Random Thoughts XII - This Thread Delivers

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Observations from this weekend:

I have been to 2 baseball games in my life (well, technically only 1) and both of them had rain delays. Maybe I'm just not destined to go to a baseball game.

I've been to Minneapolis twice before this trip; once when I was like 10, maybe younger, to go to the mall and once when I had a layover and didn't leave the airport on my way to Europe. Driving at night, in the rain, in an unfamiliar city was challenging to say the least. It reinforced my desire to live on an acreage somewhere as opposed to the city. That's not a dig at Minneapolis in particular, just cities in general. Driving in Des Moines even stresses me out and that's not really that big of a city in comparison.

I had no idea there was such a large Somali population in Minneapolis. On Saturday we went to a food pantry and packed food bags, then delivered them to a set of apartment buildings that was 98% Somali. We estimated that there were at least 1000 people per building and there were 3 buildings. This was a totally eye-opening experience. None of them spoke a lick of English and, of course, we didn't speak a lick of Somali. However, it was amazing how smoothly the whole operation went. We would carry the food up to their apartments for them because most of them were too frail/handicapped to do it themselves. I have always had an interest in communication, whether it be how people communicate with each other or non-verbal communication, the topic is always fascinating. This situation was a case study in non-verbal communication and it proves that people can have a whole conversation and never communicate. Communication is a mutual understanding of a need that needs to be met, and then working together to accomplish the goal of meeting that need. When I would meet with these Somali refugees, the need was that they needed food, and the goal was that the food needed to get from me to them. Sometimes it required some pointing or hand gestures, but most of the time it was as simple as making eye contact and we both knew what needed to be done and how to do it. It's definitely something I can take back with me and apply in my workplace/school; instead of having empty conversations with no communication, work to have meaningful conversations in which there is a mutual understanding of each other. We also noticed that most of the men we met with were handicapped in some way, and we eventually came to the conclusion that most of their injuries were probably a result of the militia when they were fleeing their country. That was definitely a sobering thought. It really makes you think about their back stories and what they might have had to go through to get from Somalia to Minneapolis. If I can step up on my soapbox for a second, I'd recommend volunteering at a food pantry or something similar, although I'm sure most of you already have. It's a totally humbling and meaningful experience.

There are quite a few Somalis in Des Moines too. I think some were at least temporarily delayed due to the travel ban.

I deliver meals from our senior citizen center one day a week. It always makes me so sad that I will be the only person who talks to some of the people on that day.
 
You've never driven a manual, have you?
I taught my older brother and sister how to drive a stick. They said I explained it much better than dad did. They already knew how to drive, they just needed to understand how to manage the clutch. I took them out to the parking lot at Sikorsky aircraft on Sunday because it was huge and were pretty much empty.
 
My location progression for teaching sons to drive:

1. Driveway. They look askance when I make them wear belt until that first lurch and then they understand.
2. Cemetery. Usually only peeps there are dead.
3. Our neighborhood in town. Must learn pothole aversion, always braking when you see a kid on a bike because they will ignore all traffic laws, only light braking and certainly no swerving for squirrels.
4. State Park. Good for curve mastery and deer alert.
5. Busier streets in town. Parallel parking practice by church.
6. Hospital for diagonal parking. Store for straight parking.
7. County highway by airport. By now, trust them at higher speed but no one uses our airport so traffic usually involves safely going around farm vehicles.
8. State and US highways. Drive to bigger small towns, work our way up to Des Moines.
9. Interstate and I-235.

Prayer usually only required for 8-9. Second oldest was first to drive on interstate when they raised limit to 70 in driver’s ed. Other boy in car almost ditched them on exit ramp until instructor took control.
A great list. I always started them out in a vacant parking lot near our house (water park in off season). Then night driving in an office park near us. When I took them on the highway (usually county road) I warned that they would now be driving at a speed that mistakes were likely to get them or someone else killed. The other thing I taught was to look both directions, even if you have the green light. Kept the youngest from getting smoked by a semi.
 
Observations from this weekend:

I have been to 2 baseball games in my life (well, technically only 1) and both of them had rain delays. Maybe I'm just not destined to go to a baseball game.

I've been to Minneapolis twice before this trip; once when I was like 10, maybe younger, to go to the mall and once when I had a layover and didn't leave the airport on my way to Europe. Driving at night, in the rain, in an unfamiliar city was challenging to say the least. It reinforced my desire to live on an acreage somewhere as opposed to the city. That's not a dig at Minneapolis in particular, just cities in general. Driving in Des Moines even stresses me out and that's not really that big of a city in comparison.

I had no idea there was such a large Somali population in Minneapolis. On Saturday we went to a food pantry and packed food bags, then delivered them to a set of apartment buildings that was 98% Somali. We estimated that there were at least 1000 people per building and there were 3 buildings. This was a totally eye-opening experience. None of them spoke a lick of English and, of course, we didn't speak a lick of Somali. However, it was amazing how smoothly the whole operation went. We would carry the food up to their apartments for them because most of them were too frail/handicapped to do it themselves. I have always had an interest in communication, whether it be how people communicate with each other or non-verbal communication, the topic is always fascinating. This situation was a case study in non-verbal communication and it proves that people can have a whole conversation and never communicate. Communication is a mutual understanding of a need that needs to be met, and then working together to accomplish the goal of meeting that need. When I would meet with these Somali refugees, the need was that they needed food, and the goal was that the food needed to get from me to them. Sometimes it required some pointing or hand gestures, but most of the time it was as simple as making eye contact and we both knew what needed to be done and how to do it. It's definitely something I can take back with me and apply in my workplace/school; instead of having empty conversations with no communication, work to have meaningful conversations in which there is a mutual understanding of each other. We also noticed that most of the men we met with were handicapped in some way, and we eventually came to the conclusion that most of their injuries were probably a result of the militia when they were fleeing their country. That was definitely a sobering thought. It really makes you think about their back stories and what they might have had to go through to get from Somalia to Minneapolis. If I can step up on my soapbox for a second, I'd recommend volunteering at a food pantry or something similar, although I'm sure most of you already have. It's a totally humbling and meaningful experience.

Cedar-Riverside Plaza area (assuming this is where you were) is offhandedly referred to as Little Somalia. Mostly just descriptive to Mpls residents, more derogatory when used by outer ring suburb folks. :( Cedar-Riverside neighborhood has historically been an immigrant neighborhood, Swedes in the 19th century, eastern Euros after WWII and more recently SE Asians and now Somalians. Throw in an influx of hippy university cultural in the 1960's and it is an interesting mix.
 
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Observations from this weekend:

I have been to 2 baseball games in my life (well, technically only 1) and both of them had rain delays. Maybe I'm just not destined to go to a baseball game.

I've been to Minneapolis twice before this trip; once when I was like 10, maybe younger, to go to the mall and once when I had a layover and didn't leave the airport on my way to Europe. Driving at night, in the rain, in an unfamiliar city was challenging to say the least. It reinforced my desire to live on an acreage somewhere as opposed to the city. That's not a dig at Minneapolis in particular, just cities in general. Driving in Des Moines even stresses me out and that's not really that big of a city in comparison.

I had no idea there was such a large Somali population in Minneapolis. On Saturday we went to a food pantry and packed food bags, then delivered them to a set of apartment buildings that was 98% Somali. We estimated that there were at least 1000 people per building and there were 3 buildings. This was a totally eye-opening experience. None of them spoke a lick of English and, of course, we didn't speak a lick of Somali. However, it was amazing how smoothly the whole operation went. We would carry the food up to their apartments for them because most of them were too frail/handicapped to do it themselves. I have always had an interest in communication, whether it be how people communicate with each other or non-verbal communication, the topic is always fascinating. This situation was a case study in non-verbal communication and it proves that people can have a whole conversation and never communicate. Communication is a mutual understanding of a need that needs to be met, and then working together to accomplish the goal of meeting that need. When I would meet with these Somali refugees, the need was that they needed food, and the goal was that the food needed to get from me to them. Sometimes it required some pointing or hand gestures, but most of the time it was as simple as making eye contact and we both knew what needed to be done and how to do it. It's definitely something I can take back with me and apply in my workplace/school; instead of having empty conversations with no communication, work to have meaningful conversations in which there is a mutual understanding of each other. We also noticed that most of the men we met with were handicapped in some way, and we eventually came to the conclusion that most of their injuries were probably a result of the militia when they were fleeing their country. That was definitely a sobering thought. It really makes you think about their back stories and what they might have had to go through to get from Somalia to Minneapolis. If I can step up on my soapbox for a second, I'd recommend volunteering at a food pantry or something similar, although I'm sure most of you already have. It's a totally humbling and meaningful experience.

I believe Minneapolis has the largest Somali population in the country. I don’t live too far from one of their communities. Definitely a different culture than we’re used to, but almost everyone I’ve met seem like good people (there’s some ******** out there, but that’s the case with any population or group.)
 
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When my brother and I got near the age where Dad would teach us to drive, he took us both out on the highway (speed limit was 70 then) and we got out of the car and stood on the shoulder (far back from the pavement, of course!). I thought, what the heck is this? Eventually a car whizzed by....then several more, and a semi. Eventually we got back in the car and went home. Dad never said a word - didn't have to. A pretty graphic lesson on what you're in control of and how fast you are really going. I never forgot that.
 
Cedar-Riverside Plaza area (assuming this is where you were) is offhandedly referred to as Little Somalia. Mostly just descriptive to Mpls residents, more derogatory when used by outer ring suburb folks. :( Cedar-Riverside neighborhood has historically been an immigrant neighborhood, Swedes in the 19th century, eastern Euros after WWII and more recently SE Asians and now Somalians. Throw in an influx of hippy university cultural in the 1960's and it is an interesting mix.
We were delivering to Horn Towers. I did notice an interesting mix of businesses in that area.
 
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When my brother and I got near the age where Dad would teach us to drive, he took us both out on the highway (speed limit was 70 then) and we got out of the car and stood on the shoulder (far back from the pavement, of course!). I thought, what the heck is this? Eventually a car whizzed by....then several more, and a semi. Eventually we got back in the car and went home. Dad never said a word - didn't have to. A pretty graphic lesson on what you're in control of and how fast you are really going. I never forgot that.

This. Is. Awesome.
 
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Started driving lessons with the oldest where I did my first lessons—around the farm. Then moved to school parking lot, neighborhood, county roads and gravel, and she still needs more work on highway and interstate. The next one turns 13 this week, time to start driving lessons with her soon.
 
We were delivering to Horn Towers. I did notice an interesting mix of businesses in that area.

Been in a little bit of a routine rut and been reminded that some of the diversity of living in a bigger metro area has been a little wasted on me lately. Been taking advantage of some stuff like lakes and trails and all but missing some cultural stuff. Did hit a couple of Vietnamese restaurants the past week and Pants pointed out some cool spots south of dwtn to me last week. So many cool little hole in the wall places that are easy to overlook...well, that and parking and getting around in some neighborhoods is a challenge.
 
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What grade is she again? From recent experience (unfortunatly) track should be on the table. My son got the go at 6 months for track. He had surgery in september and was good by early march to run track (just not hurdles or jumping things). The physical therapist (this person is 1 of the 2 most important people you will have in the whole process) makes a world of difference. by January the PT said that his knee was completely back, but blood flow doesn't start until about 6 months. At 9 months there is decent flow. It will take 2 years to be "normal" again

Our doctor harvested part of his hamstring (people who will do stuff on their knees -- wrestler here) and then wrapped it around a cadaver one. Its 2x beefer than the original.

One thing that helped us was doing PT sessions before surgery, you need to keep quads strong and firing. When she gets the brace off, beat on how she walks. Don't let her gimp walk, after a couple weeks if she gimp walks it will become natural. There was a girl a year before our son who still limps when she walks from not focusing on this. Most say you can't tell our son had surgery because his Pt was phenominal.

Any thing you might wonder feel free to ask, its a situation that really floored me.

This is 10 months after surgery at a camp



Thanks. She is 13 going into 8th grade. She asked the doctor about our vacation next week and what she can do and asked Mom to delay surgery for a couple of days so she can go to the State Fair first so I think she is probably taking it reasonably well.

That move in the football clip is downright Montgomerian.
 
I wish my neighborhood had a corner store. Grew up two doors down from what was a 1950's version of a quick stop. Little corner store with a single Sinclair pump in front with the manager family living in the duplex side of the wooden structure. Being 1950/60 something they did not have coffee by the cup though. Also being that time period I am guessing cigarettes were a bigger money maker than gasoline, milk or bread.
 
Ugh! Got the MRI results. My soccer player is out of commission for an estimated 9 months. ACL and meniscus. She has to be heartbroken.
That stinks. She's so young to have to deal with that. Just let her know that she will get better and that she really needs to do the PT exercises, especially the boring stretching exercises. One thing I found out the hard way is that you shouldn't swim for quite a while with a repaired ACL. I don't think my doctor informed me about this and I found out due to the fact that it hurt pretty bad to kick while swimming.
 
I taught all my girls to drive. My youngest is probably the best. I took her out to Jester Park north of Urbandale, on a nice spring day -- still a little snow on the park road, and it was about 3 miles of winding hilly road. She was getting close to the edge (no shoulder) going around a curve, and I knew if a tire went off, it would be tow truck time, so I reached over and moved the steering wheel to get us back on track. She got all huffy about it, so I made her pull over. I told her if I was going to teach her how to drive, and thought we might be headed for trouble, I would continue to do things like that. And if she didn't like it, her mom could become her teacher. I've never received a faster apology out of her.
That threat that mom will become their driving teacher has worked pretty well for me, too. It doesn't make them happy but it gets them to stop talking back to you.
 
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Thanks. She is 13 going into 8th grade. She asked the doctor about our vacation next week and what she can do and asked Mom to delay surgery for a couple of days so she can go to the State Fair first so I think she is probably taking it reasonably well.

That move in the football clip is downright Montgomerian.


He's not sure why they had him carrying the ball for the drill, he's being recruited as a LB/DB. Apparently that was the final drill of the day and the coaches picked players from each group and whichever one lost, their entire team had running drills. That's why they were more excited than they should be.
 
Dear, I'm your age. Of course I did. As I said earlier, I only use my right foot when I drive, just something about that left foot trying to brake when I ride shotgun. ;)
I haven't regularly driven a stick in something like 15 years (my right arm just got too damaged from nerve issues). However, to this day I STILL can't brake with my left foot. It never moves from over where the clickers used to be for high beams. :D

Also - I posted before I read your explanation. :oops:
 
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I wish my neighborhood had a corner store. Grew up two doors down from what was a 1950's version of a quick stop. Little corner store with a single Sinclair pump in front with the manager family living in the duplex side of the wooden structure. Being 1950/60 something they did not have coffee by the cup though. Also being that time period I am guessing cigarettes were a bigger money maker than gasoline, milk or bread.


Were the pumps electric or did you have to pump them? :)
 
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