Happy Beljorde Birthday Joe!

Beljorde Christmas

I'm just sayin'...keep it in perspective people

My friend Kitty Sheehan wrote this for her blog; seemed apropos so I thought I 'd share it with you.
BB

My husband’s late father, may he rest in peace, offered me a drink every single time I was at his house in the ten years I knew him. At first my husband would say, “Dad, she doesn’t drink.” His dad would laugh and move on. As if that was just silly. After a while my husband didn’t say anything, and I’d just say, “No thanks.”

I figured, if you lived to be 93 like him, not drinking probably did seem silly. What the hell difference does it make by then? Have a cig too while you’re at it, old timer. Cripes. You’ve made it this far; go nuts, babe.

So I wrote this guest blog for the Drinking Diaries, right? The reactions to it, or lack thereof, from people, made me decide to do a postscript to it, about the reactions, or lack thereof from people, when I tell them I don’t drink.

Let’s start with the lack thereof variety. My father-in-law’s stands alone in its own category we might call “la-dee-dah.” So we’ll move on to the silent kind.

This reaction is characterized by a look, accompanied by silence. The look is usually one of surprise. I always imagine the person thinking, “Holy shit, what must she have done?” Or, “WHOA. PROBLEM DRINKER. Thank god that’s not me.” Followed by a deep slug of beer.

Another look, the look of fear, has a sort of silent thought tapestry attached to it.
“Is she judging me now?” (No. Well maybe. Depends.)
“Wonder if I should quit drinking too?” (How should I know? I was practically the last to know when it was my turn.)
“How did I find myself in the company of this fun-hater? What the hell’s she doing here?” (Good question, actually.)
“Is she one of those AA people?” (No.)
“If I drink in front of her, will she want one?” (No. You have no idea how much NO.)

A non-silent reaction is the kind from people who don’t really think you’re serious. “Oh, on the wagon?” When you say, yeah, for the past nine years, they might say something like, “Interesting. My uncle didn’t drink for 15 years, then one night he just had a beer. He’s a better drinker now.” Good to know.

Even more curious is the person who tells you that now that you’ve “gotten things under control” maybe you can drink a bit from time to time. I always want to suggest they find the nearest AA meeting, float that theory and see how that goes.

Some people think you’re embarrassed to say you don’t drink. “Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to go there.” Where? To my new life? To my hangover-free world? It’s not so bad, it’s ok to go there. I go there all the time, in fact.

Honest, I’ve never ONCE been embarrassed about not drinking. Never. Not even when “friends” say, “Oh that’s right, you’re a teetotaler! I forgot! Ha haha.” Remind me to google that right after we’re done here, I’ve never quite known what that is; just that it breeds sneers.

“You’re so brave. Wow.” Brave? I don’t get that one either. Unless brave means giving up the thing that’s making you sick; if that’s the case, I’m not so brave when it comes to candy corn.

Seriously, my next to favorite reaction is the one that goes like this. “Really? Wow, congratulations, and good for you. Way to go. I support that. “ Followed sometimes by some questions about the why and how. I love that. I love it when people treat it just like a broken leg. A ‘when did you fall off that ten story building and break your brain?’ sort of thing.

I won’t lie, though, my very favorite -- and most rare -- reaction is this one. “Hey, me too. How long for you?” We exchange time frames, possibly a fist bump, and move on.

Let’s summarize. Let’s be clear. Not drinking doesn’t define me; it’s a small piece of my puzzle. It’s not nearly as interesting or mysterious as all these reactions warrant.

But don’t worry, I got this.

Kitty Sheehan

Happy Beljorde Birthday John!

June Margoles, savvy political activist

By PAMELA MILLER, Star Tribune
Last update: December 5, 2010 - 8:06 PM

Muriel (June) Margoles, who poured her political savvy and passion for social justice into campaign work for prominent political figures, died of cancer Saturday in her St. Paul home. She was 88.

"She had such a flair for life, and it shone through in everything she did," said her brother, Lawrence Cohen, a former St. Paul mayor and Ramsey County District judge.

Margoles was born in St. Paul and spent her entire life there except for a stint in the mid-1940s in California, where her husband, Simon, was hospitalized for wounds suffered in World War II, said her son, Alan Margoles, a St. Paul defense attorney. Her father nicknamed her June when her birth name, Muriel, became uncomfortably associated with a popular cigar, Cohen said.

She went to St. Paul Central High School, where her soaring soprano graced many a musical, her son said. For 70 years, that voice also rang out at St. Paul's Temple of Aaron synagogue, where she joined the choir at age 16.

She and Simon had two children, Alan and Susan. Susan died of ALS in 1994. Alan said the only time his mother's activism waned was during the time when she cared for her dying daughter.

His earliest memory of his mother's activism was the League of Women Voters meetings she held in their home. In the early 1960s, she ran her first political campaign -- for Katie McWatt, the first black woman to run for St. Paul City Council.

Other campaigns she ran included those for Sandy Keith in his 1966 gubernatorial primary campaign and for Don Fraser in his 1978 U.S. Senate primary campaign. Most prominently, she oversaw Eugene McCarthy's 1968 and George McGovern's 1972 presidential bids in Minnesota's Fourth District.

Most personally, she oversaw campaigns for her brother, who was elected Ramsey County commissioner in 1970, served as St. Paul's mayor from 1972 to '76, and was appointed a judge in 1988.

Margoles also served on the board of the Minnesota Civil Liberties Union and on the DFL State Central Committee's executive board.

"In many houses, politics is a no-no to talk about. The politics was always discussed at our house," Alan Margoles said. "But she had a way of doing it where nobody would get angry. ... I never saw her angry, either. She was firm in her convictions, but she could do it without nastiness.

"One of my strongest memories is of how she'd run campaigns out of her kitchen," he said. "Those were the days before cordless phones. She had a 26-foot cord on her phone so she could race around the kitchen cooking and talking. That cord had burn marks all over it because she was always on the phone while she stood at the stove."

In addition to her son and brother, Margoles is survived by three grandchildren. Services will be held at 2 p.m. Monday at Temple of Aaron, 616 S. Mississippi River Blvd., St. Paul.

Pamela Miller

Presenting for the first time: Addison Anne Barnett!

Born December 2nd, 2010

9 lbs, 4 oz

21 inches long

A Very Beljorde Thanksgiving

Happy Belated Beljorde Birthday Abby!

Keith Kuller, forever faithful to his family and country

Been a long week for our family. Last Sunday my sister Bee’s husband suddenly passed away. His name was Keith Kuller, and he loved my sister with everything he had. They were an inseparable couple, so his death left us all in a very sad state of affairs.

Keith was a veteran back in the days when it wasn’t that popular to be one. In the late ’60s, when Keith voluntarily enlisted in the Marines, the rest of us were praying that we’d be able to avoid the draft.

During the Vietnam War hundreds of thousands of young men between the ages of 18 and 26 were conscripted into the military. Since the only choice for young folks back then was to stay in school or get drafted, I have the draft to thank for my bachelor’s degree. By the time I graduated from college the war in Vietnam had sacrificed over 50,000 young Americans lives and torn our country apart. I lost a close friend in that war, John Renner, and every time I visit the Vietnam wall in Washington, D.C., I make it a point to look him up so I can touch his name and shed a tear…

My dad was a decorated WWII combat veteran, my Uncle Bob fought in Korea, and my generation fought in Vietnam, now we have Iraq, Afghanistan, and one can only wonder if we mortals will ever find a better way to resolve our differences.

From what we can tell, God turned the page last Sunday and Keith’s name was up. His totally unexpected demise was a crushing shock particularly for Jenny, Kim, Kirk, Mandy and Kelsey… Keith’s family was his life, he loved them dearly, and indeed they are an inseparable bunch.

Death is a seriously scary thing that none of us take lightly. Anyone who has been given this gift we call life will also have to experience death… there is no escape.

Most folks who attend any church eventually develop a deep faith in an afterlife. But when death actually happens, those crushed by the passing of a loved can’t help but wonder whether or not life really does go on from here. The passing of a loved one never seems fair, and it usually leaves the survivors in total angst at the reality of having to let go of someone we love… and that’s where our faith comes in handy.

Death is a part of life, but take a gander at the caterpillar turning into a butterfly and tell me that miracles don’t occur… we are not only meant to die, we are destined to be born again… and all we can do is comfort ourselves with our faith.

Keith was buried in the Veteran’s Cemetery south of town. Although I lost sleep and felt a deep sense of loss I wasn’t able to weep until we were in the motorcade. It was a cold morning and the Vietnam Vets motorcycle club led the way to the cemetery. Each motorcycle had a flag: the American, MIA, and Marine flag. As we headed thru town I noted the Marine flag and the Marine slogan of Semper Fi (forever faithful) filled me with tears… I could no longer speak… indeed Keith was forever faithful to his family and his country.

We came into the Veteran’s Cemetery and were greeted by a full dress honor guard that snapped to attention until we all entered the chapel. The ceremony was complete with a 21-gun salute and Taps and our tearful goodbyes… it was a beautiful moment that filled all of us with awe and deep gratitude.

The Vietnam Vets took one last loop around the cemetery on their motorcycles and headed off… it was a humbling moment…

While waiting in the parking lot for my riders a large flock of Canadian geese flew over. They were low and headed towards the Missouri River. I watched them loudly pass over and noticed one white snow goose amongst hundreds of gray Canadians, and the next thing I knew I was wishing Keith safe travels and telling him that I looked forward to seeing him on the other side…

May the love of those around you and your faith in the hereafter help you get through whatever you have to do while you’re here… peace…

First Appearance by: Myles Douglas

Ava Listening to Her Heart

Happy Beljorde Birthday Nancy!