Corazón, Take Two

This post may also be entitled Oh, how quickly amnesia sets in. 

Hace dieciséis meses, that is, sixteen months ago, Alli, Mike, Andy and I climbed Corazón, one of the closer mountains to Quito, whose summit rises to 15, 718 feet. More than anything, I remember the hike being soggy. Specifically I remember putting my hand in a can of nuts on the descent and finding them soaked. Soggy nuts are not appetizing. What I do not remember from this particular subida was the amount of rock climbing involved to arrive at the cumbre. I cursed myself for this as we spent an hour and a half scaling the spine of the mountain in the face of 30 mph winds (and not gusts, mind you, just constant blowing), part of which was spent maneuvering up up up all that roca. I know it wasn't like this before I insisted to Alli. These words were uttered a mere 60 minutes after I had thought to myself How fitting this mountain is named Corazón. I believe I love it more than most any other climb. These words were voiced at a time my insides were quibbling. A sensation I remember not from Corazón, Take One. I cursed myself again for not looking back at the photos. Except, even if I had, this is the image I would have marched to that mountain with...

I'm a sucker for the patchwork landscape. It gets me every time. 

And the rock climbing that was documented...

well, that face makes it look fun. This is the stuff that hey, Mom and Dad, look what I can do now is made of. 

It seems none of us took out our phones during those treacherous moments when we were scaling the rock face. Ultimately, this was wise as a leading cause of death on such ventures is that by selfie. I write not with an air of levity here. But the lack of rock-climbing documentation allowed me to conveniently forget the anxiety-inducing, gut-quivering ascent to the summit. I suppose it made possible my skip, skip, skip-to-my-lou attitude for the first hours of the climb, where my mantra climbcorazon to climbcayambe, climbcorazon to climbcayambe was in rhythm with my marching. That mantra did then take the form of fml...fml...fml. This was not in good time with my marching, nor my breathe. It simply began to spin around in my unhappy brain with Why am I so willful about pushing my limits, damnit? Why did I choose this climb when I could be eating chocolate in Mindo? Doing yoga on my terraza? Shit, why am I even here when I could be in Minnesota biting into an Honeycrisp apple at an orchard on a beautiful autumnal day?? You see how I digress. Moments of this second ascent, I was rather certain that I'd wrap my arms around a rock and wait for a helicopter to come pick me up. Quite rational I am in times of such unease. 

Somehow, through the patient coaching of the Paypahuasi guías, I made it to the pinnacle, which is at such an elevation that we were now above the wind. How quickly does one's heart flutter with joy at reaching flattish ground? How readily do the endorphins start to pulse through one's veins at such a feat? So quickly, and so readily, that we could turn our attention to the prize within minutes of wanting to wave the white flag and surrender to the mountain. As if the endorphins needed a boost...

After snacking on our favorite Ecua-chocolate, and having a bit of lunch, the matter of the descent was at hand. With such summit-inspired elation coursing through me, I figured backwards rock-climbing, or rock-unclimbing, err...?...would be a simpler endeavor. Gustavo, admittedly my favorite Paypahuasi guide, thought we should take precaution, just in case the nerves returned, and put me in a harness, so that I might call on Ivan to rope up with me should I once again feel quivery-wivery. And so the descent began.

Now as I sit here thinking back on the decline, I am blushing a bit. You see, at one point I was aware that there were three out of three guides to one Jamie. Usually I would say three-for-one is a mighty fine happy hour, but in this case, I find myself a bit bashful. One of the guides was helping me with my hands, the other with my feet, and Gustavo was standing back verbally coaching and offering encouragement once again. It seems I'm a high maintenance climber at times. I guess it's just that I'm a little special, with that blue helmet and all, right, Uncle Joe Joe? Sigh. 

So, we did make it back down to my favorite part of this mountain, where the ground is plush and each step feels springy again. And this time I had a can of dry nuts to dip my hand into. Even as I recount the story, remembering the angst, I have no real sense of those sentiments. Because endorphins create elation...and #blissfulamnesia. A mere 24 hours after returning from our climb, this is what I remember most...

Yes, the majesty of the mountains keeps calling...

Until next episode, my love and good energy to you.

Jame

The Chocolate Chippiest Summer School: Auntie Jamie's Little Sobrina School of Cooking

This part of summer always makes me think of The Great Gatsby. The connection between my reality and the classic is obscure, really, but Fitzgerald is able to make the feeling of summer -- and the way you can smell it, see it, sense it wane -- palpable. I'm certainly missing my Quito crowd, but a bit of apprehension of the near "nos vemos" is building. The beauty, though, in navigating between two worlds, is that when I'm home, staying in the present is nearly effortless. Time is fleeting always, but my awareness of that, and in turn, my recognition of the preciousness of each day, is quite keen now, at least for these sultry days that are too quickly melting into fall.

Really, the summer has been chalked full of playtime, and my favorite among the precious moments has been the time I've spent with my Chica Littles in the kitchen, conducting baking lessons at my very own Auntie Jamie's Little Sobrina School of Cooking.

If you ever have a hankering for a tasty treat, do read on, I'm about to share some delectable recipes, and even sweeter photos.

Recipe #1: Avocado Mint Cream Bars

My favorite sonrisas are made of chocolate, and some of it did manage to make its way onto the top of the bars. Full disclosure: the sobrinitas did not give this dessert rave reviews, but my palate was quite pleased. 

Recipe #2: Quinoa Coconut Granola Bars

You may want to eat the whole pan in one sitting.

Recipe #3: Almond Butter-Quinoa Blondies

This was one of Bapa's favorites! The blondies were nearly gone moments after their appearance onto the kitchen counter...and we made them several times. 

Recipe #4: Blueberry Muffins

One of the best things about this summer school: learning in our pjs. 

I found the concentration on her face each time she began mixing pretty priceless. 

Recipe #4: Carrot Muffins

These earned a big thumbs up from Jenn's 2-year-old son, Jay. He does also like sardines, but I think it's safe to say that kiddos and grown-ups alike could happily devour one or two of these fruit and veggie packed snacks. 

Recipe #5: Veggie Muffins

These muffins become meat and cheese sandwiches, and the way that Natalie was devouring them made my heart happy. 

poem by Ken Nesbitt, slight changes made by Auntie Jamie

My auntie ate my homework,

which I thought was rather odd.

She sniffed at it and smiled

with an approving sort of nod.

She took a little nibble --

it's unusual, but true --

then had a somewhat larger bite

and gave a thoughtful chew.

I think she must have liked it,

for she really went to town.

She gobbled it with gusto

and she wolfed the whole thing down.

She licked off all her fingers,

gave a burp and said, "You pass."

I guess that's how she grades you

when you're in her cooking class.

Recipe #6: Pink Cookie Dough Balls

Beets. The Chica Littles will eat beets if they come in tandem with chocolate chips. I felt so victorious. I just felt like...#winning.

Recipe #7: Fruit and Veggie Kabobs (whichever frutas y veduras fits your fancy here)

Cooking with and for friends makes food extra fun. Anah's chicitas, Grace and Leah, are as cute as they come, and we had a great time artistically creating our fare this day.

Recipe #8: Chocolate Cupcakes

After weeks of healthy treats, we concluded this summer's classes with cupcakes that aren't pretending to be particularly nutritious, but delicious all the same. In fact, in spite of a number of guests at the Baci's Bed and Breakfast, a couple survived the night. I'll be right back...

All summer, Izzy was into trying out new skills and flavors. She loves to crack the eggs...and taste bare vanilla and cinnamon.

Gia Boo was into the tangible math of it all.

#cupcakeassemblyline #workingtogether #learningtogether #baciblood #welovetoeat

As I often do with my high school students, I conducted a little exit survey at the end of our classes. I first asked las sobrinas what they had learned over the course of our baking sessions. Gia responded that she knew there was a 4 on the 1/4 cup and Nat said that now she knew there was such a thing as a 1/4 cup and a 1/3 cup. The following question was "What was your favorite part of baking?" Natalie immediately replied with "The brownies!" while Gia quickly followed with "Cupcakes and carrot muffins!" Huh. Absent was the "Hanging out with my auntie!" or "Learning from the best chef in the world!" Have you ever...fished for a compliment? I was doing just that, as I knew my response to "What was your favorite part of baking?" was "Hanging out with the coolest kids on the block and beyond." I don't often write questions for primary students, so I thought perhaps I just needed to reword the question and try again. "Okay, chicas, what was the coolest thing about cooking this summer?" Cool being the operative word here, of course, as I mean, cool? That's shmee.

Well, I still didn't get quite what I was digging for, but if Natalie thinks carrot muffins are super cool and Giatta simply thinks bananas and chocolate chips and carrots are the bees knees, I really cannot pout about it. These Littles are learning to bake with love, just as I learned to do from my grandmothers.

It's a good thing seasons are cyclical and the freshness of a new summer will come back around. Planning for next year is what keeps me from turning into a puddle right now. Teachers try not to play favorites, but the Chica Littles son las estudiantes que quiero el mejor.

Why Ecuador? This.

It's Father's Day and my fantastic padre spent the afternoon with my mom and sisters at the Twin's Game, noshing on a hot dog with plans to grill out at the Baci Pad for dinner. I was able to chat with Papa Baci for a few minutes during the 7th inning, but my heart was a bit achy to be in the midst of that crowd with him. These trade-offs of living abroad are not easy; they sometimes make my stomach floppy and they sometimes make me feel a bit blue.

My feet are tapping tonight for that flight that takes off in two weeks, the one that doesn't land me on the coast or in the jungle or in a cool new quaint pueblo here, but back in my Midwestern element. I am not feeling particularly articulate tonight as I try to express why it is I have chosen to stay in the Southern Hemisphere for a third year when the truth of my missing life back with my people in the States lingers in the air so strongly this evening.

Twenty-two months ago I boarded the plane with Peter to begin an international experience I was certain would be contained to the two year contract, but now I cannot even say that I know I will move back home after three years. It is a possibility indeed, but not a certainty. Given the sentimental moment I am having right now, my eyes are watery pondering what I am missing by being so many miles away; the triumphs that Giatta and Natalie experience and then the trials that temporarily crush those I love so much.

My life is not better here in Ecuador; I just know it is where I am supposed to be right now. The way that my senses are so heightened, the way that the sights and sounds and smells still seem exotic, the way that I feel myself evolving and expanding, it all entreats me to continue this experience a bit longer. An exceptional truth is that I've never felt more confident, never felt more strong, perhaps never felt so proud of the challenges I have taken on, and, in a sense, never felt so beautiful before taking the big leap to be here.

This past weekend a number of us gringos bussed to Mindo (that whimsical place I am obsessed with due largely in part to the chocolate factory that is nestled upon a hill--where I dined three times in 12 hours on this last trip) for the annual despedida. A number of friends are leaving in a couple of short weeks. Pondering their departure it struck me how unprepared I am to elope from Ecuador at this time. So, it is a good thing, a fortunate thing, that I am able to stay, maybe just one more year.

There is something majestic here, in the whole experience for me really, and also in the landscape. I still cannot quite grasp the beauty I witnessed when a group of us ladies went to The Secret Garden (near Ecuador's tallest volcano Cotopaxi, spewing sulfur and rumbling a bit recently) for Alli's bachelorette celebration last weekend. Our mouths stood slightly agape as we sipped Mimosas and took in this view before returning to Quito:

photo credit: Maria Gribensk

It is well and right that this apartment off of Eloy Alfaro is my home away from home for now. Oh, but how excited I am to give giddy hugs to you all when I return so soon. 

Tonight, abrazos fuertes across continental lines...and in a fortnight, the real deal.

Todo mi amor,

Jame

An Open Letter to My Sextos

I’m coming up a bit short on words here, sextos, as I am trying to figure out how to articulate my sentiments. One of my feelings is actually...sentimental. You are about to experience so many new firsts again, as you embark on new journeys and new parts of your lives’ paths. And for me, I experienced many new firsts with all of you. My favorite first: getting to work with you for two years. Since I have no poker face, I cannot lie, it was not an easy two years in some ways, but I have sincerely learned a good deal from my experience with you, and I value that greatly. The small exchanges about language or culture have been some of my most treasured lessons. (We all know I’ll never forget what “Shoot!” is in Spanish now, right?!) The way that students help you to see new viewpoints, whether it is in a discussion about a text, or something else in life, it’s the coolest thing about my job. And in these past two years, each of you has broadened my perspective in some very meaningful way.

As we prepare to say “nos vemos” the words of author Neil Gaiman seem most appropriate. We may have been taught that we shouldn’t make mistakes, but in truth, mistakes are how we learn life’s most valuable lessons. Mistakes push us to reflect and grow and become our best selves, I believe. So, here is the wisdom I offer you through him:

I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're doing something. So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make new mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life. Whatever it is you're scared of doing, do it. Make your mistakes, next year and forever.

Oh, and P.S.: 3...2...Juan...¡Tenet!

Viajar es la unica cosa que compras y te hace más rico

I discovered a taste of Europe in Ecuador this weekend: Cuenca. The city is described as "the economic center of the southern sierra, [which] has long been known for a rich intellectual, artistic, and philosophical tradition that matches its colonial architecture." 

While I love to meander through museums, I really took in the city by winding through the streets and hunkering down in different cafés and restaurants to read and people watch. 

After a weekend of sipping a lot of tea and agua de coco, turning into something of a social anthropologist, and enjoying a quaint, tranquila cuidad, I've arrived back to school quite calmada. 

Through photos I'd like to share the belleza de Cuenca con ustedes. 

So come, together let's see what we might find...

1st stop (well, and 3rd, 7th and last--when I find a good restaurant,
I eat through the menu): El Mercado.
 Great food, great vibe, great tunes

and a great view of the river.

Aaand notably good coffee with a cozy chair for reading. 

El Mercado by evening--with Celeste and Greg, friends from Americano. 

Strolling around town one runs into beautiful buildings as such.

Making my way down by the river I saw street art that is nothing like the graffiti we know back home. The street art has good purpose; it makes a statement and speaks a truth.

Good thing I love to walk, right friends, because I ended up back up from the river in the main square. I spied a parade and then found the best seat in the house. Sipping poorly brewed coffee was okay if it meant taking in the scene from above. 

After the parade had passed, the square makes a superb place for people watching and hunkering down with two of my favorite things: a brilliant book and large coco. It seems I was being watched as well as a desconocido plopped down next to me and started chatting. I found the conversation pleasant until the middle-aged stranger wanted my number. With a "mucho gusto" I was off and walking again...

While I may be, in the realm of shopping, the most conservative Baci woman, still I get the itch, so I was off to find some shops, continually happening upon interesting sites and scenes.

The mosaic paired with the family enjoying one another's company was just too lindo.

To travel is to live, said Hans Christian Andersen. Simple words, but I heartily agree and the town continued to just delight me with its beauty and tranquil energy.

For me that beauty included visible "flaws" as well. If imperfections are always so consciously concealed, I struggle to relate to those persons or places.

A good traveler has no fixed plans...further wise words, spoken once by Lao Tzu. My experience in Cuenca was largely marked by arriving without a set itinerary. Allowing the day to unfold the way it would, I feel I got a real sense of the town and its people. 

As my legs were walking that city center, I stumbled across the famous domes of Cuenca,
 the top of Cathedral of Immaculate Conception. 

Before catching the plane back to Quito, I nestled back onto a bench in the main square, peered through the trees to once again allow my senses to take in the sites, sounds and surroundings of this lovely town.

These past months have been filled with especially memorable trips. February began with the Galapagos, then the whole family gathered in St. John's and the next weekend I was exploring Cuenca. I don't take this life for granted, that's for sure. I'm so privileged. These experiences are certainly enriching, and I hope that as I feel my life is quite indulgent, I also continue to bring positive energy to the world and people surrounding me. It is something upon which I reflect daily, my purpose in this place. A friend posted an article recently that was thought-provoking in this vein of purpose and making a difference. I'm reposting it here  as these words might speak to you as well. 

The title to this blog translates "To travel is the only thing that you buy that makes you rich." ...and may that richness also somehow enrich the lives of others...

For now, love from Cuenca. <3 

Jame

Oh, the delights of the unforeseen, unexpected and formerly unknown

There are times when I can get lost in the fears of what I cannot predict...and what I cannot predict turns out to be just about everything. In a lifetime there are people and events that take you by surprise in deeply sad, sometimes tragic ways. This post, though, is dedicated to those delightful appearances of people, moments and discoveries that were wholly unpredictable, and for that, all the more delicious. It is 12:21 am on March 16th (mmm hmm, guess who's not sleeping again) and for the next 30, 60...maybe even 90 days, I will be noting life's unanticipated pleasures:

March 17th: It's 8:30 and I just sat down for the first time tonight. I've been busy cooking and baking up a storm in my kitchen. The unforeseen here isn't wholly unpredictable. Anyone who is reading this blog is familiar with my passion for food and chowing down, but it's the fun frenzy that has arisen in me that is so notable. Taking a Coursera class called "Ignite Your Everyday Creativity" I was encouraged to create a list of "to-do's" for a project. I invented a project called "Creative Kitchen" and determined that I would make at least two new meals a week. It's a good thing that I had time to work out today in the midst of digging my spoon into the Avocado Ice Cream I made last night the moment I walked in the door from school. I then started to put together the ingredients for veggie burgers with lemon cashew mayo...while wolfing down the roasted cauliflower soup I had made on Sunday. I just finished the Nutella cookies (which I am gifting to staff at school in case you were beginning to wonder how fat my big toe was going to soon get). Passion=Positive Life Force. How are you exploring yours?

March 29th: The Baci clan is in St. John's this week. This afternoon I had this deliciously victorious moment. Auntie Jamie's been a little neurotic about the amount of toaster waffles, pasta and butter and mac-and-cheese the sobrinitas have been consuming (though I do have to earnestly reflect that when I was in Barcelona, I was requesting that Mom send me Easy-Mac...creature comforts die hard, I guess). I've been making my way through Dale Carnegie's classic How to Win Friends and Influence People and one of his main tenants is "arouse in other people an eager want." I've reflected on my classroom practices in regards to his words, and now this wisdom is helping me consider how to get two intelligent, spunky sobrinas to eat their fruits and veggies. Here it is: let them pick out their own fruits and make some rainbow kabobs. Natalie was totally making my day with her enthusiasm. She was so incredibly proud of her creations...and working it to pass them off on Uncle Tommy, Auntie Cassie and Bapa. 

She's a saleswoman like her mama. And she's soon to be a great sous chef; I've got a project brewing for the summer...

April 10th:

Less than one week after I arrive home from St. John's I am flying off to Cuenca, a most quaint and lovely, European-ish feeling town in Ecuador. Seriously, is this my life? Yes, it is. Damn. Heading to Cuenca I anticipate I will find some cool little places, but I don't know that one will be called El Mercado. I don't foresee how cozy and comfortable I will feel away from home. At 4:30 on this Friday I am about to crack open my latest read. The energy of El Mercado...is just what I need at this moment. Old school John Mayer is kind of twirling through the air, bringing me back momentarily to college. I'm sipping agua aromatica con gengibre y naranja. What I take to be a North American couple sits across the room from me, well-dressed in their North Face travel apparel while two Latin men speak softly at the table in front of me. The river rushes below and sun beams make their way through an overcast sky. What I feel is simply peace. 

April 15th:

Just finished a meeting with a student and his administrator. I really like this kid, but we've been ebbing since he was sour about a cell phone incident. The conversation went really well, though, and we are both walking away with better energy towards each other, which leaves me hopeful for the last weeks that we are working together. Reflecting on this conversation, the best feeling I have is actually my understanding that the conversation does not likely mean completely smooth sailing until he graduates. It's just not realistic. My growth as an educator, and person, has been coming to this understanding, that real change takes time--weeks, months, sometimes years--and all of the ebbs and flows are necessary parts of the process. I have a great deal more patience now for my own growth over time and that of my students than I did when I began my career, or even when I began this year of teaching. After waking up a bit cranky and pouty (another floppy date last night--I think the Universe mixed up dessert and desert. I like sweet things, but I'm in a man desert and that's really not dulce), the meeting and this reflection lightens me and reminds me of the cool stuff happening within me and within others. 

April 19th: 

This morning as I was just heading out on my Sunday morning jaunt with my friend Nicole and her very spirited dog Lola, I received a text from my dear friend Iain. Would I help him rise to the challenge of baking banana bread at altitude? Absolutamente. An afternoon I thought would be one of solitude was made much lovelier in the company of Mr. Duncan. We whipped up a ridiculous amount of banana bread. Bread baking, we watched the lightening strike out against the not-so-distant mountains and played good tunes all afternoon. Emerson's words seem well-placed here: A Friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature.

April 23rd:

The end of the school day was nearing and the sun was still beaming, in the midst of the rainy season. Sometimes I get stuck in my routine. Today was supposed to be my more intense workout with weights. But my soul was saying, "Go for Vitamin D!" Sometimes I need to break with routine so much that I move to another country; sometimes I become so attached to routine that it takes a good deal of consciousness to let it go for something better. Making some effort to ignore the rush hour exhaust, I powered around the park; the energy of the other walkers, runners, families and peppy pups got me feeling...exuberant you could say. All of the buildings set back against the surrounding mountains led me to yet another "My life really kicks ass" moment. 

I began this post just over a month ago to reflect on the unexpected, which I have, but more it's drawn me to just savor the everyday. Every day has something radical to offer. And there will never be another day like it. This is the only April 25th, 2015 that will ever exist...

A Reflection on Family and a Tribute to Grandpa Red

You've likely heard the saying, "Friends are the family you choose for yourself." I've often reflected on the soulful relationships I build, and those friendships are so dear to me; those friends feel like family. And then there is my actual family, those I am bonded to by blood. They are the friends that I didn't choose, but if I were to have chosen, I couldn't have chosen better. My family is flawed and funky and altogether pretty freakin' funny on any given occasion. We have dance parties and dance-offs. We get fiery with each other, and then forgiveness quickly follows. We make aromatic, Italian messes in the kitchen and stuff ourselves with homemade ravioli...and then have plank challenges. Sometimes wine flows like water, and then the next morning the water flows like the wine. Yep, it's pretty awesome to have been born into the band of Baci's. 

This week we mourn the loss of Grandpa Red, the man who added flavor in so many forms to our grand fam. As we gather, though, we also celebrate his life and the gift that he was to all of us, his grandchildren, children, siblings and friends. 

The following is my tribute to my Grandpa Red, a man who could boil my blood and steal my heart...

He is outfitted in a flannel. A Swisher Sweet poised in one hand, and a martini in the other while Johnny Cash croons in the background. The rich smell of simmering mushrooms, onions, tomatoes and herbs wafts from the stove as he gruffly says, “Where in the heck is the Grandpa Lynns?” This is Red, our brother, father, grandfather, friend…and “Grandpa Genius” in the eyes of his great-granddaughters.   

Red Bacigalupo was born on April 1st, 1939, to Freida and Joe Bacigalupo in St. Paul, and this German-Italian couple created quite the chef extraordinaire in Grandpa Red. Before he became the Italian chef that we all knew him to be, he became a father of five, beginning with Mark, shortly followed by Michelle and Gina, and some years later came along the baby (for awhile) Joe, and six years later Christy was born.

Those years that his children were growing up were filled with both personal and professional accomplishments. Red took pride in his work as an electrician, most so in being part of the electrical crew on the IDS Tower in Minneapolis and his part in working on the NSP King Plant between Stillwater and Bayport. Later, he owned his own electrical contracting firm in Bozeman, and then one subsequently in Seattle, Washington, where he also became the lead trainer for those aspiring to be electrical administrators.

It was his family, though, that was Red’s pride and joy. There were many summers spent at the cabin on Cross Lake, teaching Mark, Gina and Shelly how to catch crappies and waterski, and then, in later years, fishing for trout with Joe and Christy on Lake Stevens, where Red would take the two out to fish in the early dawn, come home to fry up the fish and eggs, followed by hanging out in the sun, waterskiing on the crystal water. In fact, Red has been described as a hot dog water skier as he was able to ski barefoot and display quite the roostertail when he did don the skis.

It wasn’t just on the lake that Red showcased his talents and taught his children life and recreational skills. He was also an instructor in the kitchen, on the putting green, the ski slope and, of course, the mountainside. There were days, working in the Red Barn Gourmet Food Store, which he and his second wife Patty owned, where Gina helped with ordering products and cooked in the feed bin restaurant, which has, so many decades later, led her to embark on opening the Huckleberry Hill Bed and Breakfast. There were nights spent with Joe, drinking Coors Light, laying out as dusk approached, listening to the Mariners in the distance, trying to predict what the next hit might be, a single, double, strike-out or homerun. There were evenings barbecuing the best burgers that a young Christy happily devoured. It is indeed, his passion for great food that Red has passed on to all of his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He has taught his fabulous five to cook family recipes of homemade ravioli (though let’s not forget his taste for White Castle), pasta sauce, and torta. His passion lives on as his children teach their children the trade-secrets.

He took great pride and enjoyment in helping all of us, his friends and family, with remodeling projects. If you didn’t have one ready, he’d dream one up for you and show up ready to rock. Knocking out walls, redoing floors, rewiring the electric, retiling the bathroom and on and on; he could do it all. We all learned and benefited from his passion to teach and build.

Red really was one-hell-of-a man. He will continue to be remembered and admired for his gumption and free-spirit, and especially for the friendships he built and sustained over the years. Gina recently quoted the adage “There aren’t strangers, just friends he hasn’t met yet” and this was quintessential Red, to make fast and lasting connections with friends of friends, the couple up the hill and the waitress at his new local diner.  

In one of Red’s last lucid moments, surrounded by his family, he clearly asked, “Are we close to a beer?” It is here we toast to you, Grandpa Red, a man of many talents, stories, and friends. We will remember you always as we are puffing our cigars, tracking that elk, sipping an orange pop, donning our cheaters, and, especially, when looking at the Montana moon. And we will miss you deeply.