New Year’s Eve has come and gone.  It’s a time when many of us declare some New Year’s resolutions.  This post is kinda about New Year’s resolutionsons but maybe more about wishes.  

Frankly, these wishes / resolutions include zero plans. Yet, hope springs eternal.  Let’s plow on. 

My primary wish / resolution for the year 2026 is to win the Powerball. The plan is to donate a small portion to charity which would make me a minor hero of sorts. Of course it would have the additional benefit of  reducing my taxes.  Money can’t buy happiness, however, since I’m already happy, why not also be rich. 

The next wish / resolution is to achieve world peace.  Pretty much everyone, including me, is in favor of world peace.  Since most everyone is on the same page, my guess is world peace should be easy.  Those greedy war mongers who oppose world peace can go to hell, which is where they belong.

Another wish / resolution is to lose about thirty percent of my body weight. All I need to do is completely change pretty much everything about myself including becoming younger.  Being younger would make doing lots of exercise easier.  Subsisting on twelve calories a day seems reasonable. 

No joke on this one. A good friend has dementia.   I miss joking around and so much more.  I continue to hope and pray for a miracle that somehow he comes back to us.  Wishes and hopes count for this post. 

This New Year’s resolution is to  encourage the younger generations to get well educated.  It may or may not help them get a better job. However, it really will help with their self-esteem and confidence. Learning is inherently a good thing.  Writing this, by the way, is doing my part to encourage folks to get educated.  Aren’t I a great person? 

My New Year’s wish is that the world climate crisis gets solved.  To be clear, I’m enjoying the generally warmer winters in Minnesota . So, at least in Minnesota, let’s keep the generally warmer winters part of climate change.   While we are at it could the summers be between sixty- seven  and eighty-two degrees with relatively low humidity.  Throw in moderate amounts of rain only between midnight and five a.m. with no periods of extended drought. 

My next New Year’s resolution is “they”, whoever they are, figure out how to actually prevent cancer so that there is no cancer needing to be cured. In the meantime, I wish the whole cancer thing could be easily detected and treated.  That would be nice.   

My next New Year’s resolution, a real resolution, is to write a post about the extremely rich getting richer at the expense of the less rich who are getting poorer.  It’s kinda nerdy, however, I think it’s an interesting story.  There are a few very rich people who actually own a large portion of the wealth here in America. 

My next New Year’s wish / resolution is that all of the main sports teams in Minnesota win most of their games. Please, it would really help my mental health.  I don’t mind if the games are close, however, winning those games would be better. 

Another New Year’s wish / resolution is that kids and their parents feel safe enough that young kids could play unsupervised outside for extended periods of time. There is no substitute for pretending you’re fighting the pirates and hanging around in the fort that you think nobody knows about. Except, of course, your parents know where to find you when it is time for supper. 

My next New Year’s resolution is to limit my use of artificial intelligence.  AI can be handy, however the downsides are steep. Huge amounts of power are required. Most of the things I do, don’t require lots of intelligence. Clearing snow off the driveway, boiling some shrimp or listening to sixties rock don’t require artificial intelligence.  My day to day life does not require a super brain. 

One of my more realistic New Year’s resolutions is to listen to more music and to listen more intentionally. For example,  I’m currently listening to all Taylor Swift’s albums in order.  She is a very good songwriter. Her stuff is ringing true so far.  Next up will be all of Bob Dylan’s albums. 

Another New Year’s resolution is to smile more often.  My plan is to be the weirdo who smiles at random people and says “hello, hope you are having a nice day”. Then just walk on.   They may think I have issues however, at least they will smile and nod.  Getting people to smile and nod seems worth the effort.

Obviously, it is hard to imagine that many of my New Year’s wishes / resolutions will come true. Yet I continue to have hope.  Every once in a while I actually buy a Powerball ticket.  I cheer on our teams.  I limit my use of AI.  I listen to more music  and try to smile and interact with people more.  I continue to try my hardest not to continually complain about the weather.  The weather is what it is. 

The thing I try the hardest to do is maybe my most important New Year’s resolution. I resolve to continue to do my best to be generally happy and content.  In addition, I resolve to do my best to not be a jerk or an asshole.

I am, at heart, not a particularly religious person, however I do like this part of the serenity prayer:  “accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”  Hope is a good thing. Have a wonderful 2026 one and all. 

The closer you look the more you know. 

It appears my cancer journey is in the rear view mirror.  The voice in my head said it would be good to write down some thoughts about the journey.  So this is that. 

There are three terms used to describe people who have had cancer: “a person with cancer”, “cancer survivor” or “cancer victim”.   Have it, had it or died from it.  My current status is cancer survivor.  

I’m feeling really good.  Extensive testing has found no evidence of cancer since my last surgery seventeen months ago.  Both my medical team and I understand there are no guarantees, that said, it is our opinion, I’m cancer free. Time will tell. 

It’s been quite the journey.  Five separate cancers were discovered and surgically removed between November 2019 and July 2024. Four of my five cancers were genetically different from each other.  The last two colon cancers were genetically similar.

This mental model helped me conceptualize my cancer journey:  Cancer is the enemy. My body is the battlefield. The medical team does the actual fighting. My role is to be a spy, telling the medical team what I feel and see. The goal is to defeat the enemy while doing as little damage as possible to the battlefield.

The current score is:  I’m down one kidney as a result, my hemoglobin is a bit low. My prostate was removed, as a result, I wear a pad.   About 80% of my colon was removed so I use the restroom more frequently. 

Each organ removal created a new normal. Pro tip – focus on your new reality, not on how different it is from your old reality.  Acceptance is the key. 

I see lots of doctors. Some more than others. They include an oncologist, urologist, nephrologist (kidney specialist), cardiologist, sleep specialist, my colon surgeon and of course, my regular but wonderful, General Practitioner.   Behind the scenes are radiologists who read my CT scans.  The doctors, technicians, and nurses are truly my hero’s.  

My blood gets drawn a lot. For example they draw nine vials of blood for my oncologist every three months.  Most of my other appointments also include a blood draw. CT scans were quarterly but are now semi annually. My sigmoidoscopies were quarterly and are now annually. 

A tube of my blood gets sent to a research lab.   Hopefully it helps someone some day. 

The last six years felt like I was on a slow moving roller coaster ride with ups, downs, twists and turns.  Roller coaster rides can be both scary and entertaining.  Mine was mostly just long. 

There was a rhythm to me having cancer. There is a symptom that’s probably nothing, however let’s check to be sure. They call to say it is cancer.  An appointment is made to discuss the options. In my case, surgery was always the best option. 

Surgery is scheduled, then a pre-op physical within two weeks of the surgery. Prior to surgery, limit contact with others so you don’t catch a bug. Surgery happens, four to six days in the hospital and then go home.  Then several days in a recliner before you’re back in bed. 

Six weeks before I was allowed to lift more than ten pounds. Lots of naps. Gradually regain strength and endurance.  It takes several months to feel normal. 

Immunotherapy was tried after my fourth cancer however, after three rounds of immunotherapy, my fifth cancer was diagnosed so that meant immunotherapy did not work and thus stopped.  

One of the side effects of having cancer is that it limits interactions with others. My life got quieter.  Over my five plus year cancer journey I got used to my quieter life.  There are two sides to being comfortable with quiet. The other side of the coin is that sometimes I now get a bit anxious in a group situation.  Working on it, I’m getting better.  

Contrary to what the above implies, the truth is I no longer actually spend much time thinking about my cancer journey.  Just don’t.  My time, energy and mind are focused on doing normal everyday stuff.  Mowing the lawn, blowing snow off the driveway. Making the bed. Vacuuming the floors. Just living my life.  

Linda and I are relatively busy.   Hockey games – MN Frost, MN Gopher women’s hockey, some high school hockey, granddaughter’s softball, plays, art fairs, state parks, family events, holidays, friends, family and lots more.  The calendar is fairly full. 

Probably the key lesson my cancer journey taught me was to live in the present.  I got cancer multiple times. Nothing can change that.  The game of “Could’ve, would’ve, and should’ve” won’t help me in any meaningful way. 

Recovery is a good time to quietly think and reflect about the meaning of life. Here are my truths:  My favorite time of my life was when our kids were in grade school, not when I was in high school.  Modern technology is sometimes frustrating but also very helpful.  I like audiobooks. Listening to an audiobook while on a long walk is a really nice thing to do. 

Cancer is depressing.  Depression during cancer is not helpful. Comparing your current situation to the better days of the past is not helpful.  Staying in the present and hopeful for the future is the winning ticket. 

I’m a cancer survivor. Everyday I think to myself, the goal today is to live my nice quiet life for another day. 

The closer you look the more you see. 

We’ve got a single car garage with an attached porch.  The garage protects our car and, in addition, along with the porch, it’s used to store stuff.   This is the story about how the garage / porch is now emptier and more organized than it has been for the past thirty years.   Not saying it is an actual miracle, however, it is damn close. 

So the decking on our ground level deck needed to be replaced.  Linda’s nephew, who makes a living as a carpenter, replaced the decking on our deck on Friday August 16th and Saturday 17th.   Side hustle for him.  Thanks Dan.  The light grey color of the composite decking looks great.  That was all good.

A couple days before Dan arrived to do the decking Linda advised me that I was running out of time to remove the stuff from and around the deck.  The composite decking boards were to be delivered the next morning. Procrastination is one of my enduring traits. 

Moving the deck furniture into the garage was the least bad option. It did not take long to put the six deck chairs, the deck table, the deck umbrella, the deck umbrella stand, the three small deck tables and a couple boxes of art / lawn stuff that normally lives right around the deck into the stall where our car would normally go. 

Now understand other than in the stall where the car is parked, the rest of the garage / porch was very full of stuff.  For example, there was shelving, lawn mower, two snow blowers, weed wacker, garbage bin, recycling bin, lawn games, sprinklers, lawn tools, hoses, extension cords, blower, yard vac, spare wood, flower pots, some of my dad’s old tools, mulch, stakes, rope, twine, wire, staplers, a vacuum, an air compressor, gardening stuff, a scissors, a couple crowbars, a sledge hammer, an axe, Christmas lights, ladders, buckets, golf clubs, garden hooks, garden edging, battery charger, jack stands, tarps, saws, pesticides, oil, a rolling work bench, stools and the list is a lot longer than that.  

So our story picks up two days after the decking was completed, Monday 18, 2025. We were busy on Sunday so  on Monday I went out to the garage to start cleaning up the mess.  I picked up some of the scrap decking and swept up some of the saw dust.  

How to say this diplomatically,  Let’s just say Linda came out, looked around and said something to the effect that I was not effectively addressing the situation.  Obviously she over estimated my talents. A small discussion was held on the meaning of cleaning up.  

Our story picks up two days later when emotions were cool enough to make the discussion about how to proceed.  My many shortcomings as a cleaner had been established,   Linda took over as a project manager.     

Linda indicated the scope of the cleaning out the garage had changed.  We were doing a deep clean out.  At that point, to my credit, without objection, I realized my role was to say,  “yes dear, of course you are right”,  and then do what I was told to do.  

It took several days.  Piles were made: Donate, Toss/properly dispose of, Keep and undecided.   We started on the porch.  The first pass was to just grab anything that was obviously going to be tossed or brought to be properly disposed of.  

We actually talked  about every item, deciding which pile it should go in.  At first the undecided pile was big, however as we talked about other items, the stuff in the undecided pile tended to get sorted to the other piles. 

No, we don’t need over twenty pots however we do need a few pots.  Those lawn toys haven’t been played with for years and besides if you really looked at them they had missing/broken parts or were for young kids and our youngest grandchild is in high school. 

Everything came off every shelf. The shelves were taken out to the yard and washed down. The areas under and around the shelves were swept and then vacuumed.   Everything was sorted into one of the four piles.  

As we progressed, several trips were made getting rid of stuff.  One trip to the hazardous waste disposal site where we got rid of all the old cans of lubricants, bug sprays etc.  Three or four trips to Good Will. A couple things were put on the curb with a “Free” sign on them. One trip to the metal collection.  Several large plastic bags were filled with the stuff we had saved for years and now declared to be trash. 

There were lots of items that evoked a memory.  The old cement bucket with a couple of my dad’s stone mason tools in it was kept.  Those lawn games were really fun.  I can’t imagine why I kept the old broken weed wackers.  Nope we don’t need eight pliers, let’s donate some of them.  

It took a couple weeks.  The car was just fine parked in the driveway.  We took a day off a couple times. Each time when we came back it was easier to decide to keep or give it to someplace.  In the end the undecided pile was only a couple items.  We literally flipped a coin and then the undecided pile was no more. 

There is no moral in this story.  When I park the car in the garage it is easier because there is more room  to park the car.  Getting tools and stuff to do everyday tasks is easier.  It actually makes some of the everyday tasks seem less daunting. 

The closer you look the more you see. 

Well, I recently had my birthday, I am 73. Yup, it surprised me also. So far, 73 is a good age to be. I don’t feel as old as 73 sounds in my head. This post is about me doing just fine, thank you very much for asking. By the way, I’ve grown my hair a bit longer.

Lately the celebrities in the news who recently passed are about my age. It is a bit frightening to be reminded of the inevitable consequence of making it this far in life. Time marches on. However, let us focus on the positive. Life is a wonderful thing to have.

The cliche is every day you wake up is a good day. That’s wrong, of course. Waking up is, in fact, a good start to any day. However, imagine you wake up feeling good, then later that day, walking down a sidewalk, you get squashed by a falling piano. Just saying that would be a bad day even though you woke up that morning.

At age 73, and I suspect for most people my age, feeling good actually means feeling relatively good. Aches and pains are a way of life for us 73–year-olds. Our joints incessantly complain about the abuse they endured over the years. The snapping noises periodically heard when I get out of a chair happens so often they no longer are concerning.

I am sure there are some people my age with little to no aches and pains, however, I do not know any of them. Growing older is not for the faint of heart. However, for me and most people my age, every day is a blessing and I am very, very happy to be alive to grow older.

Age, of course, is a real thing. Personally, I’m feeling pretty good both physically and mentally. I’m a year out from my last cancer surgery. Over the past six months I have been checked over, inside and out by all sorts of medical professionals doing all sorts of techniques. Blood work, imagining, probing, listening and you get the idea. So there is scientific evidence that I’m doing well.

Which leads us to the real topic of this story. I’ve had short hair since I graduated from the University of Minnesota fifty years ago. After a month of thinking about it, I decided to grow my hair a couple inches longer. Sort of a celebration of feeling well.

So I didn’t tell my family exactly why, however, I told them I was thinking of wearing my hair longer. I may have implied I was going to grow it very long. They were skeptical. My hair had been short for over fifty years. They only knew me with short hair.

Just for the record it was my intention to grow it until Valentine’s Day, which was about three months from when I decided to grow it longer. When Valentine’s day came, my hair was technically longer however not that much longer.

One of my nephews was getting married at the end of June. Linda encouraged me to get my hair cut prior to his wedding. Growing out your hair is technically a personal decision. However, it has been my experience that doing stuff in consultation with your spouse is a good practical choice to make.

I happened to look back at some old pictures. Up until I graduated from high school I had short to medium length hair. One year after high school graduation, the pictures showed it was like four inches long. By my college graduation, my hair was maybe six inches long. My side burns were down to the bottom of my ears.

Then about two months before we got married in September 1974, I got it cut relatively short. For the next fifty years, pictures show, my hair is an inch or so long. In the past five years it has been really short.

Looking back, I was so used to having short hair, I didn’t realize that I had really short hair. Now that my hair is longer and styled it looks like normal length hair, just longer than it used to be.

I like it longer, I get compliments on my hair. The thing is my hair is only about three inches long. Which is not actually that long. It’s just like two and a half inches longer than it was.

This story starts with me having just turned 73. I’m doing well. I’m feeling good. No guarantees but a bunch of doctors have run a bunch of tests and as near as they can tell my body is well.

My brain and I had a discussion about what we can do to quietly celebrate having survived a rough several years. We decided whatever we did it needed to be both obvious if you knew and easily missed if you didn’t know.

Growing my hair longer was intentional. Yes, growing my hair longer is very significant to me. For the record, to me, growing my hair longer is not really about the length of my hair.

Growing my hair longer was / is a symbolic act. When I look in the mirror, seeing my longer hair is a reminder to myself that, yes it’s been a challenging several years, however I need to remember to live a good life, smile and thank my lucky stars that I’m alive and well.

I’m really enjoying going for long walks, continuing the quest to visit all of the state parks. For the record, I’m being very careful not to walk under any pianos suspended over the sidewalk.

The closer you look the more you see.

If you are reading this, you have a good enough reason to be happy. Being alive is a good enough reason to be happy.  For the record, being happy is a good way to be. 

Looking into the mirror I have no clue who that old man is. Whoever he is, he looks happy.  He’s obviously a nerd because he wears eyeglasses. Although I like his glasses. Many old people wear glasses. 

Linda and I have enjoyed being at every home Minnesota Frost women’s hockey game since the league started last year.  The Frost won the league championship for the second year in a row.  Gosh, watching them play those intense games to win the championship was a happy experience. 

The guy in the mirror has light grey, ash  hair. My hair, as I recall, is dark brown.  No matter the color of his hair, he needs a haircut.  He does have a nice smile. He looks happy. 

Funerals are sad events. Although, I’ve smiled and laughed at the funerals of people I truly miss.  Being sad they passed doesn’t preclude also being happy to have known them.  Rest in peace my friends who have passed.  

For example, I deeply miss my buddy Chet.  Just thinking of him brings a smile to my face and a deep pang in my heart. I’m beyond happy to have spent the time with him.  Just writing this brought both a tear and many fond memories. 

Per the dictionary happiness is: “feeling or showing pleasure or contentment”.   The nuance is that happiness is something you feel on the inside and / or show on the outside.  Either way, happiness is about your emotions.

Try this experiment.  Silently, to yourself, choose to be happy for a bit.   Smile or don’t smile, but take a second and choose to be happy.  At the very least, pretend to be happy.  To be clear, I am asking that you actually think to yourself,  I’m choosing to be happy. 

Look at the wrinkles on the hands of that guy in the mirror.  There is no hiding old age if you look at the hands.  Hopefully my hands will only look that way when I get old.  Why is that guy smiling?  Probably he is thinking about how  it’s pretty cool to have lived long enough to have wrinkled hands. 

The nuance to being happy is that happiness is a feeling. Happiness is not an actual physical thing.  Poor people are often happy. Rich people are not always happy.  Both skinny and fat people can be happy.  Really smart and less smart people can be happy.  Happy is better than not being happy. 

When my youngest was little, she got scared of the characters at Disneyland.  She cried and cried and cried and cried some more. For her, back then, Disneyland was not the happiest place on earth.  Eating ice cream makes me happy, however, I do not like brain freeze.  

Contrary to most marketing campaigns, happiness is not something you buy, win, visit, drink, catch, gaain, lose, and you get the general idea.  You might choose to be happy as a result of doing those activities.  There are many possible and even likely alternative reactions to doing those things.  Happy is a reaction to the thing, not the thing itself. 

Winning the lottery might help you decide you feel happy however, it might not.  We’ve all heard the stories of lottery winners who ended up very unhappy people.  Buying a boat might make you happy but it might make you angry every time you try to launch it. 

Life can be complicated with a whole host of complex factors that can influence your emotional reaction.  Getting accepted into the University of Minnesota made me happy.  Learning how hard it was made me less happy. Graduating made me happy. 

On my last day of immunotherapy, the lady in the chair across from me was getting an infusion for her cancer.  She was very hopeful this time the treatment would work.  The several previous rounds of treatments had slowed but had not stopped her cancer. She told Linda and I that she and her husband had decided being happy to still be alive is better than being sad the treatments had not yet fully worked.    

So several years ago, Linda and I took a road trip down the Mississippi river to the Gulf of Mexico. About 30 or 40 miles south of St Louis, we stopped in this small town at a very rundown gas station.  

We talked to the young lady behind the register.  She was all smiles. She told us a couple weeks earlier she took her two kids and left St Louis in the middle of the night to get away from her scary boyfriend (gang member I think).   She felt safe now.  She was facing many challenges, however, escaping her previous situation made her happy.  

The teeth of the  guy in the mirror are too perfect.  They must be dentures.  That can’t be me, I had bad teeth my entire life time.  That guy in the mirror’s teeth looks really nice.  When the dentist asked what shade of white he wanted his dentures to be, I bet he told the dentist two shades whiter than his real teeth were.  

Happiness is an emotion you feel.  As the experiment above shows, you can just choose to be happy.  I’ve periodically bought Powerball tickets since it began in 1992.  I won fifty dollars once and a couple dollars here or there over the thirty plus years. Winning is virtually hopeless. Yet, every couple months giving the Powerball a try makes me happy. 

The guy in the mirror looks hungry.  Looks to me like he is thinking, time to go into the kitchen and get a chocolate chip cookie.

The closer you look the more you see.

So there I was staring into space, minding my own business, not hurting a soul, when Linda asked  “What are you thinking about?”   Actually, I was thinking about whether I should have a chocolate chip cookie even though it was less than an hour before dinner.    

Before responding, I took a beat to consider the consequences of telling the truth.  If  I said I was thinking about getting a chocolate chip cookie, it would likely lead to me getting an unpleasant lecture about my eating habits.  

Cleverly, I  deflected potential criticism by saying:, “I’m thinking about the meaning of life”.  The look on her face was somewhere between disbelief and regret for having asked.  To make it more convincing, I elaborated, “The meaning of life is a deep topic, however I am a deep person. I should have the answer in a couple minutes.”  She rolled her eyes. 

Saying I was thinking about the meaning of life is sort of my secret code for me  going to the den to think of something to blog about.   Staring at the blank screen was not helping, so I looked out the window.     

As per usual, the squirrels were eating birdseed out of my bird feeder.  I’ve long since given up on trying to prevent the squirrels from eating the bird seed.  Looking at squirrels getting a treat reminded me I wanted a treat.  Chocolate chip cookies make good treats.    

The thing about having a bird feeder is that the birds and squirrels become dependent on easy food from the bird feeders instead of learning to forage food from traditional sources.  Don’t feed wild animals unless you intend to feed them consistently over a long period. 

This is at the root of my problem. I’m not sure I would, or even want to, survive if my supply of chocolate chip cookies was cut off.   Sure chocolate chip cookies are a treat, however, chocolate chip cookies give life meaning.   Let’s not even consider a life without meaning. 

Chocolate chip cookies are well worth the effort it takes to eat them.  Many people mistakenly believe cold milk is the correct beverage to have with chocolate chip cookies.  In fact, the best beverage to have with chocolate chip cookies is ice cold water.  Maybe the fact that I am a bit lactose intolerant contributes to this opinion.  

Chocolate chip cookies, without a doubt, have been scientifically proven to give life meaning.  Having done numerous scientific experiments over a long period of time, I can say without a doubt, with no chance for error, chocolate chip cookies give life meaning. 

The lesson, of course, is that humans are animals. Once you start to feed us chocolate chip cookies it is important that you keep feeding us chocolate chip cookies, always.  We might starve to death if the chocolate chip cookies are no longer available. Continually feeding us chocolate chip cookies over our entire lifetime allows us to lead good, meaningful lives. 

When asked what is the meaning of life, Google’s Artificial Intelligence (AI) said: “The meaning of life is a deeply personal and subjective question, with no universally agreed-upon answer. Ultimately, the meaning of life is what you choose to make it.”  

As you can plainly see, Google’s very powerful and all knowing artificial intelligence supports my contention that chocolate chip cookies give life meaning.  The meaning of life is what I choose to make it.  

In Douglas Adams’ *Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy* book series, the supercomputer “Deep Thought” took 7.5 million years to calculate the answer to the “Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything”.  Spoiler alert,  the answer is 42.  

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy nailed the essential meaning of life:  Life is about the quest more than the destination.  My quest is to eat chocolate chip cookies my entire lifetime.  Obviously, in the giant scheme of things, destinations are as meaningless as the number 42.  Life is a quest, fulfilled by eating chocolate chip cookies.

If you research examples of what gives life meaning you would find the following three items: Identify a purpose or calling.  Have experiences that lead to fulfillment.

Do things that bring you joy.  

Eating Chocolate chip cookies will, in fact, give you a purpose, lead to fulfillment and bring you joy.  Eating chocolate chip cookies is, without doubt, a good thing to do.  

For many years Linda periodically made me chocolate chip cookies.  A couple years ago, I made a batch of my own.  They were not perfect.  However, with Linda’s help, over many batches of cookies, my technique improved.  Now my chocolate chip cookies are, in fact, pretty darn good. They are often praised by those who taste them.

Below are the modifications to the recipe on the back of the bag of Nestle Chocolate chips package which makes them well worth the effort to eat them.  

Use 1.5 to 2 teaspoons of vanilla instead of the only 1 teaspoon.   Microwave the butter in a bowl for about 15 seconds before using it. Use 2 teaspoons of baking powder.  Add, in addition to the chocolate chips, about a third of a cup of Kraft Caramel bits.

Bake them with parchment paper on the cookie sheets at 375 degrees for 9 minutes.  Any longer than that they tend to get crispy, much less than that they are still doughy.  

I take them out of the oven and slide the sheet of parchment paper with the cookies on them onto the table with a vinyl tablecloth on it.  They will be thinner than a traditional chocolate cookie but do not despair.  They will taste great.  You will be the envy of all the cool  people.

These cookies give life meaning.   

During cleanup, wipe the vinyl tablecloth with a disinfectant wipe, the melted butter tends to soak through the parchment paper and the wipe cleans it off the tablecloth. 

You are welcome

The closer you look, the more you see.

My buddy creates music. Contributing some of the lyrics to a couple of his songs has been an interesting, enjoyable experience.   This post is not about those songs. This post is about what I learned about how the music industry works. 

Let’s start with the reality of the music world nowadays.  Most music is no longer purchased.  Music is now mostly streamed. Artists get paid by the number of streams a song gets, not so much by the number of units sold. 

Linda has our old Apple iPod currently set up in the dining room.  FYI: IPads were discontinued like ten years ago. On that iPad is music she purchased between fifteen and twenty years ago.   Linda owns that music and owning that music means a lot to her. It gives her joy to listen to her music.  

In our basement are two plastic bins full of a couple hundred music CDs (Compact Disc).  I purchased most of those CDs.  Classic rock from back in the day.  Although some of the CDs are more of the singer songwriter music that Linda is into.  I have not played those CDs for a couple of years.  I have a CD player on a shelf in the basement but it is not hooked up to a sound system any longer. 

We, Linda and I, often go to art fairs and community festivals.  Part of our CD collection includes CDs bought from groups playing at these events.  Our motto has been if you enjoy art you need to purchase some art to support the artists.   

All but gone are the days of buying music. Like most people, nowadays, we stream most of the music we listen to.  On our phones, iPads, smart speakers, television, car entertainment center, and our Mac Computer we can listen to virtually any song at any time.  We no longer buy music as such, nowadays we just ask our devices to play whatever music we want played.     

Streaming music is inherently different than owning music.  Yes, either way you can listen to the music. Either way the music is good. However, when streaming music, there is no sense of owning the music. With records, tapes, CD’s there is a sense that you own the music.  With streaming you can still love music and play it over and over again. But you don’t own the music, you can’t collect the music, it’s different.  . 

Looking it up, about a third of music listening is done with audio streaming services like Spotify, Amazon Music, Apple Music, etc.  Another third is done with video streaming like YouTube, TikTok, Instagram, etc.  About 15 percent is on radio, including both broadcast and internet. Less than 10 percent of music purchased on albums, CDs, etc. 

From the artist’s point of view, streaming music changes the game.  You no longer need a record deal to put out music. Music can be created in your bedroom and for a small cost the songs can be distributed to all of the music streaming services without having managers, producers etc.  

FYI: Artists can’t just put music directly on a streaming service.  The streaming services all require artists to go through a distribution company and that company puts the music on the streaming services.  

TuneCore is the biggest music distributor but there are several other options. Distribution companies charge less than a hundred dollars a year to put an artist’s music on all of the streaming services. A couple distributors are free up front but they take a cut of any royalties and offer fewer services. 

Distributors make sure the music meets the standards, and check the music doesn’t break copyrights and decency standards.  Obscenity is allowed but the music needs to be labeled as containing obscenities.  There is more to it but you get the idea. 

There are some downsides to streaming music. Unless they have many hundreds of millions of listens, musicians don’t make lots of money from streaming their music.  On Spotify, If an artist gets 500,000 streams, they will earn about $2,000.  When you hear an artist has a million streams, it does not mean they are rich. 

On Spotify alone, Taylor Swift has thirteen songs each with over a billion streams.  She probably has similar numbers of streams on the other streaming services.  A billion is a thousand millions. There are currently only 826 artists who have gotten a billion streams on Spotify. 

The big music streaming services are Spotify, Amazon Music, Apple Music, YouTube Music and the list is long.  Prices vary but they are generally between $10 and $18 per month. I checked out Spotify, Amazon Music, Apple Music and they each have over 100 million songs available to stream and they add thousands more each month.  Pretty much no matter what your taste in music is, that music is available on the music streaming services. 

With that many options available to the listeners, it is very hard for any one artist to get enough streams to get rich.  The artists with the most listens are good musicians for sure, however they are also very good at social media. It is not enough to get one person to listen to a song once.  To really make a go at it, they need millions of people to listen to their music many, many times.   

So that is the current state of the music industry. Music listening is way up. With the popularity of earbuds and headphones, and the ability to stream from your phone, workers all over the world now listen to music while they work.  On average people now listen to music over 20 hours a week.  

So just in case you were wondering about the music Duane creates on which I contributed some of the lyrics, here is a list including the YouTube link to the songs that got published.  

Old cars, dogs and babies  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5F5nDWTryKo

The Desert Wins https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKvQ2WK0sRc

You’re in my heart https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAX3T0dkWyk

Alone https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAU9uj3GmjE

Old West Town  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YySev79odJg

More to love than love  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IIb5PqAK1us

Dollar Store  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwmDbAPdm-o

More to come. 

As I write this, it is close to six months since my third colon cancer removal surgery on July 16, 2024.  The surgery was a success. All but 15 inches of my colon was removed.  A colon is generally about five feet long. 

Let’s start this post with the conclusion.  I’m feeling good. My doctors say I’m doing well. My lab results say I’m doing good. I smile more often and more easily than I have for a long time.  Ten thousand step days are routine and I feel good doing them. I’m able to write coherent sentences again. I’m happy. 

Last week I had a sigmoidoscopy, which is like a mini colonoscopy.   My colon is short. A colonoscopy is too big a tool for my size of colon.  My colon / rectal surgeon, who also did the sigmoidoscopy, said my colon looks to have healed well from my surgery and there is no sign my cancer has returned. 

FYI: the prep for a sigmoidoscopy is much easier than for a colonoscopy.  A couple of enemas, one two hours pre procedure and the other an hour before.  Not fun but colonoscopy prep is much more.  They did not take a biopsy of anything because they didn’t see anything unusual to get tested. Good news. 

As has been the case from each of my cancer surgeries, recovery from this last surgery is about recovering from the surgery itself.  Then you live with the consequences of whatever was removed. 

Life with one kidney means a bit less energy.  Life without a prostate means wearing a thin pad for minor leakage.  Life with less colon means your pooping routine is more frequent and a bit looser stool. 

Life with only about fifteen inches of colon is very livable however it changes things.   A colon removes moisture from your poop and stores the poop until enough has accumulated, at which time you feel the urge and you do what one does to get rid of the urge. 

With only about a fifth of a colon, even less moisture is removed and there is even less room for storage. The results are you poop more often and the poop is very moist. It takes several months to happen but the bottom portion of your small intestine learns to act a bit like a colon by performing some of the drying and storing.  Some drying and storing is better than nothing. 

I also take an Imodium and some psyllium with orange juice in the morning and before dinner. It helps. All that said, I now poop several times a day.  According to my surgeon, my new normal will evolve as both me and my colon adjusts to each other.  

I learned that eating a whole bag of caramel corn while watching a hockey game was not a good idea.  Several hours later and several times that night my small colon decided to rid itself of this irritation.  I happened to have an appointment with my surgeon a couple days later.  He laughed out loud.  Yep, it will be a learning experience.  However, I will learn what works and what doesn’t.  

Every three months I meet with my oncologist.  A week prior, there is a CT scan.  A half hour before the meeting they draw nine vials of blood and do a complete work up.  

They send one of the vials of  blood to a lab somewhere.  The lab looks at the molecular level to see if there are any signs of cancer.  Apparently this isn’t foolproof, however, for someone who has had cancer five times, it’s worth a try and Medicare agrees. 

The nice thing about getting comprehensive blood work every three months is there is a record and as a result they will know about any changes.  Essential for cancer diagnosis however also helpful for other medical conditions.

My hemoglobin, for example, has increased to a good level. I only have one kidney so my hemoglobin is not “normal” but probably as close to normal as a one kidney person can get.  

As for my life now, I no longer think about my cancer several times every day or even several times a week.  I am not in denial but mostly I think about other stuff.  Important stuff like, do I want a new phone, or I’m glad it is snowing so I can use the snowblower.  I used the cordless blower for the light snowfalls and it works really well.  Just thinking about how well the leaf blower worked on the light snow makes me smile. 

Over the past month or so I’ve done a lot of walking.  I listen to music or audio books, say hi to neighbors, watch the leaves rustle down the street during the light snow flurry as the wind blows.  I dress appropriately.  It is nice to be on an extended walk not having to frequently stop to take a break due to low hemoglobin. 

I am feeling better than I have felt in many years.  I poop several times a day but mostly it is not an emergency type situation.  I can go to plays, movies, and games. I can go to parties. I can walk around Como lake.  So my life is good. 

When I go to the oncologist office now, I walk by a large room where patients get infusions for treatment of their various types of cancer. It is a quiet, calm place.  Some of the infusions take several hours.  Some of those getting infusions are engaged in a life threatening battle.  Contrary to what you might think, in that room,  there is a sort of overwhelming sense of hope.  

I’m doing well and I have a strong sense of hope.  

The closer you look, the more you see. 

This post is not about God.  This post is about learning.   Part of learning is learning there are different perspectives on most topics. Maybe most importantly, this post is about not fearing learning about those different perspectives.  

Old dogs learn new tricks.   Perspectives can change.  I’m an old dog and recently I learned a new perspective on the idea of God. Not life changing. Not really even controversial. Just interesting to consider. 

Several years ago, Linda  convinced me to take lifelong learning classes through OLLI at the UMN. Pay the annual fee ($325) and take as many of the courses as you want for the next year.   There is a fall and spring session each with about a hundred different courses to choose from.  There is also a smaller summer session which has some tours and the like. 

Per the OLLI web page:  “The Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at the University of Minnesota (OLLI at the UMN) is a vibrant learning community for people aged 50+. Part of the College of Continuing and Professional Studies….”

I’ve taken twenty to thirty OLLI courses over the last five or so years on a wide variety of topics. Some very good, most pretty good and a couple were marginal.  All aimed for people over fifty. No tests, some reading for some courses, mostly a pleasant time learning new stuff with people my own age. 

So registration for classes in the Fall 2024 semester had come and gone. I missed the regular registration period. I was still recovering from my colon cancer surgery.  It’s more complicated than this; however, in summary, my bowel movements were frequent and unpredictable.  Not conducive to attending 1.5 hour long classes.  

Early September, about a week after the normal registration process ended, I had an appointment for a check-in with my surgeon. I whined about having to stay relatively close to a toilet.  He had a fix:  idmonium and psyllium.  Three days later I’m more or less regular. 

Call the OLLI office.  Yes I can still register but the selection is limited. One of the open classes was called “An Introduction to the Philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche”. I took the course. I’ve taken other philosophy classes over the years, so why not. On the negative side,  I knew nothing about Nietzsche, a German philosopher who lived during the second half of the eighteen hundreds. 

Understand, I am intellectually reasonably confident.  Not extremely confident but enough to give taking this philosophy class a try.  Here I am a couple months later.  Fall semester is over.  We met every Monday for seven weeks, each an 1.5 hours long.  Let’s just say I kept my mouth shut and just listened. I was humbled. 

The professor was Interesting, intelligent and a good communicator with relevant life experiences. This class was, in fact, over my head.  My fellow students were my age, friendly and reasonably funny.  However, here is the truth.  When my fellow students asked a question, most often they would refer to the writings of other philosophers and question the difference between the nuance of one philosopher to the nuance of Nietzsche.  Again, I was humbled. 

The instructor and my fellow students seemed to take this deep level of expertise on philosophers and their thoughts as normal and expected.  I’ve read and heard lectures on philosophy over the years but never at the depth and nuance that I experienced in this class. 

So we are in our third or fourth class, the instructor and my classmates are discussing Nietzlsche’s views on religion.   I’m summarizing here: Nietzsche writes that God is not alive or dead, because God never existed in the first place.  

The professor pointed out that if someone believes God was dead that implies that God was alive at some point.  It is like two sides of the same coin.  However, believing God never actually existed is a whole different thing.  

So my point here is not about God at all.  The point is taking a class on topics I might not normally engage with, exposed me to a different way to look at an issue.  Nietzsche believed in people behaving morally.  He just didn’t think someone had to believe in God in order to act in a moral manner.   

Whether some philosopher from 125 years ago believes God ever existed is kind of not the point.  The point, to me, was about  whether morality is directly tied to religious beliefs. Nietzsche said morality was not directly tied to belief in God. 

The cool thing about learning is quite often the topic being discussed is actually eye opening.  Most often, learning is about understanding there is more than one perspective on most any topic.  Learning is about not fearing to learn a different perspective.  

I also took a class called “The music of the Beatles”.  Learning more about the Beatles was fun.  Did you know the Beatles first Album, “Please, Please Me” was recorded in one eight hour session.  They were a very popular club band and for the first album they recorded the most popular songs from their playlist from the gigs at the clubs they were playing.   

There are OLLI classes on all sorts of topics, art, history, science, pop culture, and many more. About a third of the classes are online.  It is a very friendly and welcoming atmosphere.  Pretty much everyone, even in the online classes,  are there because they want to interact with others and in the process learn some new things.  

One last thing.  There are regular college students on campus doing things that college students do, like walking to class, talking to each other and studying.  It is kind of cool to say,  “Last week, when I was on campus….”

The closer you look the more you see.

In fifth grade, every student in my class got to be class president for a week.  Class presidents took attendance, made any announcements and I don’t remember what else.  It was a great honor. 

At the end of each week, the teacher would pick the student to be the class president for the next week.  The “goodie-two-shoes” kids got picked first, and then, progressively the less “goodie-two-shoes” kids got their turn.  

I was the least “goodie-two-shoes” kid and as such I was picked last.  The last week of the school year was three days long. My class presidency was revoked about five minutes after it started. You’ll have to wait towards the end of the story to learn why.  

Suspense is a good story writing tool, or so I’ve heard.

In hindsight, my teacher did not hate me, frustrated is probably a better word for how he felt.  Probably, he saw potential but he thought I was also a wise ass runt who wasn’t even trying.  

Failing fifth grade was often threatened, however, in my mind, I never felt I was actually going to be held back.  Two years later a teacher figured out I was functioning illiterate, not able to read very well.  My behavior in fifth grade was a symptom of an as yet, undiagnosed issue.  

However, back in fifth grade, I got along well with my fellow students.  I was a wise ass punk, whose wise ass remarks were, mostly, both insightful and a bit funny, not mean. I never intentionally disrupted the class.  It just never occurred to me that others didn’t want my opinion whenever I wanted to give it.   

Also know I was not picking on a defenseless teacher. Except for me, he had control of the class.  He was, I think, generally a good, well liked teacher.  He taught and kids learned. Most kids liked him. 

Also know that he hit me hard on the shoulder a couple times during the year.  Back then teachers were allowed to hit wise ass kids.   Yes he hit hard, however, I knew he was just trying to emphasize the point, he was leading the class, not me.  

Besides raising his voice at me several times a week, he only sent me to the principal’s office a half dozen times during the school year.  The first couple of times he was “red faced angry”, after that he sent me before he got that angry. 

Please note the first time I was sent to the principal’s office for disciplinary reasons was four years earlier, in second grade.  My third and fourth year teachers had both sent me to the principal’s office also.   By fifth grade, the principal was not shocked I had been sent to him. 

For me, being sent to the principal’s office was not scary.  The  principal would ask what I did.  I’d tell him.  He would say, it would be better if I was not such a smart ass.  The threat of being sent to the principal’s office is worse than the reality of being there. 

Early in the year my teacher would ask me to defend my comments.  Those reading this probably know I can, in most cases, defend my comments. Sometimes what I say might be a bunch of B.S. but I rarely am at a loss for words. Didn’t take long for the teacher to learn to not engage in a battle of wits with me.  

I was reasonably good at getting answers in math, the problem was they wanted me to show my work.  I don’t do math like that, it’s too slow. Yes, I can add even big numbers in my head, can’t you?  

In fifth grade, I would come in last in the weekly spelling contests.  Every week I was told I didn’t try hard enough. It never occurred to the teacher that poor spelling was a symptom of illiteracy, not necessarily of laziness. 

Every week, he meanly, loudly, announced to class that I had, once again, come in last in the spelling contest.  Shame can make you shy or as in my case, it made me even more of a smart ass.  

At the parent/teacher conference he told my mom I was misbehaving.  She told me I should not be disruptive.  Mom never expected me to excel. 

So here is the story of my short lived class presidency. First you’ve got to understand that while I was a jerk to my teacher, most of my fellow students liked me. Not because I was a wise ass but rather because I tried hard to not be a jerk. 

So on the Monday morning of the start of my presidency, before class began, I convinced about ten of my fellow students to follow my lead.  

It was a Monday but also the third to last day of the year.  I stood up like a class president does,  walked to the front of the class and said something really close to the following:

“Good morning, it is a beautiful day today, it would be a shame to waste it in a classroom. So, as my first official action as class president, I’m announcing that class is dismissed to the playground for a game of kickball. “

With that about a dozen kids stood up and headed for the door.  Our teacher was not amused.  He shouted for everyone to go back to their seats except me, because I was to report to the principal.  

For the record, even the principal thought it was funny. 

The closer you look the more you see.