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. 

The theater was packed - even the $500.00 seats appeared to be sold out. The Pabst is absolutely beautiful and, even though it's older than Les, he'd never played there before Saturday. The stage had a relaxed and comfortable feel to it. Several people sat at pub tables and chairs around the perimeter giving the setting a jazz club atmosphere. The tuxedoed gentlemen falling off his stool just added to the realism of the bar scene.

Les played many decent tunes accompanied by three other men, but he could have played tiddlywinks and we would have applauded. The three hour program was kept interesting with new introductions every few songs, and with stories about him and by him. One of the first introductions was quite auspicious because he represented the future to Les' past. An eight year old boy played guitar beautifully with Les and even sang a blues tune. By our tickets, we were all contributing to the new "House of Sound" educational exhibit, and by this young man we knew we were doing the right thing. It didn't take much imagination to think of this boy as young Les as he played beside the 93 year old. Les was eight when he began playing an instrument.

It's harder to imagine what Waukesha was like 93 years ago when Les was born. It had been 80 years since the area was first settled, and 20 years after Waukesha became an incorporated city. He was born around the same time the health resorts were dying in a little house that used to be where the downtown Walgreens is now. He entertained at Waukesha Beach on Pewaukee Lake and his first concert was at Marquette University. 

Several other friends performed with Les, mostly those he plays with Monday nights at the Iridium in New York. Besides the eight year old guitarist, a singer, a violinist, harmonica player and tap dancer all performed to much applause. Bob Reitman was the logical choice of MC as both gentlemen are legends.

After meeting Les last year and watching his biography I thought I knew him pretty well. I was pleasantly surprised last night that there is much, much more Les.

Happy birthday Les, and many more!

Yesterday was almost perfect; the weather sunny and calm, many things are in bloom, not too hot or cold and no bugs. This is a great time to welcome the birds that were away for so long. There's cute baby bunnies hopping around the yard lately, and there's just a couple huge bees busily polinating around the house.

Once again I was able to avoid yard work so Sir Fido had time to take me for a walk. Of the three rummage sales we encountered, two were closing for the day, and we fortunately didn't come home with any more junk. He loves the walks as much as I do; while he's eagerly checking out every scent like a curious child, I'm enjoying the people I meet and nature I encounter. 

The Waukesha Farmer's Market opened for the season yesterday with live music, give-aways, police and fire departments and lots of delicious food. Because I put so much thought into some hanging baskets attracting more bees, all I left with was a sturdy cloth shopping bag full of fliers, however. The market has come a long way. When I had produce myself to sell 25 or so years ago, we just went down to the river on Saturday and set up a table. There was little advertisement and few customers. Take a look now and you'll see all kinds of food, plants, handmade things... and lots of community support and advertising. Many downtown businesses have taken an interest in the market now because, thanks to the BID and stall charges, word is getting out, there is variety and freshness, and people are coming.

The Pewaukee River Run was finally held yesterday - the water too high in April when it was originally scheduled. It was fun seeing canoes and kayaks full of people wildly paddling toward Frame Park on the Fox. Hopefully no one piled their boat into a river obstruction, of which there are quite a few.

North picked a great day for it's prom. At the grand march we saw hundreds of teens in their finest, my son and his girlfriend among them. The gym was packed with enthusiastic parents, relatives and friends for the introductions and prom court selection. After the march a dozen or more limos were among vehicles used to transport the juniors and seniors to the PAC  Milw. for a night of music, food and fun.

The best part of the day for me was waking up at 4:50 in the morning because that meant HOT AIR BALLOON SEASON HAS STARTED! Two balloons launched from a field next to Boomer's Pub in Pewaukee and headed south-west with me driving one of the chase vehicles. They both landed in the area of Wern Valley Sportsmens Club, a beautiful area with lots of birds and farmland. The couple in our balloon were a pleasure to meet - very friendly and funny - and it was their wedding anniversary. The light wind was so perfect for their flight, taking them over Retzer Nature Center and much wildlife. What a great way to celebrate 22 years of marriage.