The World of Hank and Bobby Hill

Originally, the title of this posting was going to be "Day 9" as in, this is Day Nine of my Sixteen Days of Vacation. However, my journalistic instincts were aroused and I thought that it was a better headline to describe what I've been doing for nine days rather than just highlight the number of days.

Like most TV shows, I don't really follow them until my boys start watching them and telling me that they are really funny. My instinct is to not watch any TV -- except for baseball and football games, of course.

I think it was last Christmas that the boys introduced me to the animated TV show, "King of the Hill." I didn't necessarily think it compared with something as well done as Seinfeld, but there were episodes that had their moments. For instance, when Bobby (who is perpetually 12 years old) decides that to defend himself on the playground he will simply kick other boys in the groin. His dad (Hank an ex-high school football star) tries to tell his son that kicking someone in the "fellers" is dirty pool. However, Bobby kicks his Dad. The story has probably lost something in translation here, but believe me, it's very entertaining TV.

Just as Seinfeld introduced me to "living in New York City", the Hills have introduced me to living in "Texas". I also like it when Bobby's mother tells us that she was raised in Montana.

So now lets fast-forward to this Christmas. Scott bought season one. Generally season one is a little experimental and when it comes to animation, this is no exception. The people -- who aren't drawn very well anyway -- look like a couple of first graders drew them. But what the hay...I've got nothing better to do so I easily devour the first 16 or so episodes that make up season one.

Then Christmas Eve arrives and, lo and behold, Derek receives season two from his brother Scott. Well, I've still got nothing going on as it snows every other day here now...and the couch is feeling ever so comfortable. In a day or two, the boys and I have devoured the next 24 episodes, which are season two. The drawings are getting better and the characters seem a little more familiar with their lines.

So after devoting so much of my past nine days living with Bobby and Hank Hill, the question is sure to arise, "Are you any better for it?"

I'm probably not any smarter, but I do find the genre of "Texas" humor starts to grow on you. I also like the "conservative" slant that the writers have. They, like me, think that a lot of the problems hyped by the media and activists are simply bogus claims made by people who wouldn't be happy if they were hung with a new rope. (By the way, that's a Montana phrase, not a Texas phrase I learned from King of the Hill).

So, my life for nine days has been pretty much like this...open the door and get the paper while trying to judge how much snow has fallen. Eat breakfast and complete the crossword puzzle. Go fire up the snowblower and clean my driveway and the two driveways to the east of me. Come in for lunch and see if the boys are up. If they are, we can retire to the couch for an afternoon of King of the Hill. Then it's suppertime and dessert is often followed by some King of the Hill. Perhaps, we'll mix it up here with a game of Skip-Bo or Scrabble. Then dad heads to bed at 8:30...and there is pinochle till about midnight. I go to to bed and then the routine begins again.

Ah, the lazy, crazy days of Christmas vacation. Only seven more days left to go. It's hard to believe that years of hard work by the voice actors, animators and writers can be swallowed up in mere days by the Van Dykes. Since no one else reading the blog is probably familiar with Hank and Bobby...how about letting us know what you are doing to pass the time during the holidays.

The Four Gospels - Randy, Steve, Bob and Glenn

Last year about this time, the Fellowship Committee at our Church invited a trio of women to entertain us with some old time gospel songs sung in three part harmony. They were good -- real good. And afterward in the church narthex as we gathered for coffee and cookies, four guys put their heads together and said, "You know, we could do that."

And thus began "The Four Gospels", aka the Men's Quartet. The first tenor is Randy Meissner. I sing second tenor. Bob Samualson sings baritone and his father-in-law Glenn Watson sings bass. Our accompaniest is retired music teacher and part-time piano teacher Nyla Shock.

We debuted one Sunday last spring with the familar quartet standard, "Have a little talk with Jesus." We were an instant hit. There were even some people standing and applauding when we were done. You don't see that much in church.

We learned a few things along the way, like -- "Steve can't sing harmony but he sings loud so if he can sing the lead, he's probably going to do okay." and "Steve can't read music so Randy better sing the lead with a him a few times until he can figure out what the tune is." and "Steve doesn't know a time signature from an egg timer so somebody better clap out the rhythm for him."

Still, that's the side of the practices that no one sees. When we perform, we're pretty good. Sure, I sing the occasional wrong note, but if it's in tune to what Randy's singing -- actually its often exactly what Randy is singing -- it still sounds pretty good.

Over the past year, we've sung twice at the Mandan Care Center, once for the Bismarck-Mandan Singles Club and numerous times in church. We even sang at the outdoor picnic service last June. Where ever we sing, the audience loves us...or at least we think they do.

So we keep practicing and learning new songs.

Now tomorrow night for Christmas Eve services, the Four Gospels will be lighting the Advent wreath and singing an old Christmas standard, "Star of the East."

Being a part of the "Four Gospels" is among my highest acheivements in 2008. Writing this blog is another.

In both pictures, the Four Gospels are in the same order -- Glenn, Bob, Steve and Randy. I think this is a perfect example of how God can use any of us. It's not our ability, but it's our availability that God wants most.

Chistmas memories from Roundup long ago….

Christmases at our home at 1402 Second Street West in Roundup are only memories. The Christmas tree always seemed to be bought just a couple of days before the holiday itself.
We didn’t have little lights in the early 1960s; we had big colored lights. They were the first thing to be hung on the tree. Next would come strings of shiny metal beads.

Then came the balls and Mom seemed to have a story about everyone. One of her favorites was a transparent blue ball. It didn’t have any writing on it or snow flake designs, but it was special simply because it was old. We also had little plastic ornaments that reminded me of blue and green carousals at the fair. Inside them were shiny spinners that would turn if you placed them above one of those big colored lights on the tree. There were also some candy canes that were hung on the tree as well.

Finally, there was tinsel to be hung. Long silvery, shimmering tinsel but only the big kids with lots of patience could help because you had to take one piece at a time and hang it on a limb.

Under the tree could be found the presents. Often these consisted of socks, underwear, Chinese checkers, a deck of playing cards and if you got a present that looked like everyone else’s, chances are it was a box of Lifesavers. Grandmas were great for buying everyone Lifesavers, and we had two Grandmas.

One year I wanted a toy machine gun, with a plastic backpack and a khaki green combat helmet. The outfit looked very authentic in the Sears Christmas catalog, but when I got it you couldn’t help but notice that the barrel was broken. Not to worry, because Uncle Ralph fixed it by taping some popsicle sticks to the barrel and, voila, it was good as new.

Often, Christmas shopping meant driving over to Billings. While we might shop at Sears in West Park Plaza, our general route seemed to include downtown stores like Skaggs and Penney’s. We would park about three blocks away and walk to the stores. Skaggs, which was a miniature version of a discount store with a huge candy counter, was always a favorite of mine. They had toys and candy for sale. In the winter, they opened their basement and it was a little kid's fantasyland.

Down the block was Penney’s. They had an escalator that frightened me. Also I knew that if a present was bought for me at Penney’s, it was probably going to be clothes or shoes. They also had drinking fountains, tall drinking fountains with the worst water I’ve ever tasted. But the water was cold -- ice cold.

Besides the gifts from my parents, I always liked opening the present from my sister Janet. She always seemed to have an “age-appropriate” gift for me. For instance, paper dolls, scissors and paste made a very nice gift for a six-year-old. She also worked at the library so seemed to have more money to buy me nice gifts.

I don’t know who bought it for me or how old I was, but I remember getting a spinning top once or twice. The tops not only spun but also sang – not a song but a high pitched noise – anyway it was cool and I could keep the top going for a long time.

My older brother Randy got neat gifts, like a vibrator-board football game. It was a huge gift. He set it up and it took over the top of his dresser, and he had a big long dresser. When I got older, Randy and I used to play vibrator football from Thanksgiving through Christmas.

I don’t remember much about meals at Christmas, but I do remember that Dad like to have bags full of nuts and candy under the tree for all of us kids. He said his Dad used to do that, too, so it became a tradition.

If we shopped in Roundup, it was probably at the Knauss dime store. That’s where I bought presents once I had money to do so. Later they made a Hollywood movie in Roundup and little Melissa Gilbert threw a brick and broke the plate glass window of the Knauss store. My brother Randy sent me a copy of the movie…I think he bought it off of e-Bay.

The other thing I remember about downtown Roundup was the Santa Claus. It was none other than Ezra “Bunny” Cartwright, my Aunt Milly’s husband. We didn’t really get to say much to Santa Claus because we knew who he was, however, we did get a little candy cane from him. That was the smallest candy cane that they make.

I’m pretty hazy also about when we opened presents, but it seems like it was either Christmas morning or Christmas Eve. I suppose it depended upon when everyone was home. Gene worked at Ray’s grocery, Janet worked at the library and Dad worked on oil rigs. Anyway it seemed like a busy group, but I was content to let the world turn around me as I concentrated on the Christmas catalog and floated away into holiday bliss. Certainly, I would agree that anticipating Christmas was much better than opening gifts. However, I liked the gifts, too!

The picture of the little boy with Panda bear is the author at Christmas in 1961. The boy with the sled is none other than Ar Vee.

2008 - the year of irony

As we creep closer to the end of the year, newspapers and newsmagazines will begin to tell us what kind of year we just went through...and worst of all, they'll try to tell us what it all means.

Since I hold the same degree (a bachelor's in journalism) as these other scribes, I thought I would try to share my analysis a week or two earlier. Who knows maybe some of them may accidentally agree with me in their analysis as well.

First of all, I would sum up the year like this -- it was a year of irony. I mean where else can we go from $4 a gallon gas in July (which many of us thought might reach $5 a gallon) only to see the price of gas dip to below $2 for the first time in years. Currently, I'm paying about $1.70 a gallon, but I've paid as little as $1.46 a gallon in Fargo last week.

So what brought about this miraculous change? What is it the do-nothing Congress run by Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi? No, it was simple market forces. The price of gas got too high and people quit driving, which led to a surplus. And even though the price has fallen, people still aren't driving because the economy has tanked. It also seems like a lot of people have given up on SUVs, as the prices are ridiculously low compared to even a year ago. But who has the money to buy one?

What else did we see this year that smacks of irony? Well, we elected a new president who promises lots of new government to fix our ills...but actually it was the government that caused a lot of the ills in the first place -- such as the subprime loan rate for people who really never should have been approved for a home loan in the first place.

It's also ironic that the new president who trumpeted "change" is willing to appoint so many former Clinton Administration leftovers to his cabinet. Maybe the 1990s is the new 2009 -- to paraphrase a tired and worn out cliche. Or as former New York Yankees catcher Yogi Berra probably never said, "I think I've seen this movie before...and I didn't like the way it ended."

One of the "fixes" promised by the new president is a tax on carbon dioxide emissions (it's called cap and trade - but if it quacks like a duck, then its a tax) to reduce greenhouse gases by 80 percent by 2050. This is the new "let's give everybody a chance to buy a home" chant by the Washington elite.

While it sounds good, the pain will be unbearable. Carbon-based fossil fuels account for nearly 100 percent of transportation fleet (read: cars, trucks and airplanes) and about 50 percent of our electricity is from coal. These fuels are the cheapest to use and our country needs cheap energy. We know our salaries and benefit packages aren't competitive with people in India and China, so our ace in the hole has been cheap energy. Take that away and we'll really see the bottom fall out of the economy.

This, too, is ironic. Because it won't be bullets that destroyed our country like the people of my Dad's generation thought...it will simply be misguided but "sounds too good to be true" public policies by people we elected.

It's also ironic that my state is freezing, New Orleans and Las Vegas have both recently gotten snows, and still the environmental activists tell us that it is absolutely critical that we do something about global warming or else the world will go past the "tipping" point. We've now heard that cry for 30 years. If anything, the hollering is more shrill. But frankly, I don't buy it. The world is much the same as it's always been. There has always been droughts, famines and climate change. However, the world has more people now that it ever has and only through the use of fossil-fuels are we able to sustain this much population.

Sure, I'm all for finding ways of making energy that are more sustainable than coal and oil, but until we get there, we better use these fossil fuels as a bridge to the future. Otherwise, it will be a cold world....especially in North Dakota in the winter.

Oh, by the way, TIME magazine's man of the year will be B.O. And if he doesn't deliver the goods in about 90 days in office, he will likely be goat of the year in 2009. Remember, America has now raised an entire generation on Sesame Street so our attention span is now only about a minute long. Be assured we won't have much patience with someone who promised a lot and delivered so little. The clock is already ticking.

This is not to say that I don't wish him all the luck in the world. Believe me, I fully understand what a terrible mess we are in. And with Democrats controlling the White House, the Senate and the House...the table has been set. However, irony has a way of interrupting even the best laid plans. So grab a chair, pop some corn and watch the evening news -- it looks like it will be quite a show. And before you go to bed, pray for these leaders. Pray that they have some common sense and if they have some, that they use it. No use in saving their common sense for a rainy day because it looks like we're having a downpour as we transition from Bush II to Clinton III.

How ironic.

Living in an ice box...and not trying to gain weight

Winter won't officially arrive for another five days, but in North Dakota, most of us are already tired of it and can't wait until it warms up.

When growing up in central Montana, you never knew when the warm up would occur because we had something known as "chinook" winds that could blow in during the night and melt all the snow by morning.

No such luck in Ice Box, USA...we will have winter at least through February, and maybe March.

I have quit my walking outside before work. Now the only extra walking I'm doing is to start my car and warm it up before I drive somewhere.

This morning it was about - 20 air temperature. Luckily, there wasn't much wind. By noon, it had warmed up to - 15 degrees F.

Last night, the Shwan man came by. I knew his frozen goods were going to be cold but they were unbelievably cold. For instance, I put a small loaf of their Andes mint cake in the microwave for 40 seconds to heat it up...which normally is long enough. Last night, the middle of the cake was still frozen while the icing on top had melted and was running off.

So what's a guy to do when he's stuck inside all the time. Sure, there's reading, watching TV and playing "Family Feud" on the computer. But there's also comfort foods -- like meatloaf, scalloped potatoes, macaroni and cheese -- that help us northerners get through these miserable days of freezing temperatures and little daylight...especially when we are not working and all the stores are closed because of blizzard conditions.

Well, there's the exercise bike in the basement. The problem with that is ... you can take it for a 45-minute spin and you really haven't gone anywhere or seen anything. It's much inferior to walking outside where the air is cleaner and each block smells a little different. Someone is frying bacon, I'm getting close to Hardees now because I can smell the homemade biscuits. But when you are in your basement riding a bicycle all you can really smell is yourself...and that it isn't very pleasent.

Okay, commenters...how do you get through the dog days of winter and keep your sanity and the extra pounds off from eating the holiday goodies and the comfort foods that keep us happy?

Christmas scams

I hate picking up the phone only to hear a bunch of background noise while you wait for a person's voice who's trying to sell you something.

Today at lunch I got one of those calls. Since I eat right below the phone in the kitchen, it took but a brief mico-second to answer it and then I waited and waited. Finally, a voice came on and asked for me.

I told them I wasn't home and hung up.

That's generally how I deal with scams perpetrated by telemarketers...but how do you deal with scams perpetrated by your own family members -- namely my son Scott.

For instance, when he doesn't have any gasoline in his car, he's more than happy to hand me his car keys if I'm going to run an errand. He knows I have no tolerance for running out of gas -- never have -- so I'll be sure and fill his tank up.

But his latest scam was a doozy. He gave me $20 so I could buy his mother a diary for Christmas.

In one respect, I feel like I trained him well. He hates to shop as much or more than me so he pawned the task off to someone else -- unfortunately, me!

However, the 2009 diary, with tax, cost $40 so guess who picked up the extra $20?

What a scam.

I think I'm going to restrict the comments on this one to only parents...Beagle, Ttocs and DVD, no comments from you. The rest, however, I'd like to hear how your kids have scammed you.

This puts me in mind of a couple of things. One was a speaker who asked the audience, "How many of you have teenage children, how many had teenage children, and how many of you have been HAD by teenage children?"

The other one is about a guy I knew 20 years ago who told me his son's girlfriend asked him what she could buy for her boyfriend...she wanted to buy him something that he would never think of buying for himself.

The dad responded, "How about a tank of gas."

Anyway, here's how I handled Scott and the $40 diary episode. The diary is now going under the tree as a gift from Santa. Scott is buying something else for his mother.

You can't fool "Father" Nature. (Scene fades to lightning and thunderbolts)

A sack for each of us under the tree

When I was growing up in Roundup, we didn't have a set time to open presents under the tree. Dad was working in the oil fields and mom was working at the hospital. If you know anythng about hospitals and oil fields, they don't shut down for holidays. So we opened presents at various times, depending on the work schedules of our parents.

Now this year, I have December 24 through December 28th off if I take no vacation. Those are just holidays I get off plus the weekend. If I used six days of vacation, I can be off work from December 20th through January 4th. That's almost as long as the boys have off from college.

Obviously a few things are different regarding my desk job compared to my dad's job as a roughneck on an oil rig. Another difference is the money. Not that working in the oil field didn't pay the bills, but with rig work, no one is ever sure if they are working the next week, the next month or the next year. Compared to working on an oil rig, I'm relatively sure that I'll be working for the same company next December that I work for now. And I'm generally sure that my paycheck is going to be the same next month as it was last month. No surprises there...which is good because my wife hates surprises.

So with a steady job there are some advantages, such as putting presents under the Christmas tree relatively easily compared to what my parents faced. My biggest drawback with buying presents is that I hate to shop. I have good intentions but there is always some reason why I never make it to the mall or a box store for Christmas bargains. Stated simply, I don't like crowds. I never have. But that's okay because my wife likes to shop and, if given enough time, she'll even buy something for me to give to her. At least that way she knows it fits.

But enough of that, my point in writing this little note is to remind my brothers and sisters of a present for each of us we knew would always be under our Christmas tree when we were growing up. It was a paper sack filled with peanuts, an orange and a handful of candy, likely a candy cane and some hard ribbon candy. We knew we would get this sack because it was a tradition that our Daddy had passed on from his Daddy.

Of course, what our Daddy didn't tell us was that the sack of fruit and peanuts was likely the only present he and his brothers and sisters got. That's because his parents had 10 children and were living in the heart of the Depression.

This year, I'm going to revive that tradition. Not as a sign to foretell my children about the chance of another Depression, but simply as a reminder that we have it so much better than our parents or their parents did.

The brown paper sack under the Christmas tree -- a reminder of where we came from and how much we have to be thankful for.

Merry Christmas!

The Christmas letter I would like to write

I face the unenviable task of writing the Christmas letter both for my family and for my Dad. There are certain rules you have to follow when writing the letter. For instance, you have to mention every member of the family, and you have to keep the letter upbeat no matter how depressing the news is. So I'll write about our trip to San Francisco, the boys attending college, Belinda's annual journey to the Black Hills with her sisters and anything else that's upbeat and somewhat newsy.

Now in the case of my Dad who doesn't travel, creative writing is certainly a plus. Generally, you start off by noting how the great-grandkids are doing and you work your way up to the grandkids and then to the kids -- some who are nearing retirement age themselves. Still you keep the letter upbeat...no use in writing about the number of people dying who you used to write to and how you'll be saving a lot on stamps this year.

Unless, of course, you decide to finally write the letter that you've always wanted to...but never had the guts to do. Let's take a look at just what that letter might look like...but remember this is a made up family -- not mine.

Dear friend, acquaintenance or family member -- your choice!

This year has been the pits. A lot of people have died but none of them had the good sense to leave me any money so I continue to work for next to nothing at the same old boring job. If you plan on dying next year, would you please include me in your will. And if you have any extra money, please include some of my immediate family members as well. Finally, don't wait until next December to die...how about January or February?

I really don't want to talk about my sons and daughters in this letter because a couple of them made me mad and I'm not speaking to the others. Basically, my nights are spent with my feet up in front of the TV waiting for the phone to ring and have someone tell me that I won the lottery. I invested several hundred dollars this year in the lottery, which they tell me helps support the salaries for teachers at the local schools. You can imagine the amazed looks on the faces of the little kids who come to my house to sell me candy, popcorn and other assorted goodies to raise money for their class, band or chorus when I tell them that I already gave at the local bar on the way home from work when I bought 40 lottery tickets and none of them was a winner.

I'm also not going to mention my spouse. She's still hanging around the house and cooks my meals and washes my clothes. However, she's now making more money than me and she's so selfish that she won't share it with me so I'm buying my own beer and lottery tickets. She's also addicted to "Dancing with the Stars" and "House" so I don't get to watch my shows anymore. If this keeps up, I might just grab a book and start reading it. No...I'm just kidding.

I went to the doctor a couple of times this year. I took the cat to the vet and he had an operation. So he's not a Tom cat anymore. I'm supposed to get an operation also, but the cat didn't like his and I don't think I would like mine so my resolution next year is not to go see the doctor anymore.

Well, I think I mentioned everyone important to me...with the exception of my car. It's still the 1988 Pontiac. I think the paint quit falling off so it looks about the same.

Have a Merry Christmas...I know I will.