Listen Without Prejudice...

I've loved that album. Great lyrics.

A garage saling morning here in Monona -- ok, just one for me, but some great kids' toys ... cheap. Think they'll like the mini pinball machine, the perfect price for outdoor summer play.

In other news, I just saw this.

Sen. Edward M. Kennedy hospitalized with symptoms of stroke

WASHINGTON (AP) -- Sen. Edward M. Kennedy of Massachusetts has been hospitalized in Boston after suffering stroke-like symptoms, The Associated Press has learned.

Kennedy was taken to the hospital overnight, said an official who requested anonymity. There is no word on his condition.

Kennedy, 76, has been in the Senate since election in 1962, filling out the term won by his brother, John F. Kennedy.

Time is of the essence, of course, if you've suffered a stroke; I hope he wasn't in denial about his symptoms, and they got him to the hospital soon enough.

Sen. Kennedy is in our prayers, and hopefully a quick response time, medication, and best medical care available can minimize the symptoms, if indeed that is what has happened here.

Syttende Mai

Now don't you tell me Wisconsin's population has no diversity outside the university. :-)

Happy springtime Saturday.

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Dug this one out of the email inbox, just for today:

The reason the Irish celebrate St. Patrick's Day is because this is when St. Patrick drove the Norwegians out of Ireland.

It seems that some centuries ago, many Norwegians came to Ireland to escape the bitterness of the Norwegian winter. Ireland was having a famine at the time, and food was scarce. The Norwegians were eating almost all the fish caught in the area, leaving the Irish with nothing to eat but potatoes. St. Patrick, taking matters into his own hands, as most Irishmen do, decided the Norwegians had to go.

Secretly, he organized the Irish IRATRION (Irish Republican Army to Rid Ireland of Norwegians). Irish members of IRATRION passed a law in Ireland that prohibited merchants from selling ice boxes or ice to the Norwegians, in hopes that their fish would spoil. This would force the Norwegians to flee to a colder climate where their fish would keep.

Well, the fish spoiled, all right, but the Norwegians, as every one knows today, thrive on spoiled fish. So, faced with failure, the desperate Irishmen sneaked into the Norwegian fish storage caves in the dead of night and sprinkled the rotten fish with lye, hoping to poison the Norwegian invaders.

But, as everyone knows, the Norwegians thought this only added to the flavor of the fish, and they liked it so much they decided to call it "lutefisk", which is Norwegian for "luscious fish".

Matters became even worse for the Irishmen when the Norwegians started taking over the Irish potato crop and making something called "lefse". Poor St. Patrick was at his wit's end, and finally on March 17th, he blew his top and told all the Norwegians to "GO TO HELL".

So they all got in their boats and emigrated to Minnesota, Wisconsin or the Dakotas ---- the only other paradise on earth where smelly fish, old potatoes and plenty of cold weather can be found in abundance.

The End.

In Today's E-mail InBox...

Love makes the world go round:

Our 14-year-old dog, Abbey, died last month. The day after she died my 4 year old daughter, Meredith, was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so she dictated these words:

Dear God,

Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick.

I hope you will play with her. She likes to play with balls and to swim. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her. You will know that she is my dog. I really miss her.

Love, Meredith.

We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into the letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought He had.

Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front porch addressed, 'To Meredith' in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, 'When a Pet Dies.' Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page was the picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:



Dear Meredith,



Abbey arrived safely in heaven. Having the picture was a big help. I recognized Abbey right away. Abbey isn't sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog. Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets to keep your picture in, so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by. Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you.

I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you very much. By the way, I'm easy to find, I am wherever there is love.


Love,



God

Now you might say, this is a waste of taxpayer's money! Assuming of course, no kindly postal workers did this on their own time and dime. Me? I like the spirit behind it, and I can only imagine the gratitude in that mother's heart when her child opened the gift addressed to her...

Back.

It was Pentecost Sunday. We had the boats out for the second time, and again saw an eagle's nest, who didn't even bother to fly out. Kinda nice when the breeze kicked up, breathing the spirit of life into you.

Actually it was Mal who brought us to mass. Figuratively, I mean; I drove. Afterward, we visited his mother's grave, and it was finally a country spring sky -- that particular shade of clean blue with the white clouds passing.

So when the air blew across the water later that day, and again Monday on Clear Lake, literally, it wasn't just any earth day.

The flowering trees here are in bloom, while they're still waiting three or four hours north. A long winter, a more observant spring...

Thanksgiving, and blessings.