The New Codgers

It’s a wet Saint Paul morning here, safe and sound, on Boomer’s back porch, the temperature is a seasonal +44F, as Med & I enjoy our (January Edition) porcelain, not China (but made in China) Codger Collectible™ Mugs (have I mentioned the spiffy March Edition is still available?) full of hot organically & shade-grown, Fair Trade, Sumatran Roast coffee. Now I suppose I should get to the strange & wonderful story of yesterday’s adventure.

You must read this first, to understand the following:

As Carl & I climbed into “Traveler,” as he calls my new car, I asked: “OK where now?”

“Just head out 61, along the lake,” Carl answered, “take Scenic 61, I like it better than the expressway.”

By then, I had long since given up trying to pry out of the big guy, just exactly what he wanted me to see so badly. He hijacked me and my new travelin’ companion, to show me something, but what?

When we reached Two Harbors, Carl wanted to pick up a few things at the grocery. We soon left with several bags of canned food, a coupla fine New York Strip steaks, and (of course), some organically & shade-grown, fair trade, French Roast coffee. This kidnapping is getting curiouser and curiouser!

As we left, Carl asked to drive. Why not? So I slide into the passenger seat, and Carl took over the helm.

We passed through Castle Danger, Beaver Bay, Silver Bay, and Illgen City. I was beginning to doze off, when I felt “Traveler” slow and then turn. I opened my eyes to discover we were on a winding road ascending the high bluffs that line the big lake. He soon took a right turn onto a narrow dirt road—no, not a road, but a long winding driveway. At the end of the driveway was this log cabin:

[This is the most complicated graphic I've attempted. It took 5 minutes to convert from Word to .pdf, and another 3 minutes to convert the .pdf to jpeg. Not to mention how long it took to draw! I took a photo for reference--it's a lousy photo, but good enough as a reference. The Big Lake is on the right.]

He unlocked the door, and we stepped into the cabin. Clockwise from the front door: Eat-in kitchen with a combination wood & gas stove, master bedroom with private bath & fireplace, 2^nd bedroom, shared bath, 3^rd bedroom, and great room with fireplace. A vaulted ceiling in the great room with huge log beams. Perched high on the bluff, it has a beautiful view of Lake Superior. I estimate it at about 1,500 square feet.

“What did they want for it?” I asked, “It’s kind of remote.”

“He wanted $350k,” he answered, “2 acres. Its being remote, as you say, is the problem. It’s been for sale for a year & a half, I made a low offer on it, and after a couple of counter-offers, we agreed on $275k.”

“What are your payments?” I asked.

“Paid cash,” He answered, “With my Army retirement, and Ford pension, we live just fine. I sold some stocks, and raided some savings, and well, that was that. Besides, I can sell shares in it to you guys—right?”

“It is beautiful!” I said, “Wait a minute—you bought it hoping you could get us all involved as partners?”

“Codge Lodge!” Carl exclaimed, “Just think of all the local cafés in the small towns around here we can hold court in.”

“I can imagine,” I cautioned, “I can just imagine it’s a little small to be a ‘Codge-Lodge,’ and a little too remote be useful to us. We wouldn’t all fit—it’s just too small.”

“It’s well-built, we could add a second floor with a couple more bedrooms,” Carl persisted, “just think of the possibilities!”

“I think it’s possible, Carl,” I said quietly, “that you have lost your mind.”

For the first time on this adventure, Carl’s persistent smile evaporated, and I thought: [“Carl’s a smart guy, maybe he’s on to something here”] and said, “OK Carl, I’ll consider it seriously—while you get busy with those steaks.”

Carl’s smile returned as he said, “Right arm, brother, two succulent steaks on their way!”

“Right ON, Carl, the term is ‘right ON’.”

“Oh, sorry—farm out!”

Later, after enjoying the fine New York Strip steaks Carl had prepared to perfection, and after exploring the area a little, we left the cabin, and drove down to the highway, and started back towards Duluth.

There was no cell service, at least for our phones, until we got near Two Harbors. I called Medford and explained Carl’s proposal. To my surprise, he was all for it. He called back a little later and told me the other guys were all for it as well. We had us a partnership (after the agreement is drawn up by our lawyer, of course, and signed)!

Before you reach the right conclusion that we have lost our collective minds, the story so far, is almost pure fiction, here’s what really happened:

The trip was prearranged, not a surprise hijacking. Carl’s son had heard about the property from a friend, and wanted Carl & I to check it out. With my nifty new car, I was itching for a road trip—even a long one, so I jumped at the chance.

Carl and I met the owner in Two Harbors, a FISBO, and we followed him to the cabin. It was a wreck, windows missing or broken, door lying on what was left of the porch, and it consisted of two rooms—a living room and one bedroom. There was the remains of an outhouse about 50 feet from the derelict cabin. We spent all of ten minutes at the property before telling the owner “Thanks, but no thanks,” and left.

We split the driving on the way home, and while Carl was driving, I concocted the story and typed it on the laptop with its user-unfriendly keyboard. The story of how the Codgers™ acquired their cyber “Codge-Lodge™,” yet another venue from which to post!

Jay Merton & Carl McIntyre 

This morning, just as I was about to regale you with my "getting to know you" road trip of Wednesday, I heard a gentle knock on my door-at 3:15 am CST! I wisely, took a peek through the kitchen window-it was Carl.

"C'mon Jay," Carl said with a bigass grin spread across his face, "we got ta' get goin'!"

"Where?" I asked. Fortunately, I had already had my 1^st mug of (you know the rest here) coffee, so I was fully awake-yet confused.

"I have something to show you."

"Where!"

"Up north."

"Where up north?"

"Where's your sense of adventure Jay? We'll take Traveler, give ‘em a real taste for the road, I'll pay gas & breakfast."

My sense of adventure kicked in, and now I find myself typing this on Carl's laptop (I hate laptop keyboards) in a restaurant in Duluth, that obviously has "wifi," and Carl still won't tell me what he has to show me-except that it is an hour way!

Until this evening-or if too late tonight-tomorrow morning, I won't be able to share Carl's surprise-it better be good. He's STILL smiling!

It was a cool 48ºF, and had been raining (we need the rain) as I walked out to my garage, this fine, cloudy Saint Paul morning (our heat wave was of the one-day variety, we’re back to late-March normal temperatures), to engage the services of my new travelin’ companion” for our trip to the coffee shop. I picked Medford up at his place, and we proceeded to the Cyber-Café.

As we sat at our usual table, the one in front, by the plate-glass window, where we can (and often do) observe passers by, and make our comments (always pro-social), and got our (January Edition) porcelain, not China (but made in China) Codger Collectible™ Mugs (have I mentioned the spiffy March Edition is still available?) full of hot organically & shade-grown, Fair Trade, French Roast coffee, when Carl, placing his mug on the table, looked our way and asked: “What is that? And where’s Hank?”

“I sold it,” I announced, “and now I have a new travelin’ companion.”

“What’s this I hear?” Fred looking up from his ever-present St. Paul Pioneer Press, “you found yourself a foxy old lady to travel with?”

“No Fred,” Medford jumped in laughing, “a new car.”

“Oh, OK,” the obviously unimpressed Fred mumbled, and went back to his paper.

“Did Roger and his neighbor,” Carl asked Harold, “learn any more Smith’s and the garage?”

“Some,” Harold answered, “it seems they shut down all operations last January, and have since filed for bankruptcy. There was a notice in the window of their building with the name of their attorney, and Ralph, Roger’s neighbor, contacted him.”

“So what recourse does Ralph have?” I asked, “any?”

“He submitted a claim and he’s in line with everyone else,” answered Harold, “but it’s unlikely he’ll get much if anything.”

“How ‘bout his homeowners insurance?” Medford asked, “will that cover his loss?”

“Only part of it,” Harold answered, “he hadn’t upgraded his coverage.”

“Expensive lesson.” Carl stated, and then turning to me, asked, “So, tell us Jay, what about this new FOL (Foxy Old Lady) you’re seeing!”

“Step outside and take a look,” I said with a smile.

I stopped here at Boomer’s on my way home from purchasing my new (used) car, in hopes of finding Boomer, and telling him the news (so how come an old coot like me still gets excited about these things? Go figure), I purchased a new Travelin’ Buddy!

Realtor®-Broker Teresa was home—and of course—so was my step-dog Daisy, the long-legged Beagle, but “Boomer” was off hunting and gathering at the local supermarket. Teresa was busy playing telephone & email tag with clients, so I sat down at Boomer’s computer desk and helped myself to his computer (“make yourself at home Jay”) and began this post.

Early this afternoon, I drove out to Saturn of St. Paul’s White Bear Lake store to meet with Steve, Boomer’s personal sales consultant. Boomer had arranged a 2pm appointment for me. I arrived about ten minutes early, as I walked into show floor, a tall 50-something fellow came right up to me: “Hello, welcome to Saturn, you must be Jay. I’m Steve, and Jack (that’s Boomer to you, Gentle Reader) told me to expect you about now.”

Steve knew I wanted to look at a used Vue (pronounced “View”—why don’t they just spell it that way?), and he asked what features I wanted.

I already had a clear idea of what I wanted: Black, dark grey (pictured—this one a new ’07), or white, heated leather seats, front wheel drive (don’t need all wheel drive), and the V6 engine. The computer told us they had two at this store, so we went out on the lot to look at them.

Both would meet my needs nicely—but—between the two was a bright blue Vue, an ’06, with everything on it. I asked Steve to look at this one. To his credit, he did not say that it was all wheel drive, and blue, but excused himself to get the key.

I bought the Blue one—it was not what I said I wanted—but when I saw it—I knew I wanted it. I’ll take delivery this evening, they’re installing a tow-package so my little pop-up camper can continue to follow along on my travels.

Yesterday it reached 81ºF, signaling a major change here in Old Saint Paul. The change was not limited to the weather—I sold my old ’52 Ford pick-up! My “friend” of nearly 55 years now belongs to someone else! I purchased it in January of 1953, drove it regularly for five years, and when I purchased a new car but I kept the truck, thinking it would be handy to have around—it was.

Yesterday, I retrieved “Hank” (for “Henry” Ford) as I do every spring, and drove it over to the café, after all, it was lunch time. As I was enjoying the house salad, a young woman of about 50, approached me, and asked if that was my truck out front. I said it was, and she asked if it was for sale.

I’ve been asked this question countless times over the years Hank has been my buddy—and always the answer has been a firm no!

This time, I surprised myself by answering yes, yes it is, but not to just to anyone. Whoever buys it must have the ability to care for the old road warrior, really care. She motioned out the window, and I saw an absolutely pristine 1950 Chevy sedan (how did I miss this?).

We spoke for a while longer, and I was convinced she would be right for Hank. We hadn’t discussed price. She wrote a figure on a napkin. I was stunned. I know what these old Fords go for in the collector community. She offer $10,000 more (and no, what she paid will NOT be disclosed here).

The transaction was completed by supper time—Hank is gone. I’m a little sad—but it had to happen. It’s become more and more difficult to climb in to the truck as I have aged. It’s also becoming more difficult to climb out of my car—it’s going next. Today I’m going out to find a vehicle that splits the difference—not so tall that I require a step-ladder to get into—not so low I need a rope to pull myself out of.

Hey—how do you like my summer travelin’ duds

…it probably is!

As Medford & I made our way to the Cyber Café for our meeting of our fellow Codgers, we were enjoying the 52ºF St. Paul morning. The expected high for today (a March heat-wave) under a partly cloudy sky is 72ºF!  We also enjoyed listening to the chorus of song-birds and their spring repertoire of “come hither” verses.

We were all at our table. The one in front, by the plate-glass window, where we can (and often do) observe passers by, and make our comments (always pro-social), enjoying our (January Edition) porcelain, not China (but made in China) Codger Collectible™ Mugs (have I mentioned the spiffy March Edition is still available?) full of hot organically & shade-grown, Fair Trade, French Roast coffee, when Harold, the (now completely) retired barber looked our way and asked: “Do you guys remember the proposal you made last spring to rehab my son’s garage?”

“Sure do,” answered Medford, “that was our last contracting job before we hung up our hammer and saw the light—and retired.”

“We made two proposals,” I added, “one for your boy, and one for his next door neighbor. As I recall, because the work was too extensive for us, we were going to sub-contract the work.”

“That’s right,” said Medford, “both garages were beyond rehabilitation, lots of rotted wood, and the concrete floors had to be replaced. Both in our opinion, could not be saved, but had to come down and be rebuilt.”

“Your son accepted our proposal,” I said, placing my mug back on the table, “but the neighbor accepted a significantly lower bid from ‘Smith’s Classic Restorations’ they worked the neighborhoods pretty hard in the spring.”

“Smith’s did not build a new garage,” Harold continued, “they insisted it could be rehabbed. Have you seen it?”

“Not since last fall,” Med answered, “it looked pretty good, I was surprised.”

“On Saturday,” Harold said with a hint of a smile, “the repaired floor gave out, frost, I suspect, and now the door won’t open—the whole thing shifted about an inch or two. M’boy says the neighbor is beside himself—the garage has to come down now. Tried calling Smith’s all weekend—they don’t seem interested in returning his calls.”

“Guess we’ll have to walk by there on our way back today.” Medford said, also with a hint of a smile.

“The guy was a little smug when his garage was ‘done’ while our guys were still framing your son’s,” I added, “I guess you do get what you pay for.”

“Sometimes less,” Carl piped up, “sometimes less.”

NOTE: “Smith’s Classic Restorations” is not the real name of the company involved.

Good Morning Gentle Readers! It is nearly 60F here this fine St. Paul morning. Coffee's on, settle back, and take a peek at how our graphics have changed over time.

This is a Sunday series of two posts detailing the changes over time, and of necessity of our "Cyber Café" and "Back Porch" graphics. This post is about "Cyber Café" graphics. Click here to see the "Back Porch" graphics, please.

Jay

October 22^nd 2006 This graphic was designed for our now-moribund other blog.

November 15^th 2006 "Café Strip" Becomes our banner for the Old Men & Coffee Shop series of posts. It was based on a modified version of the above graphic.

November 28^th 2006 Building and lens flare added to the "Café Strip."

December 3^rd 2006 "Café Strip" decorated for the Holidays.

December 20^th 2006 "Café Interior" First appearance of the Cyber Café interior.

December 31^st 2006 Cyber Café Strip with interior showing through window.

December 31^st 2006 Café interior with Molly added.

January 30^th 2007 Replaced unidentified 3^rd building with our Cyber Store.

Cyber Café with characters.

We hope you found this enjoyable.

This is the second of two posts this morning giving the history of Codger Graphics. Here we present the development of our “Back Porch” graphics.

November 19^th 2006 “Jay’s Back Porch” Full size

November 19^th 2006 “Jay’s Back Porch” Close up. Both designed for the “Reflections from my Back Porch series of posts (I deleted the original Word drawing, so future modification will require drawing the whole thing from scratch—I’ve learned from this error to save ALL original drawings).

November 24^th First use of the “Lens Flare” feature of PhotoShop to show lit bulbs

January 12^th 2007 First appearance of Medford on Jay’s back porch

January 21^st 2007 First appearance of “Boomer’s Back Porch”

January 22^nd 2007 A modification of “Boomer’s Back Porch”

January 26^th 2007 Daisy’s 1^st appearance on Boomer’s Porch

March 7^th 2007 First Summer View of Boomer’s Back Porch

March 21^st 2007 Boomer’s Back Porch with Background

Jay & Med

This post is for some very special fans of Daisy, the long-legged Beagle, the Cooper Kids!

 So today you will learn what went on with the dog-people while we were visiting. I guess those wily creatures, especially that bad Daisy, require a little more supervision than we thought.

We present to our Gentle Readers—our dog’s visit:

By the time we were ending our visit, Pepper had returned home, and the remaining canines were quietly enjoying each other's company.

This last graphic is presented to the Cooper Kids for inspiring us to present the dog's little story.

Thanks for stopping by! 

This fine Saint Paul Friday morning the old replica “Pruett’s Pig Powders” thermometer tells us it is +39ºF, with no wind, making it feel like +39ºF, as we linger on the back porch a moment or two, enjoying our (January Edition) porcelain, not China (but made in China) Codger Collectible™ Mugs (have I mentioned the spiffy March Edition is now available?) full of hot organically & shade-grown, Fair Trade, French Roast coffee warms us and to jump-starts our remaining brain synapses into synapting.

Today’s the big day. The day we attempt to engage the Cyber-Express to transport our Southern Tier guests to join us here on the porch. The mechanism to engage the express is for Daisy to bay four times, once each for each guest.

“Daisy,” Boomer commanded, “bay away!”

“Bow-Wooo, bow-wooo, bow-woo, bow-wooo!” she bayed, and then said, “Good enough Jack? May I have my treat now?”

Medford, setting down his coffee, announced in greeting “Eureka! They popped in, safe and sound!”

“Welcome to Boomer’s back porch,” Jay added, “good job, Daisy.”

“C..c...old!” Broker Bryant exclaimed as the cyber-smoke began to clear, “TLW burnt my toast and then shot the toaster. Y’all got any grits??”

“I didn't burn your toast Blog Boy,” TLW replied quickly and as always, smiling very wide, “I was skeet shooting. Remind me to adjust my site.”

“The lady’s packin’ a shootin’ iron,” Medford exclaimed with a smile, “watch what you say!”

“I see you brought your mugs,” Jay said, lifting his mug from the porch rail, “refreshments are just inside the door on the right, and BB, there is a very large blanket on the futon. C’mon inside and warm up.”

“Better hide your toaster before we come in,” Broker Bryant suggested, with an eye directed towards the still smiling TLW, “TLW’s loaded for whole wheat!”

“Watch it Blog Boy,” TLW warned, with just a hint of an ominous tone in her voice, “I don't need to adjust my site to shoot your husky butt. Go eat a barrel of grits and leave me be.”

“Not to worry,” the heretofore silent Boomer assured, “BloggoddessBroker Teresa tossed the toaster out yesterday, claimed she was hearing voices!”

“Did it help?” asked Medford.

“Not at all,” Boomer answered, “she still hears voices, and I got no toast.”

“Grits-n-coffee all 'round,” Jay announced, “Tabasco anyone?”

The long-anticipated meeting of northern & southern tier “Bloggists” continued for many cyber-hours until Broker Bryant made note of the time: “Sorry Coots, we gotta go. Gun shop closes at 5. TLW needs ammo...y’all really need to work on your tans.”

“Y'all come see us now...Ya hear...” TLW added, leaving unsaid, the implied “else…BAM…SVVVW!”

“You betcha!” Jay replied in his best Minn-e-soda Norwegian–inspired accent, “Lookin’ forward to it den.”

“TLW, you know the Cyber-Express signal,” Medford reminded, “just fire that old Colt .45 “Peacemaker” 3 times, and we'll be on our way!”

And Daisy, on cue from Boomer bayed, “Bow-wooo, bow-woo, bow-woo!”

“One more Daisy,” sternly commanded Boomer, “Brutus has to go home, too.”

“Bow-wooo!” Daisy obeyed, thinking “I’ll see you again, big guy.”    

To Be Continued…