My goals this week

goals this week. 1) do not brew coffee on my desk, because that defeats the purpose of mugs and also ruins important work papers; 2) make sure any skirts or pants with elastic waist bands are secured around my waist and not hanging halfway down my...  Boompa. Especially when leaving the confines of my cube to attend meetings.


*** This post was a draft from a year ago. I never published it. Maybe I was planning to add to it. Who knows. Brewing coffee on my desk - not funny, but the skirt falling off kind of is. Now, at least. Probably not at the time.

without connection

I resisted cell phones for a long time. I did not see them as a necessity and I thought they were silly. When I was 16 my parents got one. It was black. Flipped open and you had to pull the antenna out. My dad placed it under the seat of his red Mitsubishi and told me it was for emergency use only. It wasn't even turned on. Those were the days when you had all your friends’ phone numbers memorized. If someone handed me an empty cell phone and told me to call as many people as I could, it would probably be my parents’ house. And maybe my boyfriend.

In 2004 I was commuting to my job in Sauk Rapids, from Ramsey. My sister switched cell phone plans and asked me to take her old one for the next two months until the plan expired. I had no problem with that. The long drive was very remote; I planned to get a job in the metro area, but during my commute to East Jesus Nowhere and then some, it seemed like a handy safety precaution.

By the time the plan expired, I had secured a job in Maple Grove. I didn't feel compelled to commit to a provider and be accessible to anyone at all hours. But my boyfriend at the time did.  And while, it wasn't the fact that he wanted me to have one that caused me to succumb to the cell phone trend, (My 14 and 16 year old brothers had already consumed the once untouchable-emergency-phone-only, by that time my parents both had cell phones and my brothers promptly absorbed them.)it was for the reason that I was living with my parents and siblings and the privacy of a cell phone was preferred to the old fashioned land-line method, in which any of the household members or guests could pick up a line and listen.

This was inspired by the fact that I forgot my phone today. I found myself wondering if I left it on my bed, if the cats would discover it and eat it, or if I dropped it somewhere else, would I be able to find it when I got home, etc. And then I thought remember that time when cell phones were something I never really wanted? Now, here I sit iPhone on my mind, and feeling as though I went to work without any pants on.

My dad is 60!

TOP 60 Reasons why I am glad to be Bob Spooner’s Daughter

1. He built his own slip and slide (and let us use it).


2. He organized neighborhood flashlight tag games.


3. He built a swing set with a swing for each kid.


4. He does triathlons and we cheer him on, sometimes even do races with him.


5. He took us on random Sunday drives with picnics.


6. He likes the pop ‘n’ fresh.


7. He paid a guy at Perkins in Grand Forks, ND to deliver a cheesecake to my dorm for my 19^th birthday.


8. He puts his wife and kids first.


9. He delivered a #2 extra value meal for to my high school for my birthday.


10. I thought he was so cool, and that if he chaperoned my 7^th grade dance I’d be cool because we’re related.


11. For my 20^th birthday he and my mom drove 5 hours to Grand Forks, ND with NO HEAT in the car (my birthday is in December!!) to spend a few hours with me.


12. He always does romantic things for my mom.


13. In 2007 he called me at work because he heard a sad story on the radio, about a girl who my age, just to tell me what a good daughter I am.


14. He encouraged me to run. And ran my first 5k with me.


15. He is proud of me.


16. He encouraged me to do triathlons.


17. During my first triathlon, after he finished (long before me) he ran back to find me and finished my run with me.


18. He convinced me to run a half-marathon.


19. And then ran the half-marathon nice and slow with me.


20. He always volunteers to help my mom out with the ballet company.


21. He taught me how to tease.


22. The time he gave us a puppy was an amazing memory. We were cleaning the house all day; because we were told he was bringing us presents. When he got home from work they sat us at the kitchen table and passed out gifts to each of us. They were each wrapped in dog wrapping paper. We ripped open the presents and found a leash, collar, bone, dishes, and a toy. "We are getting a dog!" We screamed. "No." He replied and paused a few minutes. "You’ve got a dog!" And then went out to his car and brought in a tiny, sleepy, buff cocker spaniel puppy.


23. He went to all of Dustin’s football games.


24. He followed Mikey across the country during his last year of drum corps.


25. When we were young, he and my mom would make wonderful vacations out of watching him do triathlons.


26. When we would drive thru McDonald’s and discover when we got home that they did not pack sweet and sour sauce, he would drive back and get us some.


27. He brought us to Deadwood, SD in 1994. Actually, all over South Dakota. But Deadwood was most memorable.


28. And then horrified us by telling us he wants to be buried in a pine box like Wild Bill.


29. He shovels snow in his shorts.


30. One year on Valentine’s Day, when we were all working in the Anoka area, he drove around to our work and dropped off Valentine treats!


31. He and my mom loved us enough to send us to Catholic elementary school.


32. He makes delicious SPOONER BURGERS (even though as a vegetarian, I can no longer eat them.)


33. He catches shoplifters; even when on vacation.


34. He is kind.


35. He has a strong faith.


36. He is so helpful! He has helped me move a billion times.


37. And he has painted the house a million times. And the living rooms of each of his daughters.


38. In 1999 when we went to a soccer tournament in Iowa we ate a lot of McDonald’s. It was a time when they were playing Monopoly. Dustin became convinced that we had a winning piece after lunch and we tried to find the piece from the day before. It turned out it had gotten tossed. We all became wrapped up in the idea that we had the Boardwalk or Park Place matching pieces, so he jumped in the hotel dumpster to find it. So sweet! He didn’t find it.


39. He is patient.


40. He is definitely the BEST DAD EVER!


41. He built us a really cool toy box when we were kids.


42. He is adventurous.


43. My siblings had a first grade teacher named Mrs. Round. Mrs. Round would send home a bear with each of the kids and they would write a story about what the bear did for the weekend. Dad made it extra special because the bear always came back different than it left. One year he shrunk, one year he grew huge, the next year he got married, and the last year they had babies! He is so creative and fun.


44. He is wonderful.


45. He is generous.


46. He is an awesome pop-up.


47. He placed a bet with my third grade class about how much my baby brother would weigh when he was born.


48. In college he sent me a care package and wrote a note "Dear Coley" from then on all my college friends, roommates and professors called me Coley.


49. Our third grade teacher was a huge fan of the Cubs and when they were playing the Twins (or going the playoffs??) He snuck into her classroom after hours and hung every teddy bear he could find in our house upside from the ceiling.


50. When he got transferred for work in 1999 and had to uproot our family from Lakeville, he made sure that every kid had their own room and that there was a bathroom in the basement.


51. He is thoughtful.


52. He likes hanging out with my grandpa and watching games.


53. He makes the best pancakes.


54. On his days off he would ride bikes with us to school and pick us up afterwards.


55. He let us "camp" in the backyard when we were little and sleep in the tower.


56. He is funny.


57. When I was in elementary school he was riding his bike by school while we were outdoors for gym class. We were playing baseball, I was hiding behind a telephone pole and my teacher waved down my dad and was like "Mr. Spooner. Do you know what your daughter was doing?!?" I am pretty sure he just laughed.


58. He is always happy.


59. After Dustin was born, he picked up my mom and Dustin from the hospital in a limo and let us ride along.


60. He beat cancer.

I love you dad! Happy 60^th Birthday!!!! Love, Coley

Ballet, the bus and a grandma

Sometimes living downtown and working downtown is like being in high school. Or maybe on a college campus. You walk through the halls (or skyways) and down the streets, seeing different faces and sometimes the same. Most of the time, with the advent of technology, people have become detached, in sorts, from humanity. So focused on their iPhones or plugged into their iPods that they don’t truly see what is around them.

The other day on the bus, I ran into a grandmother and her granddaughter. Over the course of two years I have occasionally run into them on the bus. Mostly as an observer of their interactions, but one day it was more than that and this particular day I couldn’t recall why. I knew I had spoken to them about ballet before and I was compelled to get up and move to sit near them and chat.

It had maybe been 6 months or so since the last time I saw them, so I assumed they would not remember me. In seconds I thought of what the people would think of me as I moved to the back to speak with them and show the little girl ballet pictures on my phone. But frankly, as the thought crossed my mind, I realized I didn’t really care. We had a short chat and ride before they made it to their stop for a transfer. The conversation was circling ballet, and I said I thought it was wonderful that this little girl liked ballet in a world where most kids are drawn to hip hop, jazz and competition. At that point the grandmother mentioned that the girl’s mother didn’t care for it, but the little girl loved it.

They smiled and said bye as they walked the aisle to the front of the bus to exit. The little girl, maybe 7 or 8, was dressed in her school uniform with her thick white tights. A pink backpack hugged her shoulders and matched her jacket. As they left I remembered why I needed to speak with them.

For a year and half I said nothing to them. I watched and listened. But one day I couldn’t stand it anymore. The grandmother had given me an in while talking about ballet. It was there that I intercepted.

The little girl’s mother was not her primary caregiver. The grandmother was. She always made sure that the little girl knew how her mother was a bad person. Loudly. The whole bus could hear their conversations. At least the grandmother’s side. I would cringe. Listening to her yell at the girl for not wearing her mittens, or for dirtying her clothes at recess, or for being hopeful about her mother. It drove me bananas and I always wanted to stay “Stop yelling at her! She is just a little girl!”

Instead I kept to myself, pretending to focus on my email messages or a game on my phone. Heart breaking inside for the little girl. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t need to speak to her like that. And when I got her to stop, it was as swift as a grand jete across the stage, so she didn’t notice the redirection.

That particular day the argument was about whether or not the girl’s mother had seen her dance recital the previous year. The girl insisted she had. She and her grandmother went back and forth and back and forth. I understood that the grandmother wanted to protect her from her mother; she didn’t want to lead her to believe her mother could be a better mother only to have the little girl be hurt. But I don’t feel that fighting is the way to do it. And who am I to judge? A childless stranger on a bus. But I did. The girl continued to argue that she had seen a picture on her mom’s phone. The grandma insisted the mom was late and only saw her bow, using the picture as false evidence for having witnessed the recital. The little girl was hurt, but you could tell in her heart she did not believe her grandmother.  She wanted to believe mother had seen her dance.

I stepped in. I couldn’t stand the fighting anymore. The poor sweet little girl clearly already had enough issues to deal with and the grandmother constantly yelling at her could not help. I asked about ballet. I brought the focus back to the little girl and her love of ballet. For the next three stops I was able to bring a smile to her face and to help the proud grandma brag about the little girl’s talent. Relief crossed my tense shoulders and slipped down my back. With one attempt of stepping out of my comfort zone and intervening, I was able to have a peaceful ride. We all were. I did it for me, the bus driver, the passengers, and most importantly, the little girl. 

the clock with the knot

Industrial Arts Class. 7^th grade. I vividly remember the room although I can’t recall the teacher’s name. I can picture a couple boys in the class too. Our final project was to make a clock. I don’t really remember many details of the class, but this project I remember. We were allowed to select our wood from some pieces. We had to buy the wood. The wood I wanted to used was the more expensive kind; I didn’t care. I knew I wanted that wood. It was dark, like chocolate, and beautiful. It also had a knot in it. My instructor insisted that I sand out the knot. But I liked the knot. It was what made the wood perfect and unique. The knot was what drew me to select that particular piece of wood. I liked what the knot would do for my clock. It was like an eye into the tree. One remembrance that the clock was once a living thing and that it was art, created by my own hands and not mass manufactured in a production line of unhappiness. I don’t remember what I told the teacher. As a 12 year old, I was incredibly timid. If it were my sister in the same situation she probably would have argued the beneficial aspect of the knot until the teacher agreed with her and required all her classmates to have knots in their wood. I probably just nodded and walked away. Eventually he told me that if I didn’t sand down my knot I would get a lower grade for the project. I wasn’t going to sell out. Give up what I wanted for a grade. So again with the nod and likely a shrug, at least when I turned it in there was definitely a shrug, to let his disappointed tone roll off my shoulders and puddle at my feet. I was a proud owner of the perfect clock! The clock of my dreams.