Thank you James L.

A finer tribute to my father could not have been written and I am so very grateful to Jim of L-Town.


My former father-in-law, Walter "Walt" Brown, died Saturday at home in Addison Township. He was 92.During the time I was married to his daughter, Susan, Walt and I spent many hours together. Because I worked nights in Flint, my days were free and Walt loved to cut wood, do projects around his and our house and generally kept himself busy. It was my joy and honor to spend all those many hours with him outdoors.I learned more from Walt in those few years about wood working, tree-cutting, cement mixing, roofing and life than pretty much the sum total of all my years in school. He was a reservoir of common sense in a world where it is very scarce. There's a morning room built on to the back of my house today that is a testament to what I learned from Walt about carpentry and roofing.Like all three of my father-in-laws, my father and stepfather, he was a survivor of the Depression and World War II. For Walt the Depression was the defining time of his life. He was a believer in not paying for something unless you could pay cash for it and he conserved energy by burning the wood available to him for free.He taught me the importance of checking the wind before falling a tall tree and the ins-and-outs of a chain saw. He taught me that sharp was safer than dull and that you always "measure twice and cut once." He taught me that a man was judged by the neatness of his woodpile.Walt also taught me that there was no such thing as a mistake, but just "errors." He also told me that a good spoken "sonofabitch" would fix most carpentry problems. Well, that and a well timed and aimed hammer stroke.If he spoke the word "politician" it came out sounding like a curse word. He had no use for those who couldn't relate to people who worked hard and broke a sweat to make a living.He built Susan's house with his own hands, each nail lovingly driven in by himself. Once after the house was more than 10 years old, we called after one of the windows fogged up during the window. The call was made not to ask him to fix it, but just in passing the time of day.About 1/2-hour later (this was about 8 p.m. at night) we heard Walt's truck pull into the driveway and he emerged with his toolbox and came into the house and fixed the air leak that caused the fogging.Walt joked that not many builders would come back and fix the house they built ten years after it was finished. But then not many builders were Walt.At one time he worked for Mrs. Wilson of Dodge-Wilson at the Meadowbrook Mansion in Rochester Hills. it is now a tourist attraction but he remembered the days that Mrs. Dodge-Wilson would call out for "Walter" to fix this or that.During the time I knew him he was only rarely without his beloved retriever by his side. That dog followed him everywhere and it was rough when I had to ride in his truck to a woodlot because Jesse didn't like sharing the front seat with anyone but Walt.He and his dog shared his lunch and his love. I've never met a man with a closer touch to nature than Walt. He loved animals. He had the rare ability to coax a wild chipmunk into his hand the first time he saw it.But he also loved to hunt deer. Although it was more about the sitting in nature than it was in the taking of the deer. I recalled this story recently about one of Walt's hunting "trips."Susan and I lived on 7-8 acres in Oxford Township. The back lot was a stand of pine trees - all planted by Susan and Walt, by the way - and when they were mature enough he would make a deer blind in the back and during hunting season it was not uncommon to hear his military truck pull into our driveway and head back to the woods about 5 a.m.While Susan was at work during the day I usually did chores around the property, but when I knew Walt was back "hunting" I stayed up near the house so as not to spook the deer.One day, I was watching out our back picture window when I saw a big 10 to 12-point buck that Walt had been eyeing for months, walk to the pile of corn and apples in the back lot. I watched for several minutes waiting for the inevitable blast that would take down this prize buck. It never came.A little while later I heard the truck driving up the path next to our horse pasture and met Walt in the driveway as he headed home for lunch."Why didn't you shoot that buck?," I asked him"Please don't tell me the buck was there, I fell asleep for a while," Walt said. We both had a good laugh about the 'one that got away.'Like so many of his kind, Walt is in that disappearing group of heroes from World War II. During his youth around Rochester, Walt made a name for himself ski jumping and he had the newspaper clips to prove it.When World War II came those skills were in demand in the Army's 10th Mountain Division, which Walt proudly served both in Europe and the Pacific. He came home and never left after the war. He was married to his childhood sweetheart, Eva, for 68 years. She used to kid that he loved his dog and spent more time with it than her, but she was wrong.You can read the whole obituary here. There's a nice photo of Walt there as well.He once told me a story about a German soldier that was shot in the heel someplace in Italy and when they approached him with guns drawn the German spoke in good English, "don't shoot, I'm from Detroit."In recent years he made one of the "Honor Flights" to visit the World War II Memorial in Washington, D.C., one of the very rare times he left his home.There are many great stories he told that would fail in my telling here because they were good because of the way he told them.Walt, you will be missed.
posted by Jim of L-Town at 7:13 AM on Oct 29, 2009

Dad is gone

I'm sad to report that my Dad passed away on Saturday, October 24, 2009 after a very brief fight with cancer. I have not been able to put my thoughts down yet...but that will come after the dust settles. ..

Byron is with me forever

Today, October 20, 2009, is the one year anniversary of Byron's death. I miss him so much. The sorrow never fades, but my wonderful memories of Byron will live on forever.

I tend his grave as though it were my own. In some ways, a piece of me was buried that morning with Byron.

Often when I am in the barn, I see the white plastic bags of bedding stacked in his stall and see him instead. Visions of him running out of the corner of my eye catch me daydreaming and smiling at the wonder of his antics.

I miss the smell of his skin when I would press my nose against his neck...it was sweet. He and I had a very special bond.

After much thought, I wanted to have him with me always, so why not a tattoo. He is there on my left leg. The same leg that ultimately cost Byron. The shooting star is significant of the only registered marking listed on his papers. His true name was Nebula , like the stars! He was and will always be my star.

A Poem for Byron

Don't cry for the horses
that life has set free
A million white horses
forever to be

Don't cry for the horses
now in God's hands
As they dance and they prance
to a heavenly band

They were ours as a gift
but never to keep
As they close their eyes
forever to sleep

Their spirits unbound
on silver wings they fly
A million white horses
against the blue sky

Look up into the heaven
you'll see them above
The horses we lost
The horses we loved

Manes and tails flowing
they gallop through time
They were never yours
They were never mine

Don't cry for the horses
they'll be back someday
when our time has come
they will show us the way

Do you hear that soft nicker
close to your ear?
Don't cry for the horses
Love the one that are here.


(I wish I had written this poem, as it
is fitting for Byron)

Tomorrow

Dad has been in the hospital since friday with some lower abdominal pain. His color was yellowish and the doctors were testing him for liver related problems. We have eliminated hepititus, which I thought was a bit weird, since we couldn't figure out how he might have contracted it. They eliminated gall bladder and apendix problems too.

The doctor suspects cancer, but we will know more tomorrow.

I'm scared, I love my dad and I don't want him to suffer with cancer. We always imagined that he would be cutting wood and drop from a heart attack...which his brother did at 85 years of age.

Whatever the test results reveal, we will deal with it and keep our faith.

It has been a long day...

It came from his stash

While driving home from the airport today, I heard a revelation on the radio. A woman was interviewed at Cobo Center, while she stood in line for an application to receive stimulus money from the government. The interviewer was Ken Rogalski of WJR Radio and the interview went like this:


KR: Why are you here?


W oman: To get some money.


KR: What kind of money?


Woman: Obama money!


KR: Where's it coming from?


Woman: Obama.


KR: Where did Obama get it?


Woman: I don't know, his stash, I don't know...


I don't know where he got it from,but


he givin it to us, to help us


2nd Woman: We love him.


Woman: We love him, that's why we voted from him...


Both are chanting: Obama, Obama...





Yikes ! This woman has no clue that the money she is about to apply for as "Obama Money" is OUR money. This is the money you and I have worked for that Obama is handing out to these sad, ignorant, uninformed voters! What better audience could Obama have? These people think

he has come to their rescue. How sad this is, that people would actually think the money comes from Obama and do not have a clue that it's the money us working folks have made and are now giving up! God help us. How can people be this stupid. This interview gained national attention for the City of Detroit...isn't that special?

Susan in Glendale

Susan in Glendale, California had passion, almost to tears while speaking with Rush Limbaugh, September 30, 2009. Speaking without any interruption, without a teleprompter, or notes, she made such an impact on those who listened. Rush's E-mail lit up with phrase for this woman.



Take 23:40 and give her a listen at Rushlimbaugh.com.

Susan speaks for many of us out there who feel this country is heading in the wrong direction.

Leave a Note

The woman driving a Toyota Tundra extended cab pick-up truck backed into her brand new car. We watched as the driver of the truck struggled trying to back into the parking space. Silly, since there were several other slots with easier access in the lot. Oh, but they were further away from the building.
As she jockeys the vehicle around, actually using both of her mirrors, we heard a "bump". Yep, she backed up until she hit the vehicle behind her, then moved up away from it as though nothing happened. She got out of the truck, never even looking to see if the impact from her truck had caused any damage to the other vehicle, and walked away.

I wanted to say something and bring this incident to the woman's attention ( in a subtle manner, of course) , but the little voice said, "check it out first". Yep, the Toyota Tundra's trailer hitch extension had made a crease in the plastic bumper of the new smaller Chrysler SUV. We left a note.

Upon returning hoome, we found a message on the answering machine from the owner of the new small Chrysler SUV. Her name was Sheryl and she left us the nicest message one could imagine, complete with blessings! Such a nice message, with such kind thoughts for us, I couldn't help but share this in my blog. I hope she has good luck with the car repairs and I can't thank her enough for making my day. :-D