Lottery hope springs eternal

My father-in-law has a three-ring binder with the title "Jack's Important Information" printed boldly on its front. My wife created the binder for him several years ago.

 In it she printed important phone numbers for him, in big bold type that he can easily read. He's 87 years old, has Parkinson's disease and his eyesight is not very good. Still, he can read if the type is large enough, and the binder is a comfort to him, particularly when his wife, my mother-in-law, is away from the condominium to run errands. He knows that should he need to reach anyone while she is away -- if he can not get ahold of his wife, that is -- that he'll find the phone numbers for his son and his two daughters (one being my wife) inside that binder.

 He also has added other important information to the binder. God knows what's in there, as what is important to Pop, as we call him, is always varied and often peculiar. One thing my wife says is in the binder, however, are his latest calculations for predicting winning lottery numbers.

 His lottery calculations are legendary. He's been doing it forever, and he's convinced there is a mathematical formula which governs all winning numbers and which would make the person who discovers it very rich indeed.

 I recall looking at some of his equations in the past -- rows and columns of numbers laid out in grids in seemingly random order. But to him it all made sense, or at least hinted at making sense. He was always optimistic about being close to cracking the code, if you asked him. 

 I'd like to know how many hundreds of pieces of paper he's scribbled his calculations on over the years. He's certainly slowed down in recent years, writing becoming increasingly difficult for him mainly due to his Parkinson's. Still, however, I'm sure on good days he's writing down some new formula only he can follow, and then handing the "winning" numbers to his wife to go play.

 I believe this is what you call "hope" in its truest and purest form, and those who are lucky enough to possess it hold onto it throughout their lives, regardless of past let-downs or even consistent failure.

  I am sure Pop has won occasional small lottery pay-outs over the years. But never has he won the big payoffs, the kind which allows you to buy a car, take an expensive vacation or quit your job. In spite of his losing ways, or perhaps more accurately because of his losing ways, Pop has never quit calculating, scheming and crunching the algorithms, such as they are.
 If by chance, and I mean by chance, he did win the big game some day, I wonder what he'd do to pass the time, what with no more need to solve the lottery riddle.

 For by now it's all just as much a pastime for him as it is a dream he's chasing. Actually it's probably mostly a pastime. I imagine he knows deep down the odds of winning continue to be against him, regardless of his years and years of study.

 Whatever it is that drives him to keep searching, it's helping to keep his mind active, and the good-natured ribbing we give him about it still produces a twinkle in his eye and an optimistic reply that he's almost got it figured out.

 At 87 years old, I imagine he's just about got it, indeed.

When Remy met Chance

Here's a little video of our Chihuahua, Remy, playing with Chance, my brother's Jack Russell Terrier, shortly after they met for the first time.

Finding the rock

On a trip north this spring, my older son and I were able to find the location where a photo had been taken 43 years ago of my dad and me at Copper Falls State Park in Wisconsin.

The park has changed a lot over the years, but the rock is still there.

We couldn't recreate the 1968 photo exactly because the level of the Bad River was high, just high enough to submerge the rock.

So we clambered out to the nearest rock to it, sat down and had my wife's nephew take the photo from roughly the same angle as the original.

Rocky Mountain National Park Slide Show

Took these photos during our trip to Colorado in 2009.

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

Bad River, Copper Falls State Park, 1968

While going through some boxes in the basement recently I came across this photo taken in August of 1968 when I was 6 years old. It's a picture of me and my dad sitting on a rock at the edge of the Bad River, which runs through Copper Falls State Park in north central Wisconsin.

Copper Falls was one of Dad's favorite places and was not too far from his hometown of Glenwood City. So we would often take a day trip to the park on our annual summer family vacations north.

In the picture I am holding a fishing pole (though this definitely was not a fishing trip) and am looking back at the photographer, who was either my mom or one of my six siblings -- at least two or three of whom, in addition to me, were probably along on the trip. Dad is looking the other direction, and I imagine his thoughts were distant. He loved being back in Wisconsin. "The air smells better already," he was apt to say each year upon crossing the state line from Illinois.

So I know he was happy when this photo was taken. From the grin on my face (which I can discern on the original print), I know I was happy, too, even though I am sure I did not end up catching a thing. Just being with my dad was enough.

We lost Dad just eight years after this photo was taken. I had no idea at the time, of course, how fleeting this moment we shared would be, nor how powerful it would become when I rediscovered it in a box in my basement 43 years later.

I love this photo.

Thank you to whoever in my family took it.

Happiness and harmony

Watch the attached video for a peek into the beginning of our summer vacation.
WARNING: May not be suitable for younger viewers.

Shooting hoops with the help of a Chihuahua