It’s a heartwarming scene that would inspire Currier & Ives or Norman Rockwell: Three generations of a Chicago clan, gathered ’round the laptop for some wholesome family entertainment. This unstaged scene, Friday night on the North Side, shows a multigenerational Brekke gathering watching JibJab’s “This Land Is Your Land” parody online. Seriously.
Blog West
Back in California. Yeah, it’s a commonplace observation, but it really is amazing how far and how fast we can and do travel here, and how much we take it for granted. We think nothing of traveling across the continent, and are apt to be cross about it if anything delays us (same with this as in everything else about our lives; impatience and entitlement rule the day). Beyond the implicit sermonizing, I’ll just say it was great to see Kate and Tom when I got back on the ground in Oakland; and it was wonderful to have spent the last 10 days with Dad, Ann, Dan, Chris, Patty, Liam, Soren, Max, Ingrid, and Madeleine — in no particular order!
No pictures from the air this time — I couldn’t get a window. But more later on my trip.
Chicago Dispatch 09.10.04
Slow Friday. Beautiful end-of-summer weather here. Sitting outside at a non-Starbucks wirelessly endowed cafe on North Sheridan Road. Just about to shut things down here and walk back west to my sister’s place for dinner with her kids. Then perhaps tomorrow, Dad and I will take a little drive someplace for the weekend. Details still unsettled.
Yesterday, I went for a bike ride up along the north shore, then returned to my sister’s, then went out to the park to watch my nephew, Soren, at soccer practice. Here’s Dad and Ann, who are both taking in my niece Ingrid’s antics.
Blog East …
… or maybe Blog Midwest would be more like it. I’m headed back to Chicago this afternoon and then all over what used to be called the Northwest (and beyond) with my dad. That’s the plan, anyway; though we’ll be on the lookout for Alan Keyes trying to throw himself in front of our car to make a point about the sanctity of life. If I can figure out mobile technology, it’s possible that road reports and Keyes sightings will be logged.
Happy Birthday, Pop
Hey, it’s my dad’s birthday.
He was born up in Marshall County, Minnesota, the same year that Warren Harding became president of the United States. Who’d ever have thought we’d get a president who’d make Harding look so harmless? But enough of the politics. Although Dad was born in Warren, the county seat and where the closest hospital is, Dad’s parents (Sjur Ingebretsson Brekke and Otilia Sieversen Brekke) lived in Alvarado, where my grandfather was pastor of the Lutheran parish from about 1917 through 1925 (he had at least one other congregation he served, too, at a rural church called Kongsvinger).
The area had a certain ethnic flavor: Alvarado was half Swedish, half Norwegian back then, and started out in the late 19th century with two different congregations. Services at Kongsvinger were said in Norwegian exclusively up through the 1930s. From Alvarado, the family moved to Chicago, where Sjur had attended seminary (on the site of Wrigley Field) after arriving in the United States in 1893, age 17, and where my grandmother’s very large family lived (she was the first child in her family born in the States, in October 1884). In Chicago, my dad became fluent in English (very useful), became a Cubs fan (not so useful), met my mom (indispensable development, from my point of view), played for the Chicago Bears (tuba, in the marching band they used to have perform; I’ve been working that line for decades), worked at Spiegel’s when it really was Spiegel’s, raised a big, challenging family of his own, and has generally been a remarkable, interesting, fun guy to be around.
OK, that’s it. Happy birthday, Dad!
Mom
While I was riding my 100 miles yesterday, I was thinking about Mary Brekke, my mom, who died a year ago on August 29. I think all of us — my dad, my brothers John and Chris and my sister Ann — have been thinking about her a lot; of course, I believe we’re thinking about her all the time, just more so as the anniversary of her passing neared. I can’t really think of much to say beyond, “I miss you.” Dad had a great thing to say, though” “Listen. Dan, Mom’s with all of us.”
Yes, she is.
Tour de Dad
One unexpected development in this year’s tour, unremarked by the Outdoor Life Network’s Tour team, is my dad’s discovery of and enthusiasm for the race. OK, it’s mainly remarkable because he was born the same year Belgium’s Leon Scieur won the race; or, to put it more plainly, the year Warren Harding took office as president (of the U.S., not the Tour). Lots of Tours and even five-time winners have come and gone since then.
Dad’s preference is to watch the stages on OLN’s evening recap. We watched Armstrong’s ascent of l’Alpe d’Huez Tuesday evening together long distance, on the phone.
Still East
We’re in my brother’s neighborhood in Brooklyn — Brooklyn, New York (a sign on the expressway coming in from Queens says “Brooklyn, Believe the Hype”).
Spent yesterday and last night with friends in Hastings-on-Hudson, just north of New York City (not sure if that “on Hudson” is a modern invention or not). A beautiful stretch of country, with the Palisades on the New Jersey shore and a series of old rich-guy estates stretching from the upper Bronx far up the eastern side of the river. We visited one: Wave Hill, maintained by the New York City park’s department. Then went up the road a way to Tarrytown, where Washington Irving concocted his “Sleepy Hollow” tale. We went to a church and graveyard that figure in the story and saw the Irving family plot (crowded).
Tomorrow, back south, eventually to Washington and our flight back west and a lot of work waiting for us in California.
They’re Off!
Eamon and Sakura at the airport this morning, about an hour and a half before they took off for Tokyo. The clerk at the airline desk didn’t quite get it when Eamon said he didn’t have a return ticket: He’s going to Japan to stay (well, his initial spousal visa is good for a year and will be renewable for three years). Eamon and Sakura’s trip has been coming for such a long time that I think I took it kind of for granted and only thought briefly about how I’d feel when they were gone. But now that they are — it kind of hit me this evening when Kate said to Tom, “It’s just the three of us here now” — I miss them both
and feel like they’re very far away. But what a great adventure. And the next time we see each other, I hope, will be in
Tokyo.
Graduation Day
Just one small thing: Today, my son Eamon graduated from the University of California, Berkeley, one of 36 students in the East Asian Languages department who got their bachelor’s degrees (Eamon’s major was Japanese). I forget the exact words, but after the diplomas were all handed out, the department chair congratulated the group and said something like, “You’re now part of the community of educated men and women.” What a great accomplishment for Eamon. And the rest of the group, too. But especially Eamon. Did I mention he’s my son?