“Winter” and “road under construction.”
Okay, old joke there.
We will be in the Minneapolis area for the next 25 days. It’ll be the longest amount of time we’ll have spent in any city during our three years on the road. It’s so long, in fact, that we will exceed the amount of time (two weeks) that our erstwhile campground allows us to reserve. We will, in fact, have to divide our time here into two halves: during the first 12 days we will camp in a county park in Apple Valley, a site we’ve used satisfactorily twice before, and then the final 13 days will see us moving to Prior Lake where we’ll park AB1 at … a casino!
That ought to be interesting.
And since if I write a 25-day blog, the “Guinness Book of World Records” people will be knocking on our door to verify “world’s longest blog” (you know how I can go on), so we will divide our Minnesota blogs into two parts, sort of a “prequel-sequel” thing.
Fair enough?
On Wednesday, the first day of July 1, we made our way south toward the Twin Cities of Minneapolis-St. Paul (“Twin” cities being a term that always tends to piss Minneapolitans off). Now, during our travels all the way across the country and back again, I almost always pay for AB1’s gas by cash. And the gas stations inevitably make me come inside and pay the clerk before I’m allowed to start pumping.
But NOT SO in the land of “Minnesota Nice”! When we were just outside of Perham, MN, I offered the girl our usual $200 for a fill-up. She stared at me like I was from Mars.
“Uh, no sir, you have to pump your gas first. Then you pay us.”
“So … you trust me?” I asked.
“Well … certainly. We’re not savages here.”
And that’s my home state!
Since this was a Wednesday, “Monday Rules” did not apply. That meant that after landing at the Lebanon Hills Campground in Apple Valley, we hurriedly set up, then raced off to a nearby city park to meet up with our longtime St. Louis Park pal, Randy “R.J.” Johnson and his gang of seniors. We then spent a marvelous night at a free oldies-concert-in-the-park headlined by “The White Sidewalls,” a group we’ve been listening to since we were teen-agers. We have all listened to them for, like, forever. And even now well into his 70’s, their lead singer can still hit the high notes and boom the low ones. It was a great night to kick off our Minnesota home stand.Besides seeing family and friends, one of the main reasons we were in the Twin Cities was for me to take part in the National Senior Games as a part of my Arizona “Rox” senior softball team. Loyal blogophiles may remember us from two years ago in Cleveland when we captured the gold medal in the “Men’s 60-and-Over” division.
Well, we’re baa-ack …
… only this time as “65-and-Over” codgers. The main differences between the two divisions are that we now use five infielders instead of four, and electric wheelchairs are allowed on the field.
Since I hadn’t swung a bat since mid-April, I was thankful that RJ, a resident of Apple Valley, had gotten some of his guys together to take batting practice. No sense going into the Senior Games looking like a complete fool.
We were joined for dinner and a campfire that night at the park by Mick and Jennifer Kirkeby, longtime show folk friends of ours from the area. You’ll surely remember their daughter, Laura, who appeared in our San Francisco blog six weeks ago. Jenn is an accomplished comedienne and a fellow playwright. Diedre and I, through our company “Darknight Productions,” even produced one her plays at the Peoria Center for the Arts in Arizona. Titled “Midlife Madness,” and it proved to be a very funny hit for us.
Once again Diedre tried her hand at a cookout. Now our girl is a whiz at formal or casual dinners, but the catch for her is, they have to be INSIDE. For the 2nd cookout in a row, the moving of plates, food, and tableware from inside to out and then inside again, the dealing with the insects and the weather, well, let’s just say Diedre issued a new edict for future guests at the RV park:NO MORE COOKING AT THE CAMP … WE’LL ORDER PIZZA!
And that’s that!
The next day Diedre and I journeyed out to the bucolic little town of Wayzata (why-ZET-uh) for lunch with my mom. After 56 years in the home she and my dad had built, the home where I grew up, Mom has moved on to the loveliest of retirement homes on the shores of Lake Minnetonka, THE lake in the Twin Cities area. She seems to be doing quite well.
After a lovely lunch at the Muni across the street (I don’t want to say Mom has been hitting the bars hard, but when we walked into the Muni, everybody in the place hollered, “JEAN!” a greeting much like Norm got whenever he came into “Cheers”), we walked this picturesque little town on the shores of the big lake. We soon came upon one of those historic markers/plaques that usually tells something about somebody or something of which you know nothing. However, this one really hit home with me.
Jack had been a teammate of my father’s on the Carleton College basketball team after World War II. Also, Jack’s future wife and my mom had been friends in suburban Chicago during their high school years. So my brother and I, even though we lived in Wayzata’s rival town of St. Louis Park, were raised as Wayzata fans.
The ’59 Wayzata team had a dream season that is the Minnesota version of “Hoosiers.” Wayzata had lost 24 straight games before Jack became their coach, but under his tutelage, they improved each year so that by 1959, they finished in 3rd place in the Lake Conference, the toughest basketball league in the state.
Now in Minnesota back then, there were 486 teams statewide, but only one team would be named “state champion.” It was an incredibly long-shot for anyone to think the local boys could even make it to the tournament, but the kids had faith and were gearing up as state tournament time came near.
The “Trojans” played great, well, BEYOND great! They swept all the way to the district finals where they upset the regular season Lake Conference champion St. Louis Park Orioles, a team I would be playing for seven years later, 57-50. But I cheered the loudest of anyone for the Trojans. They Wayzata did more of the impossible: they defeated the hugely favored powerhouse Minneapolis South team 51-47 in the region finals. To everyone’s utter amazement, Wayzata had now earned their first trip ever to the eight-team Minnesota State Tournament.
Just getting to state was a huge deal. The kids played at the University of Minnesota’s massive Williams Arena, attendance 18,501, but the games were ALWAYS sold out. The state tourney would get the entire front page of the Minneapolis newspaper’s sports section for all three days of the tourney. All the games were televised. To take the title, a team had to win three games in three days, no time off for injuries or rest. It was going to be no easy feat, especially for a regular-season, 3rd place team.
In the afternoon quarter-finals on Thursday, Wayzata edged Mankato 57-51, then came back the next night to crush the defending state champion (and the town where I was born) Austin Packers 55-31. That put “us” into the state championship game against Carlton from up by Duluth.
Fans had to get in line at 4 a.m. that day to get tickets that went on sale at 9 a.m. They were sold out within the hour. But somehow, Jack didn’t forget my brother and me as he held out two tickets for us. Sure enough, my brother Mark (10) and I (8) would be seeing in person our first state championship game.And it was so worth it.
Wayzata got on a roll and never stopped, beating Carlton 55-41 for the state title. The impossible dream had come to life. On the way back to Wayzata, there was a 1,000 car parade waiting for the team at the city limits to escort the victors into town. Over 2,000 fans squeezed their way into the Wayzata High School gym where Jack was awarded the key to the city. It was a memory I would never forget.
And then, 11 short years later, there I was in Northfield, MN, playing basketball for Jack Thurnblad and Carleton College.
Ah, the memories.
All right, moving on.
Okay, it’s now Saturday, the Fourth of July. We put out our usual red, white and blue décor early, then retreated to bed where with my capable helpers, Moe, Larry, and Curly, we planned out the day.
The animals kind of took over that day. Their colorful bird, “Bingo,” settled in for much of the afternoon perched on Diedre Kaye’s shoulder. And then as we were leaving for a pontoon boat ride, sister-in-law Linda saved Gary’s dog who had somehow gotten himself trapped on the boat launch. With the dog back on the boat, the day went on and everyone had a great time.
We ended another great 4th with fireworks in Apple Valley near our camp-ground. Our buddy RJ, as Apple Valley’s Park and Recreation Director Emeritus, had lined up seats for us in the executive sky box (a few camper chairs with yellow “Do Not Cross” police tape surrounding them). We were so close, I swear the fireworks were coming straight upon us.
That evening was DK’s and my 24th anniversary, so we decided to celebrate it at the top-rated restaurant in Eagan, “The Blue Stone.” And as we have done for every anniversary since our wedding, we wore the same clothes we wore on our wedding day (laundered annually, of course). Ever the fashion plate, DK wore Fizbo (her “Fit-Bit”) with her wedding dress because, as you know, every step counts. RJ and fiancee Jacqueline had flowers delivered to us before dinner. The restaurant festively covered our table with varied and colorful glass baubles. 
What’s up with that?
To end the night on yet another high note, we were greeted at AB1’s door by the kids. Charlie and Samantha were at the top step singing to us nicely. But Casey, the problem child, had become “Yarn Cat” as he’s always looking for new places from which to surprise us. As usual, he did not fail.In order to get in prime softball game shape, and since I hadn’t swung a bat in competition in two-and-a-half months, I had the Rox come to Apple Valley where RJ had lined up a field and a team to give us a good practice game. And then to make it a doubly nice evening, RJ hosted a delicious cookout at the athletic facilities’ picnic site. I think we were now ready to play some tournament ball.
In the seeding games, we started out hot by pasting a good Chicago team 24-9. It was an especially good game for me as Diedre had driven the extra miles out to Wayzata to pick up my mom and bring her to the game. Mom hadn’t seen me play softball in almost 40 years, so I was a bit nervous about not embarrassing myself. But the Rox were on their game, I got solid base-hits my first two times batting in front of Mom, and the game was over quickly.Then, with Mom now on her way back to Wayzata, the pressure ebbed. Unfortunately, so did the Rox. We got pounded by the host Minneapolis team 20-8. That put us in the middle of the seedings for the rest of the tourney.
To try to get back into the right frame of mind, Diedre and I watched “Star Wars Episode 3: The Revenge of the Sith” where Darth Vader gets his ass kicked. As you’ll recall, we’re watching one “Star Wars” movie a month for six months so we’ll be ready for the new SW film that comes out December 18.
Nerds, ho!
Five games?!
In one day?!
For seniors?!
Who’s in charge here?!
It had been a little like “old-home week” for me in Eagan as I kept running into Minnesota softball players I knew and had played against in my 20’s and 30’s. One of my habits since joining senior ball in Arizona has been that whenever I see some players I know before a game, I always walk up to them and say, “Oh, is there an ‘Over-70’ age bracket tourney today?” knowing full well the guys are in their 50’s or early 60’s. It always gets a laugh. So in Eagan at the tourney this day, I run into Lou Hastert and Don Carruth, Minnesota all-state players in their day. After the usual greetings, I smugly said, “Hey, is there an ‘Over-80’ tournament today?”
No response.
Then Don pensively said, “Well, I am 79.”
Guess I better retire that joke. We’re all getting up there.
On Friday, the Rox battled well. Wins over Springfield, IL (15-11); Wisconsin again (2-1 .. yes, that’s right, two to one); and Florida in a revenge game (16-15) put us into the gold medal game against the Minnesota team that had beaten us two days ago. We would have to beat them twice while they only needed one win to take it all.Final score: well-rested Minnesota-9, exhausted Rox-1.
We did get silver medals.
There was some good news that night for one of the Rox: Jacqueline, RJ’s fiancee from England, arrived at the Minneapolis airport during Friday’s games. She had endured an unbelievably bad year’s battle with red-tape and government regulations. I think they somehow thought she was one of the new waves of “grandmother terrorists” trying to infiltrate the country with crocheted-bombs . But thank God she’s here now; these two wonderful people are now on their way to well-deserved and happy future lives with each other.
One other bit of news, a little sad for me, was that I decided to hang up the tournament softball glove and spikes. Oh, I’ll still play in the pick-up games we have in Fountain Hills, AZ, every Thursday morning, but not the weekend tournament games that take up so much of our Arizona winters (Arizona winters? Is that really “a thing”?). Beyond some personal issues, I wasn’t really happy playing the “65+” game that puts an extra (5th) infielder right in the middle of the infield in the exact spot where I’ve been hitting the ball for the last 45 years. So ending it in Minnesota would be the bookend to my softball tournament career that started in Burnsville, Minnesota, in June of 1969. Plus, it gives DK and me more flexibility and less of a scheduled timeline when planning our RV jaunts around the country. So, my next time back on the ball field will be Thursday, October 22, 9 a.m.
Walt and Alan, are you guys up for lunch afterwards?
On Saturday, we again made our way out to Lake Minne-tonka in Wayzata where Carleton College friends George and Marilyn Mileusnic were hosting a “going away” party for my college roommate, Jim Schroer, and his lady friend Mary. Now empty nesters, Jim and Mary have put their Lake Minnetonka house on the market and are moving to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, for the usual “Minnesota’s too cold” reasons. Fortunately for us, we’ll now have a place to stay in Fort Lauderdale on November 6, the night before DK and I leave on my 65th birthday “Panama Canal Cruise of a Lifetime.”N.B.: If any of you out in the blogosphere want to join us, well all I can say is, “The more, the merrier.”
On a lovely night at the beautiful Mileusnic lake place, Carleton College and photographs ruled the day. We first had to have a picture of wayward Jim with all of us there who had slept in the same room as him over the years; that included John Trucano (another of our Carleton roommates), Mary (current roommate and yet another English lady friend of a buddy of mine), and me.
That oh-so fun party ends this half of the Minnesota blog. On Sunday, DK and I were up early to make the change of campgrounds from Apple Valley to Prior Lake, about a 12-mile move. The new campground was actually a part of the Native American “Mystic Lake Casino (MLC),” a massive complex complete with Vegas style casinos, a nice golf course, an ice arena, a full fitness facility, and an RV park surrounding a very nice small lake. Once there, however, Diedre and I saw it in a different way:
MLC is like a Disneyland for smokers.
Yes, not having to conform to many of the laws of the great state of Minnesota, MLC treats smokers like regular people, not the outcasts and pariahs they have become in regular civilization. Of course, this was going to be a bit of a trick for my wife whose secret identity is “Asthma Girl.” Who knows how this will all play out when she is out patrolling the streets fighting RV crime. To find out more of DK’s fate, be with us next time for Blog-9b, Minnesota, entitled, “The Rooster Crowed at Midnight.”
Till then …
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