Thought I’d re-post these videos I put together on my Dad’s behalf a year ago for their 40th anniversary.
Happy B-Day Dad and Anniversary to my parents. We love you guys!
The Day before I got married in 2000 I put together a speech for my Dad at the grooms dinner. I spend about a week writing and re-writing a tribute to my father, Al. I have always been so proud of Dad and wanted to do a public eulogy-like speech on his accomplishments. When the night came, we were at the Chart House in Lakeville and there was no privacy. It was loud, we were mixed in with the public and a band was playing. I didn’t give the speech. Later that evening I approached him and told him what happened. I gave him my notes. He told me he had written a dedication to me and was unable to give it. I got those notes. Later on, after reading my dedication he told me his only prayer was for me to have a child that would write a speech about me, like that, some day. I’ve attached the speech here.Read More
Rylie picked my Dad, Al Freeland, as the focus of this years “Valentines Day Tea” presentation in her 2nd grade class in Farmington. They worked for a long time writing these poems and rehearsing for this show. I’ve clipped together the video below to highlight her parts. Great job Rylie!Read More
We have been in town since 1981, but it was only in the last couple of years that I noticed the tree. By “the tree” I mean the giant cottonwood tree by the old metal bridge on Canada Ave., Northeast of Northfield. When the tree finally caught my eye I was totally amaze by the size of this “old man of the woods”. The base of the tree was hollowed out, but it still looked strong and not in danger of toppling.
When I would go out in the area to do some water monitoring for the Cannon River Watershed group, or to go fishing for monster catfish with my kids, or mushrooming I would brush by the tree and do what I often do to trees when I am alone in the woods (please promise you won’t tell anyone), I talk to them I pat them, or let their leaves or needles softly brush my hand, or feel the old, hardened bark that the years of sun, snow, and storms had wrinkled. I’m not quite sure if it because of reverence for the aging relics or some ancient druid throwback to “spirits in the oaks”, but I have always felt the life in these trees talk with me in some strange way. So for years, I talked with “the tree”.Read More