1977 Camper

Since I took up hunting in 1985 I have camped in various places over the years. In Papa's popup camper, in a motor home, large upright campers, motels, tents (brrrrrr!), and even a homemade shelter made of flat panels of plywood bolted together to form a very roomy camp. Around 2002 I finally decided it was time for me to get a camper of my own. What I came up with was a 1977 upright camper, approximately 17 feet long. It was nothing to get excited about then or now, but it provided beds, a sink, a toilet, cabinet space, closet space, and mostly just a warm place to spend the night that I could move from place to place. Since our initial investment in it I've basically just used it without much improvement until now when I've finally undertaken some long overdue projects, such as getting new tires, fixing a soft spot in the floor (right by the door), painting the bumper, and so forth. I had been piddling with it for months until a few weeks ago when I realized just how close I am to hunting season, then I put it in high gear. I've been working on it every spare minute I have. Here are a couple photos.

This is me installing one of the two new tires. There is more rubber on these tires than on any of my vehicles tires!

This is the floor where I've been working on it. Looks messy but it's actually almost done.

Also, unrelated to anything I just wrote, here is a picture of Michael playing catch with his third or fourth cousin from Arkansas over this past weekend, Skip. He is the son of my cousin Margaret (second or third, whatever). She lives in Russellville, Arkansas.

Men at Work

The first job that ever required me to wear a tie came at age 17. I worked at Anchor Floor, a primarily industrial flooring company. I did general office work as part of a cooperative program through my high school. Those days of wearing a shirt and tie continued on through my years at Hermann Marketing and later Maritz. But a few years ago Maritz decided to go business casual, so we tossed our ties aside and went with polos and tie-less shirts for the most part.

Looking for something to spice up work last week, some of us who are a little older than the youngest generation of twenty-something young men in our department (who have barely ever had to wear a tie) decided to have a "throwback day." Yes, that meant ties and for some, even suits. This may all sound very boring to you right about now, but think about how Dilbert cartoons can make people smile in the office, then consider the reaction we got when seven of us actually put ties on, including some of the young whipper-snappers. The Division V.P. of the entire department who is wholly in favor of ties thought the idea was great, but then forgot it was tie day and wore a polo. As the men began to gather the ladies gawked, and a digital camera was found. We posed in our Sunday best (well, maybe not our very best, but close), and our V.P. tossed on a hoodie and jumped in the photo just for fun. And no, not every man wore a tie. We had a few others not pictured who just opted for normal "business casual" attire.

Yes, this is me at work, busy with very important business. Posing for photos.

Abbey is Twelve!

It hardly seems like twelve years ago that Annette and I watched Abbey come into the world. Annette had a scheduled C-section to deliver Abbey so on the scheduled morning we drove Michael (who at the time was not even one and a half) over to Papa's house and left him there, then we headed to Christian Northwest hospital in St. Louis County. We were in the operating/delivery rom and I was sitting there beside Annette as the doctors tugged on her, getting ready for the birth. Just like with Michael, someone finally said, "stand up dad," so I abruptly stood up, looking over the curtain that prevented Annette from seeing what they were doing to her mid-section. Among all the unpleasantness of surgery was my little Abbey's head in the hands of a doctor. When I stood up, they pulled her out and she was born.

It only took a few seconds for me to sense something was wrong. They cleaned her up but I noticed the look in one of the nurse's eyes. She nervously looked back to one of the doctors and they quickly whisked Abbey away to another area. Annette knew nothing of all this so I departed from her side to follow Abbey. They laid her down on a table and placed an oxygen mask on her face and said things like, "come on, come on" while they whacked her little rear end. She was turning blue. I was anxiously watching this unfold hoping that any second things would turn better. I asked, "What's wrong?" The doctor did what so many do, that is, they try not to alarm the family even though they might be concerned. The answer I got back was, "She's just having a little trouble breathing." Her blue face and body began to show it. The words of the medical staff were calming but their actions weren't.

Then, about as quickly as the situation developed, the blueness dissipated and a pink color took over very quickly. "There we go" the docs said, much to my relief. After confirming that all was now fine, I returned to Annette's side as they put her back together. She knew nothing of it and I didn't tell her for some time.

The whole thing went down in just a couple minutes but it made me as nervous as I have ever been as a parent. And now she is 12. We sure love our Abbey Hope.