Bring it on home...

One week from today, my parents will be going back home.

And it is an amazing feeling to know that our worst fears, or even our smallest fears, were never realized.

When we were at the end of two days of dizzying work evacuating them from the Dakota Dunes almost three months ago, we all were saying "Let's hope all this work is for nothing."

And it was.

Despite the record flooding, not a drop of water went into my parents' home, thank God.

Tragedy was averted. The sandbags AND prayers helped us escape the flood.

And while it might be easy to second-guess our efforts, I have to say I'm very happy it happened. The entire situation made me realize even more than before why I love my hometown, and most importantly, the people there.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. If I ever have to face difficult times, or face a personal tragedy, God willing it would happen in Sioux City.

Because if it did, I know that I would not be left high and dry (pun intended).

But make no mistake, the flood did plenty of damage. The residents of Riv-R-Land Estates, just north of the Dunes, are wiped out, literally. And many residents of the Dunes also are facing either groundwater or floodwater in their homes.

We were lucky, not everyone was.

And for those impacted, I can only say that your neighbors are good people. Probably people you've gotten to know a little bit better through all this. So lean on them. And let them lean on you.

Next weekend, when I toast to my parents' return to their home, I'll also be toasting to my peeps.

Don't listen to the rest of the world, Siouxland...you people rock!

Mazel tov!

The Time the Auto Mechanic Wouldn't Take My Money

I detest taking my car into the mechanic.

Almost as much as I detest going to the doctor or dentist.

Ultimately, that fear usually bites me in the ass...delaying the visit makes things worse.

I've had my share of fun incidents with cars.

There was the time the engine on my Chevy Celebrity blew up on I-80, 60 miles from my home at the time in Iowa City.

My then wife was out of town, and I had no way to get home other than riding along with the tow truck. Yes, I used a 60 mile tow as my personal taxi.

Or the time my engine blew up on my Saturn. Or the other time my engine blew up on my Saturn.

So, this weekend, when my engine started to sputter, and surge up and down in RPMs, with a check engine light on, I was positive that the auto mechanic would be telling me my Saturn had cancer.

So much so that I was already shopping for used cars that fit my budget, planning to bring a new car home with me to the Tundra from my hometown of Sioux City.

Alas, I was wrong. As I approached the mechanic working on my car, I was prepared for the bad news.

"Well your engine is in incredible shape," he said.

Wait, what?

"Yeah, and I have it running pretty good at the moment. You could probably take it home with you to Minnesota and get it fixed up there, since that's your hometown."

I cringed.

"That's not my hometown. I just live there. This is my hometown," I told him.

I told him I was a little bit nervous, since he said that once my engine got cold, it would probably act up again.

"Well I can't get the part here for 4 days minimum. I bet they have it up in the Twin Cities. Plus then you'll be in your hometown where you know people."

I cringed again.

"That's NOT my hometown. I live there. I grew up here. THIS is my hometown," I reiterated.

I explained to him that this week at work was really crucial for me, and that I couldn't afford to have my car go out on me once I got up here.

"Well don't you have another car up there that you can use?" (THANK GOD he didn't end the question with "in your hometown.")

"No, no, I'm a single dad. No other car. That's all I've got," I told him.

"Well, Steve, if it was me, I'd drive it up to Minneapolis and get it fixed up there."

After a few dizzying moments of having my car doctor telling me to go home and find a different remedy, I put my foot down.

"No, go ahead and order the parts and I'll come back down to pick the car up when you're done."

He shrugged, and agreed...but only after I told him that I didn't want to risk having the car go out on my drive back to Minnesota with my boys in the car.

"Oh you have kids, well, yeah, I guess I wouldn't risk that either."

But he was okay with letting me get stranded in the middle of nowhere?

And so, in the end, we were in agreement. It was much better for me to get my car fixed in my hometown.

*Facepalm*

In the Blink of an Eye

It was 22 years ago tomorrow that my life changed forever.

A faulty metal fan disk on a DC-10 flying over fly-over country broke off and severed all the hydraulic lines, making the plane nearly impossible to fly.

That faulty metal fan disk, manufactured who knows where, would change my life, and lives of thousands of others, forever.

I was just an 18-year-old know-it-all lifeguard who was more concerned about my tan and where the beer party was at that night. Invincible.

But for the passengers on the plane, that faulty metal disc put them in a lottery for life, injury, or death.

These total strangers who fell from the sky probably had never thought of a faulty metal disc when they boarded the plane in Denver that morning.

I know I had never even really thought much at all about plane crashes in general before that day. It's what happened in the movies and on the TV news.

But for the passengers and crew, the emergency workers on the ground, the volunteers who helped out wherever they could, that faulty disk changed everything. In the blink of an eye.

I'm a better person today than I was before the crash, but that didn't happen overnight.

But the main point is this. You never know when that blink-of-an-eye moment will occur for you, and whether it will change you forever, or end you forever.

So take more risks. Don't be afraid of tomorrow, because it may not come! Live your life deliberately. Enjoy every moment.

Live.
Stop worrying.
Breathe.
Drink.
Celebrate.
Cry.

Whatever it is you need to do, do it.

Because your blink of an eye can happen, well, in the blink of an eye.

Hate to Date? You Will Now!

As I begin to venture back into the dating world, I thought it would be a good time to share some of the top dating stories I've written on my blog over the past few years.

So here we have a collection of funny stories brought to you by the world of dating as a single old dad!

First, we have my top 5 online dating tips. This is a collection of what I felt, at least in 2009, were the top 5 things to know if you are deciding to venture into the world of online dating!

Second, a little tale about how I ended up at Golden Corral for my first New Year's Eve date with my former Lady Friend®. Relax, it wasn't her fault - her step dad picked it out!

Next up, we have the bet I made with yet another former girlfriend, on whether we'd end up alone or not. The winner, er, loser, gets steaks!

And we can't cover that former girlfriend without the story of how I had to really go # 2 on my date #1 with her, and the situation that prevented me!

The final two blogs I'm sharing are my two personal favorites from my dating days. The stories, NOT the women I went on the date with.

The first of these, The Tongue Ring Girl, wath jutht purely epic!

But if you want to read what is to this day probably my post popular blog entry, revisit the night I had with The Hickey Girl.

Happy re-reading, or reading for the first time for my newer fans, and beware the world of dating!

Just Like the Dinosaurs, This Too Shall Pass

A good friend of mine once asked me how I did it.

He watched as I was going through one bad thing after another, and he couldn't figure out how I kept moving on.

Because I don't have a choice.

When I went off to college, grossly under prepared for the academic rigors of Grinnell, my dad pulled me aside as they were getting ready to send me off into adulthood.

He reached out his closed fist and said "Here, take this."

As I opened my palm, he dropped a small rubber dinosaur into it.

"What's this?"

My dad then gave me one of the best pieces of advice I've ever received.

"When I went off to college, my dad gave me a toy dinosaur, too," he explained. "He told me I was about to embark on a path that would include tough obstacles and no map to navigate through it.

"And he wanted me to know that when I was in the middle of facing those obstacles, to remember that just like the dinosaurs, this too shall pass."

I don't know if I ever properly thanked my dad for those words of wisdom.

But I can tell you that I still have that dinosaur. And someday I plan to give it to my sons as they venture down the broken road of life.

This too shall pass.

Life as an EastEnder

The last two weeks or so, I am now officially an EastEnder.

It's been a bit of a culture shock, but in a good way.

I have been very happy to drive down the street and see stores and shops owned by moms and pops, and not a major corporation.

It has been refreshing to see the diversity - economically, socially, racially - in my former western burb, everyone pretty much was 1) rich, 2) white, and 3) Republican.

I have nothing against rich, white Republicans. I used to be one (well except the rich part). But I do have something against my boys thinking that's the reality of the world.

This new world I'm living in, just 30 minutes from my old world, is like a clean canvas waiting for the boys and I to paint our own masterpiece upon it.

We're already developing some new traditions. Trips to The Clemcuzzi©, grabbing a bite to eat at a Mexican restaurant without the word "Bell" in it, or just sitting on our first floor patio instead of our third floor balcony, putting our bare feet in the grass and enjoying the weather.

And even our family cat has adjusted. She went from a wide-eyed wanderer, sniffing every last corner, to now lounging near the open screen door, letting the sun beat down on her while the birds land nearby to unsuccessfully taunt her.

And the gas station attendant near my apartment already knows me. Tonight I pulled in to fill up my tank, and had already started pumping when I read the sign that says "Please Pre-Pay after 5 p.m." Whoops!

I went in to pay and grab a few snacks for the boys, and apologized to him for not pre-paying. "Oh no, sir, I know you! You can do that anytime, anytime. No problem."

This isn't a slight of my old digs. I have plenty of great friends, as do my kids, back that way.

But right now, it feels pretty damn good to be an EastEnder.

A Funny Thing Happened On My Way To The Dunes

Earlier this month, when I returned home to help my parents load up their entire life into a semi- trailer, I had a major epiphany.

I need to be back in the Siouxland area sooner rather than later.

I'm overwhelmed when I think of the family, the friends, and the complete strangers who came together to help out two families overcome a very disheartening event.

The epiphany I had was simple, really. I need to find a way to move back home. I don't know when or how it will happen, but it's now a goal of mine to figure out a way to make it happen.

And despite my blog title, and my general opinion on my life in the tundra, I don't state this goal of mine as a slam on my current living situation.

It's more a response to how amazing it felt to know there were so many people there who had my back.

Who would do what needed to be done. Who would listen to me bitch and moan when maybe I should have been getting things done. Who understood when I said I had enough, and had to go home.

I miss my peeps, plain and simple. I miss the friends who have been there for me, lost contact for decades, and reappeared. I miss the friends who never left. I miss the people of a place that prides itself on hard work and compassion, without an interest in being recognized for that hard work.

My family is so indebted to the people who came out and gutted their home of everything that wasn't nailed or glued down.

And I am so indebted to the people who helped me, as well. Whether it was lifting furniture, giving me a bed to sleep in and a hug to comfort me, or letting me have a temper tantrum over something random and minute.

And anyone who grew up in Sioux City is indebted to all the people who have ever called it home, and are still proud to call it home. We may not be flashy, but we got your back. See you ASAP, 712.

xoxox,

Clemmy The Clemster

"Never Forget Where You Came From"

If you were fortunate enough to know Walt Fiegel, the late football coach/ teacher from Sioux City East High, you'd most likely know two favorites among his many favorite sayings.

"Never forget where you came from," was one. "Tough times don't last, tough people do," was the other. (He had many!)

Well old Walt is looking down smiling right now at the community he called home for 40 years.

As thousands of people in the Siouxland area are dealing with the rising water levels of the Missouri River, those two phrases are living and breathing in the bodies of thousands of volunteers helping people out.

People drove from Omaha, Sioux Falls, Minneapolis, Chicago and beyond to help out their hometown and their friends and family. That's a whole lot of remembering where you came from going on.

As the people in Dakota Dunes, South Dakota loaded all of their life possessions and memories into semi-trailers, pick up trucks, or whatever vehicle they could find (rumor has it one man was seen riding a Segway down Dakota Dunes Blvd for a box of garbage bags), it was very clear that these were tough people that were going to outlast the tough times.

As I helped my parents load up their entire life into a 53' semitrailer, I found myself running on adrenaline. Just keep going, there will be time to rest later. And then I had moments where I knew a short break would be worth it to make sure I had more energy built up to keep moving on.

There were moments of sadness, like watching my friend Jill Dodds crying while she struggled to get her parents moved out of their home in the dunes. There weren't enough hugs or words of encouragement to go around with the group of people shuffling between the two houses.

There were also moments of humor, like during a break, when the topic of conversation turned to my left foot, which I was unwrapping my ace bandage to put ice on it (new rule, don't play basketball against my oldest mini-me ever again). "Hey man, that's a pretty ugly foot, you probably need to go get another pedicure."

There were moments of anger. Like the frustration of knowing we couldn't load up the Dodds belongings for over 6 hours because the state patrol had shut off access to the neighborhood to all traffic other than the large dumptrucks bringing dirt to build the levee. Yes the levee was the most important piece of the puzzle, but if it ends up failing, God forbid, that is valuable time lost in getting people safely out of the dunes.

There were moments of gratitude to the core, like when I couldn't keep up with the text messages from total strangers who were trying to come help us out. People who didn't know us from Adam showed up and worked their asses off. For us. For nothing. Because that's what you do.

And there were moments of guilt. Like when I left last night at 8:30, knowing that the Dodds house wasn't completely done. But I was. My body and my brain and my soul couldn't take one more minute.

After experiencing this extreme range of emotions, I realized that it was a little bit like deja vu all over again. I worked at the crash site for United Flight 232 back in July, 1989. This was the same exact feeling, only 22 years later.

And in both of those instances, I found myself feeling so damn proud of my hometown. And if you are from Sioux City and don't feel that pride, I feel sorry for you, because it is something that doesn't just happen anywhere.

If you are going to force me to endure a major tragedy, Lord, please make sure I'm in Sioux City, Iowa when it happens. Because those tough people, they're the reason why I'll never forget where I came from.

Oh, and Walt, I did hug my mother before I left town.

Dear World, It's Been a Good Run

May 20, 2011

Dear World,

Hey, just wanted to thank you for a cool time.

I mean, I'm not just talking about the good times either.

The bad times you gave me made me a much stronger person.

I tried to not take you for granted too much, in case you were wondering. I did really love it when you gave me lots of sunshine, but let me say, this last winter in the tundra, I'm not sure I'm ready to forgive you for that yet.

Also, and don't take this the wrong way, but I would have stopped recycling YEARS ago if I knew that things were going to come to an abrupt end like this.

I know that we all eventually are supposed to leave this place, but I guess I wish I maybe got the memo more than a few weeks before The Rapture begins the End Times.

But really, it's my own fault. I wasn't attending enough meetings at the Tin Foil Hat Church, apparently.

Listen, I just want you to know that I know where I'm going. It's alright. You don't have to feel bad for me, because I've known my fate for quite awhile, now.

But yeah, outside of that, I wanted to also thank you for starting this whole thing while I'll be in my hometown for my nephew's HS graduation reception. At least I'll be with family when meteors start hitting the earth, and hail the size of elephant dung begins to fall.

Oh yeah, and one last question...why the hell did you let people settle in Minnesota?

Hope you enjoy your time as a comet field, buddy!

xoxox,

Steve

A Salute to General Jean

I love my mom for so many reasons.

I love my mom because she taught me to tie my shoes (it was hard on her, I hear, since I was not a fast learner).

I love my mom because she was always there when I was hurt, whether by falling off my bike, or a fifth grade girlfriend, or when I was scared that I wasn't going to make it through college during my first semester away from home.

I love my mom because she taught us that we could always do better.

I love my mom because she taught my brothers and I at an early age to be self-sufficient and responsible.

We did our own laundry by junior high.

I remember learning how to make my own breakfasts (a hard boiled egg) and after school snacks (PBJ and hot chocolate) by third grade.

And we were regularly reminded of the things we had to do on a daily basis, whether it was at school, home, or elsewhere.

Chores were not an option.

So it shouldn't be a surprise that my mom's nickname was always General Jean.

Some families have matriarchs. My family had a military dictator.

But make no mistake, the mutiny runs rampant in the Clem Corps.

My brothers and I (perhaps or perhaps not learned through informal tutorials led by my dad) have tormented my mom for more than 35 years.

She's down with OCD. So we have fun rearranging her knick knacks and furniture.

She's not one for someone changing up a schedule. So we'll arrive late and leave later.

She doesn't like chaos. So we do what we can to create it.

Yet she still loves us unconditionally.

And that might very well be the reason I love my mom the most.

Happy Mother's Day to every mother out there tonight!