What the heart has once known it shall never forget ~

It started about a month after the accident, I was in Florida sitting alone on the patio near our leafless and seemingly dying Silk Floss tree he had planted from seeds (illegally pilfered from Disney World on a previous family trip!).   As I was contemplating our "new normal" a dragonfly caught my attention as it landed on a branch of the tree which was occupied by at least thirty other dragonflies simply resting on its branches.  I didn't think much of it beyond the intrigue of seeing so many on one place and on that sickly looking tree of all places.  Alas, in the following months I began to see dragonflies everywhere I went. They would dart in front of me, fly into my car windows, rest on near-by chairs, and generally make their presence known. I would see pictures, art work, and trinkets emblazoned with images of dragonflies regularly.  A couple weeks after the dragonfly-covered Silk Floss tree scene, my Mom called to tell me that our tree was budding leaves!  I told her about the dragonflies and how I’d been seeing them literally everywhere since that day on the patio- dragonfly sightings had become so prevalent in my everyday life that I couldn’t deny the fact that they had to be there for a reason.  

So one night I retreated to my office with a hot cup of coffee and after cuddling into a blanket, settled in for a little research.  Before long I was sifting through stories and symbols, meanings and significances of this newly remarkable creature in my life.  The most common theme arose quickly; dragonflies are symbolic of the souls of those no longer with us.  Other significances include their aerodynamic (airplane-like) shape and penchant to graceful flight. “They are fantastic flyers, darting like light, twisting, turning, changing direction, even going backwards as the need arises”.  My Dad had aviation in his blood (as did his Dad) and loved flying; his airplane wings were practically an extension of his own body.  Countless stories of flight, beauty, life, and inspiration filled my computer screen.  It was becoming quite clear that my heightened awareness to their presence was a frequent and gentle reminder to celebrate, like the dragonfly’s too short life, my Dad’s all to brief stay with us.  I knew my search for their meaning was complete with the five final words, while reading a brief snippet describing their short life and innate aspiration, I could almost hear my Dads voice echoing his favorite motto “live life to the fullest.”

It’s hard to believe that it’s been 5 years since he’s been gone; and though I still recoil from the pain I find myself thankful for the time I did have, grateful for the memories, and privileged to be his daughter.  

If you happen to look into the Anoka sky tonight and see 3 lanterns glowing as they gracefully skim the skyline, I hope you smile knowing they are in honor of an amazing Father-in-law, Dad, and Grandpa.

Thankful - (the short and sweet of it)

As I sit on the edge of my 38th Thanksgiving I find myself humbled by all I have to be thankful for. And its not just the grateful sense of appreciation one feels for acquired goods like houses, cars, and shoes (yes, shoes. You realize who is writing this, right?) but an awe-inspired heart-twisting thankfulness for the people I have been privileged to do life with. You know who you are - you are the wise words in a confusing situation, the gentle spirit in the harsh realities, the words of encouragement in the midst of defeat. You are the honest opinion even when I'd prefer a lie, you are the celebrator of life's tiny victories and the ever-present shoulder during life's struggles. You are laughter, support, loyal, and you are constant. And I am THANKFUL for my place in your lives!

Chicago

Day one:
After a 7 hour drive (ok, ride) across the Midwest with my dear friend, Nichole, her husband, Steve, and Bob I find myself in the midst of a quaint but clearly privileged neighborhood. The house is decorated perfectly paying respect to the 1920's builder while in contrast, illuminating the spirit of it's inhabitants. Victorian florals amidst the deep cabernet wood and rich marble accented by modern technology create a symphony of stunning traditional and contemporary style. The only thing surpassing its beauty are the inhabitants, whose genuine love for life is apparent upon first greeting. Immediately I am drawn in by their hospitality, a rare and coveted trait by any standard. As stories are shared and otherwise very separate lives intermingle over the infamous Nancy's Pizza; I marvel at the way lives intersect leaving an etching on your memory and if you're lucky, on your heart. Tonight, the etching is immortalized by the gift of a photograph - a captivating piece captured by the keen eye of Bradley Warren; one half of the the houses occupants, and Lori, the other half, as she dazzles us with her natural magnetic charm. As the night closes in, each couple retiring to their respective rooms for what promises to be much anticipated slumber, I am grateful to reflect upon such sweet memories of my first night in the Windy City.


Day two:


It should come as no surprise that uninterrupted sleep eludes me but alas I wake far too early for a vacation day and contemplate the days events. I don't get far because I have absolutely no idea what we have planned, just that I am on board for whatever the day brings. I rise, collect some reading material and head out to the patio to take in the freshness of the early morning. Except for the occasional jetliner passing almost low enough to see its passengers, it is a serene setting complete with fragrant flowers silently ushering in a new day. The day commences with shopping where the only damage worse on our pocketbooks is the astronomical toll fees.  After the tolls and paying tax on clothing, we have single-handedly supported the state of Illinois, you're welcome, residents.


Day three:

CHI Town or bust! Brad has graciously offered to be our tour guide in the city. We begin with a sight-seeing excursion aboard the public transit system known as the Metra where, as with any transit, the people watching is always a highlight. We make our way through the city with Brad occasionally summoning us to "gather 'round children" so he can share information nuggets about the waterways, buildings, and fixtures. We make our way to what the residents begrudgingly announce as the Willis Tower but quickly add that any true Chicagoian will always regard it as the infamous Sears Tower. Thanks to Lori's connections we escaped the long lines and Fast Passed our way to the 103rd floor. The 360 degree view of the city is nothing short of spectacular but what really got me excited was standing on The Ledge. Stepping out on to what I can only liken to a plexiglass box jutting from the side of the building I catch my breath as I look all 103 stories down as if I'm standing in mid-air. What a rush! If it wasn't for the crowds of people clamoring in to get their chance at standing the in the clear box I could have lost myself in the magnificence of it all. Brad chooses The Artists Cafe for lunch because of its non-tourist, authentic Chicago fare. I, of course choose the menu item that makes me giggle; its called Yaya's Spankopita - funny, right? It's a Mediterranean spinach dish that hits the spot! On our way through the city we stop and take in the sights and sounds of children playing in the Millenium Park waterfall. Next we head to Grant Park where Bob and I make a mental note to return one day. Around the park we find The Bean...it's a 23 million dollar stainless steel...well, bean! Amazed at the sights in its reflection, one of them being us, I joined the hundreds of others in a photo frenzy attempting to capture just the right reflective bean pic. Navy Pier welcomed us afterward where we took a speedboat tour of Lake Michigan aboard the SeaDog while the spunky tour guide ended each segment with a hearty "rrrr-ruff ruff!" It was entertaining to say the least. I've never been so thankful to not be a college student taking odd jobs to supplement my tuition.  We end our quick trip to the pier with a Ferris Wheel ride and as the car rotates us through the air I am struck with appreciation toward our car-mates for their request to join them on this adventure. Dinner is at a great Mexican restaurant called Catina Lardeo where the only thing better than the handmade guacamole and mojito's was the impeccable service - thanks, Chuy for making it such a memorable experience!


Day four:
After a much needed run due to the countless (as in, I took a vacation from counting them) calories and a breakfast that could wow Julia Child, the girls and I take a trip to do some boutique shopping which quickly results in once again stimulating the Illinois economy. Because we have been told that this evening is a surprise in honor of celebrating the Vogt and Dillner Anniversaries (June 26th for both), Nichole and I are chomping at the bit to ready ourselves for whatever the night has in store. Settling on cute sun-dresses and fancy jewelry we are set for our night. With Brad at the helm we pull into the Ravinia parking lot unload our picnic wares and set a course to find some prime real-estate on the lawn. Upon finding the perfect spot, Lori sets out a homemade picnic-style spread fit for royalty and soon we are basking in the warm weather with full bellies and enjoying the company of our different worlds intersecting. Tonights entertainment is Garrison Keillor and I finally understand what all the fuss is about - that's one crazy-looking funny dude! After Ravinia we set out to stalk the wealthy neighborhoods and drool over their homes - I think Bob "Bub" as he was dubbed this night, was in his glory taking in all that "old money" can buy. Since we are heading back to MN in the morning, our last stop was Portillo's for an authentic Italian beef hot dog - it was worth trip, yum!


Day five:


A quite drive home in a car of exhausted friends is how this trip ends but not before we stop in for some Wisconsin cheese curds via Nichole's request... unfortunately, they were out of curds that day. No, really, the cheese place in WISCONSIN was out of cheese. If you ask Nichole about it, you may have to wait until the absurdity-induced laughter subsides.


A million thanks to Brad and Lori for opening your home and being incredible hosts. If there was an award for this, you'd be the reigning champions. To Nichole and Steve, thanks for the new memories on the road to becoming old friends.

Father's Day

I'm quite sure bloggers across the nation are preparing their Father's Day posts at this very moment; many to express their heartfelt gratitude to the men who helped raise them, some complain about the short-coming of theirs, and still countless others to, in some way simply share the impact of what this day means to them.  Today, I join the multitudes in our quest to share a glimpse into the psyche of a child on Father’s Day.

Normally I’d say it’s best to start from the beginning, but the beginning is not what sustains me it’s the middle, so I’ll start there.   I am 14; he has just come from sunny Florida to visit me in the dead of a Minnesota winter.   Ever the adventurer, he takes me out on a frozen lake – in the car – I imagine paying homage to his teen years when he lived here and this was commonplace.  As the adrenaline coursed through my veins I recall a fleeting thought that I should be terrified at the possibility of falling through our icy playground but an unexpected emotion took over; security.  I was, after all with my DAD.  I didn’t know at the time how important this revelation was – for it was new, welcomed, and oh so sweet.  But looking back on the years, it became the cornerstone of how I knew I wanted my daughter to feel in the presence of her Dad.  I am 15; we are flying, yes, in an airplane that my Dad is piloting.  Once again the adrenaline has released a thrill I am unfamiliar with but embracing because I am with my Dad and that unspoken bond reassures me that I am safe.   I am 18, 24, 33…; the stories change but the message is constant, I am loved, I am his daughter.  I recall the first time I heard him introduce me as such.  The pride and confirmation of belonging solidified something deep within, that even though my father-daughter story was not as I would have written it if given the choice, it was my story.  Few of us can look back and not want to re-write a few of life’s chapter’s – it is nevertheless what gives us material to write the future. 

I am 37; and on this Father’s Day I am reflecting on all that is good.  No longer is the safety of a father’s provision available to those of us whose Dads were taken from us too soon, but the memories of lives touched live on.  I enjoy seeing glimpses of him in the generosity of my husband, I find solace in the unconditional love of my Mom, I marvel at the ingenuity of my daughter, and I take comfort in that still quiet place deep within reminding me that this life, is a pretty good story.

In loving reflection of the life of my Dad, Dale Anthony Shallbetter.