How we got kicked out of the Mall of America

The last time Derek, Scott and I got to travel together without female supervision was 12 years ago. The boys wanted to go to a summer Bible camp at Lake Poinsett, near Watertown, SD, and I agreed to accompany them. We stopped in Aberdeen overnight where we ate Chinese food and then went north of town to explore the Wizard of Oz figurines in a park. At the camp, we were introduced to Monty Furball, not his real name but the hairiest man we'd ever seen, and a couple of little rugrats that we would never forget. One was a hyperactive one-man destruction crew named Austin. The other was Ross, a "sad sack" ne'er do well who had a huge man for a daddy. At dinner, the little boy ate every minuscule piece of meat off a chicken back. When the boy was asked if he wanted another piece, the dad replied. "my son doesn't like chicken." Very odd.

So with that as a common background, the three of us set out toward Minneapolis on the morning of August 19 to see three major league baseball games in the Twins' new ballpark, Target Field. We had seen the Twins play before but it was always indoors...in the Metrodome. This was our first chance to experience outdoor baseball in the Twin Cities. Plus we would get to see the Yankees, who were in first place, play the Twins, who were struggling because of injuries to key players and inconsistent pitching.

We stayed at a Days Inn a few miles from Target Field because Derek had a free night's stay at that particular hotel chain. The distance from the ballpark wasn't a problem, we thought, because we would take the light rail (think subway) to and from the ball park. However, the light rail is not near the Day's Inn, so we took their shuttle, which dropped us off at the corner of 6th Street and Hennepin Avenue. From there, we walked around downtown, ate a leisurely supper under the old Dayton's store and then walked to the ball park.

The Yankees beat the Twins on Friday night and the weather couldn't have been any better for outdoor baseball. However, just as the game ended, the clouds began to sprinkle a light rain on us. We walked to where the shuttle was to pick us up and even called the hotel to let us know we were waiting. But alas, there was no white van. So we waited, and called the hotel again, still no shuttle. So we waited, and called, and waited and called again. About 45 minutes passed while we were rained on and talked to by hookers, drug addicts, pimps, pushers, partyers and other forms of humanity that we normally don't pal around with.

Finally, we saw a white van from the Day's Inn, but it stopped kitty corner from us. By the time we tried to run and catch it, the shuttle left. So Derek called the hotel again. Only this time, he didn't use his nice voice. The clerk at the hotel said the shuttle would circle the block and come get us. The shuttle did no such thing. So Derek called again. This time we heard that the shuttle would be back to pick us up after it made a stop at the light rail. So we waited...while a diesel bus pummeled us with stinky exhaust and the passengers stared at us like we were crazy for standing on a street corner on Hennepin Avenue at this time on a Friday night.

Finally, we hailed a taxi, which took us to our hotel. Upon arriving, we were reimbursed for the taxi cab by the hotel clerk who apologized for the lack of shuttle service.

Thus ended our first day in the city. The second day would be no less dramatic. We started the morning at Belinda's cousin Lisa's home south of Minneapolis. She made a wonderful breakfast and we got to soak our feet in her warm outdoor pool. From there we made it to Hopkins, MN, where Derek and Scott each bought some soda, candy and cookies from a Brazilian restaurant. After that, we went to the Mall of America to shop and eat at Bubba Gump's. After a tasty meal and a few miles around the mall, we decided that for "old time sake" we should take the log ride at the amusement park in the center of the mall.

I climbed in the front of the log at the request of my sons so that my clothes could absorb most of the splashing water. Behind me were Derek and Scott. The log ride is a lot of fun. It's kind of a combination roller coaster and boat ride. Plus you get a little tour of Minnesota folklore as you see Paul Bunyan and his blue ox Babe as you go through the mountainous terrain. Toward the end of the ride, you get your picture taken at the same time your log heads straight down a hillside. It was at this moment that I heard Scott say, "Is that a nipple I see?"

I didn't think much of it until we were out of our log and walking to where they sell the pictures. People were standing there and laughing at us. One old guy said, "I guess you don't know what was going on behind you?"

I did not, until I saw the picture of Derek holding up his shirt to expose his left nipple on the photo. I took a picture of the electronic preview because I certainly didn't want to buy the photo...until the boys talked me into it. Derek went up to the lady and asked to buy the photo for $10. When it popped up on her computer screen, her face turned ashen. She collected her thoughts and then turned toward us and started berating us about behavior, family values and a few other well chosen phrases and sentences meant to demean us. In the end, she wouldn't sell us the photo. No skin off my nose, I thought. I didn't want to buy it in the first place, and with her mad at us, we decided to leave the amusement park and the mall. So, no we weren't escorted to the door by the mall police, but we knew we were no longer welcome...especially on the log ride.

The photo of the log ride

In the evening, we saw the Twins beat the Yankees and after the game, we grabbed a cab and skipped waiting for the shuttle to arrive at the corner of Sixth and Hennepin.

The next day we were invited to church in Roseville by a young lady who had once or twice been the babysitter for our boys in Mandan. After church, she treated us to a delicious buffet brunch that was second to none. When we left her, we thought we would head to the ball park for the afternoon game but first we needed some gasoline. It was at the gas station near the stadium that I asked the boys if either one of them had grabbed today's tickets off the TV set back at the hotel. Both said they didn't see the tickets so no they hadn't grabbed them.

It was at that moment that my heart started pounding. Derek threw the car into gear and we raced back to our hotel. Derek told me to calm down as the cleaning crew had probably not been to our room yet.

When he reached the parking lot, I jumped out of the car and went straight to the desk. A clerk there made a key to our room and asked me to check it out myself. While I was racing to the room, I heard him ask a lady who was head of the cleaning service if our room had been cleaned. I didn't hear her answer because of the hum of the elevator.

Running down the hall to our room, it looked like nothing had been cleaned, but once inside our room, I could see that the beds were made and the tickets were missing from the top of the TV where I had left them. So I ran back to the elevator and eventually back to the front desk. There the clerk stood by himself. But he told me that often the cleaning service will keep things like tickets on their carts and that the lady had left to see if she could find the person who cleaned our room. In that instant, my heart sunk. We were in Minneapolis with no tickets. It was my fault. There was no one to blame it on and the boys were going to be very disappointed.

Just then, the lady came from around the corner and, lo and behold, she had our tickets. All three of them. I could have kissed her.

I ran outside to find my boys ravaging through my luggage, double checking to make sure that their father wasn't so stupid to take the tickets out and leave them on the TV. When they saw me and saw that I had the tickets, they began to smile again. And then started laughing as we piled into the car to head to the game.

Derek, Scott and I on Sunday

Then Scott let loose with the family cheer from the backseat of the car. "Steve Van Dyke...OY, OY, OY!" The cheer is held in reserve to highlight the most egregious of errors.

We went to the game, the Yankees won and we were back in the car driving home to Mandan. The only odd thing that happened on the trip home was the million of bugs we hit outside of Jamestown. We had stopped at a gas station, not only for gas, but also to clean our windshield in Jamestown, 100 miles east of Bismarck. Now, five miles out of town, our windshield was covered with bugs.

Splat, splat, splat..."that bug won't have the guts to do that again"...splat, splat, splat...."you know what the last thing was to go through that bug's mind? His feet".  Suddenly, splat, splat was replaced with swish, swish as we tried to get rid of the bug guts with blue washer fluid and our windshield wipers. By the time we reached home, our white Impala was the color of tar from all the dead bugs.

Still, it was an adventure...one that all three of us will never forget. We didn't have Monty, Ross or Austin, this time around, but we saw enough characters at the corner of Hennepin and Sixth to last us a lifetime.

Funny memories of the natural gas bill stuffer

Years ago when I worked for MDU Resources Group, Inc., I was in charge of the bill stuffers that went into the monthly bills of Montana-Dakota Utilities Co.'s energy customers. Once a year we had to put a "scratch and sniff" stuffer into the natural gas customers' bills so that they knew what natural gas smelled like in case there was ever a leak.

For those who don't know, natural gas is odor less in nature, and so the utility mixes it with an chemical called mercaptain, and it smells worse than rotten eggs.

You then can imagine what the mailroom of MDU smelled like every January when a quarter of a million customers in four states received the bill stuffer. The mailroom contained a very large metallic green monstrosity that held the bills, the return envelope, the mailing envelope and about four stacks of various bill stuffers. There was just enough friction caused by the envelope stuffing to release the mercaptain smell every time a bill was mailed. Over the course of eight hours, the room reeked, and after a month, the mailing room almost required a gas mask just to enter. So it wasn't a pleasant place to work in January.

The two people who worked in the mailroom were a couple of characters. It was an elderly man -- who liked to drink at the Paper Dollar bar in Bismarck on his way home from work -- and a nosy middle-aged lady, who was forever trying to win something off the radio. The lady was a shirt-tail relative of my father-in-law, but that's another story.

Anyway, I walked into the mail room one January day, and the old man is tooting right and left...almost in time with the mailing machine as it chugged along stuffing envelopes. He smiled at me, and I guess I smiled back at him...as a person does when they are sort of witnessing something that is a little "out in left field."

Anyway, the old man came up to me and said, "I love this month. I can pass gas and no one can tell because of the stink from the bill stuffers."

If only we had also been given ear plugs, I thought.

But the strangest thing was a letter I received from a distraught mother of a teenager in Dickinson. Her letter read: "Dear MDU, Recently I received a bill stuffer that smelled like natural gas. I'm wondering if you could send one out that smells like burnt marijuana. I'm suspicious that my son is smoking grass, but I don't know what it smells like."

My reply was that the company purchased the natural gas sniffer stuffers from an outside firm and that vendor only makes the ones that smell like natural gas because it's mandated by law. However, if she wanted to know what marijuana smelled like, she should either go to a rock concert or take a trip (no pun intended) to the Dickinson police department and ask an officer to burn some contraband for her.

I''m reminded of these stories every January when I open my MDU bill only to find the stinky natural gas sniffer stuffer. The old man has since died and the lady's retired....but the stories -- like the smell -- continue to linger.

21 years of Scott

It's hard to believe it was 21 years ago when Scott Willis arrived at the MedCenter One Hospital in Bismarck. Seems like yesterday I was holding a little baby in my arms.

It was a hot Monday, high 91, back on July 16, 1990. I drove Belinda to MedCenter One in the middle of the night. Belinda's sister Darcy was at our house attending a basketball camp with her friend Cheri so we left our 23-month-old toddler Derek with the girls. At 9:15 a.m. we had a precious baby boy. He weighed 9 pounds and one ounce and was 22 inches long.

Somehow, I thought our second child would be a girl so we had picked out Shelby for a girl's name (after the town in Montana on the Highline), but instead we were blessed with a bouncing baby boy. Among the visitors the first day were Darcy, Cheri, Derek and Belinda's brother Miles and his wife Bernie. Scott's Godparents would be Bernie Doll and his uncle Steve Scheitlin.

Scott had light blond hair 

One of the things about being born in July -- as his mom and dad can attest -- is it's often hot. On his first birthday, the temperature reached the triple digits. I videoed Scott when he woke up and he wasn't a happy camper. Miles and Bernie came over in the evening for cake and ice cream and to watch Derek open Scott's presents.

It was cool on his second birthday. High 68. His Aunt Julie and Aunt Amy were in Mandan. We celebrated his birthday at noon when Miles came for lunch. We had homemade spaghetti and breadsticks. Scott got to open his own presents this year, which included a Tonka truck from his parents.

His third birthday was on a Friday -- a hot and muggy day. I made breakfast and then took both boys to get a hair cut. Uncle Miles was preoccupied today as he had water in his basement. Scott got a guitar, train and helicopter toy from us. Other presents included a Cootie game, a gun and other trucks.

July 16, 1994, was Scott's fourth birthday. He got a sizzling, smoking BBQ grill from his parents and he was grilling all day. He also got a camera that he took pictures with all day. Power Rangers was the fad so he got a Power Rangers shirt and video. He had a "Cookie Monster" cake that we took up to Great-grandma Frohlich's.

In 1995, we stopped in Glendive for Scott's birthday party on a toasty Sunday with Grandma and Grandpa Doll before leaving later in the day for Roundup. We were heading to the cabins by Martinsdale on Monday. This was the year at the cabins that Scott and I turned over in the inner tube, which was caught on video by Uncle Rich. As for presents, this was another "Power Ranger" year. Aunt Amy made him a Power Ranger birthday cake.

On his sixth birthday, Scott was in Mandan playing tee-ball in the morning and went to the amusement park at Sertoma Park in the afternoon. We ate at McDonald's for dinner, then we had his birthday party outside with Miles and Bernie along with Allison and Shirley Haider. The "Toy Story" movie had now taken over from the "Power Rangers" and Scott got a Buzz Lightyear action figure for his birthday.

On his seventh birthday, Scott and Derek were at Grandma and Grandpa Doll's because we had just returned from Hawaii. We got up early and drove to Glendive. Aunt Amy made Scott a "Rugrat" cake. He had lots of cousins visiting him for his birthday party.

In 1998, Scott was back in Mandan playing baseball. Matthew Markel, Kyle Jefferson and Allison Haider came for his birthday. They went to the amusement park and then came home to eat birthday cake and ice cream. We gave him a Michael Jordan basketball and a big bag of Skittles.

When he turned nine, Scott and his friends went to Snooper's, an indoor amusement complex in Bismarck. That year his presents revolved around baseball and the New York Mets. On his 10th birthday, he repeated the trip to Snooper's. His sports enthusiasm had now turned to golf as he got a golf glove for his birthday, among other presents.

On his 11th birthday, he got a pull cart for golf from us and baseball batting gloves. We grilled filet mignon for Scott's birthday.

Scott and his turtle cake

When he turned 13, the temperature was 115...but we were also in Phoenix visiting the Stegmeiers. Needless to say, we all went swimming in the pool behind their house. While visiting in Arizona, we toured the Grand Canyon. The major memory of Phoenix was the heat and how the candles melted without being lit. We also heard that a number of windshields popped and broke from the intense heat.

On his 14th birthday, the high was 90. The boys got up early and left for Williston on a bus with their Babe Ruth baseball team. We drove up later in the day. Scott got to pitch during the tournament. He didn't want a cake back at the hotel. The next day -- which was my birthday -- we celebrated both of our birthdays with fried chicken and cake at a park with my nephew David and his wife Cathy from Plentywood.

High 107 on his 15th birthday. Belinda was in the Black Hills so we were on our own in Mandan. Scott and I ate at Red Lobster. Derek was at play practice. Lindsay Feigitsch, a friend from school and church, took Scott to the Bewitched movie. Cheryl Horner brought a Treatsa-Pizza from Dairy Queen.

It was a Sunday when Scott turned 16. We put money toward his car stereo system. I made him a chocolate birthday cake and we ate at Paradiso. After supper we moved the computer from downstairs to upstairs as Grandpa would soon be moving from Roundup to Mandan to live with us.

A true-blue Red Sox Rooter

On his 17th birthday, Scott got a Red Sox T-shirt from us and another from Derek. He got a Turtle Cake for his birthday cake and ate at Paradiso with his friends. We ate at Red Lobster for dinner. Scott ate two pounds of crab for supper.

A warm, humid day for his 18th birthday. Scott got all kinds of after shave, cologne and deodorant from us...along with golf balls. Derek, Scott, Uncle Todd and I went golfing.

On his 19th birthday, Scott got pants and a gift certificate to Scheels from us. He was working as a baseball coach during the summer. He went to Paradiso with his friends for lunch. We were getting ready to head to Montana for a family reunion in the afternoon. We left for Medora and met Grandma and Grandpa Doll. We ate at the pitchfork fondue and attended the musical.

Last year when Scott turned 20, he was in Guatemala. So we wished him "happy birthday" on Facebook and told him we would eat at Red Lobster when he got back.

So that brings us up to his 21st birthday. We already know that it will be hot and humid. On July 15th, his family will be taking him to Red Lobster for dinner and then birthday cake with family and friends afterwards. Then on the 16th, he's eating at Paradiso with friends before leaving for Medora to eat at the pitchfork fondue and see the musical in the evening.

Here's to a great first 21 years.

Love,
Dad

Random thoughts

I've been walking a lot lately, which gives me time to think about the most capricious things. Here's a sampling.

• In the olden days, vehicles were named for fast animals such as the Impala and the Mustang. So what's up with pickups like the Dakota and Tundra. Especially, Tundra. That's the frozen ground up in Alaska...sort of a wasteland of frozen ground. Why would you name a pickup after a wasteland of frozen ground? I'm not inspired by Tundra. 
• We used to see a lot more people walking at 6 a.m. Where are these people? Did they die from too much exercise? Did they move? We didn't see anybody today. Yesterday, we saw a guy in a pickup who stopped to chat with us.
• I was thinking about the guy who owned the newspaper in Baker back in the early 1980s when I was walking today. I was wondering if he was still alive. He sold his paper more than 20 years ago and bought another one in the Black Hills, but he didn't own it very long. One of the wisest things he ever said to me was this: "You lie to your friends, and I'll lie to mine...but let's not lie to each other." 
• There are a lot of sump pumps working 24-hours a day in the homes on the east side of Mandan. The water can't be put in a drain because it would overload the sewer system so it has to be released outside. Some of the homes have water that seems to stretch from the curbside back to the river...about a mile away. The only people making any profit on this are those selling the pumps and the utilities selling the electricity. Also, what would happen to the homes if the electricity went out?
• Why is it calm early in the morning, but as soon as the sun gets above the horizon the wind starts to blow?  Some would think it is the sun's heat that creates the wind...but I have a different theory. I think the wind is a big chicken and only likes to come out when the sun is shining. 
• Sometimes we see special needs children when we're walking. I can't help but thank God that my children are normal. But I also think about the children and the parents of these children. What would it be like to be them? Is there something I can do to make their lives better? I'm so thankful for people who have devoted their lives and careers to helping others. 
• Every once in a while, I get a song in my head and can't get it out. This makes me wonder why some songs are so memorable. Last night I heard the song, "Putting on the Ritz." I love that song. The composer was Irving Berlin, who wrote a lot of American classics. Wouldn't the world be a duller place if Irving Berlin and other song writers had been born a thousand years ago and there music had never been written down? And what was music like a thousand years ago? Have we missed some of the earlier songs because they weren't recorded?
• We walk along the Interstate Highway, which is across from a cemetery. I'm always curious about the people buried in the cemetery. Both sets of Belinda's grandparents are buried there. I only knew her maternal grandmother. I wonder what the other three were like? Both of her grandpas were farmers and all of her grandparents were German. I'm sure they liked polkas and waltzes. What else would they like? Maybe German potato salad and bratwursts. 
• I think about my children and wonder if they will have the same economic opportunities that I had. The economy and the national debt worry me. I'm thankful that my parents enjoyed Social Security and Medicare in their golden years, but I wonder if it will be around for me or my children when they retire. Seems to me the country is over-extended and anything that is paid for by borrowing from the Chinese should come to an end...even entitlements. Maybe we need the slogan "Cash is King" to be our country's mantra. 

With that, the walk has come to an end. Our house looms in front of us again. Yes, Belinda, it's been a pretty good walk. Let's do it again tomorrow. 

Travels with Grandpa

My dad has never been much of a talker. My wife's father doesn't talk much either. I remember when our son Scott was in kindergarten and the teacher called Belinda because she was worried about him. She said, "Scott doesn't seem to talk much."

My answer was that Scott might be like his Grandpas and one word a week might be all he wants to say. Anyway, getting back to my dad and our travels, it's a lonely ride if you're waiting for him to say anything. On top of that, he speaks very quietly and I often can't hear what he says anyway.

Over Memorial Day, we drove down to the Black Hills. There was Belinda, Grandpa and me. Belinda and I can visit. When we walk in the morning, we talk and we converse over meals, etc. But then there's Grandpa.

So I was a little dismayed when I found out that Belinda wasn't coming back to Mandan with us. Instead, it would just be dad and I. That would make the long trip even longer.

Since my heart troubles in March, I've been on water pills. I take them twice a day and they can quickly become your master...especially when driving. So we left Rapid City and I had to stop in Sturgis, which is maybe 30 minutes a way. It was a lucky thing I did because dad needed to stop also, but he didn't tell me.

Our next stop was at Newell. Same thing, I had to stop and dad did, too. Then we were onto Faith. We stopped at a little gas station that was full of people. Some of the men were standing in line to use the restroom. That didn't matter to dad. As soon as someone walked out of the restroom, he walked in. Who cared if there was a line. Since the water pill had already kicked in, I followed dad into the restroom myself. However, I was afraid of what might be awaiting us when we walked out. The crowd might turn angry.

So I thought up an excuse that Grandpa needs help when using the restroom. Actually, when we left the restroom, the line had subsided. My guess is the men had decided to use the women's can. Things like that happen in small town gas stations.

Our next stop was Lemmon. It is an interesting town because it straddles the North Dakota, South Dakota border. There are electric customers of MDU who live in Lemmon that have different rates than their neighbors depending  on what side of the border they live. No kidding.

However, I digress again. We ate lunch in Lemmon at the Alaska cafe because it was right on the highway. As I walked in, I noticed there were a lot of conversations going on but there would be none at my table because one of the twosome doesn't talk. I about asked a family if we could sit with them just so I could listen to them chat while I was eating my hamburger. You miss talking when you are living in a world of total silence.

After that, we got back in our car. Prior to Lemmon, we had been listening to country music on some CDs, but I was so lonely that I turned on KFYR radio and listened to talk shows. People were calling in about the pending flood. This isn't exactly the most uplifting conversation, but at least it's company.

A couple hours later I was pulling into Mandan and dad said something about his cat. I'm not sure what he said because I can't hear him. But I thought, wow, we drove six hours and the first thing he has talked about is Picasso. He didn't ask about eating, talk about needing to use a bathroom, or anything. But he was wondering about his cat at least enough to actually speak.

All I can say is, that cat is loved.

Confessions of a Little League Coach

In Mandan, they don't have Little League. They have Cal Ripken baseball, which is Little League on a budget. The coaches were dads who wanted to see their children play baseball and have fun. Well, some of the coaches wanted to have fun. Others wanted to win, no matter what the cost.

My boys were stellar baseball players, or at least I thought so. I liked Derek in the outfield and Scott at second base. The only problem was that Derek wanted to be a catcher and Scott a pitcher. However, dad knows best. Except that I didn't. Once I let Derek start catching and Scott start pitching, they both liked the game a whole lot better and played better, too.

But that's just the beginning of my foibles. Then, like now, I couldn't remember names. I had a center fielder whose real name was Nick. But do you think I could ever remember his name? No. He quickly learned to answer to anything that started with an "N." Once he made a nice catch in the outfield and I hollered "Nice catch, Nels!"

He doffed his cap at me...a recognition of his coach's appreciation. At that same moment, somebody on the bench jabbed me in the ribs and said, "Nobody names their boys Nels anymore."

We had two coaches on the team, me and another fellow who took the game way too seriously. He could quote rules from official Cal Ripken baseball rule book quicker and with more accuracy than Billy Graham can quote Scripture.

It didn't matter what the other team did, it was against the rules in the rule book...or so said the expert. However, the teenager umping the game never read the rule book either. So he never changed his calls just because the expert was quoting chapter and verse.

My sons weren't the only brothers on the team. There was another set of brothers who came with a dad. The dad wanted to be a coach but didn't want the responsibility.

So he just sat on the bench and made rude comments...mostly about his sons. When one of them asked him if he could impart some words of wisdom, the dad said sternly, "Don't suck."

Wow, so much for "Let's win one for the Gipper."

Another memory I have is watching my oldest son get plunked with a baseball from a tall lanky pitcher on another team. It didn't matter who was on base, what was the score or whether the game was starting or ending...the lanky pitcher always had it out for Derek and never missed hitting him with a baseball.

Finally, I said enough was enough and even warned the umpire before the game that the pitcher had it out for my son. "So keep an eye on the pitcher and his bean balls," I hollered.

Sure enough, Derek got plunked with a high inside pitch his first time to the plate.

I came unglued on the bench and threatened to wring the pitcher's neck if he ever did that again.

Much to my chagrin, Derek and the "head hunter" later became good friends. So I asked the pitcher one day if he was aiming at my son on purpose.

"No sir," he said, "But the more I tried not to hit him, the worse my control got. I just got something in my head that I couldn't get out and the more I thought about it, the worse I pitched."

You know, I felt sorry for the pitcher. Eventually, his family left Mandan and all was forgotten. He was a nice boy. They were all nice boys. And I'm glad I had the chance to coach them in Little League...er, Cal Ripkin league.

Tips on expanding your vocabulary and becoming a better communicator

"If your only tool is a hammer, then every problem will look like a nail." That's an old saying, but how true. Likewise when speaking or writing, if you have only a limited vocabulary, it's hard to explain or describe the richness of life or the specificity of an event.

So it's up to us to expand our vocabularies, especially if we want to be improve our communications skills.

I learned a few years ago that the size of a person's vocabulary can often be tied to their socio-economic status. For instance, children growing up in a poor home may not have access to books (and parents reading to them) that children in a middle-class family would have. Stated another way, a single parent raising children may not have the money to buy books or have the energy to read to the children, especially if the mom or dad is working two jobs to make ends meet.

As a child, I had two loving parents along with older brothers and sisters and was surrounded by books and parents and siblings that would read to me. Still I feel the need to learn more words...basically because there are so many words to learn.

So what can I do? The easiest thing would probably be reading Webster's dictionary, but that's not very fun. However, there are lots of dictionaries that are fun to read. One of them I own deals with things that help us understand our social culture, a second gives definitions for euphemisms. Both are lots of fun, and expand your vocabulary and knowledge along the way.

A second tried and true method is to read good literature. For instance, I like westerns. There is a big difference between reading a Louis L'Amour western and a Zane Grey novel, such as "Riders of the Purple Sage." Even though Louie is a native of North Dakota, if you've read one of his novels, you've basically read them all. On the other hand, a Zane Grey western hits all the high notes and paints the most brilliant pictures, especially of the southwest United States.

But I just don't stop with westerns. Another of my favorite authors is Stephen Ambrose. He writes histories and my favorite is "Undaunted Courage", which is about Lewis & Clark and the Corps of Discovery. Mr. Ambrose is now dead, but he used to come to North Dakota and especially Fort Mandan north of Bismarck to speak about Lewis and Clark. If you ever heard him speak, his written prose sound just like him...a little bit staccato and with a certain fierceness and bravado.

However, perhaps my favorite way to learn new words is through crossword puzzles. Every morning before leaving for work, I at least start the crossword puzzle in the Bismarck Tribune. I generally don't give myself enough time to finish the puzzle before I go to work, but sometimes I do finish it, and I consider it a good omen.

Every puzzle offers me a couple of new words or new uses of old words. For instance, the puzzle today contains the word "legumes", which I know as peas. However, the definition is for a "cover crop" -- meaning that legumes can be planted to hold the soil together and provide nutrients to the soil while producing a crop...peas.

Another clue today was "Cochise's tribe". Now I could look this up on the Internet, but it's more fun to have the word appear by answering other clues. First I had found an "a" when I wrote "taro" as a "South Seas edible root." The next letter was a "p" because the clue was a "well known cartel" and the answer was 'OPEC." It wasn't long before "Apache" appeared as the answer.

There's another trick I know, not for expanding your vocabulary, but for becoming a better story teller and writer. The next time you are watching your favorite show, such as "Modern Family" for me, sit with a tablet and pen and look for colorful or witty phrases and write them down. Many TV shows are very well written and by listening to them and paying a little extra attention, we can learn from some mighty clever writers.

I hope you enjoy this blog because it allows me to show off some vocabulary and writing techniques that I've learned by applying these tips.