In addition to the three R's, I have a few other interests. Hiking, biking, xc skiing and kayaking are a few of my favorite outdoor activities. Indoors, I like to watch movies and listen to live music and swing dance. I am looking forward to meeting an interesting woman in the Duluth area. She would be a friendly, kind, intelligent and caring woman who enjoys eating apple pie with ice cream.

If you like to read stories, see me a review of this one:

Ego Battles

At the risk of embarrassment and ridicule I will bare my soul and revealed to you the two times in my life that I have received bloody beatings by a foe stronger and sturdier than myself. While I do possess a rather high degree of aerobic endurance, both my genetic lack of bulky muscles and my distaste for strength training have left me with minimal fighting ability. That alone is embarrassment enough for a man. Now worse I will reveal more.

The first time I was defeated, my top left front tooth was chipped. The dentist filed it down so you can't notice the damage today. The second time my upper lip was cut and required stitches. There is still a scar. That's why I vainly grow a beard and mustache. Not a lick of damage was done to either of the other parties.

You might ask, "Who were the other parties inflicting the damage?" Well that's the most embarrassing detail of the two stories. Oh my God, can I really share these with you. Do you promise to keep my confidence?

The first incident occurred in fifth grade. I was running late for school. As I was terribly afraid of my teacher's wrath, I was literally, "running" at full sped. The teacher's name was Mr. Grimsrude. No joke. He was the meanest, nastiest, never smiling, so called "teacher" at Congdon Park Elementary School. His name fit his temper. As I have just regressed to vent repressed feelings about my former teacher, pardon me and let's go back to the story. I was running full throttle and the air was clouded by a damp frighteningly dark fog. As I reached the school grounds the intruder appeared seven inches from my face. Unable to stop, I was hit hard and off guard. Suddenly I was knocked flat on my back. My inner lip and tongue were bleeding and my front tooth was rendered jagged and sharp. I had been cut, thrown to the ground and stunned by...yes I hate to admit it...I was beat up by an elm tree. One further aside: this is also the story of how I received the nickname, Fog.

It wasn't until 25 years later that I got my revenge. That monster tree fell on it's back. Unfortunately it wasn't my doing; a tiny little Dutch beetle got that tree.
My second beating was also rendered by a dense hardwood. Worse, this beating occurred when I was a mature man. This painful event happened at the normally friendly territory of the Appleton Heart of the Valley YMCA. I was teaching an aerobic conditioning after school class for pre-teens. My son, Steve was in the class. Imagine being humiliated in front of you own son. Damn! I thought I had everything under control. Proud as a father peacock, I was teaching a workout routine of my own design to my son and his pals.

At the end of class each child was required to return their dumbbells to the supply closet. Each kid had no problem with this task. Even Steve, who had been showing off by struggling with fifteen pound weights, managed to place his dumbbell on the rack in the closet without too much difficulty. As the last kid came out of the closet I went to store my equipment. The door stop had manage to prevent the door from closing all the way. In a hurry to get to the showers and with my hands full, I kicked the door open with my left foot. Before I could slip into the closet...BAM! The full weight of the door hit me square in the face and split my upper lip. The dumbbells in my hands had prevented me from defending myself. OK, OK, OK, pardon me, I know that is a lame excuse. With blood all over my chin and chagrin everywhere, I was forced to go to the front desk for first aid and to file an accident report. I have yet to devise a way to get back at that door. But until that happens, thank God, ice cream always makes me feel better.

-Excerpted from the book: A Thousand and One Stories of a Midwestern Knight

The book has not yet been published. You will have to contact me to get the other 1000 stories. As for my son, his name is not really Steve. I changed the name to protect his innocence. He is now 16, lives with his mom, just got his first job, and found a hell of a deal on a '95 Chevy Lumina in good condition. I am a very proud father!

Let's hop a fast train to the coast... :)