Old souls, and father and a son

This month, our son is the “Student of the Month” for his third grade class at Sacred Heart. We are very proud of him. He gets mainly “A’s” and a couple of “B’s.” We are grateful that he is doing so well in school.

He is a tough kid. When he was 5, we were robbed, and that was an emotional thing for the whole family. Even now, we have an alarm to make our son feel secure. Then, I had my strokes which was a ordeal for everyone. For my son, seeing his dad scared, not talking right, and other assorted issues, it was tough for a 6 year old boy.

Years ago, I was on a business trip with a coworker, and she said that “Mark, you have an old soul.” I took that as a compliment. I always thought I was old for my age. As my mom would often say quoting “The Raiders of the Lost Ark, “It's not the years, honey, it's the mileage.” I have a lot of miles in me.

For our son, I hoped that he would not get too many miles before his childhood ends. But, his life so far is more eventful that I would have liked. I fear that he might have an old soul like his dad.

But the good news, he is a great and funny kid. As I said, great grades, great friends, and an irreverent sense of humor. Here are some of his latest comments that make us laugh.

Several months ago, our son was complaining about his knee. At that point, he was playing fall baseball. Because of pain, we scheduled an appointment to the Idaho Sports Medicine Institute. But before the appointment, he participated in the Sacred Heart Jog R Walk, a big fundraiser for the school.

He participated even though it was painful for him. Turns out he does have an injured knee and a hamstring growth plate strain. I feel I am the father of the year....

Ethan said......"I want to trick or treat old people...I said why....and he said. "CUZ THEY GIVE OUT FULL SIZE CANDY BARS!"

Ethan was on Xbox and we overheard him tell his buddies. "Hey guys, I gotta tell ya something....remember when I said my dog ate my homework.....he didn't, I did!” We do not have a dog anyway.

Heather was grinding coffee but the coffee grinder trigger button is broken so she used a pencil to trigger the grinding process and Ethan saw his mom and said, “Is that a pencil sharpener?”

Ethan asked his mom, "Who's that lady? The Queen of plants?" His mom said, "You mean Mother Nature?" He replied, 'Yes! If I were her, I have a snow day every day!"

Ethan and his mom were studying for his social studies test talking about Canada and the borders. His mom said, "No fruit or vegetables can go over the border." Our son said, "Well what about cookies? What about chips and dips?"

Shopping with his mom at Fred Meyer, someone broke a bottle of Gatorade on the floor of the store. Ethan said in a loud voice, "Cleanup on aisle six! Cleanup on aisle six!"

After my seizure in January, Ethan excitedly asked, "Do we get to park handicapped spaces because of dad!"

Ethan this discussing college and he announced that he and two of his best friends are "going to Boise State and going to stay in the "domes" together." We said, "Our 'dorms' not 'domes.!" "Whatever," he said.

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The massive wave of Norwegian immigration to Minnesota from the 1850s through the early 20th century wasn't a casual choice; it was an escape from crushing land scarcity and economic desperation. My ancestors, the Dunhams, arrived in 1851 and built a life in Otter Tail County in Minnesota. My great-great-grandfather, Jens Christian Dunham, didn’t just survive—he thrived. He served in the Minnesota legislature as a Republican from 1888 to 1890 and later became a staunch advocate for President Teddy Roosevelt. He was the literal embodiment of the American Dream: an immigrant who fled poverty to become a lawmaker in his new home. Fast forward a century, and a new wave of immigrants—this time from Somalia—is following that exact same blueprint. Like the Norwegians before them, they fled hardship to build a future in Minnesota, and many have run for office to serve the state that welcomed them. Yet, the political rhetoric surrounding these two groups couldn't be more polarized. Don...

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It is always something.... I’ve had eye floaters for as long as I can remember. My paternal grandmother had them. My brothers have them too. They’ve always been part of my vision—little drifting specks, threads, and shadows moving across my sight. Over time, you learn to live with them. Sometimes they swirl around, sometimes they settle toward the bottom of your vision, and most of the time you simply ignore them. Floaters are actually tiny clumps inside the eye that cast shadows on the retina. They’re common as we age, especially after fifty, and usually they’re harmless. Doctors will tell you that most people eventually tune them out. But sometimes they change. On Wednesday, while we were driving home from an overnight trip, something felt different. It was my left eye. The floaters suddenly looked darker, heavier, and there were flashes of light along the edge of my vision—almost like a bright crescent moon flickering on and off. At first, I tried to ignore it. After everything ...

Dunham Family and My Stroke Story!

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