Well, anyway...

I was meaning to blog my weekend, but I had some ISP problems (probably as a result of the new worm) and then I had to deal with the backlog of emails.

Anyway, my cousin came down to visit us. The two Mrs. Erkkilas had a great deal of notes to compare. [One of them should have a Mrs. Erkkila confab. I suspect they'd be shocked at the diversity of Mrs.es who had such a lack of diversity of experiences. The diversity of solutions to our problems... Well, that frightens me a bit.]

Anyway, we brought them to the Mall of America. I wore my "Enjoy Capitalism" T-shirt, that I got from Bureaucrash.com. Seemed like an appropriate venue. The wife, baby and I could only stay for the Camp Snoopy part; then we had to leave for a combination housewarming/baby shower party of one of our friends. Rosie stayed. Brian's daughter is her age almost exactly. And she's almost exactly the same size too. Quite a rarity. Rosie's pretty big for her age, but the other girl is a little bigger, though she's a couple months younger.

Brian and I, sadly, have a lot in common in our life experiences. My Dad died of cancer at 59, and his Dad died at 55. Both had so much practical genius to offer the world. I've seen both perform mechanical miracles... I continue to mourn the world's loss. As well as my own. I miss Dad. I miss Uncle Jimmy.

I've described my Dad as a mean-assed bastard. And he could be one. Especially right after he got off The Boat, when he was used to dealing with the usual cast of criminals that Steinbrenner's Kinsman Marine Transit usually hired. (You see, I understand now.)

I fear that my brother didn't get to know Dad after his conversion to Christianity. Or reversion, since Grandma and Grandpa sent him to a Baptist Church, pastored by Cliff Peterson, who was a wonderful guest preacher at our Wesleyan Church (a conservative branch of Methodism--our Founders broke away from the main branch over the issue of slavery... Our branch were on the Abolitionist side. May God forgive me for taking pride in that.) Dad was so glad to hear about Cliff Peterson preaching at our church that he gave his life to Christ himself.

A "witness" may travel many pathes.
....

I'm taken aback myself. I never thought of it that way before.

Anyway, Dad was vastly more kind, loving and funny during my teen years than he was during Ron's. I wish I could do a Vulcan mind-meld with Ron and share that with him. He was still tough as nails. Ron saw that. But he learned, through his personal experience with Jesus, to be tender with us younger kids.

...

Well, jeepers! It seems like I started out to say something completely different.

My cousin's daughter is trying to sleep behind me as I type. She wanted to stay with us for a week, at my wife's suggestion. We're planning to camp at Pattison Park Friday night, and meet with her parents there on Saturday.

It's 10:30 PM. They just informed me that they're hungry. If you can guess what I told them, you get a prize.