Thursday, January 8, 2026 – Day 513

Thursday, January 8, 2026

Good morning, everyone.

Yesterday’s cold came on strong in the morning—judging by the growing pile of Kleenex—and then disappeared just as quickly. By early morning (normal time), everything dried up and I felt fine. Weird… but I’ll take the win. Maybe that IV cocktail from Saturday really did its job.

Today brings a bigger challenge.

I’m heading to Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Grayslake to get measured for the feeding tube replacement. We tried to avoid this step because of all the flu going around, but apparently it’s now mandatory. We were told it’s a “brand-new process.” Funny how brand-new processes tend to appear right after someone screws something up the first time. Oh, the joys of modern medicine.

Cindy has been encouraging me to lighten things up a bit after some heavier posts lately. She’s probably right. So I went digging through old photos for inspiration, and one memory had to be told…primarily because of the photos.

Back in high school—pretty sure it was senior year—Ric, Paul, my brother Tim, and I decided it would be a great idea to drive north for a couple days of skiing in the Upper Peninsula. We didn’t have a cabin then, and even when we eventually did at Fence Lake, it was closed during the winter.

Somehow we found a place to stay in Presque Isle, Wisconsin, just south of the Michigan border. Definitely not Airbnb—this was the 1970s. There was no technology to help you find your way. If you got lost, you unfolded a road map the width of your wingspan and hoped for the best.

We were four long-haired, hippie-wannabes heading north in brutal winter conditions: –25°F, with highs that never made it above zero. Cold-weather gear back then was questionable at best. If you had flannel long johns, you figured you were prepared for anything.

Our accommodations were a tiny trailer dropped in the middle of nowhere. No fireplace, barely adequate electric heat, and just enough room for four guys trying not to freeze. I’m not sure how we divided up the sleeping accommodations. No stories to tell that I recall.

Skiing didn’t last long. We’d make a couple runs, then retreat to the lodge to thaw out. After a few hours of that, we’d call it. Ric probably suffered the most—he wasn’t really a skier, though I still don’t know how we convinced him to come along.

The cold didn’t stop us from having fun. We managed to get beer—Ric was 18 and legal at the time, and even if he hadn’t been, I’m confident we would’ve figured something out. We spent most of our time huddled in that trailer, laughing, telling stories, and trying to stay warm. At some point, we even took in a dog—less out of kindness and more because one extra warm body felt like a good survival strategy.

Somehow, we made it home. We even got lost along the way and nearly ran out of gas—not a great situation in a sparsely populated area, in the dead of winter.

I owe Paul an apology, there was a heated moment during the weekend. Probably Tim and I not getting along. We had many oil and water conflicts in high school and I punched the windshield and put a nice crack in it. I’m not sure the story of a rock causing the damage past muster when we got home. Sorry Paul.

Looking back, I’m pretty sure we had angels watching over us. This was just one of many over a lifetime.

Have a great Thursday.

Love you guys!❤️