Gleanings from the Glacial (River Trail)

 After being quite active on Double Shot back in July, I ended up on a hiatus that lasted about 3 weeks. This wasn’t really planned but just kind of happened. Unfortunately, that is a pattern with me. I was raised (so it is pretty ingrained and part of my DNA) that one should not do anything for oneself, like reading a book, taking a snooze, watching a TV show, etc., if one does not have one’s chores completed and responsibilities fulfilled. This is both a blessing and a curse. My exercise program falls into that category of doing things for oneself. So, I end up in these cycles. Of course, this can’t be my fault, so, you can see, that I have chosen to assign blame to my heritage. During early August I fell into a period of other responsibilities and let the biking languish.

My perceived responsibilities changed, and I trundled Double Shot out of the garage early last Saturday morning. It was still dark at 5 am.but was really more that pre-dawn gray. I could tell the sun would appear very shortly so headed out without being concerned about the light. I also knew that Sharla’s would have freshly baked scones later in the morning so there was that bit of incentive as well. By the time I hit the Glacial River Trail at Storrs Lake Road (a mere mile from my garage) the sun, still a bit below the horizon, had lightened things considerably. The trail heading north from Milton was beautifully groomed, i.e. well mowed, grass cuttings swept off to the sides, very little litter, and hardly any animal excrement. The air was cool & clear, the sunrise was spectacular, I was feeling strong, & Double Shot was working well after a recent mini tune-up and lubrication. Perfect conditions for my mind to do its thing and help me regenerate, physically, mentally, & spiritually.

First, I went through my morning prayer list. This led me to think about nature’s (God’s) cycles. While the trail environment doesn’t look like “fall”, it is clearly showing signs. The Queen Anne’s Lace is dying down and the other ground foliage has more of that “end of season” look. There was no one out there – I had the Glacial to myself. Then this setting led my mind to thinking about the cycles of life. Things like age, careers, relationships, purpose, involvement, caring, and then all of those things in light of the state of the world. Who am I? What do I have to contribute that will make a difference? What do I value and believe in? What am I doing with my life? Where do I get a sense of purpose? And then it comes to me - the seeds of purpose are all around us.

Well, when your mind is doing these things while your eyes are overwhelmed with God’s creation, the miles slip by quickly. I was already at the parking/rest area across Highway 26 from the Stagecoach Inn. This is just over 6 miles from my garage. I felt strong and wanted to push on but I also realized I hadn’t been on Double Shot for 3 weeks and I still had to have enough strength to get home and there would be freshly baked scones at Sharla’s that I knew would not last long. So. I pulled in to sit on the picnic bench for a bit and stretch my back. This gave me a chance to do a short video clip from the trail (I have found that I like to do these and also know that people can choose to not view/listen to these clips if they are disinterested or feel that the clips are lame). These clips have added a piece of purpose to my psyche and help me connect with friends and acquaintances. Then I headed home. Clocked just over 12 miles round trip so was feeling righteous.

On the return, I got to thinking about Double Shot. He’s a great bike and is equipped with 28 gears. I was reflecting on the fact that I use about 3 of these 28 gears. Now, that’s just plain not smart. When a hill starts to be a challenge why not use the mechanical advantage for which I paid good money? So, I began to consciously use this great 2-wheeled machine much more in the manner for which it was designed. Amazing results. Now, I know all of this. It's not exactly rocket science. You probably don't, but I just get bogged down in habits and routines on occasion.

Then it hit me that I often don’t use the gears that life (God) has given me to overcome and effectively deal with the daily challenges along the way. God has given my life many gears. How am I using them to advantage, to leverage the other skills, abilities, and strengths that I have? How am I using the tools right in front of my face to help find my way through life’s challenges? Maybe I'm not and that could explain a lot of things.

As I pedaled into town – about 7:30, I popped my head in at Sharla's and was informed that the first batch of scones would be out of the oven in about 5 minutes. I pedaled home – about 50 yards – changed out some clothes and hoofed back to Sharla's. Enjoyed a nitro cold brew and a delicious, hot scone. Connected with several neighborhood & community friends. Had a nice long chat with LeAnn & with April. As it was closing in on time for virtual church, I hustled home bearing scones for Sue, Mandi, Leif, and Gus. It's always nice to be the hero.

Today, Sunday 8/16, was day 2 of my return to biking. Once again nice and cool this morning. Headed north again but once I hit the parking area across from the Stagecoach, I decided to reverse and head south of Janesville to review the Glacial section between Town Hall Road and Badger Veterinary. I had not been on this part of the trail for a long, long time, but was curious as there had been some Facebook chatter about the trail being overgrown and littered with matted grass and weeds. This chatter resulted in an official inquiry to the Rock County Highway Department who replied that this area was a designated butterfly habitat so there would be no mowing until fall / frost / or that sort of timing. Interesting idea and one which I support. Who knew? I probably missed an article in the paper or some meeting minutes or something. It doesn't seem that the bikers I know who use this section were aware of this habitat. This does make a bit more than a mile of the trail quite overgrown (narrow) and there is a significant accumulation of matted grass from mowing early in the season. This matted grass is always nasty for bikers as it flies up into your chain & gears and can be treacherously slippery when wet. (Do our lives have areas of matted grass?)

So there's the dilemma. Two great ideas but with potentially competing or opposing agendas. Rather the story of life wouldn't you say? I like the habitat idea. In a perfect world it would not narrow the Glacial, but our world is seldom perfect. I understand the need for the habitat. I understand the need for a clear bike trail, especially one free of matted grass. What to do? Weren't we speaking of purpose earlier in this post? Didn't we suggest that the seeds of purpose are all around us? Well, I could gather a couple of volunteers, maybe a grandson or two, take some flat shovels out there and carefully clear that matted grass without damaging the habitat. This would solve a great deal of the problem. Yes, it would be work, but it would also be great exercise in a very nice butterfly habitat area. It would be a couple of miles or more of walking but am I not always looking for steps? It would be driven from purpose and it would be a way to contribute a solution to this current issue – an issue which is understandable but somewhat aggravating. Hmm! I think I know the answer.

Finished my ride today by returning home via Town Hall, then Town Line, then Parkview Drive, the St. Mary St. to Campus St. and a quick down hill to home. Cranked off 18 miles total and, perhaps learned a few things as well.

Biking is such a good activity, exercising the mind and soul as well as the body. I highly recommend it, and the Glacial is such a great place to do it.

#glacialgleanings#cruzan4milton

Where Everybody Knows Your Name & They're Always Glad You Came

“People looking for utopia miss the good things developing right in front of them.” – Alan Briggs in Staying Is the New Going.

We who live in the Historic Milton College Neighborhood already think it is a special place. Not only are we part of a great community, but we also enjoy neighbors who care about our space and who watch out for each other.  Three weeks ago, on June 20, 2020, we upped our game significantly with the opening of Sharla’s Coffee Stop. Sharla’s is in the front of Whitford hall, a space that was once the Milton College library. While you can get a cup of coffee at many places in Milton, Sharla’s is the only “true” coffee shop within a radius of several miles.

Being a coffee lover, as well as a Milton lover, I was ecstatic about this news and couldn’t wait to try it out, so I was among the first patrons in the door at 7 a.m. on opening day. I was very curious about the “fit” of a coffee shop in this historic building but any fears I had conjured were laid to rest immediately. Sharla’s décor and use of the space simply looked and felt right.

I went to sample the coffee and welcome this new business to Milton and especially to our neighborhood.  I discovered so much more than great coffee – I realized immediately that I stumbled into pure community & neighborhood spirit - the stuff of life as it were. Dave, Sharla, & their daughter, Fiona are the proprietors, operators, and our new neighbors.  Dave and I instantly perceived that we had a connection.  How did we know? I’m not sure, but we just did.  It was in the air. It was palpable. I couldn’t help but take liberties with this Billy Joel song as I thought about Dave – Sing us a song you’re the coffee man, sing us a song so nice. Well, we’re all in the mood for camaraderie, and you’ve got us feeling all right.

So, what’s up with this community/neighborhood spirit business? I believe in neighborhoods and make efforts to get to know and check in with the people and families who live in what we call our neighborhood. Most of the time that is a wave or a shouted “hi” as people are working in their yard or driving past.  We do have a neighborhood potluck once or twice a year but most of the time our connections are more arms-length. I was pleasantly surprised that several of my neighbors were at Sharla’s sampling nitro cold brews, lattes, chai, smoothies, pastries, and other offerings and we were all engaged in conversation with each other.  I had great chats with Eric & Katie, April & Nick, Jim, Sue, Lexie, & Kailyne. Neighbors continued arriving and hung around to converse.

If asked to characterize the atmosphere,  I would use these words: excitement, anticipatory, connection, renewal, comfort, an “ease”, conversational, a warm vibe, who will come in next, a buzz, success, accomplishment, fulfillment. I was filled up with a desire to share all of this so that others could experience it as well. It felt like home. It felt right.

I have returned to Sharla’s every day they have been open.  Sometimes it’s to have coffee and other times it’s just to pop my head in and say “hi” to Dave as I go by on my morning walk. My Bible study group is now meeting there every Wednesday morning at 6:30. I continue to encounter neighbors with whom I haven’t had the opportunity to chat for longer than I can remember.  I was able to catch up with Bruce & Judy.  I got to spend time with Bill and Ethel.  I run into Anissa on occasion. My grandson, Ivan, has discovered Dave’s healthy smoothies. Ryan & Jessica were taking a break just a short walk from their School District offices.  Sally and her friends were having a great catch-up conversation. All this, a mere 250 steps from the end of my driveway.

From my front window, I can survey much of the neighborhood. There’s the Goodrich Hall Airbnb, Milton College Preservation Society’s Headquarters and Main Hall Museum, CrossFit, a Photography studio, and now Sharla’s.  I see vibrancy, I see initiative. Author and Columnist, Jenny Anderson, has said, “Communities (neighborhoods) are built, like Legos, one brick at a time. There is no hack.”  The Historic Milton College Neighborhood is interlocked.

Jon Cruzan

#cruzan4milton#WEAREMILTON

Biking, Traffic, & DISTRACTION, Oh, MY!

The word, the concept of distraction, can have so many meanings – some positive, some negative. I am sure you are thankful that I will not go into all those meanings in this post. However, while biking yesterday, I experienced a moment of distraction that could have been disastrous, and I feel strongly that the story must be told.

I have been biking most of my life. I love to bike. It’s great exercise, it frees my mind – all those good things. I consider myself a very safe biker and follow traffic rules carefully. I try to always be very visible with lights, bright colored clothing, etc. I have four young men, my grandson biker gang, for whom I have worked hard to be a good role model about biking. I have discussed good biking etiquette and safety while we are riding and often discuss why certain traffic situations can be very challenging for bikers and why it always imperative to be alert and vigilant when riding.

So, late yesterday afternoon, after a couple of weeks of neglect, I take Double Shot off the hooks to head north on our great trail. Double Shot is so understanding in that I can neglect him for several days or a couple of weeks and he doesn’t moan, groan, pout or accuse. He just enthusiastically anticipates the current ride. No, I have not been seeing another bike. Recently, I have been walking a lot so slacked off on the biking. But yesterday, I was ready to do some pedaling again. I think I was goaded by the fact that my daughter, Nicole (age undisclosed) and her son, Emmit (8) cranked out 25 miles (Nicole a few more than that) yesterday as part of a J-Hawk virtual event. I provided some linking transportation for them and was feeling a bit lame that I had not even had Double Shot off the hooks for several days.

I had just finished re-reading a great book (Jodi Picoult's, Small Great Things – you should read it if you haven't > certainly speaks to the times), so it was on my mind as well as other things that I spin around in my head. Often, a good bike ride will act as a catalyst, clear my head, and help me either implement the ideas spinning around or abandon them as not feasible. In either case, it’s like a reboot, a kick start that moves me forward.

So, I head out. As is often the case after a bit of a layoff, I felt good, my legs felt good. Double Shot was running so fine as he had recently had a tune-up by that great bike whisperer, John, at BicycleWise. The trail had very few people at that time although it had had many earlier in the day. I’m pedaling along feeling righteous and thoroughly enjoying myself and my thinking time.

I came up on County N. You bikers know the spot. You’ve just come up a good incline and need to cross four lanes of traffic. There’s quite good visibility there in both directions. There can be a lot of traffic at times, but it is never choc-a bloc full of cars. This is a place where a biker needs to be very careful. For one thing you are a bit fatigued from just coming up a hill. For another, while the speed limit is reduced here for cars, most drivers seem to pay little attention to that, so cars are moving quickly. You must watch not only quite a way both left and right (due to the potential speed of the cars) but also check for vehicles exiting off Highway 26. Bikers should always have in their head that drivers may not have a clue, despite good signage, that there may be bikers in the area. There is an island between the east and west lanes of traffic, so a prudent move is to go halfway and recheck traffic before crossing the remainder.

When I arrived I County N yesterday, I knew all the things I just mentioned. I have safely and prudently crossed that road many, many, many times. But yesterday my mind was working overtime and I was DISTRACTED. No, I was not on my phone, no I was not adjusting a radio, no I was not reaching for my water bottle. I was simply lost in thought – very good thought mind you, but I was not safe. It was clear left but there were cars right. I thought, or maybe – in my distracted state (which being distracted, I didn’t know I was in) I could cross those two remaining lanes without stopping on the middle island. So that’s what I did. Mind you, I was very visible but those cars were coming faster than I had calculated, especially the one in the far right lane which I couldn’t see as well as it was shielded a bit by the car in the near right lane. No, I didn’t get hit or cause an accident. I made it across with no mishap, but it was much closer than it ever should have been. The cars slowed rapidly as I powered across. There was no screeching of tires – it wasn’t that close – but, I heard the horns and am quite sure I was given the # 1 sign. How stupid and careless of me. Let me tell you, I was alert now.

This happened because I was momentarily distracted by my thinking. It was a blink, a microsecond that could have ended in a tragedy. My behavior was not deliberate, was not intentional, had no malice or agenda behind it, was out of character for me but, nevertheless, was incredibly stupid and dangerous.

What if my foot had slipped off the pedal? What if I had lost my grip on my handlebars and had gone done? What if? What If? What if? All because of a blink of the eye distraction. I could whine and blame this incident on so many things, but the truth is I have no one to blame but myself. I apologize to those drivers yesterday to whom I probably gave a scare.

I was angry at myself. I had behaved in a way that I knew not to. I had behaved in a way that I have taught my grandsons not to. I had behaved in a way that gives a bad name to all bikers everywhere. All because of a moment of not being vigilant.

Please, please, please, learn from my experience. Be alert, stay alert. Never let up on vigilance on a bike and being aware of your surroundings. Be better. Keep your group alert. Follow traffic laws to the letter. Avoid a tragedy that can happen in less than a second. Be safe out there.

#cruzan4milton#cruzan4bikesafety

Reflections on Turning 70

A few days ago I entered my 8th decade. Of course, I am still me but that particular milestone has generated significant personal reflection. Paul Simon's great words from, Old Friends, come to mind -  

“Old friends sat on their park bench like bookends. Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly? How terribly strange to be seventy. Time it was and what a time it was . . . “ Yes, what a time it has been. But that sounds like finality, the end, nothing more to come and I simply do not feel or believe that. Rather, I feel, in some ways & certainly not to denigrate what has come before, that life is just beginning.

Just for reference purposes let's look at some stats. My dad was born in 1913. The average life expectancy of an American male at that time was 50. In 1950, the year I was born, it was 65. Now, in 2020, it is 78. Dad was 37 when I was born & mom was 32. We moved to Milton in 1966. I was 16, dad was 53, and mom was 48. The year Sue & I were married (1970) dad was 57 and mom 52. Dad died in 1997 at 84 (he beat the average). I was 47. Mom died in 2005 at 87 when I was 55. So what does all that mean? Probably nothing but, at age 70, I find these comparisons interesting and meaningful for me.

Sue & I have lived at 533 E. High Street for 44 years and will be married 50 years at the end of July. I used to think that people who had lived in their houses that long and who had been married that long were really old. I have memories of attending 50-year wedding anniversary parties with my parents when I was quite young. My recollection of these couples was elderly – white hair, wrinkled skin, bodies a bit the worse for wear - ah, the perspective of youth. I do not feel old, well sometimes, nor do I see myself as old. Yes, I do look in the mirror and after saying, “that can't be right”, do face that reality. But, in most respects, I don't feel or see myself as old.

But, I also realize that being older is an advantage and something that can be leveraged in many situations. As Madeline L'Engle stated, “The great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you have been.” This is heartening as the sum of all those earlier ages has made me what I am today.

I am a strong believer in individual responsibility and that my life is the result of choices I have made. I do not know the author of these words but I find them meaningful. “Everything you do is based on the choices you make. It's not your parents, your past relationships, your job, the economy, the weather, an argument, or your age that is to blame. You and only you are responsible for every decision and choice you make. Period!” That's pretty sobering. These words from the Promise Keepers movement of the 1990's drive this point further. “It is not God's function to create or uncreate the circumstances and conditions of your life. God created you, in the image and likeness of God. You have created the rest. So this tells me that as much as I would like to be able to blame someone else, the fault is nearly always mine. “You can spend your time chasing the weeds, or you can spend your time building a strong lawn so the weeds won't grow.”

I am also a believer in connections. One of my Top 5 Strengths from Strengthsfinders is Connectedness. Making connections and using them for good purposes in the organizations and activities in which I am involved comes easily to me. I sense that everything in life is somehow interrelated and interdependent. Every event is somehow the consequence of a series of actions, reactions, or lack of action. There are no coincidences. I am confident that things are linked together for a purpose that may or may not be revealed to me. God wired me this way. (check out Psalm 139: 13-16) As I look back on my life with its thousands of connections I realize over and over that most of my life was simply God's plan. I was a player equipped with certain skills and abilities. God placed me where he knew I would flourish and be able to contribute. In that regard I find these words from Herman Melville most meaningful, “We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow man; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes and they come back as effects.”

My life was transformed in the context of advocates and mentors. I'd like to say I was 'consciously competent' (that I knew what I was doing) in seeking these people out, but the reality is that I was 'unconsciously competent' (I didn't really have a clue). God knew. God had a plan. He just kept placing me where he knew I needed to be and gave me people he knew I needed to have. I had little to do with it.

We don't get to choose our parents. I had great ones. As a child and adolescent, I didn't always appreciate them but, as I gained adulthood, I could see the phenomenal values they lived and instilled in me and my siblings. When we are younger, we don't get to chose the place where we will live. I was placed in great places to grow, develop, and be nurtured. Places like Adams Center, NY, Westerly, RI, and, what has become my “true” home, Milton, WI. Each of these places provided key people and role models. This was no coincidence.

My family moved to Milton when I was 16, between my sophomore and junior year of high school. I had just started driving. We settled into, what was then the nearly brand new parsonage, next to the SDB church. I thought I was in the lap of luxury as we had a shower – we had never had one before. I was also quite sure that my life had taken a turn for the worse by being “forced” to move to Milton. I was convinced I would get “stuck” going to Milton College and who knows what would happen to me. Let it be known that I didn't really have any other plans. I was just being an ornery adolescent. Well, my life did take a significant turn but it was clearly for the better rather than the worse. The local church had a very strong youth group which provided a solid & safe base of operations. I connected with people who impacted my life significantly. Please realize that I didn't know this was happening. It is only on reflection that we realize these things. One of these people was Sue. We met, became acquainted, and married four years later. We have now been married 50 years. Who knows where the time goes?

I did get “stuck” attending Milton College. There were people there who stuck me good. Ron Herring, Audrey Eyler, Ken Smith, Leland Shaw, Herb Crouch, Ivan FitzRandolph, & Ron Sommer to name a few.

At that time I was planning to be a teacher. I had the good fortune of being placed with Owen Moyer at Delavan Darien High School for my student teaching experience. He was outstanding. I graduated in the spring of 1972 and was successful at securing a 7^th grade social studies teaching position at Burlington Junior High School (right on the edge of my commuting range from Milton). The story of my interview with the Burlington District Administrator was clearly one of connections but that is a story in and of itself. I was privileged to work with experienced professionals like, Tom Pringle, who taught me so much about working with 12 – 14 year olds.

While still teaching and after I had earned an MS in Guidance & Counseling from UW-Whitewater, I began working for the Merchants & Savings Bank of Janesville and the M & S Bancorp. I worked vacations and summers microfilming documents, shredding paper, and other odd jobs as needed. I had nothing to do with getting this job – it landed on me. Little did I know the forward-looking, cutting-edge culture of the this local banking group. I would not even have been able to tell you what corporate culture was. This was a good job that was not taxing to me and provided the financial supplement I needed to my teaching salary. But wait, I was asked by this management team to consider applying for a new position they had created – Training Director. I replied that I knew nothing about banking and they replied that they knew that but were interested in me for other reasons. Huge decision for me – possibly leaving a career for which I had programmed myself for a long time. I threw my hat in the ring and was successful in getting the job. It was then that I realized that I had been interviewed, unbeknownst to me, by the M & S people for several months. Who knew? Not me. I left teaching and joined Corporate America. As Training Director, I worked within what was then called the Personnel Department. One thing led to another – Merchants & Savings became Bank of Wisconsin which subsequently was acquired by Valley Bancorporation of Appleton. By then I certainly knew what corporate culture was and like to think I helped create and pass it on to others. Oh, the mentors & advocates, the phenomenal people who taught me, coached me, and helped me grow. Rising to the top of a long list are: Rollie McClellan, Ron Ochs, Alan Dunwiddie, Jean Austin, Bob Stone, Bill Doan, Mary Masterson, Jack Eastman, Peter Jacobs, Karon Speer, Judy Bothun, Jane Stevenson, Jim Harrison, Chuck Sauter, Paul Whiteman, Patty Schumacher, Mary Willmer, Marcy Weber, and Betsy Lubke. I remember the day Rollie came striding into my office. I thought I might be being fired. Instead he enthusiastically thrust out his hand and stated he had just come from his Board meeting and wanted to be the first to congratulate the bank's newest Vice President. I had not a clue this was coming.

Banking was volatile at that time, late 80's – early 90's, with many, many mergers and acquisitions occurring all over the state and the country. While not privy to any secret information, I was pretty sure that Valley Bancorporation would be acquired and, if so, I would no longer have a job, at least not in Janesville. This was a bit unsettling, but through an interesting series of connections and contacts, none of which could be labeled proactive on my part, I was called to interview for the position of Director of Human Resources for Mercy Health System. Some would call these events coincidences. I would not. This is another story in and of itself for another time. Suffice it to say that I left banking and joined Corporate Healthcare, another huge transition for me. This allowed me to remain living in good old Milton. Again, the transformative advocates and mentors made their appearance: Javon Bea, Joe Nemeth, Debra Geihsler, Kathy Harris, Dawn Olson, Mary Kay Walker, Teresa Smithrud, Pete Metherall, Ron DelCiello, Don Janczak, Carol May, Heather Niles, Mike Sheehy, Candy Thompson, Mamoon Syed, and countless others. This occurred right at the beginning of Mercy's major growth. It was a most interesting, seldom dull ride, chock-a-block full of challenges, learning, and growth. After about 20 years of service I retired from Mercy.

I did not retire to do nothing. I am heavily invested in the Milton Community through a broad spectrum of activities. It is seldom that I am bored. I have too many interests, too many things to do, too many books to read. I find that “opportunities” continue to come my way. I am not looking for them but I don't like to close the door on possibilities until I have checked them out. Coincidences? I don't think so. (Remember that reference to Psalm 139 – don't be afraid to check it out) I refer to myself as a Community Catalyst. A catalyst helps generate change, not by adding heat or pressure, but by providing an alternate route, by removing barriers. As I work in the community, I try hard to remove barriers and bring people together. Success comes in incremental steps, individual by individual, relationship by relationship. “Seemingly insignificant relationships are as important as the very memorable ones. Believing this will change every experience in one's life.” Karen Casey

So here I am – 70 years old – living in a community that I love – enjoying strong relationships throughout the community, especially those with my four grandsons. I barely knew my grandparents – they simply lived too far away - so I treasure these four young men and how our lives are twined together. Thus, I have to proclaim, even in the midst of a pandemic, life is good. Good depends not on things but on the use we make of things. I, we, cannot evade the obligation to take full responsibility for what we individually do.

How terribly strange to be 70? Yes, and how terribly good.

#cruzan4milton#WAM

Amazement & Humility Strike Simultaneously

Yesterday was a great day.  I was outside a whole bunch and accomplished many little tasks.  These were things I wanted to nail before the predicted rain of last night arrived. Things like vacuuming-up the seeming mountains of birdseed hulls under the bird feeders, raking and smoothing some of the ruts left by the tree removers earlier in the week, and a few other odds & ends that, in my mind, just needed to happen before the rain.  If you share any of my blessing & curse OCD tendencies, you know exactly what I am talking about.

My front window, near my desk, looks out on the College Green Park. While enjoying a great cup of Colectivo coffee I was standing at this window checking things out. I noticed some white patches in the woods just west of the park.  I couldn’t quite make out what they were so retrieved my binoculars from the rear windows in the house where I keep them to observe the birds, squirrels, chipmunks, and whatever is happening out that way.  I thought these patches were jonquils but would have been very surprised had they been in bloom yet.  I couldn’t get the detail I wanted, even with the field glasses, so I decided to walk over and check things out.  That’s when I discovered several large clumps of blooming snowdrops. I have lived in my house for 44 years, but never noticed snowdrops in this wood before.  Just goes to show that things can be happening right under one’s snout and, if you’re not paying attention, you miss it.  Life is like this in so many ways.  I am tying hard to be intentional about noticing things that, perhaps, I didn’t have time to notice before the virus.  Not having the time is really a lame excuse because life is always about choices of how we invest our time, how we respond to others and the world, how we chose to spend our heartbeats.  Here’s a spoiler – these little woods, right across from my house on East High, very soon will literally be carpeted with blueish purple scilla flowers. Any day now.  Will you notice?

I also got to spend some great time on the bike trail with Biker Gang Member #2, Gus.  He was pushing to head out and it sure didn’t take much to convince me. So, it was ‘bikers up’ and away we went down the hill.  I queried Gus about how far he wanted to ride but he was non-committal in a positive way. Being an annoying grandfather, I pursued him with questions.  Did he want to try the switchbacks today and, if so, at the beginning of our ride or at the conclusion?  He wasn’t sure. Please realize that he’s twelve and my questions can be a bit much for him at times.  By default, we saved the switchbacks for the end. Of course, by then we would be warmed-up, loose, and powerful. We are legends in our minds – that keeps us going sometime.  So then, I suggested he watch for things as I would ask him his top five observations from the ride and, maybe, he could even expand that into an essay he could turn in for extra credit or something.  I noticed he was distancing himself from me a bit more.  Probably just complying with social distancing.  The ride was nice. There was not much wind. I reduced the pace of my questions.  We were most impressed by the frog “song” as we stopped for rest at the Klug Road cul-de-sac.  It hadn’t been there a few days ago (isn’t God amazing?) and now it approached symphonic proportions.  If you want to hear this yourself, you could bike there, park your car on Bowers Lake Road and walk there, or simply drive there from Old 26.

We stopped for another rest at the top of the hill just north of Klug Road where there is a nice bench.  We had to slurp a bit of Gatorade, sit for a moment on something other than a bike seat, and gaze upon our outdoor realm.  From the bench, I pointed out the County N bridge about a mile to our north and just shy of that the Otter Creek bridge. Gus was up first and ready to go on.  We rode all the way to County N where Gus announced we were reversing.  It’s roughly 4.2 miles to County N from my garage so, obviously, would be about 4.2 miles to return.  Gus is a numbers whiz and I knew 8.4 or 8.5 for the entire trip wouldn’t quite do for him.  He would want 10. So, I began to talk about 10 and how we could get those extra couple of miles in when we got back to Storrs Lake Road.  He was still non-committal about doing the switchbacks. For those of your uninitiated to the trail, the switchbacks take you up and over the railroad tracks that run parallel to Storrs Lake Road.  If you are riding south you have a long, steep ascent and then a nice, snake-like, descent to E. High St, (old 59). If you start on E. High and ride north your have a steep ascent up the snake-like switchbacks and then an amazing downhill to Storrs Lake Road.  These ascents are not the Alps, but they are not for the faint of heart or out of shape grandfathers and 12-year-old grandsons. They are doable but challenging.  Gus decided – he was even excited about doing them so up and over we went.  We lived to continue riding.  We proceeded south on the trail and looped along the RR siding under the new 59, back to, what I call, the Café 26 stop light (great place to eat) and then up St. Mary St. to Campus Street, finishing with a short downhill to my driveway.  As we approach the driveway I tell Gus that my odometer indicated we were at 9.95 miles.  He insisted we turn down Columbus street until we turned up 10 miles.  We hit that at Jim Lyke’s sidewalk to nowhere.  Only then could we turn back and head in the driveway.  We set a tangible goal, we discussed it, we encouraged each other, we worked hard and enjoyed ourselves and, oh, that feeling of accomplishment!  We were righteous.

But, there’s another story about this trip that demands to be told.  After we reversed to head south, at the downhill just north of Klug Road, we saw two riders heading toward us and they were moving.  We edged to the right to ensure they had room.  They had just flown down the descent on the south side of the Klug Road and were leveraging their momentum to head up the incline we were heading down. In other words, they were pedaling like crazy.  One of the pair was on a recumbent bike and as I watched, I realized I knew him.  It was Jeremy, whom I know from church, and he was pedaling with his arms. Why, you might ask?  Because Jeremy doesn’t have the use of his legs.  I was moved to tears as, again, the impact of life and our choices hit me smack in the face.  Boy, God was knocking me around a bit yesterday. Jeremy, pedaling with his arms was smoking up that hill, probably faster and more powerfully than I could have had I not had Gus with me.  You should know that Jeremy is an incredible athlete – he is very involved with wheelchair basketball at UW-Whitewater. But, Holy Moly, what I was seeing was incredible.  But there’s more.  Remember those switchbacks I was mentioning.  Gus and I had just made it to the top when along came Jeremy and his friend, once again smoking up a major incline, pedaling with his arms.  So, they had gone further north on the trail while Gus and I were heading south, then reversed and not only caught us, but smoked past us again on a major hill. Amazement & Humility Reigned Supreme. 

What a lesson, what an inspiration, what an incredible demonstration of our ability to face nearly anything.  Life threw Jeremy an inability to use his legs, but you should see his arms at work. Life has thrown all of us a virus that has disrupted life as we have known it.  Let’s see what we can deliver!

#cruzan4milton#WAM

Blessings Brought by the Pandemic

There is no need for me go on about the downsides of this pandemic, as all reading this already know. It is important for me to reflect and tell about the blessings this generally dark cloud has brought my way. Let me start with a personal habit.

For years, my body clock has me waking about 3:45 – 4 am. everyday nearly without fail. In many ways this is a blessing in that it allows me to have accomplished a great deal, sometimes before other’s feet have hit the floor. Now that I am retired, it is pretty much a curse. I diligently tried to change this when I first retired but finally gave up. I could not make any progress, so I decided to embrace it. More recently, this virus came along and created havoc with our routines. Meetings, connections, deadlines, schedules were non-existent. It was almost like waiting to exhale. I can’t deny there are major downsides, but also, there are positive changes. My body just seems to know this without me telling or trying to coerce it. The past couple of days I have not hauled my sorry carcass out of the sack until 6:30 or later. This is a major, positive change for me. I feel almost decadent.

Other changes include a softening of my edges in my ability to notice things as I am out and about. Things like the first chipmunks, the sounds of the first robins days before I actually saw them, the cacophony of the flocks of red-winged blackbirds just arriving out by the bike trail, the emerging scilla along the wall across the street, a couple of lonely wooly bears trying to warm in the sunshine. Oh, and the wonder, joy, and absolute blessing in being able to spend time with young grandboys.

Now, just for the record, and in case you didn’t know, I am very involved with my grandboys and my life is much the richer for this. However, the past couple of days have been even better because the pressure of school, athletics, and a myriad of other community activities has been lifted. Again, it is like exhaling pent- up breath, tension, and energy. It is welcome. It is good. And I am in the right place at the right time.

So, on Tuesday, we had TJ (10) & Emmit (almost 8) all day long. I could tell the boys were different when they arrived at the house on Tuesday morning. To be fair, not all of this was rosy. The boys were out of their normal routines and, let’s face it, we all like and depend on those routines. They are our security, our homeostasis, our comfort. And, those things were knocked around. Thus, behaviors were a bit edgy as that anxiety of the unknown played out a bit.

But then, we got into our activities. There was some cognitive time, lessons, reading time, and discussions about what our schedules should be. Then came a few games of giant spoons. Oh, what fun!

Do you remember the outstanding feeling of being an almost 8 year old with a brand new bicycle just begging to be ridden? Well, this was Emmit personified. He has been riding for a number of years and is pretty accomplished. He has had a couple of bikes but always hand-me-downs and never a new one of his own. His early birthday present was a new Giant hybrid. Great bike for him and you might have thought he was at the wheel of a Ferrari. Of course, he was champing at the bit to mount up. He planned an in-town route and I told him I would go with, but I would walk as it was still pretty chilly. The wild abandon and unadulterated joy of a new bike is like nothing else. I feel it as I enter my 7^th decade and Emmit brought that feeling to life for me just by watching his little body and that bike take off. I remember my first new bike but that is the stuff of another post. Of course, he really wanted to ride on the bike trail and for me to be on my bike with him. I wanted that also, but I wanted it just a bit warmer. We agreed that pedaling the trail would be first on the list after lunch. It was only mid-morning and Emmit decided he wanted some inside time.

TJ had been out in our woods working on his mountain bike trail. Both boys had been working on the trail. They brought their special hammocks with them – you’ll seem them hanging between the trees near their trail in the pics below. After showing me a couple of jumps he had perfected, TJ decided to help me bring a few wheelbarrow loads of firewood to the basement. He’s a great worker and I was happy to have the help. We had a great discussion about how his dad uses the bucket on their tractor to carry firewood. He also remarked that he thought the wheelbarrow was easier than transporting the wood by toboggan which we had done when the ground was covered with snow. His big question was which was better, a round log or one that had been split with flat edges. Those of you who work with firewood know that there is no simple answer to that question as there are many variables to consider.

After that activity we ignited a fire in the woods fire pit. Sue was pulling all the winter cover evergreen branches (I could tell you how see obtained these but that is also the stuff of another post) from her plants and window boxes so a small fire seemed to be the best way to dispose of them. Ah, a boy and his fire. You’ll see some pics later.

Finally, lunch time but, even better, bike trail time. Emmit donned his biking gear and wanted to know what I was going to wear. You have to understand Emmit’s great interest in clothes to understand the next few sentences. He watches everything that I wear with great detail. He went to my closet with me to help make my selections. He wanted me to wear a very colorful bike jersey I picked up in Fruita, CO (a very biking town) last summer. Its visibility makes it a great choice for a biker. He remembered me wearing it when Sue and I returned from our trip to southern Utah & Colorado. Sorry to digress (not really) but I enjoy getting biking jerseys as souvenirs from some of the places we visit. That particular jersey is short-sleeved. I thought the temp too chilly for short sleeves so chose a heavier long-sleeved jersey. Emmit did approve that one as a second choice. He told me that it was quite bright also. Water bottles wouldn’t do for the boys today, they had to have camelbacks, so that delayed us for a bit to dig those out and ensure they were working and adjusted properly. We also had to choose the proper snack to carry in our bike jersey pockets.

Finally geared-up, Emmit, TJ, & I headed for the trail. Our access point on Storrs Lake Road is just a mile from my garage. The boys raced all the way out Storrs Lake Road but slowed a bit when we hit the trail. It was beautiful out. Emmit was in seventh heaven on his new bike. I was feeling pretty good also, being out with these two guys. Emmit said to me, “Pop Pop, this is great. We should do it together every day.” Now, there’s a statement to get one’s attention. We crossed Bowers Lake Road and cruised down to the Klug Road cul-de-sac which we had to circle a few times. We determined that our next goal was the bench a couple of hundred yards further on. We sat on the bench and munched our granola bars. TJ recalled that this was the spot where he and Sue repaired the fence sometime last summer. He had to inspect their work which was still holding. We were right next to a harvested corn field so the boys engaged in a wild corn cob fight for a while. Emmit was thinking we should head back but we decided to go on to the Otter Creek bridge which we could see from the bench. That was a good choice as the boys parked their bikes and headed down under the bridge to throw stones in the water. I finally had to roust them out as I think they would have stayed all night. We reversed and headed south. Of course, we had to ride down to the lake on the way home and see if anyone was fishing. There were a couple of young men there, but we didn’t see any fish.

We arrived home tired with some sore muscles but also with big smiles and a great feeling of accomplishment. We proudly clocked 9.5 miles.

We had just stowed the bikes and gear and started some baseball when, wouldn’t you know it, mom arrived to take them home. I sent her on home and told her I would bring the boys later. This would give her time to go for a run or a bike herself and unwind a bit.

So, the close to a great day. Bonding with two great boys, sharing a small fire, building a bike trail in the woods, biking on the Glacial River Trail, snacking on a bench on a beautiful afternoon with roller bladers and runners passing by, capturing a wooly bear, throwing stones in the creek, a bit of baseball, giant spoons, and memories to last a life time.

So where did I start with all this? Without the pandemic, Emmit, TJ, Sue & I would not have had this day - this very special day - with things a bit more relaxed and slower paced. I am not happy about the pandemic and I do wish it were not happening but I can't control that. What I can control is my reaction to it. While taking it seriously and following recommended precautions, and complaining about the upset to my life and routines, I am also embracing and trying to make the most of those changes. I am blest beyond measure to live in Milton, to be in the same community with my daughters, their husbands, and their boys. God, in his infinite wisdom, removed responsibilities and commitments from my life and gave me this day. It was a good one.

#cruzan4milton#WAM

Itching To Pedal

I’ve been itching to get out on Double Shot (my bike – named for my favorite Starbucks beverage – decaf double shot on ice no classic) for the past couple of weeks. It just seemed like time. On Sunday, the temps made it into the 50’s with nice sunshine so I freed Double Shot from the trainer in the dark basement, brought him to the garage, aired-up the tires and set out for the bike trail with grandson, Gus. We headed out Storrs Lake Road to that gem, The Glacial River Trail. Things were going great as we headed north until went encountered a shady protected spot still covered with considerable snow. This was just as we headed up hill before the descent to the Klug Road cul-de-sac. This spot gets little sun and is protected by woods. We wisely choose to turn around. The head wind as we returned south was brutal, especially for our first-time-out-conditioning (or the lack thereof). We toured the boat launch area before heading home. Our computers were not seated properly or had not yet waked up from their winter naps so were not registering properly. I estimated about a 4-mile ride. I declare that pretty good for the first ride of spring with a body that looked and felt a bit like a beached whale.

So today (Tuesday), I was meeting a friend at Café 26 (great food) for lunch. We hadn’t chatted for a while and I was looking forward to reconnecting. I decided to walk – not really very far for me. I was considering a bike ride later in the afternoon but, even though sunny, it seemed a bit too cool for that. You should know that I have never been a cold weather biker. This friend is a person whom I take advantage of by sucking energy from him. He almost always provides me with a good infusion. We all need someone like this in our lives. Today was classic and his words during lunch led me over the psychological edge of not biking. So, out I went again heading north on the bike trail. I was a tad cool at first but warmed up very quickly.

Quite frankly, I stopped thinking about the temp as the rhythm of the bike and the appreciation of the trail occupied my thought. On the bike, my mind frees-up and flows much more creatively. I saw work that needs to be done on days when I don’t bike. There’s a lot of litter to pick up – stuff that blows in over the winter. There are a few places where tree branches dropped over the winter. They have been moved off the trail but there are twigs and bark and stuff of that sort, which is not fun to bike through, so needs to be swept off. The snow I ran into on Sunday was still there, but the patch was not very long, so I decide to continue. I started to ride through this icy mess and soon realized how foolish that was, especially while clipped in. I was able to walk through it with no issues. Just north of County N is a long stretch (100 yards maybe) covered with pea gravel, that probably was pushed onto the trail by snowplows, just like last year. It’s no one’s fault – just one of those things. If you bike, you know that pea gravel is no fun to encounter so, I will take blower and broom out there sometime soon and clear it off. There are also collections of gravel where the trail crosses roads (especially County N) which will need to be swept. There’s lots of litter around the County N area. The section between Bowers Lake Road and Klug Road has lots of animal excrement. This is near houses of dog owners but that is probably coincidental rather than causative. This scat could be from wild animals but I am not enough of an outdoorsman to identify it. It would be good to have this removed from the trail as well. As you can see, there are opportunities for being outside, getting exercise, and making the trail a better place for all of us. If you ever want to join me in some of these maintenance projects, just give me a holler.

I saw a wooly bear crawling quite quickly across the trail. Just one. I think he may have had his seasons confused. As I crossed Otter Creek I had to stop and listen to the cacophony from the flocks of red-winged blackbirds congregated there. I thought about taking a short video to share here so my readers could hear it, but the highway noise is too loud at that location. I did take a couple of snaps which capture some of the beauty of the day. You'll find them at the end of this post.

Long story short, I had a great 10.5 - mile ride today. It was not too cold. I just had on biking shorts and a long-sleeved biking jersey over a long-sleeved base layer. I was quite warm by the time I returned home feeling righteous and right with the world and I’m happy the season has begun.

Now it's Wednesday, Too cool to bike so I decided to work on some of the projects mentioned above. I was able to collect the litter and remove scat from Storrs Lake Road to Klug Road as well as clear gravel from the Bowers Lake Road crossing. While working around the kiosk on Storrs Lake Road, a pickup truck pull over next to me. It was my MUHS Class of 68 friend, Kerry Hull. He had been picking up litter around the boat launch area. Thank you, Kerry. We had a nice chat and commiserated about the slovenliness of the American public. So, I clocked more than 15, 000 steps on my phone, earned a nice feeling of accomplishment by making a good chunk of our bike trail more attractive, and am pleasantly fatigued tonight.

Life is good in my world. I hope it is in yours as well.

#cruzan4milton#WAM