

 

A ten-hour road trip to Farm 

Day One, through Chicago and Milwaukee 

Finally a motel in Sheboygan 

And only one eighty-two fifty 

The Marinette Best Western, our local respite 

A grand view of my home town’s skyline 

Scrambled eggs and sausage each breakfast 

We slept like oak logs until nine 

Farm could be featured in “Better Homes and Gardens” 

Jim cleared a new space by the coop 

New roofs on most of the buildings 

A welcoming abode for our group 

Our parents’ presence was everywhere 

The organ refinished by Doris 

Vic’s photos, oils, and stained glass 

A paradise they passed on to us 

Jennifer, Wynn, and Ingrid drove here from Seattle

Jacob and Delphine flew in from Brooklyn 

Justin, Alex, and Leo traveled from NOLA 

Katja and I, the last to come in 

Justin has great fun with his cousins 

Many jokes, lots of laughter and smiles

An only child, his cuz are like siblings 

Well worth it to travel those miles 

The youth had their fun time at Farm 

Shooting B-B’s, riding bikes, doing art 

Alex and Leo and Ingrid and Delphine 

Growing up evermore and so smart 

Co-Co and Osa were also there 

Seattle poodles, filled with play 

They raced about, rolled over on their backs 

Delighting the humans every day 

Justin was teaching his kids to drive 

Back and forth on our road, M-3 Drive 

This struck me as a little bit scary 

But they both gave their dad a high-five 

Menominee’s the new home of six cannabis stores 

They’re lined up on Highway Forty-One 

I askedif I could buy a few gummies 

Katja scowled, “No way under the sun”

Justin brought us pasties for supper 

A reminder we were in the U.P. 

I have to conclude they were tasty 

Eaters gobbled them up with such glee. 

On Saturday we did all the yard sales 

A great buy, Katja’s colorful rooster 

Justin found me a Maroon tennis cap 

Now I’ll be an out-of-town booster 

We toured the Marinette thrift shops 

Goodwill and St. Vincent de Paul 

One buck for a Menominee River T-shirt 

Plus “Oconto Golf”, quite a good haul 

We devoured our burgers at Mickey-Lu 

They’re voted the tastiest in the state 

Butter burgers and scrumptious buns 

Plus thick chocolate malts, flat-out great 

Main Street Antiques was thriving 

The top floor, Rusty Wolfe’s fine art 

I searched for Lundgren Drugstore bottles 

Once again my fruitless quest broke my heart

I love to cruise around the Loop 

The best part is Menekaunee 

I told the kids, there’s a murder each week 

I’m not totally sure they believed me 

Every day we hung out in the gazebo 

I’d say Jennifer’s the life of the party 

She reminds me a lot of her dad 

With the bonus that she’s much more arty 

Jim and Sharon paid us a visit 

The longstanding caretakers of Farm 

They keep the property shipshape 

And guard it from every kind of harm 

A family night out at Berg’s Landing 

A long-time tradition from Vic 

Walleye for me, filet mignon for Katja 

Berg’s continues to excel at their trick 

We did a quick tour of Henes Park 

The new bathhouse, a splendid addition 

The views of Green Bay are glorious 

John B. Henes accomplished his mission 

We accompanied Jacob to the river 

Vicki’s property was again looking swell 

We had a nice chat with neighbor Troy 

He still dreams that my sister might sell 

Jacob treated us to lunch at Jozwiak’s 

Their famous burger, the Wabash 

Vic and Doris’s favorite hangout 

Beer and burgers, they spent lots of cash 

Before we knew it, the time came to leave 

Tons of family photos in the front yard 

Hugs and kisses and sayonaras 

Goodbyes are always too hard 

I’m pleased that we came on this trip 

It keeps me in touch with my history 

The river, the bay, the forests, the town 

A world that enjoys its own mystery

UNALTERABLE JOY

 

Every five or six months

my father would bundle us up 

and take us after hours

to my grandfather’s Rexall drugstore

on Electric Square. 

Inside the dark store he’d let us loose

behind the soda fountain, 

encouraging us to create any ice cream 

concoction we wanted. 

The only rule: if we made it 

we had to eat it. 

As the oldest of four 

I always constructed 

the most mammoth sundae.

Six giant scoops of ice cream, 

a mix of vanilla, strawberry, 

chocolate, and butter brickle. 

Then the tongue-teasing syrups:

butterscotch, cherry, raspberry, 

chocolate, strawberry, 

peppermint, caramel, 

Topped off with globs of whipped cream, 

a fistful of crushed nuts, 

and three maraschino cherries. 

Maybe even a banana. 

So magnificent, so delicious. 

If we finished and were still hungry, 

we’d simply make another. 

Holy moly cajoley. 

These were the most thrilling 

moments of my youth. 

My father was a stoical man, 

born of Swedish Lutheranism 

and hardly taken to extremes, 

but he’d suffer uncharacteristic 

lapses into hedonism, 

and his offspring 

were the fortunate beneficiaries.