Coming Home

by SteveHulse on January 16, 2012 · 0 comments

This is for those of us who have kids, family, loved ones, who live apart from us. This is for those of us who feel and taste life with our hearts first. This is for those of us for whom “A Tear And A Smile” is not just a great book written by Kahlil Gibran, but also means a day well-spent, well-felt, well-lived.

We were all kids once, and most of us came home to our families once in awhile… maybe on holidays, maybe because we couldn’t take the big, new, difficult world anymore and needed to rest, regroup, reconnect with the reasons we were out there in that crazy life in the first place… and maybe to simply be back with family, because those ties were hard to break, and because we knew they needed us. After all, when we were young, the new world was out there, waiting for us to conquer it, and most of us couldn’t wait! Remember that point in our young lives when going home was an obligation rather than a relief… I do.

After it all got sorted, after we made our dent in it all, after the chase and the madness and the successes and the failures, the laughter and tears, we ended up, all of us, with a core group of loved ones whom we knew so well because of our shared life experiences… and who knew us as well. From middle age on, the meetings with those dearly loved ones has become precious. Parents, nephews, favorite aunties, pals from high school, have become so much more meaningful, especially if we allow them to. Sentimentality has somehow gotten a bad rap in this fast-moving, emotionless techno-world, and probably not all of us will allow ourselves to feel and appreciate the real warmth of our deeper relationships with those who know us best. But I do.

And no, this is not about me, dammit. Just sayin’ – it’s why I’m writing this to you tonight, wanting you to know that someone you know is out here is willing to remember, to feel, to love, to weep with joy, that we’re all still here on the planet, still together, still doing our things, and still getting back together once in awhile to share our successes, our failures, our dreams, and our loves… with those who really know us, and know how far we’ve come.

Now this isn’t a challenge, or a finger-pointing. Actually, I know that all of you who bother to read this have great hearts, and dear ones whom you take great care of, and have much love for. Guess what I’m struggling to say here is that I encourage you to keep it up; that it’s still okay, that it’s still cool (really!!) to love each other and show it. Naturally it’s easier to do if we’ve ever had a child. For that “unconditional love” thing comes into play right away, and never really goes away. It seems to make our hearts larger, our egos smaller, and all that is an incredible inward growth for us – a growth we never get over, never want to get over. For to love someone more than ourselves is to get outside ourselves and see our lives in a beautiful and new perspective. Our egos can sometimes be an anchor on our hearts, and I believe that, ultimately, our hearts know WAY more than our minds do. You know, that must be the case, for how else could our species have survived all these centuries of the ice age, etc?? We had to care for each other, help each other, band together to survive. Those of us with kids know how far we are willing to go to insure their survival. Hasn’t it always been thus?

With our kids, our hearts are mostly on our sleeves, though we try not to show it. And occasionally our hearts are in our throats, and we just smile, and turn away, because they might not understand… understand how very much we love them. They will, someday. But probably not now. So we try to be careful.

I know my boy, Dillon, will read this in a month when he’s back in La-la land with his buddies, when he’s working again, and has just spent two weeks with his old man up in the frozen tundra of the Arctic North he’s come to know as Montana. It might embarrass him for a moment, knowing I’ve put it all out here this way. But maybe not. Perhaps he knows me better than I think he does. At any rate, he’s coming home, to let me love him, take care of him, indulge him the way I remember my dad loved and indulged me. Perhaps he knows I need it more than he does. And…. maybe he still needs it, too. God, I sure hope so. I’m so excited tonight… if I didn’t sit here and type my feelings to you this way right now, I’d be jumping right out of my own skin. I tell you, I can’t wait, I absolutely can’t wait…for he’s coming home tomorrow.

Steve Hulse

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Of Christmas Past

by SteveHulse on December 13, 2011 · 6 comments

I don’t know about you, but Christmas is an emotional time for me. I can’t help it… all this jolly music, the decorations, the lights, the jolly attitudes at the Post Office… I don’t care if they’re forced… I love it. I love it all. I have my share of toddies and egg nogs, I sing along with some of the Christmas songs on the radio, I watch Rudolph and The Grinch and love them as I did those many years ago. And I remember Christmases past.

                           Christmas ’67 in the Madison County Sheriff’s Office

All my memories of Christmas with my family are good. I know it’s not that way for everyone. I don’t remember any strained emotions among any of us during the Christmas Holidays. There was some tension around New Year’s, sometimes, as there were occasional fights in the bar on New Year’s Eve. We always had extra help on that night, and Dad could handle everything, anyway.

The only Christmas tension I remember was when I was 14. I wanted a Santa Fe electric passenger train that year. I’d been scoping it in a catalog for 4 months. Mom knew all about it, of course, and sent for it for me. Dad had gone to Peru 3 months earlier to work on a big construction job down there, and Mom and I were alone for the first time at Christmas.

Christmas morning came and I opened my train, and… and… it wasn’t a Santa Fe train. There was a note inside that said they were out of Santa Fe trains, but because I lived in Montana, they thought I might enjoy a Northern Pacific train instead.

Well. I was not happy. The Santa Fe train was silver, with the coolest red stripe going down the engines, while the Northern Pacific was a semi-drab two-tone green. Mom went downstairs and made herself a mimosa while I put it together. I got it running, and it was pretty cool. I was mumbling under my breath that “I’d been rooked.” Mom was in the bathroom, putting on makeup and combing her hair. When she came out, I was still grumbling “I’ve been rooked.” Her eyes flared. “If you say that one more time, I’m putting it back in the box and sending it back where it came from. Now that’s enough!!”

Yup. That was enough.

                                                   The bar, Christmas, ’56

Mom would decorate the bar every Christmas, as some of their patrons didn’t bother to do anything at home, or simply didn’t have the money. My mom taught me how to decorate the tree when I was about 6, and for the next 10-12 years it was a source of great pride to me to decorate our “upstairs” tree. Mom would decorate the big bar tree downstairs and I’d do the one up in the apartment. She taught me to space the ornaments and lights in just a certain way, so everything would glow and twinkle off each other. She taught me how to double-hang the tinsel, very close together, so that when done, the tree would absolutely shimmer.

                                             The snack bar, Christmas ’54

It would take about 4 hours of an evening just to do the tinsel. I would be drinking a pop that Mom would bring me, put all their (six, I believe) Christmas records on the record player, and listen to that music while I decorated. If, for some reason, I was not already in the Christmas spirit, the tree decorating did it, every time. We listened to Percy Faith, The Ames Brothers, which, by the way, is still a great album to listen to. Fred Waring & his orchestra and chorus, which I always loved, and, of course, Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters. Good stuff.

                                Mom & Dad & the upstairs tree, Christmas ’65

My family always celebrated Christmas on Christmas day, as the bar was open on Christmas Eve, and I’d always go to bed early. You know… “So jump in bed and cover your head, ‘cuz Santa Claus comes tonight.” And I always did, with that song in my head. We would open our presents on Christmas morning, then Mom would fix a nice dinner for us, as the bar was always closed on Christmas day. Don’t remember if it was turkey or not, but I
think it was. I would be upstairs in the apartment playing with my new toys, and Mom and Dad would go downstairs, have a drink or two and prepare the meal. I remember going downstairs to get a Seven-Up or something, and be in the darkened bar… it was so neat to me, the shades pulled and only a few little lights on in the bar… the atmosphere was magical to me on those rare days. One of the main lights on those holidays was the Great Falls Beer Sign that was also the bar clock… it resides in my kitchen now, and the light warms my kitchen deep at night just as it did in my folks’ bar those long years ago. The train? It’s upstairs in a box. Still runs, too. No, I wasn’t rooked.

                                    My first tree at Fort Apache, Christmas ’80

One Christmas eve Mom came up to tuck me in, and put another log in the wood stove. I was probably eight, still believing in Santa, but on the edge, and she told me that tonight might be a special night. I was about to tell her I already knew that, when there was a thump, thump thump on our roof, right outside the apartment window. Mom gasped and said, “Oh, I’ve got to go downstairs now, honey. I think Santa’s here! Good night. Merry Christmas, Stevie!” Well. I believed for one more year. Found out way later that Dad had been outside, and had thrown up a couple of chunks of wood up on the tin roof… worked like a dream. God, they must have loved me so much to do some of those things.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays to you all. I’ll fire up this blog a few weeks after the new year. Until then, be cozy and enjoy.

Steve Hulse

                                               Mom asleep, Christmas ’55

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The Gap

by SteveHulse December 5, 2011

I was 42 when my son, Dillon, was born. I’d say we are basically two generations apart in many respects. We still like some of the same movies, tv shows. video games and animes. We also like some of the same music, big movie scores and orchestral productions. Because of our age difference, however, there [...]

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Tonight!

by SteveHulse November 29, 2011

Okay, it’s time to tell you… life is fleeting. I know, you knew that already. But… are you really living as if??  C’mon – we all KNOW it, we just don’t quite live it that way all the time. And that’s what this post is all about.  Once a year, okay? Don’t let me preach [...]

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Nicknames

by SteveHulse November 22, 2011

What’s in a nickname?? I guess it somewhat depends upon what is in each of us. To a point, we are defined by our loved ones, friends and relationships. As we get older, we get better at perceiving how our friends perceive us. Sometimes it’s rewarding to get that inside view… and sometimes not. I [...]

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Here It Comes Again!

by SteveHulse November 14, 2011

                                         The Tobacco Roots, in autumn snow Winterizing, Montana Style Yes, the second snow of the season just blew in this morning, but this time I was ready. Ready with wood cut for the wood stove, ready with my toys safely tucked away in the garage, ready with some new insulating fabrics inside my cabin [...]

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Seattle – The City!!!

by SteveHulse November 7, 2011

Last week the focus was on Seattle – the man, the chief. This week the focus is on the city, its people, and what I found there just days ago. What a town! I lived in Atlanta for 33 years and really loved it for most of that time. It’s a land-locked city, of course, [...]

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Seattle!!

by SteveHulse November 1, 2011

Chief Seattle (an Anglicization of Si’ahl), (Lushootseed pronunciation: [ˈsiʔaːɬ], originally [ˈsiʔaːtɬʼ];[1] c. 1780 – June 7, 1866) was a Dkhw’Duw’Absh (Duwamish) chief,[2] also known as Sealth, Seathle, Seathl, or See-ahth. A prominent figure among his people, he pursued a path of accommodation to white settlers, forming a personal relationship with David Swinson “Doc” Maynard. Seattle, Washington [...]

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If I Were A Carpenter

by SteveHulse October 4, 2011

How many of you out there are good carpenters, builders, understand basic construction? How many of you know what a joist is, and can build one and put it where it belongs? What’s the lowest temp that you can successfully pour concrete? What’s the standard distance between the studs? What is a header? What is [...]

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Unforgettable Meetings

by SteveHulse September 28, 2011

Ever meet a famous person? A movie actress, a great writer, a Chuck Yeager, a John Elway, an Oprah or even a Ted Turner?  Sure, we’ve all met them or at least seen them in person, right? They lift us beyond our daily lives for a brief moment, they touch our lives with the larger, [...]

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