The good news is I've gone 17,345 days without hitting a deer. Bad news is the streak ended this morning.

I drove through Pebble Valley today, which I never do, because I had the time, which I never have. I opened at work today so left a little early to make sure to catch the bus. I always take Northview to Meadowbrook but had a couple extra minutes to take the scenic route. Unfortunately for the deer and the Toyota, the scenic route includes lots of pretty wildlife. If you live around Pebble Valley Park and heard tires screech around 6:30 and a gunshot around 7:00 you have me to thank.

I'm fortunate that my life doesn't include a lot of really bad things, so when I hit a beautiful doe while travelling around 30 on Pebble Valley Road I had to ask myself, "What do I do? What do I do? God, what do I do?"  I've never hit a deer before. Not even hunting. The one time I went gun hunting for deer I fell out of a tree and broke an ankle.

So what do you do when no one's around, you're fine and the car's OK, but the deer you just hit is sitting up on the terrace where it landed looking at you? You know the legs are broken, but without internal injuries you know it could suffer a long time. The doe is just a few feet from the car and you know any movement from you will cause the deer to struggle. Do you pull out your pocket knife to end it's misery, get bit by the deer but make it to work on time - though disheveled - only to find after work that you've made the papers?

After saying a short prayer to do the right thing I slowly pulled away. It immediately struggled to get up but couldn't. A few minutes later at the bus stop I borrowed a kind person's cell and I called 911 to report what I'd done.

After work I went back the same route to see evidence, maybe learn what happened, find the missing Toyota emblem. Because this happened in a residential area next to a park I easily overheard kids still talking about it. I asked what they knew and admitted what I'd done. They directed me to talk to neighbors across the street who they said knew all about it. Because the neighbors were just arriving home I just wandered over, didn't even have to ring the bell. They heard the tires screech and also called the police. They weren't home when it was put down but estimate it was between 7:00 and 7:15.

For all but one of the parties involved there is not such a bad ending. The Toyota wasn't too badly damaged and is fully insured. The neighbor I talked to called a friend who came over and took the deer for meat. I feel I did the right thing and I know Waukesha Police did the right thing. 

Tonight I missed my first bus heading back to Waukesha by just a minute. I spent a few minutes in the Grand Ave. Mall waiting for the next one to arrive. It was raining and I haven't been there in a while. I missed the next one by a minute or two because I stayed in the mall too long. There is a third choice for me, the last one of the night going to my stop, but not arriving for another hour. I waited.

I arrived home two and a half hours after I left work 20 miles away. I was gone from home 13 hours today for an 8-1/2 hour workday.

Riding the bus has good and bad points. I can sleep, read, visit or listen to a personal sterio. It's inexpensive and good for the environment. I sometimes have to fight the weather while waiting for it, but don't have to put up with stress of the daily traffic jam or multiple trips to the gas station.

Point is I'll miss my bus ride to Milwaukee and all the friends I've made when my commute switches to Racine in January. My company is closing it's Walker's Point location after 90 years in the area. Another victim of the economy. I'll be driving every day and twice as far - not something I'm looking forward to. I guess it beats trying to find alternate work in this economy, but just barely. 

And just when I was really appreciating working and exploring Downtown.

I've known Tom for 20+ years. He was in our wedding party 18 years ago and hosted a bachelor party at his house. He's one of the few mechanics who didn't loose their job during last year's restructuring. Because so few mechanics are left, he's been busier than ever, but never too busy for me. He offered to come to Waukesha in April to help me pry my canoe off the bridge support in the Fox River. Recently, he saved me a couple hundred dollars replacing a bearing assembly on our Lumina. He's always been quick with free advice for my many needs. We get along and I consider him a good friend.

I envy Tom. He can build a trailer from the ground up. He has a couple horses and cars that run. He recently purchased a Harley Fatboy Softail motorcycle and took classes for a week to get his license before the 105th.

Tom took vacation days the rest of this week to really experience the thrill of Harley. I gave him a copy of the Weekend in Waukesha schedule and we talked about the things he was looking forward to this week. He told me he has a digital picture frame that holds 250 pictures and he was going to fill it up this week using his camera.

And then Tom hurt his hand today. Bad. His right hand. On a table saw. It's bad enough that Tom makes his living with his hands and will probably miss many weeks of work. But his throttle hand? He's going to miss most of what he's been looking forward to this week. Maybe if he's lucky, people will feel sorry for him and buy him a drink. I know I would.

A fellow blogger passed away a week ago today. He was born and died in June... with eighty years in between. He led a very interesting and full life, spoke many languages and had friends around the world. 

He began blogging three years ago this month and, while I've read them in the past, the posts have new meaning for me now. He was a somewhat eccentric character, and his writing certainly helps to demystify his complexity.

I travelled 600 miles to Omaha by Greyhound Sunday night for the Monday memorial service. I had wanted to visit while he was still alive but something always came up. The last time I saw him was by way of a Skype video connection. He knew he was dying.

The memorial service was a fitting send off for an extraordinary man. It was the perfect mass with stories and testimony from many of his friends and colleagues. It celebrated his long, fruitful life and quirky nature. There was read a long poem about him, songs and readings he would've enjoyed, tears of joy and sadness... and plenty of humor. If I live to be a hundred, I will not again witness such a wondrous mass for as unique an individual.

I was to return to Waukesha the following day, so while there I had to explore the Iowa dish antenna farm known as SCOLA started by him. It's an imposing sight in the middle of an unimposing cornfield. Huge dishes sprout from the fertile soil like trees in Arthur C. Clarke's imagination. The bowls in the corn stand ready to accept flakes of information. The studio digests programming from around the world and spoon feeds it to subscribers via a regular schedule. (SCOLA used to be seen on cable in the Waukesha area several years ago. It was the channel with the foreign news broadcasts.)

Before I left Tuesday, I wanted to sign the guestbook for the room on the Creighton campus I was staying. It was started in the late 1980's, and as I paged through it I wondered if I'd see him mentioned -- he had taught at Creighton for many years. Right there on the second page, a note from a Frenchman visiting SCOLA, thanking Father Lubbers, SJ, my uncle, for the hospitality.    

My Uncle Lee was uncommon and we had a lot in common. He loved to book shop, more than he'd ever have time to read, it seemed. He gave me a enormous "The Last Whole Earth Catalog" and "The Zen of Running" years ago. He left me his well-used "Roget's International Thesaurus" which I will use in blogging and used for this one.

He took the nieces and nephews skiing many times, and these are favorite memories. It took Lee's enthusiasm to get teenagers out of bed before dawn on a freezing winter vacation day, cook us a hot breakfast of grits, drive for miles to the ski hills on snow-covered roads, and ski all day even when it was coldest. Three times he took us skiing out West and you will see skiing and mountains prominent in his art from that period.

After Uncle Lee's brother died in the 1960s his sister, my mother, began an Easter egg hunt tradition. It was the first big holiday after the plane crash and she wanted to do something to help the five orphaned kids get through it. Again my uncle's enthusiasm took over and he really, really, enjoyed hunting for his own colored eggs well into his 60s.

It was always fun seeing my uncle for holidays. He'd share stories and ideas from his travels and get us to try foods and drink we were unfamiliar with. He liked strong, black coffee and liked sweets and French foods, especially cheeses.

I could go on and on about his art, his marrying us and baptizing our baby. About a trip to Missouri for an antenna. About sailing ... Maybe later. 

My uncle began the art department at Creighton University and is still instructing even in death. His body was donated to science. 

My last remaining uncle has died.

His life in pictures.

Two weeks ago today a terrible accident shook Oconomowoc. The aftershocks are still felt in the Milwaukee Metro area and now, with talk of changing the laws, in all of Wisconsin. How do you forgive a former doctor for recklessly ending the most innocent of lives?

Everything about this tragic crash was wrong. Everything from the speed of the SUV, driven just two days after suspension of driving privileges, to the kind of drugs he was on his way to pick up. How do you forgive someone who was so doped up on drugs that he couldn't even see a car in front of him, yet thought he could still pick up some Viagra?  

Reading the online guestbook, one notices how very many people were touched by the tragedy but had never met Jennifer. The fact is everyone knew her. Everyone has a mother. Had a teacher and a principal. Everyone has known someone expecting a baby. Has birthdays. How do you forgive someone who kills another in what was probably their happiest time of life?

Mrs. Bukosky was doing what mothers all over the world do every day. She was transporting kids home from school. She was looking forward to her 40th birthday the next day. The new baby on the way. Her life with her new husband and family. She was looking forward, as always, to seeing the kids at the school who love her and she them. How to forgive someone who wasn't looking forward?

I feel this accident has affected more people. Personally, other than one involving my own family or friends, I can't imagine a worse accident. The baby Jennifer was carrying was not only loved and wanted but was treated as fully human, as it should be. Her 10 year old daughter? What had she done to not deserve to grow up and have kids of her own?

How do you forgive someone who was trained to save lives but instead took them?

Condolences to fellow WaukeshaNOW blogger Steve Bukosky, Jennifer's father in law. Our prayers are with you now and always.

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Today is the 18th of March. Tomorrow, the 19th, Sir Arthur C. Clarke will be dead at 90. He will die as he lived... in the future. 

My Uncle Lee once travelled to Sri Lanka to meet Mr. Clarke. They both shared a common interest. My uncle founded SCOLA to link the world by satellite for education. Arthur C. Clarke, in 1945, described in detail how satellites in geostationary orbit could be used for worldwide communication. The stationary-orbit area above earth where many satellites are positioned is now called the Clarke Belt. I'm sure my uncle and Sir Arthur had an interesting visit.

90th birthday

Little Caesars. One of my last posts mentioned a sad individual without balloons and, even though I haven't gone hot air ballooning in months, wasn't referring to me. At least I didn't think so. No, I'm not the clown who lost his balloons. But I am sad that Little Caesars on Summit is closed. Sunday the pizza shop made one last attempt to attract customers by attaching bunches of yellow and orange balloons to a sign in the parking lot and by Monday they were permanently closed. Now I'm not a connoisseur of fine pizza, but did love the fact that we could run in for a quick, hot, inexpensive meal that everyone would eat. 

Auto Show. My last post mentioned the Auto Show last weekend was the reason for parking problems downtown Milw. Saturday. Well, now that I've got my facts straight, the Auto Show is this weekend.

Voting. In my 2/21 post about working the polls I failed to mention if my district saw any write-in votes. There was one - for Al Gore. Even though I said 10/14 that I would vote for him, it wasn't me. Speaking of the polls... I got paid today for my work. Sixteen hours on Tuesday plus two hours of training = $135.00. I would do it again even if I didn't need the money. It was great to see so many of my neighbors in the middle of a long winter. BTW, Deputy Clerk, Marie Bieber is looking for additional poll workers. If you or someone you know might be interested she can be contacted at 262-524-3550.

Laying down arms. The snowman standing sentry in front of my house for the last two months has finally surrendered to the elements. He put up a brave fight in the freezing/warm/windy/sunny/snowy/rainy/icy winter we've been having.

How was your Valentine's Day? Mine was nothing special. Worked during the day and had a meeting at night.

Tim had hip surgery on Valentine's Day. His mom wrote about the experience.

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SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 2008 02:11 PM, CST

Tim is finally home!. Me too! I stayed with Tim his whole stay in the hospital. Surgery went well. The left hip had more damage than the right hip. They had to scrape more bone and chisel away more dead bone. They did the nerve block again but this time the medicine worked like an epidural and numbed him from chest down. So he ended up staying in recovery for three hours until his right leg woke up. It appeared that the nerve block was working pretty good in the recovery room. He got to his room and ate two bagels with cream cheese and then he fell asleep. When he woke up, he was in a lot of pain. Then all hell (excuse my language) broke loose. They couldn't get him a PCA machine because all of the machine's at Froedtert were being used. Unbelievable! A hospital runs out of necessary equipment. So they gave him his normal pain medication that he is on everyday of his life. This did nothing considering he just had major surgery. Tim was crying in his pillow for hours. His body began to shake. He hyperventilated so bad that his legs got tingly and his upper lip felt tingly. They finally gave him torridal(?) and later a sleeping pill. His back was hurting terribly and Tim asked for a heating pad. The nurse came back and said that they were all being used in the hospital. None were available. I think Froedtert had better look at supply and demand and order more equipment. If I have my way, no one in my family will ever have surgery at Froedtert again. Miss communication and lack of equipment just doesn't cut it. I had been so proactive about his pain this time. I spoke to everyone, specifically requested a PCA machine a month prior, again the day before, and when I saw Dr. King after surgery. I know some of you have experience watching loved ones go through horrendous amounts of pain and discomfort. I can tell you it takes years off of your life. You try to get the best for your children and then when it falls through you feel like you failed them. I was the brunt of his irritability and the poor nurse was the brunt of my frustration. I did apologize to her and acknowledged that it wasn't her fault but something had to be done. The solution to his pain was ridiculous. With today's modern medicine, no one should have to be in that much pain ever. On a pain scale from 1 to 10, Tim was 25.

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All great men seem to die soon after they stop writing. In August I wrote about Lee Sherman Dreyfus discontinuing his Freeman column, and now he's gone. I don't know if it was T.V. that killed him, but I'm not taking any chances. I plan on blogging forever. 

I admired Governor Dreyfus greatly, but I didn't vote for him. I only came to know and love him these last 20+ years in sharing a community with him. I've always shared a name with him but one endearing thing I liked about him was that he chose Waukesha to live. The city was a better place with Lee Dreyfus living here. Not only was he kind and funny and smart, but he was such a wonderful example of helpfulness, besides faithfulness and stability in his long marriage. I didn't know him personally, but heard him talk and have seen his biography on Channel 10, not to mention years of incredible weekly Freeman columns.

Just the other day I was talking with a guy my age who's friend had recently been buried in Prairie Home Cemetery. The plot, he was saying, was close to the Dreyfus plot with it's seven foot red granite monument in the shape of Wisconsin. We both thought that was cool to be buried close to Lee. Even in death he brings joy.  

In many ways Lee reminded me of my own father, and I will miss him almost as much.

Please share your memories of Mr. Dreyfus by clicking the comment button below. thanks

Public visitation is Sunday at the Lee Sherman Dreyfus State Office Building from noon to 5:00 with a Masonic service and brief prayer service at 5:00.

Executive Order          TMJ4 video

I've often felt that one of the best ways to get to know someone comes when it's too late. In the past I've mentioned savoring every word when it's a writer's final column, or a TV or radio personality's last show. Just when I think I know someone well enough, they surprise me by retiring or moving on, and it's only then that we discover fully the interesting person they really are. 

No where is this more true than in the passing of Marty Frank last week. Up until he died Tuesday, the most I knew of him was that he was the first president of Waukesha State Bank to not be a member of the Taylor family. Through a three column, 52" long death notice - with a full 8" devoted to service organizations he belonged to or presided over - and a front page Freeman story Saturday, I learned that this was the gentleman I should aspire to be; a kind, dedicated, devoted friend and family man. 

Through Saturday's story and a Wednesday Journal Sentinel obituary we learned he loved, understood and sympathized with people. He was calm, respectful and had remarkable patience. According to his close friend, Don Taylor, Mr. Frank was the best person he knew of for getting along with others. Mr. Taylor also said that he was the luckiest person in the world for having known Marty Frank.

At this point I wish I would have know Mr. Frank better -- the only time I talked to him was to complain about a fee I didn't think was fair charged on my checking statement. Mr. Frank, as well as the Taylors, didn't have a fancy office as you'd expect, but kept their desk out in the open close to the main lobby of the bank. No walls or doors kept customers from meeting the down to earth people in charge of their money, and I appreciate that. Mr. Frank made sure my account was credited.

Rest in peace, Marty Frank, and thank you.

I'm sad because I missed Christmas at Carroll this year. It was last weekend. I'd been looking forward to it all year ever since last December's concert. It was the best concert I'd ever been to and I wanted to do it again. I know I can't do everything and there's always next year, but darn!!

There's plenty of other good things going on today and this weekend to help me forget my sadness: The Waukesha Civic Theater begins it's two weekend run of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever tonight. I heard that "Mary" sings so beautifully that it brings tears to the eyes.   A free holiday concert at UWW at 7:30, which I probably will be going to, is tonight. Also tonight is the Carroll College Jazz Ensemble. And on Sunday after the Packer game is the Carroll College Chamber Strings Ensemble, a free concert at 4:00 p.m..

12/8 update ------------- Interesting Experiment -------------------------

I just read about something fun and completely different in yesterday's Freeman. At 7:00 p.m. today, Sat. 12/8, the Carroll Players will perform a two-act comedy that they had only 24 hours to rehearse and create stage sets for. The so-called guerrilla theater production is a first for Carroll College and is meant to be fun and educational more than a great play. The five dollar ticket price is a fundraiser for the Carroll Players. The play will be in the Otteson Main Stage Theater.