Thank goodness it's Thursday

I have been semi-retired for over three years, and occasionally when I'm out doing this or that, driving surface streets for the most part, I glimpse backed-up traffic on the Haggerty Road viaduct overlooking I-94, and consider myself lucky. The road construction in southeastern Michigan over the last two or three months is unprecedented in my personal experience, and I've lived in the area for 35 years.

Beginning this week, however, I began to use other words to describe the road construction around here. They're not polysyllabic words, but they're colorful.

The good news? I returned to work at Ford Motor Company as a part-time employee, three days a week, and I'm thrilled. I work in Transmission and Driveline Engineering on Plymouth Road Livonia , and I have a Finance-related assignment that is both challenging and something desired by the organization, even at senior management levels.

Many moons ago, I began my career at Ford in the building to which I now travel three days each week, and one of my best assignments ever in my career was also at TDE in Livonia, several years ago.

The wrinkle? Getting there! Years ago, my commute from Belleville up I-275 was 25 minutes, with infrequent traffic backups.  Now, it's like traveling through a bombed-out wasteland where commuters inch along on superhighways, their eyes hollow with dark circles, blood pressure at unsafe levels.

at the beginning of my Monday morning commute, approaching the intersection of Huron River Drive and Haggerty, metropark entrance on the right, was a long line of traffic. It took three lights to turn left onto Haggerty, where I was stopped again by a train crossing the tracks. The train was moving slowwwwwly.

I took the ramp to I-94 east, not recalling what to expect at the I-275 northbound ramp. I was in luck - the ramp was scheduled to be closed later that day, but I beat the bulwarks, just this once.

With two lanes open on I-275, I figured it would be easy getting to work. But if I chose an alternative route, forget the Ecorse Road off-ramp - it's closed. I recall that that area got quite an upgrade only a few years ago when Visteon came to town. How is it that the road deteriorated so badly in a relatively short period?

When I reached the Michigan Ave. exit, traffic slowed to a crawl. Traffic on the on-ramp was backed up, and we slowed to a halt for stretches of time. Same at Ford Road, and just north of Ford, a five-car accident. If you think it's bad being stuck in traffic, try being those guys.

I reached Plymouth Road, treated myself to a cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts, and arrived at work over an hour since I left home. There's gotta be a better way - literally.

Today, Thursday, I'm off work, thank goodness, although I do have a few errands, one that takes me to Ann Arbor. Hope springs eternal.

Living in the land of the Wolverine

The University of Notre Dame plays a football game against the University of Michigan on Saturday night, under the lights in Notre Dame Stadium.

The ND campus is a wonderful place to visit, especially in the fall on a football Saturday: the Golden Dome, the Grotto, Sacred Heart Basilica including Mass after the game, with the women's choir in the loft above singing in celestial fashion, Touchdown Jesus, the bookstore, a steaming brat, young families just beginning their own traditions, senior folk celebrating yet another year of Irish football, bright young people everywhere.

Over the years, living as an ND fan in the land of the Wolverine has seen its ups - last-minute field goals, Rocket Ismail punt returns (whether happened to exciting punt returns, by the way?) and downs - think the last three years, particularly last year, when Michigan, down 24-7 to ND, made a highly improbable fourth quarter comeback and won the game with two seconds left.

That's one of the things I've admired about the Michigan football team over the years - they don't give up, and they believe in themselves until the game is over. You may beat them, but in order to do so you have to continue beating them it until the game is over.

Denard Robinson personifies this quality. The Irish had him contained until the final quarter, but he could see that there was still time left in the game, when he began to torch Irish defenders until the heartbreaking, supremely frustrating climax.

This year, I'm hoping the outcome is different. The ND defensive line is special this year, and the offense has played mostly smart games, particularly with a new quarterback - the team has a positive turnover margin this year. I'm looking forward especially to establishing the running game, early. Not only is it sound football strategy, it's more fun to watch.

So, here's to my beloved Irish and a victory over U-M on Saturday, breaking their 3-0 losing streak to U-M and propelling ND to 4-0 on the season, for the first time in over a decade. Go Irish!

Tickets to my memories, part 1

I save ticket stubs to events I've really enjoyed, as a reminder of where I've been and what was important to me.

The latest ticket stub was from yesterday, when I went with Jan to see "The Dark Knight Rises," the last installment in Christopher Nolan's masterful Batman trilogy. I admire art skillfully conceived and executed, and Nolan did it in that movie. Clearly one of my top ten all-time favorite movies. Top on the list? Probably "The French Connection." Loved the look and feel of that movie, the NYC streets, the car chase, Gene Hackman.

The next ticket was one I didn't use, something I'd wanted to do for years - see the DSO in a summer outdoors concert. Our Kelly got us the tickets, but we were unable to go. Aaaaaargh. Next year.

Ah, a ticket from this year's boat show, a longstanding tradition among my friends - sort of a guys' night out. The boat show is the pretext; we're all looking forward to dinner. My son Matthew has joined us for years, but he was unable to make it this year. But Kel's beau Chris did, and it great to have him with us. And he said he enjoyed himself!

Just imagine: Amma and Pa on the lam

Over coffee in the living room this morning, Jan asked me if the Ambassador Bridge had re-opened. Reaching for my trusty smartphone, I confirmed that it had, after a bomb threat closed it yesterday.

We began talking about the very serious consequences about making a bomb threat. Jail time with a conviction has to be measured in years, don't you think?

Then we began laughing about our trying to pull off a bomb threat without being detected, and how we would be hopeless. We'd be identified by the authorities as "persons of interest" within an hour of phoning in the threat, the authorities having cleverly traced the call. We have no idea how to do such things in a manner that can't be detected.

Within 90 minutes, we would be identified as the suspects, and would be arraigned the same day. Bail would not be available, given the seriousness of the crime. We would be interrogated separately under hot lights.

If we tried to escape before being captured, we wouldn't get far. We thought about high-tailing it to our grandson Noah's house, with authorities hot on our trail. If the police arrived at the house, we'd run out the back door but when the police entered the house Noah, in his innocence, would tell them exactly when we had left, and the direction in which we were headed.

No sir, a life of crime isn't for us. If the moral transgression and the guilt that follows the willful commission of a crime isn't a sufficient deterrent, and we like to think it always would, then common sense would tell us that our lack of skills in this area, and the certainty of being swiftly captured and imprisoned, would tip the scales against a life of crime for Amma and Pa. Besides, we'd miss visiting Noah.

House proud, or, we'll rest when it rains

My wife and I have been working on the outside of our home for the last few weeks. The biggest project has been the wooden deck surrounding all but the east side of the house - 1,500 square feet of wood, power washed followed by sealing with 20 gallons of Olympic weather seal. The sealing's mostly done, and may be completed early next week.

The wood needs to be dry for 48 hours before applying the seal, and after applying, rain should not be in the forecast for another 24 hours. So you need about four consecutive days of no rain, not altogether easy even during this unusually dry summer.

The result has exceeded my expectations. The wood has seen much, it is true, but it's held up nicely. I like the shade of the wood and the simple honesty of the grain and the texture.

When you're nearing completion on an outdoor project, do you walk away from your home a short distance, turn around, and admire your work from the edge of the road? When we used to live in the city of Belleville, we would often cross West Columbia Ave. and admire our work from the St. Anthony Church front lawn. We still do it at our current home.

My wife Jan is implementing some ideas she's had for the front of the house, and it's working out nicely. A couple new plants, an old refurbished table and set of chairs, a little color, a little fresh paint, and voila! - transformation before your very eyes.

Jan had begun to say that our home had begun to look dull and uninviting. Each day, she grows increasingly happier with the result of our work, and we're on the right track, thanks to her ideas and our daily effort.

You decorated my life, part 1

I have a home office in which I work. It used to be utilitarian - a computer, printer, mouse, piles of papers, desk drawers, a clock, office supplies like pens and a stapler and a tape dispenser.

In the last 18 months, however, my wife Jan has swept in and, with good ideas guided by an overall gift for decorating, has transformed it into quite a special place for me.

The most recent additions are two large picture frames on the door leading to what we call the utility room - washer, dryer, storage space, furnace, hot water heater.

You have to be careful that the stuff in storage doesn't overwhelm you. We have about four down-filled white comforters of various conditions and sizes stored in one of these closets , and we are loath to get rid of them in what seems a sensible manner, because they may be useful someday to someone.

But I digress - hoarder guilt is hard to shake.

The top picture frame is black, and contains an oversize photo of Noah jetting down a slippery slide toward the photographer, my son Matthew. The expression on Noah's wet face, hair matted on his forehead, is one of unbridled joy, and it makes you happy just to look at it. It is fun displayed in a photo.

If you look carefully at it, you will see in the upper left-hand corner a shadowy face, and it is smiling. That is me, Noah's Pa, who just pushed Noah down the slide. I love that photo.

Below it is a black-framed collage of nine different photos. The common denominator is Noah, sometimes depicted by himself, more often with those who love him dearly.

In the upper left is baby Noah with his mom Crystal, who is beaming at her new son. In the lower right is Aunt Kelly planting a kiss on his cheek. At top center is the great photo taken by Kel of Matthew and Noah on a dock overlooking Belleville Lake, as the sun sets in the foreground, framing the ducks happily swimming within feet of them. And although you can't see his face, Noah, you just know, is delighted and fascinated.

It's these types of things that my wife does that not only shares that gift of hers with me, reminding when I pause during writing that I am loved, but who shares her affection and kindnesses in myriad ways, including a note on the computer keyboard each morning.

This morning's message: Make today ridiculously amazing! (for us!).

There is much more to describe in these photos and in my special office, thanks to Jan. We'll leave that for another day. Time to start our day.

A curious journey

Depending on when and where and with whom he was, his name was Yellow, or Blaze, or Luke. Life began for him this spring with a mom and a sister, under my front deck at home.

It was fun, feeding and playing with mom and her two kittens, but Jan and I knew that it wouldn't and shouldn’t last. Living outdoors, even under shelter, can be rough, and predators abound in our neighborhood. We’d already lost some baby birds to a raccoon who attacked a birdhouse at the back of the house. The raccoon reached down from our second floor back deck, tore off part of the roof of the birdhouse, and snatched the babies. As Jan and I reconstructed the way the story likely unfolded, we swore it wouldn’t happen again to the cats.

And so we fed Mom each morning and evening, and her kittens began to eat a bit as well. It was obvious that they were still nursing. We put a pet carrier on the deck, and the plan was to wait for the two kittens to go inside the carrier, close the door, and pick mom up and place her in the carrier with her kittens.

That was the theory, but it took a few weeks for this to happen. One kitten might wander into the carrier, but the other would stay out. But one morning, Jan breathlessly whispered to me that both kittens were in the carrier, and she had just closed the door.

I told her to keep the door shut. I picked up the mom, whose name is Minnie (for “Skinny Minnie”) and placed her in the carrier as well.

As Jan went to work, I drove to the Friends of Michigan Animal Rescue in Sumpter Township, the three cats in the carrier next to me on the passenger seat. FMAR co-owner Marcy LaFramboise was kind enough to take the cats, gave all of them their vaccinations, and spayed or neutered each cat.

I’m pleased to say that the two kittens already have been adopted, although mom is still at the shelter. For my money, she’d make a darn good housecat. She’s affectionate, she’s calm, and although she can’t bear any more litters, she was a wonderful mom to those two kittens, despite trying circumstances.

The small tabby we had named Yellow, re-named Blaze at the shelter, traveled one day with other animals to Main Street for the Strawberry Festival, to display them to festival visitors for adoption. Jane Vesche at Main Street Flowers was working in her store at the festival across the street, and Alec, her young grandson, was there. Getting a little bored, Alec asked to go across the street to see the animals. After being escorted across the street and walking around a bit, he returned to the store, and a little later, asked his grandfather Ron Vesche to go see his cat.

His cat? Ron asked Jane what was going on, but Jane confessed that she was puzzled as well by what Alec had said. One thing led to another, and Jane and Ron adopted the cat for their grandson Alec.

Jan and I learned all this is a roundabout way, as we talked with Jane, who had not known until we spoke that it was one of the cats at our house.

I have to say I like happy endings, especially when it comes to down-on-their-luck animals. Many thanks to Marcy and to Jane and to Ron for their kindness, and to the hand of Providence, which introduced Alec to a young tabby whose name is now Luke, who have become fast friends.

Now, if only some equally kind soul would adopt Minnie…that would be superb.

Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Media. Follow his blogs “Pa’s Blog” and “The eye of the storm” at http://jlavaute.blogspot.com. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 734-740-0062.