My Dad, The Birds and The Bees

Last week, when we were up north, we got to spend some time with my dad. I wonder if he ever thought he’d be the father of Mother Goose? He’s also known as Grampa Nate. He lives alone. Well, actually, he’s got two little dogs — Lilly and Yanni. He lives out in the middle of nowhere with his two little dogs — thirty six miles to the nearest town which is Bemidji, Minnesota. He goes to town on Wednesdays so that he’ll get the Senior Discount on his groceries. He goes to church on Sundays because he’s the head usher; actually he’s the only usher. He’s been retired for awhile now, but he used to be a state forester. He climbed through the ranks of the state’s career path, and ended up at the top of the ladder.

Though he lives on a lovely lake, he doesn’t fish anymore. But he does go out weekly in his little aluminum boat to check the water clarity, and he reports that to the state for their records.

He feeds the birds, and can name any bird in the yard. He keeps detailed records of their migratory habits. He has books and journals and notebooks full of information about his birds, the local squirrels, the white-tailed deer in his forest and the daily weather.

He loves nature! He’s always loved nature!

In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s thinking about the birds and the bees in these pictures!

Nate poses in front of his car.

I'm loving his hair!

Nate and Vonna making out on the car.

Mom always said she married him because he looked like Elvis. I think he still looks like Elvis…

A Request from Mother Goose

Mother Goose is all aflap today to celebrate Valentine’s Day. If I could honk and whisper at the same time, I’d tell you that I love you, dear and gentle reader. I would shout it from the mountain tops and write it on a sandy beach. I would stomp my large webbed feet to a samba beat. We’d waltz off into the moonlight. I would nibble rich dark chocolates in your honor and sip bubbly champagne. The sky’s the limit — there are so many ways I would show my love for you. Little candy hearts, deep red roses, Elvis singing “Love Me Tender”.

So tender, so touching, so romantic.

By now, all of my precious readers have figured out the secret Joy of Mother Goose. It’s all about the Love. Mother Goose is loved by thousands, nay millions of fans worldwide. Adoring fans flock to my front gate just to catch a glimpse of the Goose.

Like Elvis, Mother Goose knows the burden of fame and fortune. There is no privacy when you are a famous Goose. My name has often been schmeared across the tabloid covers. Mr. Goose and I can never have an anonymous dinner out — the paparazzi are everywhere. I know that my dear readers love me and want to be near me. You want to touch my feathers and pat my cheek. You want to pretend that we are very close and that we know each other very well. You want to ask for my autograph and just a quick photo together to show to your friends. I understand about idols, I really do.

Please know that I love you too.

But just for this evening, please let Mother Goose and Mr. Mother Goose have a quiet dinner together without all the public adoration. Let it be your Valentine’s gift to me — please… I know it’s much to ask. Self-control and restraint in the presence of a famous goose is very difficult. Celebrities like Mother Goose are wonderful to behold up close. But if you really care, if your love is real for me, please grant me this one favor — admire Mother Goose from a distance. Just for today.

Alone at last...