View Point - Michelle McLean

Don’t make promises you can’t keep — even if it’s just a promise to yourself.

2008 started like every other year — a kiss from my husband and a promise to myself not to make any promises.

Thus begins the internal, eternal tug-og-war.  Keep reading →

Let’s see.

Who wrote White Christmas: Mel Torme, Irving Berlin, Mel Tillis or John Lennon?

Who wrote A Christmas Carol: Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, Agatha Christie or Garrison Keillor?

Of Santa’s eight reindeer, how many of their names start with the letter D?

Now, for the more serious stuff.

Who would Santa like to find under his Christmas tree? Martha Stewart, Oprah, Katie Couric or the Dixie Chicks?

Who would George W like to take a sleigh ride with: Osama bin Laden, the ghost of Saddam, Hillary Clinton or Russian president Vladimir Putin?

What state has a city named Santa Claus: Wyoming, Alaska, Indiana or Minnesota?

What’s Santa’s favorite movie: It’s a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street, Brokeback Mountain, A Christmas Carol, Fred Claus or Alvin and the Chipmunks?

The weather outside is North Dakota Cold, Minnesota Nice, frightful or delightful?  Keep reading →

A living room lit only by the twinkling lights of a Christmas tree.

The joyous sound of sleigh bells.

Almond bark, lefse, oyster stew. Hot apple cider laced with cinnamon sticks.

Tinsel stuck to everything.

A real evergreen wreath (sold by the Boys Scouts).    Keep reading →

Christmas programs are seared into childhood memories for two reasons — something went terribly wrong or something was utterly magical.

Growing up in Hillsboro in the 1970s and 1980s guaranteed you a spot in one of Mrs. Woods’ Christmas productions. Her programs relied heavily on holiday traditions that resonate in our hearts and musical magic that warms our souls.  Keep reading →

It’s not nice to surprise a middle-aged woman.

I was caught unprepared, unaware, unbuttoned.

Somebody mentioned some “nasty weather” might be coming our way. I hadn’t paid much attention really. I suppose that’s my fault. Hey, I wasn’t the only one.

Like most people I was basking in the relatively mild weather. Caught blissfully between fall and the start of “real” winter, I didn’t mind the chill in the air. The snow had only been teasing us — until Monday.  Keep reading →

As we gather round the dinner table for Turkey Day, it’s appropriate to pause and ponder the purpose of the day — thanksgiving.

It’s something we should do more than once a year — count our many blessings and give thanks.

What am I thankful for?

At the top of my list you won’t find things. What I am most thankful for are the people who make my life interesting, entertaining, fulfilling — complete.

A husband who knows when to laugh with me and when to say nothing at all. A true partner who’s known me since I was five years old and still thinks I’m special.  Keep reading →

It’s a mother’s job to be cautious — and her duty to keep the world safe.

Look both ways when you cross the street.

Mothers have had an “alert” system long before George W. and his Homeland Security guards.

Don’t talk to strangers.

It starts the moment a woman finds out she’s pregnant — the caution flag is raised. A mother never lets her guard down.

Are you paying attention?  Keep reading →

Our office had been promised new computers for months. I was excited about the idea — but still harbored a few reservations.
Teaching this old dog new tricks can be painful — for everyone involved. I’m a bit of a skeptic when it comes to “the latest and greatest.” Let someone else work out the kinks, first — that’s what I say. From what I’ve experienced — all technology has its limits — and so does my brain.
The day finally came for the new wave of technology to arrive. I couldn’t decide if I was happy or dreading the very thought of this “upgrade.”
The techno wizard — a very young man — proved exceptionally patient with me. I told him right up front — I’m difficult and I’m demanding and I’m not techno-savvy. Don’t disappoint me.
While Tech Boy was shoving me into the 21st century with giant flat-screen monitors and wafer-thin keyboards, I heard the sound of powertools in the upstairs apartment.
There’s a spacious three-bedroom abode above the Banner office that has all the charm and character of a 100-year-old building. The plumbers had been called in to make sure the bathtub remains upstairs.
As the unofficial landlady, it was my job to “supervise” the plumbers. Not that they really needed me, I just listened for someone tumbling down the 21 steps from the top floor to the street.
Obviously, the order of the day was to upgrade — new computers and a new bathtub. Everything was clicking — but that was only temporary.
Anyone notice how cool the room is?
The furnace — a monster dating from the 1950s — had refused to spit any hot air into the offices. It sat idle, tired, I suppose. The furnace guy is on our speed dial. Our monster heat machine requires a regular dose of TLC. I sent out the SOS and the furnace guy answered — as usual.
The tip of my nose was cold and my fingers were numb. The fuel tank had fuel oil but it wasn’t getting to the furnace. The line was checked; the pump — he told us — was to blame.
A simple standard part needed to be replaced. Crisis averted — at least temporarily.
We ought to consider an upgrade, the furnace guy advised. Eventually, we won’t have a choice.
Meanwhile, the plumbers were trying to make a 21st century bathtub work in a 19th century bathroom. They’re miracle workers and the job was done. The bathtub — or any bathwater — will not be dropping — or dripping — through the ceiling any time soon. Crisis again averted.
That left the Computer Kid. Like a mad man, he rewired the entire office. Old machines were carted out and new ones stationed in their places. Gone was the familiar, the comfortable. Staring back at me was something sleek, black and new. We certainly weren’t on the same wavelength yet. I ought to be impressed, right. I was intimidated.
The old dog in me spoke. I barked a couple times and wheeled my chair closer to the 20-inch screen.
Simple fix or crisis? We’ll have to wait and see.

You have to love today’s vehicles and all their fancy features. It wasn’t so long ago I upgraded to electric locks and windows. I can’t help it; I’m skeptical of something powered by a battery. A crank window doesn’t die and anybody can push and pull a door lock.
I now like the “convenience” of sliding doors that open with a push of a button on my key chain — especially when my arms are loaded with groceries.
I don’t like the “nag” bell, that chimes annoyingly every 30 seconds when I neglect to buckle my seat belt. Okay, okay, I’m buckling up.
This week I discovered another nifty feature that scared me, helped me, amazed me. Keep reading →

Timberrrrrrrrr.
Paul Bunyan, I’m not.
I don’t swing an axe or handle a chain saw. I’m really good at picking up sticks, though.
Giant elm trees once stood outside the back door of my parents’ house — but no more. Dutch elm disease had taken their toll on the beautiful trees that had perfectly shaded the grassy yard and wide steps. The inviting hammock lost its dense canopy overhead and now the bright sun glared down on the once shadowed sidewalk.
Dad hired the Tree Guy to drop the faded green giants. The clean-up has been a family affair with each of us kids and grandkids taking their turn in the woodcutting business. Keep reading →