BFE

Why live in BFE? I will be the first to admit that life out here in the middle of nowhere is at times a challenge. It was tough to build a house out here. Things you take for granted in town become major issues when you build out here. Water is not as easy as hooking into the main out front. We had to have a well drilled. The well ended up being 720 feet deep. The guy who drills the well does only that part. Now you need another person to come out and put a pump in the well and a pressure tank in the house. Then a plumber to put in the pipes and fixtures in the house. Next, well all that water has to go somewhere. Now a speptic tank and perk field. Leave out the plumber and the well and septic system cost us about $40,000. I am not complaining because yesterday on Facebook by daughter in law Mandie Burnett Sutor posted the following picture.

Mandie took that picture on Christmas morning 2011 looking from our house to the east.

This is a view from a little farther north looking east that I took about 6 years ago.

The same tree with a view in the winter of the same year.

A view of our house from the road on the same day.

So I could live in town and look at the house next door or I could take on the hardships of living in BFE. It seems to me the choice is simple and the hardships are far outweighed by the rewards of views in the pictures above. There is nothing better in the summer after a hard day than sitting on the front porch with a cold beer, your best friend you married 37 years ago and Candy the wonder dog. My life is better than I could have ever hoped or even dreamed.

Neighbors

We live out in the middle of nowhere. A place often in this area referred to as bum fuck egypt. It is a dead end road and we live a mile and a quarter from the intersection that will take you back to civilization. We are not the last house on the road, there are two another half mile past us. Both are currently empty. The one fartherest down was bought by a Lebanese family from Peoria who use it for hunting and a place to let their kids ride a four wheelers. John, the father, is a real character and I am sure he doesn't know any strangers. Over the course of the past couple of years we have become friends with them and visit back and forth when they are here or we go to Peoria. You never know how people are going to be and the first time we got invited down to have a meal we didn't take any beer. John mentioned something about it and said it was okay they were Christians. We let him know that not all Christians approved of alcohol consumption and we were trying to be polite. I have done some work helping John modernize the house, mowed the yard for him and given him a few loads of firewood. In the process I have stood back and watched how he and his family are treated from time to time. You meet someone who is clearly middle eastern based on appearance and accent and some folks assume Islamic. He has to put up with some nonsense that I don't because he is foreign and I think people just want to mess with him for that reason. He seems to just ignore it and go about his business. It is an attitude and behavior I would not have if I was in his position.
It makes me wonder about the "golden rule". Shouldn't we treat others in the manner in which we would want to be treated? What happened to good manners and civility? It seems like we have watched too much reality TV (which frankly does not appear real to me at all) and focused on the way to get things done is yell and fight. Being loud doesn't equal being right. A lie told loud and often is still a lie. Call me old fashioned and crazy. Target has two sets on entrance doors at the Galesburg store. One set opens automatically and the other set (oh my god) you have to reach out and use your arm to open. When we go to Target we go in that door. One reason is that I am not a cripple (yet). The second reason is that I want to hold the door open for my wife. It is not to make her feel subserviant it is to show my love and respect for her extends even to something that minor. I don't yell at people I think have done me wrong or curse at them. They don't make me angry. Why should they? When I give in to anger I have let them control me. They have made me do something and generally what they wanted was to make me angry. In my mind I do something far worse to them. I treat them with kindness. It is not what they expect and generally they do not know what to do with a kind word or deed. It goes back to doing unto others what you would want from them. One of the first times neighbor John was down he commented that we were good neighbors. My response was that you cannot expect to have good neighbors unless you are a good neighbor.

In closing I will add that I am not a religious person in the traditional sense but the following made sense to me and it was something I had wondered about. "Sometimes I would like to ask God why he allows poverty, suffering, and injustice when He could do something about it. But I'm afraid He would ask me the same question."

Nate

The young man in the picture is Nate Hawk. It is my privilege to call Nate a friend. I met Nate about two and a half years ago. His father Jim Hawk has done almost all my tattoos and Nate was going to be in Illinois for the summer. Nate lives in Presho, South Dakota. Jim wondered if I needed any summer help out on the farm and I told him I would give Nate a try. It is really hard to find a kid, and Nate is a kid, who is willing to do hard labor. Nate and I would be cutting down trees, cutting out brush, splitting big pieces of wood to make firewood and other work along those lines. Nate impressed me from day one. He was willing to do whatever work it was that I was doing that day and would give everything he did the best effort he had. When it got hot in July and early August Nate said it was no problem he was used to working in 100 degree heat in South Dakota. He had never worked in 95 degree heat in Illinois with 75% humidity and a heat index approaching 115 degrees. We were working one afternoon cutting up a tree we had felled in the morning and I noticed Nate was nowhere in sight. When he reappeared a few minutes later I asked him where he had gone. He told me he had gotten overheated and had gone over in the woods a little was to puke. I offered to quit for the day but he said he was okay now. It was, however, the last time we went to McDonald's for lunch. He still won't eat there. The thing you need to know about Nate is that he has some limitations. He is not the brightest kid you are ever going to meet. He has ADHD and can be really annoying to some people. The most important thing you need to know about Nate is that he has a good heart. He is willing to help out with any project you have. He can fix things. When I break something I have to take it somewhere to be fixed. When Nate is around he looks at whatever it is I broke, figures out how to take it apart, fix the broken piece and put it back together. I look at a pile of parts and see a pile of parts. Nate looks at the same pile of parts and sees a lawnmower engine. So Nate has a gift, it is the ability to fix things. I can read a book and recall facts about events that happened a hundred years ago but fixing broken stuff is just not an ability I have. If you need something broken I can usually accomplish that task.
Nate chatters a lot about all sorts of things but most often it is about girls. Many people find him annoying for that reason. Come on folks, he is 18 years old. When you are 18 it is all about girls. You want to figure out the mystery that is the female of the species. So I let Nate talk and I listen. I never call Nate names or tell him he is stupid. There seem to be plenty of people in his life who are willing to do that to him. He carries on about girls and cars and holly double pumper carbs and mickey thompson something or others and I listen. After he talks about cars for a while he will often say, "You have no idea what I am talking about do you." I admit I don't but he enjoys telling the story. Isn't that what all of us are looking for? We want to tell our story and we want to have someone listen, even if they don't understand.
This past Spring Carol and I drove up to Presho, South Dakota to see Nate graduate from high school. It was about a 500 mile trip one way to watch an hour ceremony. Why did we go? Nate asked us. He is a good kid and everyone needs someone to say, "You matter to us and we are proud of your accomplishment."
The bottom line really is sometimes you have to look past the surface. Past the obvious. What is inside is what really counts the most and if more of us had the good heart Nate has the world would be a better place.

Cooking

Your first reaction should be something like: "What the fuck was he thinking?" In what universe does that look good? It just goes to show you that the DILLIGAF title of this blog is correct. I was going to cook the family Chinese and they had bought me some cooking clothes. By golly I was going to wear them for the family. 
When you retire you have to think of things to do for that eight or nine hours every day you went off to do that thing you did. In the Spring, Summer and Fall I have plenty of  outdoors work to do. Winter, well that is another story. I am not a big fan of working out in cold weather. I can, I just don't like it. Some guys want to cut firewood in the winter. I want to cut it  in the other three seasons and sit by the fireplace in the winter. Well to fill some of those winter hours I have offered to take over the cooking duties at home. Carol is happy to go to her quilt room in the basement and cut fabric and sew all day. I have no problem grabbing a cook book and trying to make something. Today's experiment in culinary mastery was home made pasta. Carol had gotten me a Kitchen Aide stand mixer earlier this year and noted the other day that the pasta making attachment had never been used. I am normally oblivious to hints note the famous gas conversation of years past. Carol: "The price of gas is $2.55 per gallon." Jeff: "I see that." Carol when we get home says: "Why didn't you buy gas? I told you it was $2.55 a gallon." Jeff: "I am a man. I need direct communication. When a man wants to buy gas and his wife is driving he says something direct like, let's stop and fill the gas tank." It has taken many years but now I understand when she says things like that. So today I got out the pasta maker and the recipe book and did my best to figure out how to make pasta. The main lesson learned was when the book says 4 large eggs (7/8 of a cup) that you ignore the 4 large egg part and crack enough eggs to get 7/8 of a cup. The second thing I learned was that you need to put the pasta maker on the mixer according to the box instructions. It is really not possible to make pasta when the mechanism is  spinning around like a top.  Once those problems were overcome I managed to make some decent pasta and get it cut into spaghetti strands. Fresh pasta is nothing like the dried pasta you buy at the store. It cooked in boiling water in about 3 minutes. It was light and mild and to my surprise quite tasty. My next attempt will include making home made meatballs and my own sauce.
So my advice. If you are looking for something to do and you are a bit bored, take a cooking class or two. I am up to five and have enjoyed them all. Get in the kitchen and make something good for lunch or supper. If it ends up in complete failure there is always a McDonald's close by. That is of course if you want to call that crap they serve food.
On a final note, when someone wants to take your picture go for the gold medal. You may just be able to use it in a blog 20 years or so later.

Cars

Somehow you always remember the first car you ever bought. Ours was this classic 1970 Opel Kadet Station Wagon. It featured an 1100 CC in line 4 cylinder engine and had a four speed transmission. Just to give you an idea of its stunning lack of horsepower my current Harley Davidson motorcycle features a twin cyliner 1470 CC motor. We bought the Opel used in 1974 for less than $1500.00 and drove it until 1978. It hauled my ass back and forth between Galesburg and Macomb for 2 years while I finished my studies at Western Illinois University. If it had not been for the great gas mileage and the dependability of that car I would never have been able to finish college.  It is not one of those cars that you ever see at a car show. No Barrett-Jackson auction has bidders in a frenzy to buy one. Oh, but dear God I would love to have another one in the condition shown in this picture.
I thought the young lady standing next to the car was pretty special too. Yes dear reader it is the current Mrs. Sutor about 6 months before we got married. When we picked up the car at the dealer she had to drive it back to her parents house. She had never driven a manual transmission car and her options that day were a 1966 Ford Falcon with a three speed on the tree or the Opel with a four on the floor. She took the four speed and did a great job until we got to the four way stop sign at Losey and Hawkinson. Of course there were cars at all 4 stop signs and a line at each one. She did her best to try to wait for everyone else to leave but the traffic would not cooperate. She did the most excellent bunny hops as she went through the intersection. I was in the car behind her laughing so hard that I couldn't drive. She was a good sport about it when we got to her  parents house. A few driving lessons from me out in the country and she has been able to drive a manual transmission ever since. A skill that is sadly lacking in today's youth. Don't want your car stolen?  Buy something with a clutch and I guarantee 99%  of kids under 30 couldn't drive off with it if you left the keys in it.
Well, there were two of my loves in that picture. I am thrilled I still have one with me and have fond memories of the little red wagon.

War- What is it Good For? Absolutely Nothing

Dwight D. Eisenhower, I don't think anyone would say he was soft on war, or on the very real military threats he faced as President. I would put forth the argument that based on the rhetoric of our current Republican presidential candidates and the war cries of their conservative base that today Mr. Eisenhower would be unelectable. We have been so willing to sacrifice some of our freedoms and principles to fight the war on terror. Our ongoing detainment of "enemy combatants" in Cuba is in violation of those principles and our law. Are we so afraid of terrorists that we are willing to sacrifice freedom to prevent another attack? How much freedom sacrificed on the altar of safety will it take before we say enough? How many of our young men and women will be lose on the battlefield of war before we decide the cost is too high? How many widowed wives? How many orphaned children? We go in with no plan for victory and no clue how to withdraw. We build aircraft carriers, bombers, submarines and other military hardware to fight an enemy that no longer exists. While the Republican candidates will argue on one hand the government doesn't create jobs, they argue on the other hand that there would be too many jobs lost if we cut defense spending. Last time I  checked that was money spent and jobs created by the government. Eisenhower was right we are spending the sweat of our laborers, the genius of our scientists and the hopes of our children. So much could be done to alleviate the problems of the world with the money we waste on unnecessary military spending. Yes we need to be able to defend ourselves but the current level of spending is obscene.  The world might need less guns and bombs if the poor were fed, clothed and given basic medical care. The government throws around the cost of the last two wars as about $800,000,000,000. How much good could we have done with that? Many articles I have read place the actual cost at closer to 3,500,000,000,000. The cost in terms of human suffering is incalculable.  We can and should know and do better.

Winter Cleaning

It is one of those days on the frozen tundra of western Illinois. The required outdoor duties have been completed. You know, shoveling snow off the walk and running the snowblower on the driveway. It was time to do some rearranging. Setting up a little office space in one of the spare bedrooms. A place to pay bills and scan pictures onto the computer. I ran across some pictures we had taken on our last cruise. I wanted to hang one above my desk just to remind myself of a couple things. First, that there are places in the world that are warm in February. Second, that Carol looks really good in those pictures and I never get tired of looking at her. The picture frames I was planning on using didn't have that little saw toothed hanger thing on the back. I went to look for one in what I call my pieces and parts inventory. You know all those little nails and screws and bolts and stuff that are left over from projects. You know the rest of that story, I have every fastener known to man except the one I need. Shit, fuck, damn!!! In looking for that I found something more important and a story I want to share.
I found the little funeral paper they hand you at a funeral telling you the order of the services, the minister and the pallbearers. The gentleman who had passes was Homer R. Hurt and I had the honor of being one of the pallbearers. Homer was born on October 27, 1905 and passed away on June 17, 1998. When I was growing up Homer worked for my father and grandfather as a hired man. When you are 13 or 14 growing up on the farm you think the world is yours and you can out work an old man. So when I was 13 Homer was 62. I remember starting working in the morning thinking this old guy can't keep up with me. The day started with all us young men going like a house on fire. Homer had one speed and it looked slow. By noon all of us young fellas were spent. Homer's steady pace had pulled him even with us. No problem, a lunch break will give us our second wind and we will show that old man. It was one of those June days in Illinois when the temperature and humidity are both in the 90's. There was no second wind. Homer went back out after lunch and resumed the pace he had set first thing in the morning. We struggled to keep up. We fell behind. We fell way behind. We quit. When he quit for the day, about 3 hours after us he was still working at the same pace. He had done more than us by an embarrassing amount. Lesson one from Homer. Slow and steady wins the race. Another lesson learned along the way was to do everything you do as well as you can. It was like his lesson on working fast, he didn't say it he just lived it. When you got done at the end of the day you could look back and see the job was done well. You didn't need anyone to say so. Homer never talked much and when he did he spoke softly. He spoke with deeds not with words. I remember driving by Hope Cemetery in Galesburg in the 1980's and seeing Homer taking out all the shrubs that had grown up in the fences. Typical of Homer all the work was done by hand. I drive by now and remember it looks like it does because of his efforts. He was in his late 70's or early 80's when that work was done. There are people in your life who make you who you are. Homer had a profound influence on my life. We could all learn a little something from him. Kids don't want us to tell them how to live, they want us to show them. They are more likely to watch what we do then they are to listen to what we say. Thank you Homer.