More than one way to skin a cat....

Belinda and I have celebrated 26 wedding anniversaries...all of them in Mandan. Most of our anniversaries were celebrated at the Seven Seas on the northwest edge of town. My favorite meal was the king-sized South American steak. I loved that steak so much that I looked for all kinds of opportunities to go to the Seven Seas and eat my favorite meal. A number of my relatives have also enjoyed eating at the Seven Seas with me and enjoying the steak as much as me.

However, two or three years ago, that changed. The Seven Seas became Montana Mike's. The decor changed from an upscale dining establishment to something that now resembles a hunting lodge on Lolo Pass. The servers also changed. Instead of the matronly ladies dressed in black dresses with white trim, we are now greeted by teenagers dressed in blue jeans and T-shirts.

The South American steaks hot off the grill

But the biggest change was the menu. No longer could I order the South American steak. This baffles me to this day because the same people own Montana Mike's who previously owned the Seven Seas. I know they still have the recipe. However, when I ate at Montana Mike's and ordered a South American steak, my server told me that they served 21 different kinds of steak, but none of them were the South American variety.

Really, I thought, you couldn't serve 22 varieties of steak...including my favorite. I tried to think of the hundreds of times I ordered that steak. Not once did I write a bum check or not leave a nice tip for the servers, so why in the world did I deserve this punishment.

Now supposedly, the recipe of the secret sauce for the South American steak is held by only a few select people in the world...however, I happen to be one of them. So tonight, Belinda and I decided to splurge for old time sake and make our favorite steaks. First we grilled a couple of T-bones outside. Then we brought them in and slathered them with South American steak sauce. And just to make sure that I had enough of the sauce on my beef, I dipped every piece I ate in small bowl of sauce...just like I used to do at the restaurant.

Belinda's first try at a blooming onion...it was delicious!

To make our dinner even more special, Belinda fried up a blooming onion, served us baked potatoes and her delicious cucumber salad. I'm sure our entire meal didn't approach the price of even one steak at Montana Mike's.

If you would like to make your own South American steak sauce and be one of the growing number of people in the world to possess the recipe, here it is: 15 ounces of reduced sodium soy sauce, 6 ounces of tomato paste, 6 tablespoons of white vinegar, 3 teaspoons of garlic powder, one and half teaspoons cayenne pepper, 1 teaspoon of paprika, 1/2 teaspoon of cumin and one half teaspoon of sage. 

The moral to my story is this...if I can't eat my favorite steak at my former favorite restaurant, at least I can eat it every once in a while at home. And now you can too!

If I could write a pilot for a TV sitcom....

I've spent a good deal of my life sitting in front of the TV set watching situation comedies. Some of them -- like Seinfeld, The Office, King of the Hill, Modern Family and the Big Bang Theory -- I nearly have memorized.

So it seems to me that I could write for any of them. I know the characters. I understand their distinct speech patterns so I can write dialogue for all of the characters from Bobby Hill to Sheldon Cooper.

But what I would really like to do is write a pilot for a new sitcom. Call it the "Steve Van Dyke Show." The stars would be my family. We don't have a quirky neighbor but we do have a quirky guest who lives with us 24-hours-a-day...my dad.

Last night for instance, he sat in the exact spot where Scott wanted to sit on the couch. Scott came home from work about 6:45 p.m. so the rest of us had already finished dinner in the kitchen.

Scott was warming up his food while hoping to settle down on the couch, enjoy dinner and watch the Red Sox game. To mark his spot, Scott placed his water glass on a stand next to the spot he hoped to sit.

Unfortunately, Scott was still putting the final touches on his soup and sandwich when Grandpa sat down...in Scott's spot. Scott had to sit in the middle of the couch, much to his dismay.

Normally, this isn't a big deal as dad has a hard time sitting still and gets up several times to check on his cat, go to the bathroom, feed his cat, go to the bathroom or just generally roam around the house.

But last night was different. Grandpa sat down at the end of the couch and a Mack truck couldn't budge him.

Scott really wanted to sit next to his water and watch the Red Sox, so he got up and found dad's cat. He placed Picasso next to his kitty food dish in hopes that Grandpa would spring to his feet to see if the cat had food. But Grandpa didn't move.

Picasso wasn't hungry so the cat simply looked at his food dish and then slowly wandered into the livingroom and then back to the office where he proceeded to take a nap.

Finally, Scott needed a drink of water. No problem. He asked for his water and Grandpa ignored him. Probably because Grandpa can't hear. So I picked up Scott's water and handed it to Grandpa to hand it to Scott. However, Grandpa said he didn't want any water. He wasn't thirsty.

I loudly told him that it wasn't for him. Scott wanted the water. So Grandpa got involved in the process and passed the water to Scott. However, after Scott had gotten a drink of water, Grandpa again didn't want to take the glass because he still wasn't thirsty.

After a while, I got up to go to the bathroom. This finally tilted the game in Scott's favor.

Grandpa had to see where I had gone, so I when I emerged from the hallway, I could see that all was right with the world. Grandpa was in the office by his cat and Scott was sitting next to his water.

I don't know if there are enough laughs in my TV pilot or not, but I know I sure enjoyed laughing at the antics of Scott and how Grandpa just ignored him.

No wonder he's still alive

I was walking to church this morning and thinking about things that my dad taught me...especially his sayings. Here's a few:

• "What you eat in private shows up in public."
• "What a wicked web we weave when first we practice to conceive." (Apologies to Sir Walter Scott)
• "Once begun, half done."

But another had to do with fishing. "Your time spent fishing isn't taken away from your time on Earth."

That last saying has to be true...because dad is still here. He certainly spent years fishing...if you count them all up. Going fishing with dad was almost one big fishing story after another. He told about taking mom's brothers Wayne and Harold fishing. Another time he took his brother Edgar fishing and they caught so many fish they hid them in side panels of the door so they wouldn't get stopped by the game warden on the way home. 

Uncle Rich and Grandpa getting ready for fishing in Roundup

Another time he went fishing up by Checkerboard -- about 100 miles west of Roundup -- and he had to soak the wooden spokes on the wheels in linseed oil to keep them from cracking. 

One thing I knew about dad and fishing...the fish didn't stand a chance. When you are as lucky at fishing as him, it's probably not luck. He seemed to have a sense of where the fish were - whether it was a lake, a reservoir, a creek or the muddy Musselshell River. It also didn't seem to matter if he was ice fishing. He always was catching fish. 

But he just wasn't good at fishing. He was also an expert gardener, hunter and rock collector. If dad set his mind to it, he was good at it. He was pretty good at plumbing and fixing cars. 

I hated when he wanted me to be his helper. I lack the skills of being handy. I also wasn't very good at catching fish. I couldn't see well enough to be a hunter. I do like to garden...but that's about as close to learning some of dad's skills as I ever got. 

My brothers are pretty good fishermen, too. I'm not sure why I stunk at it. Maybe because I have no patience. I expect the fish to almost jump out of the water and into my creel. 

However, I do have a lot of fond memories of going fishing with mom and dad. When I was growing up, mom and dad both worked and both had Mondays and Tuesdays off. It seems to me that they would go to Billings one day and the other day they would go fishing. One of their favorite spots was a reservoir near Winnett. I wasn't much for fishing, but I liked to read books while my fishing hook was in the water. And I especially liked cooking hotdogs over a hot fire and eating pork and beans and potato chips. 

I remember that my oldest nephew and niece -- Dave and Karen -- used to come along. Karen would need a nap in the afternoon and Dave would be running up and down the bank throwing stuff into the water. However, he soon took to fishing and became pretty good at it. 

Mom was a pretty good fisherman, too. But again, she was a patient woman. I liked to cast and reel. But staring at a red and white bobber or waiting for my pole to bend over from a fish biting wasn't something that interested me much. Instead, I liked to read adventure novels. 

Still, these are all fond memories. They remind me of something dad wrote in an autograph book that has long been lost...."When the summer sun is setting and from cares your mind is free...and of others you are thinking, won't you sometimes think of me." 

Oh the way Glenn Miller played....

Do you remember the theme song to the TV comedy "All in the family?" Edith and Archie sat at a piano while she played some chords and their voices rang out with..."Oh, the way Glenn Miller played. Songs that made the Hit Parade. Geez, our old LaSalle ran great. Those were the days."

Well, I thought for something different, I would return to Belinda's diaries and see what the Van Dyke family was up to 25, 20, 15, 10 and five years ago...since those were the "Good Old Days." I've never been one to be superstitious, so the 13th is always just another day. The daily entries in Belinda's diaries are like a snapshot of our family life at different periods. For instance, 25 years ago, our boys weren't born. Twenty years ago, Derek was a toddler and Scott was a baby. 15 years ago, they were both in grade school. 10 years ago Scott was in 6th grade and Derek was in 8th grade. Five years ago, Scott was a high school junior and Derek was a freshmen in college. Also, another point of reference is that dad moved in with us in July of 2006.

These are taken straight from the diaries so I'll put any notes from me in parenthesis. Also, it appears that through the years, Belinda washed clothes on the 13th. When I got home today, she told me that she had washed two loads of clothes, washed windows and cleaned the bathroom.

March 13, 1987 (This is before kids as Derek was born in 1988 and Scott in 1990) - Friday the 13th. "After supper, we went to Grandma Frohlich's to play cards. Steve won most of the money. We got home about 10 p.m. and watched TV. Steve played guitar for a while. I washed three loads of clothes."

March 13, 1992 - Friday the 13th. "Steve worked until 6 p.m. We had lasagna for supper. Darcy (Belinda's youngest sister who was attending the University of Mary) was here for supper. Steve's mom called and said Willis had a lump removed from his neck and is doing fine. Scott went to bed at 8 p.m. After supper, Herbie and Darlene (Belinda's aunt and uncle) came to visit until about 9:30 p.m. Derek went to bed at 10 p.m. Then Darcy and I went to buy groceries for $81. Darcy left at 11:45 p.m."

March 13, 1997 - Thursday - "A windy and snowy day. High was 15 degrees with a minus 30 windchill in the afternoon. We woke up to about four inches of fluffy snow. It snowed a few more inches in the morning so I had to snowblow before I could drive up the driveway after working at the church in the morning. Steve ate lunch with Floyd and Sharron Waddingham. After lunch Allison (a little girl Belinda babysat) napped from 2 p.m. to 3:15 p.m. I washed four loads of clothes. Steve blew the driveway when he got home from work. We had fish sticks and Rice-a-Roni for supper. After supper we played cards. The boys went to bed about 9 p.m. Steve and I proofread The Resource (the employee magazine at MDU). He also practiced his speech for the MDU Management Conference."

March 13, 2002 - Wednesday - "Steve made breakfast before he went to work. I took the kids to school. Steve and Scott were home for lunch. After lunch, I made spaghetti sauce for supper at church. I picked the kids up from school and we went to Wonderful Wednesday (an after school program at our church). We had three different kinds of spaghetti sauces and homemade Italian bread and gilletto with our spaghetti. Steve and the boys attended the youth group. I went to a freshmen registration meeting. When we got home, I studied with Derek for his history test. We went to bed at 10:30 p.m."

March 13, 2007 - Tuesday - "High 52. Steve and I walked this morning. Scott went to school at 7 a.m. Steve went to work at 7:30. I made sausage omelettes for breakfast. Julie, Jessica (Julie is Belinda's younger sister and Jessica is her oldest daughter) and I went shopping until 11:30. Derek was home and so was Willis. They met us at Paradiso for lunch. I did some work on the church bulletin and washed three loads of clothes in the afternoon. Willis napped. After Scott got home from school, we went to see an oral surgeon. It will cost $1,475 to have his wisdom teeth cut out. We will have pay about half as we have dental insurance. We had leftover roast, potatoes and carrots for supper. Steve went to Men's Club at the church. Steve, Willis and I played two games of Scrabble. Willis went to bed at 9 p.m. Steve at 10 p.m. and Scott and I at 11 p.m."

Taking “old men” pills

My dental hygienist is a sweet lady, mother of two, about my age. When I told her about my prescriptions due to my heart failure (yes, that’s what it’s called), she said, “You are taking old men pills.”

Little did she know how prophetic her words would be.

Just before Christmas, I made the mistake of swallowing my dad’s handful of pills instead of my own about dinner time.

Derek was home from Minot; Scott was working; and Belinda was ringing the bell at the Salvation Army in in south Bismarck.

I thought, no big deal, I’ll just gag myself and the pills will be gone.

Not so fast…the pills didn’t want to come up.

By this time, Derek is on the computer and the phone talking to the poison center.

Suddenly, I remembered something I learned in my childhood. I think it was my Grandma Van Dyke who told me that if you drink the raw white of the egg – called the albumen – it will make you throw up. So I separated an egg and drank the albumen. NOTHING.

So, thinking I might have gotten this wrong, I swallowed the raw egg yolk. Still nothing.

I then cracked another egg and swallowed that raw. Still nothing.

By this time, Derek had become frantic and decided the next course of action was to take me to the emergency room in Bismarck. We loaded up Grandpa and a way we went. On the way over, he was calling Scott and mom to tell them where we were going. Belinda’s shift was about over so she was to meet me at the ER.

Derek dropped me off at the hospital and then he and Grandpa went back to Mandan.

I walked into the ER only to find a sign that said, “Identification and insurance card required.”

I had neither with me. All I had was a handful of my dad’s pills in my stomach.

Luckily, the receptionist and my wife share the same Aunt Darlene. So she recognized me and allowed me to pass through the two iron doors that lead to the ER.

A nurse began quizzing me about the pills that I had swallowed and I told her that a few of them are actually the same pills that I take. But a couple of them are for Alzheimer’s, and I don’t have a prescription for them.

By this time, Belinda arrived and we were listening to a man behind a curtain curse on his cellphone. We’re not sure why he was in the ER, but he had a terrible mouth. As soon as he finished one call, he called someone else and started his tirade of curse words again.

In a few minutes the doctor arrived and he asked me to repeat the same information I had already given the nurse. The doctor was an older gentleman…say about 65. Anyway, he laughed when he heard what I had done and told me I would be fine and the Alzheimer’s pills would probably “remind me not to pee my pants.”

With that, he released me with the instructions not to take my dad’s pills anymore and not to double up on the pills that I had already taken.

The next morning, I awoke feeling no worse for having taken the wrong pills. And all would have been forgotten…except that I took the “memory” medicine and so haven’t forgotten this silly episode of my life. 

A teachable moment

Sure, the children aren't kids anymore, but once a father, always a father.

So, we were bowling one afternoon and I said something about the privilege of owning my own bowling shoes. "I don't like sharing bowling shoes with everyone else in town, so I'm glad I own my own."

Yes, I'm a bit of a "germaphobe," as are my two sons. So I wasn't surprised when the youngest one snuck off to the Pro Shop and came back the proud owner of a new pair of bowling shoes. Not only are they new, but they also don't look like the circus shoes that bowling alleys have. Whoops, I used the ancient term for "Family Fun Centers", but that's another blog.

Anyway, Scott bought the shoes as we were leaving so he didn't have a chance to actually use them.

The next day Scott was working, shopping, visiting or something. Anyway, he wasn't around when Derek and I decided to go to Mandan's other bowling alley.

I told Derek he might as well use Scott's new bowling shoes. That way he wouldn't need to put his feet into shoes that have been worn by everyone else in town.

That must have sounded good to Derek, so off we went.

When we got to the bowling alley, we noticed that Scott's shoes still had the price tag on them, and it was snapped on with plastic to the shoe laces. No problem, Derek simply snipped the plastic in two and found that the shoes fit him to a "T."

After a couple of games, Derek tied the shoes back together and placed the price tag back in the laces of the shoes, without the plastic cord.

As we drove home, much to our chagrin, we noticed that mom and Scott were both home.

Never mind, we'll just nonchalantly enter the house, put our bowling balls away and Derek will discreetly take the shoes from his bag and slip them into Scott's. No one will be the wiser.

Well, the plan worked perfectly except that Derek and I couldn't keep a straight face to save our lives. Belinda was asking us what was going on, just as Scott got off the couch and went into the room with the bowling balls to inspect his. There he found his shoes and, he said, "My shoes are still hot. Who's been wearing them?"

Derek admitted that he had worn them, but since they fit him, he would buy Scott a new pair and keep the pair he had worn.

So they left and went back to the family fun center, but there were no more bowling shoes of that size to be purchased.

So, Scott and Derek came back home.

This is where I thought I would provide the teachable moment. You know that thing that your mother teaches you when you are about two: "If it doesn't belong to you, don't touch it."

However, right when I got to the part where I asked Derek, "Did you learn anything today?"

His reply was: "Yeah, don't listen to dad!"

Remembering our loved ones

“Remember, spend time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever. Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side. Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent. Remember to say, ‘I love you’ to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all, mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you. Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.” – George Carlin

There is something about a friendly reminder. A person sharing a reminder is not calling us stupid, but simply reminding us about something that we know, but might have forgotten.

George Carlin was one of my favorite comedians when I was growing up. He looked like an old hippie, but his observations about life showed a great insight into the character of humans. I think he would have been a great guy to hang out with at college, although I’m not sure I would have wanted to share a dorm room with him.

One of my cousins posted this little reminder from the late comedian recently and it got me to thinking about people from my past. As a Christian, I hope to be re-united with these people someday in heaven. But for right now, people like my mom and my grandmas are part of the nostalgia that we cling to as we grow older.

Both of my grandmas were all about family. My Grandma Anderson had two bachelor uncles that lived across the avenue from the home where I grew up. If it was Sunday, Grandma had her two brothers visiting her…not just for an hour in the evening, but for all day.  Grandma Anderson died in 1972 when I was 12 years old. She was born in 1899, so the year was always her age…she died when she was 72. I remember that she was the first person I knew that had sugar diabetes. Since that time, my mom had it and my two brothers have it. My kidney doctor told me I have it but that I’m controlling it with my diet and exercise.

My Grandma was also musically inclined and could strum the guitar. She chewed her nails and was a wonderful cook. I loved to eat whatever she was cooking, especially her cookies and pies. She was also very nice to her grandchildren. I loved to stop at her home when she lived across the street from the hospital. Her home was on my way home from school.

I remember when my Grandma Van Dyke used to live with us. She liked to eat jelly on saltine crackers. I used to eat them with her, but I wouldn’t eat them today. She also had very soft hands. I remember holding her hand when she walked and I was amazed at how soft they were.

My mom was very special to me, but I suppose all moms are special to their children. Mom was also a wonderful cook. She was also a great person to visit with. There wasn’t anyone who didn’t like visiting with her. She had a naturally cheerful disposition and a positive outlook on life. She was also a great one for entertaining company, especially when it was family. I remember having her house full of music with guitars, a banjo and mandolin and her brother Harold blowing on a harmonica. She loved music, and she liked to go to dances and barbecues in Melstone when I was a younger.

There are others that have passed on that have also shaped my life…hopefully for the better. I had favorite professors in college and teachers in school. When I look at photographs from 20 or 30 years ago, there are lots of people that have since died. Like my brother Randy once told me, the people who made the town of Roundup so special to us when we were growing up are now resting in one of the town’s cemeteries.

And as the circle of life progresses, it will be my turn to be the person in the photograph that others are missing. So as we live our lives on earth, let’s be kind to each other, offer a word of praise or thanksgiving…and more importantly, let’s lead Christian lives so when we die from this Earth, we have a new home in heaven to spend eternity. That is my hope and my prayer.