Thursday, November 19, 2009

Meghan who?

My family is getting together for Thanksgiving this weekend. There are several in this little corner of Minnesota who know a little bit of history from this event, it was well documented in my weekly column during my newspaper years. Who can forget the great gravy shortage of ’02? You may recall my dismay over the year I inadvertently scheduled a wedding photography gig on the same day as Wilmes Thanksgiving, and the photo my family sent from the dinner table. Then there was the time my sister Barb put the chocolate milk in the mashed potatoes…
Of course the downside of having a son/sibling/uncle/nephew/husband/stepdad who writes a weekly column is this: what happens at family gatherings doesn’t necessarily stay at family gatherings. I regularly have trotted out anecdotes—from embarrassing to amusing—over the past dozen years. Time and again I am reminded that my family members are pretty good sports and can take a jab in the spirit in which it is intended. They also have a talent for landing a few jabs of their own. I readily admit I have made myself a target for unfair ridicule from my brothers and sisters.
The stuff that goes out for public consumption, however, has some of the warts removed and I generally keep a lid on a few of the more personal antics. Last week, however, my family found out we probably have been sharing some of our more intimate thoughts with a complete stranger over the past couple of years. Apparently, despite her efforts to warn us…
I will be the first to admit that my family has an above average sense of humor. Having the best sense of humor in the family, I should naturally be the one to make that judgement… Last week, during a typically amusing exchange of emails among my family about food assignments for Thanksgiving and a debate on how long my brother Todd and his wife Susan has been married, we were jarred by the fact that we have been sharing a bit too much information with a young woman named Meghan Wilmes. Turns out she has been included in mass emails originating from my brother Clayton, as well as all the “reply all” responses…some of which have gone on for days, even weeks. In the middle of a rather intense discussion of pie, we received the following email:

Hello to all,
I've been following your emails which have made me laugh. I wish I could come to your Thanksgiving....homemade pies!!!! I know I've told a few of you but apparently not everyone, I'm not actually in your family. :) It seems many of you have my email address saved as a Mark Wilmes and although I do have an uncle Mark I know its not the same one. Anyway, just thought I would send this to everyone because I've also received family pictures and some emails about people with medical conditions which may be urgent at times.

I hope you all have Happy Holidays!

Meghan


I could almost sense the dead silence of my family members as they mentally reviewed the emails and pictures that have been sent out in the past, in an attempt to assess the collateral damage we may have inflicted on this young innocent person. That silence wouldn’t last long. My sister Barb called and we were laughing so hard we could barely speak.
I couldn’t stop going back to the line, “I'm not actually in your family. :)”
It doesn’t take a baseball bat to the head to get through to the Wilmes family, by golly.
A little history: Back in April of 2007, I signed myself up for a web-based email account, enabling me to communicate from my laptop when I was out and about. In Clay’s address book, a combination of an old work email and my new web-based address was added, instead of the actual address. This merging of old and new ended up accidentally making Meghan an innocent bystander in the affairs of our family. We still really don’t know which pictures she has seen and how much she knows about our past medical conditions, and she isn’t saying. We do know, however, she can identify family members from photos.
Despite the faux pas by Clay, entering the wrong email address, I have somehow been blamed for the mix-up by at least one family member, as is revealed in the following missive:

Well, if Mark didn’t feel he was so important as to have a dozen different e-mail addresses, then maybe we wouldn’t have this issue and poor Meghan could live her life in peace.

Nicole

This is troubling, as I really only have three email addresses (home, web-based and office, the last of which I was forced to take, regardless of my perceived “importance”), so I am a bit worried about who Nicole is communicating with by way of those other nine email addresses.
Of course, never being a family to back away from being entertaining, everyone continued to include Meghan in the follow-up emails, and even sent her a family picture and invited her to Thanksgiving (you will notice I included the family picture, in which Meghan graciously added her own picture and sent it back to us). She still can’t get rid of us.
Of all the places those loose cannon emails could have been sent, in the end it turns out Meghan lives in Hugo, MN.
That’s not all…
That “uncle Mark” she referred to??? He and his wife are members of the same church as my sister Darla up in Cloquet.
I would guess that Meghan still hasn’t heard the last from us. I personally added her to my address book. How could we not send her a picture from this weekend’s family gathering? It wouldn’t surprise me if she gets invited to the annual Wilmes Family Board Game Weekend at Clay and Linda’s in the Twin Cities in February.
Of course, I’ll have to send her the link to this blog…
In the meantime, whether she likes it or not…welcome to the family Meghan. Sorry.
Oh, and we’ll be expecting photos and descriptions of your medical procedures in the coming weeks. It is only fair.
You have our addresses…
*****
Don’t look for a blog next week...although maybe a picture. I’ll be attending Thanksgiving II in New Ulm with Kathy’s family. I’m giving myself the week off. If you signed on to this blog recently, take the opportunity to scroll down and check out the archive of previous blogs.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Waiting for the beep…

Is it only me, or does everyone my age try to keep a constant vigil for signs of his or her own early-onset senility, or whatever it is called these days. I’m guessing that the word senile is no longer politically correct. I constantly wonder how long before I’m considered by others to be a doddering old fool. In my younger days, I always felt a twinge of pity for elderly people who were obviously beginning to slip in to a semi-sentient state. Now that it is I who is showing early signs of becoming doddering, I’ve picked up an entirely new perspective. I find it a constant source of amusement—which I would assume has become a growing font of consternation for the younger members of my family.
I now have to wear my keys around my neck. I had no choice. I work for a company where I need to swipe a plastic fob and punch in a code in order to have access to part of the building. If I don’t remember to bring it to the office—37.1 miles from my front door—I am required to go home and get them.. Knowing my proclivity for misplacing my keys, I took preventative measures and acquired a lanyard with my SecurID OTP key fob, my HID access key fob, the key to my ignition, the remote to lock and unlock my car door and the key to the front door. This memory-assist method is all held together by the fact that I have to drive my Trailblazer in order to get to work, making it impossible to leave home without the rest of my essentials. This should save me from ever adding 74.2 miles to my commute. The lanyard (if used without fail) will prevent me from placing my keys on the canned fruit shelf in Maynards when I’m choosing my Mandarin oranges.
There are some symptoms of doddering, however, that just can’t be fixed.
I’m reminded of the day earlier this year, when I was standing in Scott’s Electronics in Tyler, waiting patiently for the customer ahead of me to finish. A cell phone started ringing. Not, I thought, an unusual sound in a business that sells cell phones. After three rings, I noticed all three of the others in the room were looking at me. I smiled and made a “don’t worry, I’m in no hurry” sort of gesture. It wasn’t until after I left the building that I noticed the missed call beep notification coming from the front pocket of my pants. Apparently the sound of my phone ringing cannot travel out of my jeans, over my belly, and to my auditory canal with enough volume for me to notice. My retro-active amusement was slightly elevated by the fact that I remembered thinking when I was standing in Scott’s that someone else had my same ring…
There are other signs...like the day a couple of weeks ago when I went to work showing signs of doddering. It seems I started my morning by fastening button two in hole three, button three in hole four, button four…well, you get the picture. There is no beep notification for something like that.
Back in October I showed up one week early for my doctor’s appointment. I noticed it AFTER I had, earlier in the day, demanded that my blood test results be ready by 4:30 PM. At the check-in counter, Darla tried to soften the blow. “That’s OK, Mark, you aren’t the first patient to do something like that,” she said, carefully avoiding the word doddering.
I got a good laugh from that one.
On a regular basis, MY end of a conversation will sound something like this:
“I saw what’s-his-name today…the guy that lives on the old…um…oh man, what was the name of those people…you know, they live down the road from that guy with the comb-over we talked to in church Sunday morning…”
Most of this stuff is fairly harmless fun, of course. I do worry a bit about when I will start taking it to a new level, though.
I had a real scare in the front yard the other night. Kathy and I were bagging leaves and she made the comment, “not sure if you noticed, but you have a pile behind you…”
My heart leapt to my chest.
I was scared to look.
Turns out she was talking about leaves…but it took a few minutes for the fall color to drain out of my cheeks.
Sometime in the future, if you see me in my front yard with my shirt buttoned crooked, my front pocket beeping and something behind me on the lawn, do me a favor…just smile and wave.
You’ll know I’m having the time of my life.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Consider it my gift to you…a week off

For those of you who remembered to set your clocks back over the weekend, I hope you enjoyed your extra hour of sleep. For those of you who forgot, that is why you were the first one there every place you went this week. I’m feeling so refreshed, in fact, that I’m taking the week off from writing a column. You just received another five minutes of spare time this week.
You’re welcome.
I won’t leave you completely high and dry however. I would like to introduce you to the newest blogger in my extended family. Some of you may remember from the days when I was the publisher of the Lake Benton News and the Hendricks Herald, I had an occasional columnist named Brian Driscoll, who penned the column, “Brian in the Big City.” Brian, my nephew, has always been the family “yarn spinner.” The following link will take you to his newly launched blog spot. His site will have a place where you can contact him about how to be notified when he posts a blog. I will also have a link on the top left corner of this page.
This week I am sending to an extended list of people. To those who are new to my blog, I have been writing online for the past few months. If you scroll down on this page, on the left you will see the archives if you wish to go back and peruse what I have been doing since I was run out of the newspaper business. If you would like to be added to the weekly email notification list, you will receive a link to this blog whenever a new one is posted. Thanks again to all who have been reading over the past few months!

Link to Brian in the Big City: http://brianinthebigcity.com/
Email if you would like to be added to the “Off the Mark” blog email notification list: markwilmes@gmail.com.