LIFEWITHLARRY.ORG

Life with Larry as a Three Act Play/Ice Breaker Speech

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 13:51:20 GMT

Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting, “Oh my God, What a ride.” That’s what I hope for. The three essentials to happiness in life are someone to love, something to do and something to hope for. My life is a Three Act play. . Act 1 is how I met my husband and about my family, Act 2 is about my career as a high school teacher, and Act 3 is my present state as a traveler, volunteer and a developing writer. .Now the play begins.

Act 1-I went to NIU where I studied English and drama. As a freshmen, I was feeling a bit home sick and lonely. I remember looking up at the sunset and watching the pink clouds and thinking I wanted to be one. Nature has always had a profound effect on me and I said, “G. od, I don’t think you are there, but if you are, “Make something wonderful happen to me."

That night I went to a dance and saw a young man, Larry, whose picture was in the paper that day for his views on Viet Nam. He had a girl pasted on each side, and yet I had a strong impression that I was going to meet him. When I came out of the bathroom, he was alone and I made my move-----turning as red as my sweater. He had noticed me that day with a friend of his. We danced to a medley of Beatle songs and it was one of those Cinderella moments when I knew I had met my Prince Charming. The feeling was mutual and three years later we married and had three wonderful children.

Deborah, who lives in Bozeman, MT, is a music instructor and composer. Julie, who works part time in marketing, lives in the city and has two children, Elliot and Natalie. Aaron, who also lives in Livingston, MT as a noted artist, has three boys, August, Jasper and Isaak.

Act 2 begins with my various careers. I taught ESL and life skills at McHenry and Elgin Community College. As a substitute, I was offered a job teaching English in District 155/Cary Grove High School—home of the state football and volleyball champs. Overall, I would have to say, I loved working with teenagers---they keep you laughing. I directed the school plays and my husband, then an Industrial Art’s teacher at Dundee Crown, did the sets. I had one student come in for a try out packet in the English dept. I said, "Go pick one up, it’s in the break out room." She returned empty handed and said, “It says, You Can’t Take it with You." The whole department broke out into laughter. That was the name of the play.

Believe it or not, you can take plays down state to the Illinois High School Theatre Festival and we took down The Taming of the Shrew and When Shakespeare’s Ladies Meet. Teaching, grading and directing took up most of my time so when my husband suggested we take an early retirement, I agreed.

Act 3-Last October 2011, I was on a Lear jet to Andrew’s Air force base. Larry spent four years in the Marines and then was in the Navy Reserves for 18 years. Now we have Space A flying privileges. We got to Andrews and then flew to Italy where we rented a Fiat and explored. But that will be in another blog.

We have worked with Habitat for Humanity building homes in Waveland where Katrina hit the hardest and I write for the Compassion and Justice blog at our church-----on issues such as the Haiti earthquake and Human Trafficking and of course Life with Larry.org.

And now for the Epilogue----- Everyone needs to have a little PMSS in their lives. Did I say PMS? Yes, P stands for Physical. I’m a very active person who loves to bicycle, run, hike and ski. M stands for Mental. I work on developing my mind with activities such as Toastmasters, writing, and reading. I play the piano anything from Mozart to Stairway to Heaven. S stands for Social. It is so important to cultivate friendships and reach out to help others. And the final S is for spiritual. It’s the fabric that has woven my life ever since I looked up at the sunset and gave my life to God during college.

As I said in my opening statement, Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting," Oh my God, what a ride.”

Life with Larry takes us from Scott ARB to Italy

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 19:24:00 GMT

After a week of working in Bay/Waveland with Habitat for Humanity, we drove to Scott ARB in Belleville, IL. We love the excitement of traveling Space A---military flights throughout the world. On Monday, Oct. 17th, we took a lear jet to Andrews AFB. It was suppose to be an 1 hour and 45 minute trip but it took 10 minutes longer as we circled around the base waiting for President Obama to make his trip to North Carolina to discuss his economic policies. When the President is at Andrews, the whole airport closes down until his departure.

We took a shuttle to the new Presidential Inn which is a 286 room facility built in 2010. The friendly staff gave us a beautiful room on the 3rd floor. The leaves are changing color and a stream and hiking path is right behind the Inn. Larry and I took a long walk and enjoyed the 70 degree sunny climate.

Tonight we'll get a shuttle with a military wife we met on the plane, and we'll head for Baltimore airport where we'll take a military/commercial flight to Ramstein, Germany and then to Aviano, a base in Italy. The flight begins at 10 PM so we'll sleep on the plane and wake up across the ocean. We hope to see Venice, Trieste, Florence, Naples and Rome.
There are six bases in Italy where we can stay for the cost of the room.

Life with Larry is always an adventure. I'll write more as we travel.

Raining? Think like the Scottish!

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Sun, 09 Oct 2011 03:14:43 GMT

In Illinois, we broke a 50 year record for days and amounts of rain. Today April 30, 2011----we will have rain yet again. Larry and I love the outdoors---we are nature freaks. So we decided to go to one of our favorite places--Kettle Moraine, WI and hike. We also visited our favorite coffee shop in Delafield, WI. My son spend 1 1/2 years in Scotland when he was at the Dundee of Jordon School of Art, and he said the weather never stopped the Scottish from hiking. They would sport their various umbrellas greeting one another with a hearty, "Great day, isn't it?" Of course, they swallow their English words which made it difficult for Aaron, our son, to understand. But he loved the spirit of the fun loving, unpretentious, Scottish. By the way, they would offer him money to do an American Southern accent. Now, in addition to being a noted western artist, (see aaronschuerr.com) he also acts and is perfecting an upper class English accent. "Top of the morning to you!"

Larry and I raised our children without a TV most of the years. We spent our time reading to our kids and hiking and camping ---- they all developed great imaginations. Larry read all of JR Toilkein books to them using various voices well before the movies came out.

So my question to you is the following: "How do you handle life when the rain comes?" Maybe the Scottish have a little secret for all of us. Have a great day!

"A Recipe for Life" by Sue Schuerr

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Tue, 06 Sep 2011 04:12:35 GMT

Life with Larry took us to the Schuerr reunion in Fox Lake on Sunday Aug, 29^th. Larry greeted his 90 year old Aunt Esther by kissing and tickling her neck. He has greeted Aunt Esther in this manner over the past 30 years. She smacked him and said, “Stop it, Skip.” Skip was Larry's boyhood nickname. Aunt Esther was always Larry's favorite aunt even if she was instructed by his mother to shave his head in an unfashionable crew cut every summer.

We soon noticed that smiling Aunt Esther was proudly holding hands with her 91 year old boyfriend, Emil. The lovebirds reminded us of high school sweethearts. Yes, Aunt Esther could easily write the recipe for life. Her laughter and teasing personality lightens up any room. She and Emil arrived in an orange, convertible Prowler like Cinderella going to the ball only accompanied by the prince. Emil sports two hearing aids and his sight isn't great, but Aunt Esther is his eyes and ears. In the past, she would ride her bike or walk to her son John's house to greet the day with him over a cup of coffee.

As late as last summer, she road on the back of John's Harley like a true motorcycle mama wearing only a scarf on her head. But now, Emil takes her time and she just calls her son and wishes him a good day.

“I've been jilted by another man,” laughs John while flipping burgers.

On Friday's her son Jim picks Emil and Esther up for a fish dinner. “I sneak peeks from my rear view mirror and catch them smooching. What a role reversal,”Jim said.

Aunt Esther had six children. Her second to the last one, Bobby, lived until 21 years old with cerebral palsy. Normally, a child in his condition would live no longer than seven years. The whole family was trained to help Bobby who had to be hand fed and diaper changed. After his death, Aunt Esther and her husband took in an older gentleman who needed a roof over his head. He stayed with them until his death five years later.

Watching Esther and Emil hold hands at the family reunion brought smiles to all our faces. Her recipe for life is simple. “You're never too old to love and be loved.” Regardless of ailments, the couple may well live to see their 100^th birthday. Now that's an occasion for another

Schuerr reunion.

The Many Faces of Larry

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 16:04:34 GMT

At Sunset Beach in Fish Creek crowds gather for the big event---watching the glowing sun disappear over the Lake Michigan horizon where earlier we saw pelicans, a new phenonomen, flying like pearls in the sky. Parents and children skip rocks and lovers embrace one another while gazing at the halo of orange and pink. Larry and Sue along with three female friends are ready to join the crowd for applause that begins with the sunset.

Somehow Larry got on the topic of hunting remembering the nightly jaunts of the deer crossing our yard nibbling our flowers and scrubs on their way to a save haven of soft underbrush where they nestle for the night. Our son, Aaron, is a hunter because that is what one does in Montana to get meat for the year. Larry has always longed to join him but the cost of the tags are too expensive. Over the past five years, we have seen the deer population grow exponentially in our suburban neighborhood.

Waiting for the sun to set is a celebration anticipating the guest of honor to arrive. The joyful atmosphere transforms strangers into friends. The picture changed abruptly as Larry explained loudly how he would love to hunt Bambi in his own backyard but he said, “My chances of killing a deer with a single bow would be close to impossible. An arrow would slow it down, but then I'd have to chase it through the neighborhood with a knife and slit its throat. I don't think the neighbors would appreciate that very much.” The mental shift from a setting sun to a slit throat causes us to cringe. The man on the rock below us was squirming while eavesdropping.

Next, we drove into town to get ice cream when Larry suddenly pulled over to the curve and parked. He then took us to a circle of lilacs and told us to breath deeply. “It's the most pleasant aromatic smell. Isn't it wonderful? I just love it and had to share it with you,” said Larry.

Our friend Lu, a counselor, burst out laughing saying to me, “One minute he is slitting Bambi's throat and the next minute he has us all gathered to smell the lilacs. What's that all about?”

Yes, Larry hasn't hunted anything more than a pheasant and cries first at the movies. My former Marine husband will stand up for the needy and oppressed, yet he will stop for a sunset and to smell lilacs-----the many faces of Larry.

"I'm Married to a Turtle" by Sue Schuerr

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Wed, 18 May 2011 20:38:00 GMT

A green and white neck brace encompasses Larry’s 171/2 in. neck making him look like a turtle. He does the impression quite well. His large head pokes in and out like some Sesame street character. His speech is sometimes garbled, but I’ve always had to interpret for Larry whose original language is “mumble”. The neck brace doesn’t allow for much mobility. Although his neck fusion happened in January, 2010, he still wears the neck brace at night as a gentle reminder of the past.

Yes, I controlled his every move for a month or so. I was the Siren in charge of his destiny. Even if I’m not quite 5 ft. and he is 6 ft. 2 in., he cringes at the thought of me driving his testosterone laden 4 by 4 King cap pickup truck. It has a special button to raise the pedals enabling me to drive. This is good because Larry refuses to add blocks with electrical tape like my dad did when I road my first tricycle. I have to adjust the mirrors on the side which I haven’t quite mastered yet----scary, since the rear view mirror is useless. He has to submit to my wonderful driving techniques. We had a Fox River Grove policeman as a neighbor who would stop me on the way to school telling me my stops were totally sloppy and what was he going to do----give me a ticket?? We’re neighbors.

When we take off, Larry holds his head otherwise it might fly off and topple to the ground, and he’d be the headless horseman in a future horror flick. I threaten to push him out in the snow if he complains one more time. I have waited years to get even. This is the man who throws my pillow down the hallway a half a block when I get up every night at 2 AM. My secret desire has been to exchange weights and heights for at least a week----revenge.

Every once in awhile, he takes off his neck brace and turns into a frog hopping from one activity to the next. Maybe if I kiss the frog, he’ll turn into a handsome prince. But the doctor’s orders are that he remains a turtle for at least a month.

So now I eat with a turtle

I sleep with a turtle

I drive a turtle around town

If he doesn’t behave, I threaten to turn him into turtle soup. Control is what Geoffrey Chaucer said every woman desires. Ha Ha!

Life with Larry/Evidence of a Messiah

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 14:15:00 GMT

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Since the media is giving attention to the subject of Easter this week, we thought it would be an appropriate time to share our thoughts on the subject. Our faith has been the anchor of our 42 year marriage, how we raised our children, and our very lives. There is overwhelming evidence that Christ was the Messiah-----The King of the Jews. God has promised an abundant life which we have experienced as his children.

To begin, the most powerful arguments are the prophecies concerning Christ’s first coming and his crucifixion. No person could possibly script his life to fit where he would be born, how he would die, and where and how he would be buried. These prophecies can be found throughout the Old Testament; but for the sake of brevity, we’ll center on two books. The book of Isaiah was written in 740-680 B.C. Isaiah was born into an upper-class family where he rubbed shoulders with royalty and gave advice concerning foreign affairs of the nation. He also attacked the social ills of his day like many of us who are concerned about the welfare of our nation. He saw these social abuses as symptoms of spiritual declension. To give you a flavor of his writing which got him in trouble, see Isaiah 1: 23. “Your rulers are rebels and companions of thieves; they all love bribes and chase after gifts. They do not defend the cause of the fatherless; the widow’s case does not come before them.” Today, we can throw our corrupt politicians in jail. Unfortunately for Isaiah, who lived most of his life in Jerusalem, he was martyred by being sawed in two while inside a hollow log (Hebrews 11:37) under the reign of Manasseh. Here are the statements of a God inspired man. When reading Isaiah 53, one would think he was reading the lyrics for Handel’s Messiah. Many of these verses will resonate with you.

“He was despised and rejected by men-a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” Is. 53.3
“But he was pierced for our transgressions. He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him and by his wounds, we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all……he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. Is. 53.5-7
“He was assigned a grave with the wicked and with the rich in his death though he had done no violence, nor was any deceit in his mouth.” Is. 53:9
“After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life, and be satisfied: Is. 53:9
“For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.” Is. 53:12

The book of Isaiah was found in the Dead Sea Scrolls relatively intact and is 1000 years older than the oldest script before the discovery. The Isaiah scroll dates back to the second century B.C. which would make it impossible to falsify to fit the life of Christ. The whole Old Testament was discovered except for the book of Esther. The Dead Sea Scrolls also called the Qumran scrolls (Qumran is the main location in the Dead Sea area where the scrolls were discovered) demonstrates unequivocally the fact that the Jews were faithful in their transcription of biblical manuscripts. The Jewish writers were extremely conscientious about copying the biblical text, and memorization was a key component of their education. The Old Testament books from Qumran are those which we find in our Bibles. Minor textual variants occur as they do in any document which depended on hand copies for multiplication. Comparing today’s scripture to those found in the Dead Sea Scrolls speaks of the accuracy found in the text.

The second book is the Psalms which was also found in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

The following are some of the prophecies of the Messiah.

“All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads; He trusts in the Lord let the Lord rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.” Ps. 22: 7-8
“I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted away within me…my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; Ps. 22:14 (Medically this is an accurate description of what takes place when a person is crucified.)
“They have pierced my hands and my feet. I can count all my bones; people stare and gloat over me. They divide my garments among them and cast lots for my clothing.” Ps. 22:16
“They put gall in my food and gave me vinegar for my thirst.” Ps. 69:21
“Because you will not abandon me to the grave, nor will you let your Holy one see decay.” Ps. 16:10

There are hundreds of prophecies concerning the coming Messiah which Jesus has fulfilled. Here are a few more.

Bethlehem was named as the birthplace of the Messiah seven centuries before the event. “But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times.”(Micah 5:2)
“See your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Zechariah 9:9
“They will look on me, the one they have pierced, and they will mourn for him as one mourns for an only child, and grieve bitterly for him as one grieves for a firstborn son.” Zechariah 12:10

The prophecies of Christ first coming are powerful. In addition, there are prophecies about his second coming also. We encourage you to do your own study and see how these prophecies are fulfilled in the New Testament. Being skeptics ourselves at one time, we understand the many questions and concerns you may have. . But we were created for a relationship with the living God. “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” (Jeremiah 29:12) If Christ was the Messiah and there is such a thing as abundant life here and life after death-----------------wouldn’t you want to know? Anything this important cannot be ignored.

We welcome questions and discussion on this all important topic.

Because we care, Sue and Larry Schuerr

I Have a Bone to Pick with You

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Sun, 17 Apr 2011 01:44:00 GMT

Our daughter Deborah who resides in Bozeman, Montana taught Larry how to fly fish one summer. He took to it like a bee to honey. People come from all over the world to fish in Yellowstone and pay exorbonate amounts of money for the adventure. Deb took Larry to a small spring creek near a railroad track and the interstate

“There can’t be anything in here. It’s too small.” Larry reacted. But it turned out to be a fish supermarket.

He caught 43 fish in a manner of a few hours. They hit any brown fly Larry threw at them. He was bursting with excitement like a kid in a candy store while cleaning and gutting the four he decided to keep.

“It was going to be a great dinner,” he said knowing we were going to have company that night.

When visiting Montana, we often camp at Hyalite National Forest-----one of God’s most magnificent creations. We tow a 19 ft. small trailer and that is our home for 3 weeks. People come and visit us in our beautiful, pristine surroundings. Our daughter-in-law’s parents came up that evening for a fish dinner. By the time the coals were hot and dinner ready to be served, it was dusk. Extremely hungry, we devoured our food until we heard Larry gag.

In the darkness of the evening, he had mistaken a bone for fish. Coughing, bread, water-----nothing seemed to dislodge it. So the next morning, we headed down the mountain to the medical center.

“Hi Larry," the doctor said. You see Larry, from Illinois, had visited the center other times in past years for one malady or another. He looked down his throat and said, “I haven’t seen anything like this in twenty years.” This was all I needed to hear. My hopes of a problem free vacation were quickly evaporating.

Next he said, “If I cannot dislodge the bone, it will mean surgery.” Surgery------- for a fish bone! Whoever heard of such nonsense? Larry suppressed the cough instinct and allowed the doctor to lunge down his throat with a pair of round pliers with a round tip. After a couple of attempted, he captured his bait.

“In addition to teaching,” Larry said, “I could now have another career as a sword swallower.” We all agreed.

Now when eating fish in the dark, I insist that he put on one of his many head lamps, or I’ll have a bone to pick with him. .

The True Road to Happiness

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 02:30:00 GMT

Friends and Habitat for Humanity

We are almost to St. Petersburg FL where we will spend two day with our dear friends the Bensons and the Hitts. We spent last night in at Georgia Veterans State Park in Georgia, near Americana, Jimmy Carter’s hometown. Being so close to Habitat’s central office and Global Village, we decided to take a tour of the facility which has facsimiles of houses throughout the world. Larry cried when he saw homes so similar to what he saw in 2006/7 in Haiti.

We decided to spend part of our time volunteering for a project in Sebring near Tampa, FL. With Larry’s experience as a contractor and an Industrial Art’s teacher, Habitat was thrilled to have him come on board; they have 14 homes to build with a deadline in June. Larry has been a construction leader for three Blitz Builds in Bay Saint Louis, MI plus he worked on local projects. We are looking forward to spending our lives paying it forward. We have been blessed so much in our own. We have found that true happiness comes by giving of ones talents and skills.

Life with Larry Motorcycling to Prairie Du Chien

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Sat, 12 Mar 2011 14:10:00 GMT

When you see signs labeled Bad Ax River and Lone Elm Tree road, it’s a clue you are no longer in the northwest suburbs of Chicago. Actually, we were in the outskirts of Prairie Du Chien. It’s where the Mississippi and Wisconsin River meet. Our mode of transportation was a 1981 Honda motorcycle loaded with everything we would need for a two day adventure. You might call it a midlife crisis, but then no one lives over 120 years unless they are eating Dannon yogurt in some remote village in Russia. Yes, after twelve years of begging and the sky high prices for gasoline, I finally gave Larry permission to buy another motorcycle. Permission, you may ask! Well, Larry crashed his first motorcycle on the Ides of March in 1995--- when he gazed at a police officer giving a poor soul a ticket. The woman in front of him suddenly put on her brakes and Larry slammed into her trunk resulting in his broken pelvis, demolished motorcycle and my spring break at the hospital. Fortunately, no surgery was needed and the wider pelvis would enable Larry to have our next child freein me from labor.

Every time we went through Sturgis on our way to Montana, I would have to wipe off the drool from Larry’s chin as he lusted after another motorcycle. But Larry wanted his wife as a partner, and he waited twelve years for me to finally give consent. Now I have to admit, I love the freedom and fun of a motorcycle myself.

Over the past twelve years, gravity has played havoc with Larry’s 6’ 2”, 240 lb. frame. To get on his motorcycle, he grabs his pant leg and throws it over the seat and does a little jig when a cramp sets in. I’ve promised to teach him yoga and stretch moves to remedy his condition but he shows little interest in learning. Getting off the motorcycle is also a trick since the body wants to stay in the bent over position. Other than that, we had a wonderful time enjoying the onset of fall and the flocks of pelicans landing on the Mississippi river.

The first night we camped at Governor Dodge State Park right along the cliffs. It was late September and we had the place to ourselves. We pitched our backpacking tent and made an attempt to sleep well on insulate which is like sleeping on old cardboard boxes. Following tradition, we strained to read before bed with our trusty headlamps and foggy glasses. I dreamed of our first motorcycle trip to Galena twenty years earlier when we traveled with four other couples while witnessing a lightning filled rainstorm. I was young enough not to worry too much about the metal tent poles attached to the back of cycle. There are some advantages to growing old---such as gaining wisdom.

I highly recommend a trip from La Crosse to Prairie Du Chien and then over the bridge to see the Indian Mounds in Iowa. From there, continue on to Galena and back to the land of more sophisticated names for rivers and roads. By the way, the lowest gasoline prices were in Dubuque, Iowa ---just $3.66. You might also find a deal on a motel but then you’d miss the beauty of being so close to nature at its best.

True Confession?

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 23:37:00 GMT

If you asked family or friends to describe our garage in the past, they would call it a tornado ravaged zone. But after retirement from teaching, Larry spent three solid weeks with occasional help from our son-in-law, Geoff, putting it back in order. He found new homes for the bicycles and parts he collected for the needy. It was an adventure for both to see what they would uncover in the pit of doom. Anyone interested in our 1969 non running motorcycle that still occupies the corner spot?

So for most of my teaching career, I could not put our 2000 Ford Windstar in the garage. But now I have an item called a garage door opener and ‘viola’ I can drive in. The miracle still astounds me especially on snowy and rainy days.

Last week I was in a hurry and it was dark. When I pulled out, I didn’t see Larry’s 2003 Ford 150 Truck until I heard a scrape. In anguish, I quickly got out of the van to inspect the truck; the stars must have been aligned in my favor-----no damage.

The next day we went to Panera for coffee, and that’s when we both saw the scrape on the van----the first in its eleven year history even though the body is wasting away with metal cancer.

Larry yelled out,” Who put the scrape on the van? I can’t believe someone would hit it and then take off----a hit and run.” I listened to him describe the scum bag who would do such a thing and I agreed with him wholeheartedly.

Now here is my dilemma; do I confess my guilt or do I let him pin the guilt on "an unidentified scumbag"?

What would you do?

Being non-accusatory, Larry later asked if I knew anything about this matter. In tears, the 'scum-bag' confessed. Larry reacted kindly by hugging me. We have learned over the years to forgive one another since we both have a record of wrongs. True Confession? True Love!

"A Cold Get-Away"

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 02:55:00 GMT

Life with Larry-1/1/11

Imagine seeing a bison come ambling down a hill behind you as you cross country ski on Tower Falls Trial in Yellowstone at 6278 ft. elevation and -6 degree temperatures. Yes, Life with Larry has given me another first time experience with extremes. Our son Aaron is a chip off the old block. He arranged the two night winter get away at cabins at the Yellowstone Institute in the Lamar Valley in Yellowstone National Park... When I heard that it was predicted to be bitterly cold, I assumed we would be canceling; but the word cancel is not in the Schuerr vocabulary.

I was comforted with the fact that the cabins were heated, but my bottle of water nevertheless had turned to lumps of ice by the morning. I tried to negotiate with my bladder at 1:10 AM telling it to shut up and let me sleep. But it persisted and I had to accommodate it. I grabbed my fleece coat and gazed at the breath taking stars that filled the dark sky until I remembered that I had to be on the look out for stray bison who wandered into the camp occasionally. I heard the sound of a coyote in the distant and hoped it was not hungry for a short squat Norwegian American. Finally, I made it to the bathhouse 50 ft. away which doesn’t sound like much of a feat, but it got down to -28 degrees that night. Yuk!

We covered nearly every inch of skin and donned our cross country skies to face the cold. I didn’t want to get out of the truck until August, my 10 year old grandson, said, “Suck it up Grandma.” Our three grandsons and my son and daughter in law never complained, but just skied along happily enjoying the snow-capped hills and wild life. They totally inspired me as my thumbs were the first thing to freeze and my toes felt like ice cubes, but soon the constant activity, lack of wind, and sunshine warmed me up. “It’s a dry cold,” Larry would remind me. When we got to Calcite springs, we poured cups of tea and nibbled on Cheesites.

When we got to camp to prepare dinner, I said, “Larry, why don’t you sleep outside tonight in your winter tent.” He weaseled his way out and saved face by saying, “I can’t. My sleeping bag is only rated to -20 degrees”.

As it turned out, the temperature improved to a balmy 10 degrees the next morning so we put on snow shoes, a first for us, and became Louis and Clark explorers. By 1 PM Grandpa and Grandma said good-bye to the hardy campers and headed to Chico Natural Hot Springs to thaw and recuperate.

Beef Jerky Montana Style

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Wed, 01 Dec 2010 20:33:00 GMT

Beef Jerky Montana Style-by Sue Schuerr

Last year, Larry bought a kit at Cabellas for making his own beef jerky. He spent an afternoon making some pretty tasty jerky for our hikes out in Montana. We eagerly looked forward to a family reunion. Our son, Aaron, rented a newly built rustic cabin tucked away in the woods and surrounded by rivers, hiking trails and the Crazy mountain range beckoning us to adventure. The spacious Bennett Cabin outside of Clyde Park in Montana is a work of art. Its sturdy 80 year old logs are accented with green cedar shingles. It’s very reasonable to rent since it’s devoid of plumbing.

Aaron and his wife Lynelle climbed out of their van with our three energetic grandsons August, Jasper, Isaac and their chocolate lab, Gracie. Family fun would now begin. But it didn't take long for Gracie to discover a strange substance she enjoyed chewing. She also rolled into some foul smelling pond and only a bath in the nearby stream could get rid of the stench.

We shared Larry’s delicious beef jerky with the family while hiking along the stream. But after a half hour or so we were stopped by fallen trees that were the result of a June tornado that swept through the area. That evening, we came across the journal where visitors describe their time at the cabin. We were told to look for a fantastic view of the stars, a visiting owl and an occasional bear sighting. But what caught our attention the most was an entry from the previous week. It went something like this.

Entry 7/8. We were sitting around enjoying coffee and conversation when a very polite forest service man informed us that our serene time was coming to an end. A downed tree caused by a tornado killed a cow and now they, meaning the forest service, were going to have to deal with it. Yes, they were waiting for an expert to arrive from Bozeman who would help them with the situation as a resident bear had discovered the beast which made it unsafe for cabin residents like us. More trucks began to arrive--- some seven or eight of them donned with helmets and chain saws as they cut through the tree. They then covered our cabin windows with plywood and asked us to park the cars behind the cabin suggesting we take a hike. We went toward Target rock over fallen trees not knowing what to expect. Soon an explosion ripped across the mountain----an earth shattering and auditory resound of military impact. What we were hearing was the sound of an exploding cow. An exploding cow! It took a legend to blow up one single cow. There was enough gusto to take down a herd of cows. Any resident bears must have fled completely out of the Crazies for good------with need of therapy. We went back to our cabin and were greeted by a considerate and good humored forest service employee informing us that the danger was now over. I felt it was my duty to walk to the gate where the deed was done to investigate. The dirt road was strewn with clumps of red meat the size of salmon servings and flies were swarming in mass. The smell was pre-historic. I was witness to something that looks simple, but is complex. Now little critters will nibble the bits. As for bears---the therapy continues.

Now we understood why Gracie was having such a feast. The mysterious substance was nothing other than---Montana beef jerky. Her last treat resembled a cow's ear---Yuk! Coming from Illinois and chewing our own beef jerky, we knew we were witness to the aftershocks of an event done only Montana style.

Bicycling from Birth into Infinity

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Sun, 21 Nov 2010 23:45:00 GMT

Larry got his first very used single speed bike from his Uncle Bud at age twelve. Larry painted it a cool chocolate brown to cover up the dinks. But he didn’t care; the new wings gave him mobility to connect with the neighborhood kids since he had been the only one without one.

My first bike was a tricycle with large wooden blocks my dad taped on with style. He kept the electrical black tape handy when one would fall off. At age four, my short legs flew and I knew I was hooked on biking forever.

Old Blue Bell was my next prized possession. I learned how to ride my first two-wheeler by crashing into the nearby hills. After painting myself black and blue, I finally learned the concept of balance. I talked to Blue Bell, my old friend, and she very affectionately learned to cooperate.

When Larry and I got married in 1968, we couldn’t afford bikes until after our third child, Aaron, was born. Taking care of babies aged four and under kept us well occupied. But the day arrived when we finally bought brand new Sears black three-speed bicycles and tooled around the neighborhood in fashion. Aaron, who was under a year, would face Larry on the front carrier while Deb, with her long thick blond hair blowing carelessly was perched in the rear carrier. Julie, traveling on the back of my bike, would be giggling and laughing with her red curls bouncing up and down. Later, we fearlessly ventured on the prairie path in Wheaton, IL to visit our favorite ice cream shop, Cock Robins. Larry would have to wait for me to take baby Aaron off the front carrier before he could dismount. Traveling as we did helmet less in the 70’s was the standard unsafe mode.

Now the kids have all flown the coop and we have an assortment of bicycles including road and mountain bikes along with crash resistant helmets, but our prize possession is our beautiful red aluminum framed, carbon fibered forked 27 speed Santana tandem. Each year along with 5,000 of our closest buddies, we travel to Bloomington, Indiana to participate in the Hilly Hundred bicycle event. Our goal is to ride into infinity.

Life with Larry in Germany

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 15:53:00 GMT

Life with Larry has taken me to Ramstein and Spangdahelm Air Force Base in Germany. Larry spent four years in the Marines where our first daughter Deborah was born---cost was $7.50. He then enlisted in the Navy reserves for 18 years and now we are reaping the benefits. We drove to Scott Air Force base where our adventure began. From there we flew to St. Andrews base in Washington, D.C. and then off to Germany. Being friendly and chatty, we met many other retired military people. We hooked up with Charlotte and Jack Lyons and have been traveling from base to base in a rented car with Mandy our friendly but persistent GPS system. Tomorrow we leave for Edleweiss Lodge near Munich for a couple days and then to Aviano Italy where we will attempt to fly back to the US.

Life with Larry requires flexibility. Flying this way is space available which means we could end up in Turkey. We have flown in a refueling tanker and a med-a-vac jet. It's all about the mystery and adventure and when you're over 60 years old--why not??

Daddy's Home

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Fri, 10 Sep 2010 17:31:02 GMT

My heart goes out to so many who are struggling at this time. I remember cutting costs by giving my daughter Deborah piano lessons. This was not a difficulty since Deb took to the piano like a duck to water. Today she is an accomplished musician. I was in the process of giving her a lesson, when we heard a thud and felt the house shake. We looked at each other in disbelief when I said,"Daddy's Home". He thought the van was in park, but soon realized his error as the van gained speed towards the side of the garage. His instinct was to run in front of it, but soon realized that wasn't going to work. Fortunately, a newly planted evergreen slowed it down while it clipped the side of the garage with a two foot gash in the wall. Being resourceful and in need of funds, Larry turned his mistake into a lovely planter. It reminded me of elementary school when the teacher would tell the students to make flowers out of their mistakes. There are many van stories to come.

Growing up with Cowboys

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 03:24:00 GMT

Life with Larry

By Sue Schuerr

All little boys growing up in the 50’s were influenced by the TV Cowboy characters Roy Rogers, Hop-a-long Cassidy and John Wayne. The good guys wore white hats and the bad guys wore black. Of course, both were always fighting the Indians. Larry was no exception. He and his two toe-headed stair-step brothers, Bill and Ken, were glued to the TV screen soaking up the many lessons to be learned about how to be a real cowboy. They were thrilled to have electricity and a TV in their small primitive summer cottage supported on posts. It was located in Lily Moor just outside of McHenry, a better place than the city for three boys to grow up.

In 1952, Larry’s dad bought the summer cottage from his half-brother who used it as a flop house, a place to get inebriated on the weekends. The goal was to convert the summer cottage into a year round home. Insulation, heat and indoor plumbing were non existent, and they had to take a bucket to the hand pump on the front porch to pour the water down the indoor outhouse to flush it. The wood burning stove sizzled with wood scraps Larry’s dad brought home from his carpentry jobs.

“We’d wake up in the morning with snow blowing through the eaves onto the floor,” Larry recalls. “With room for only one bed, we nestled close to one another for warmth. Money was a scarcity so the transformation took years as our family grew. For Christmas each of us received two presents----a piece of clothing and one toy. The VFW came to the door with a turkey and a box of food. It was the first time I saw my dad cry.”

Larry’s dad, a man whose arms resembled Popeye, dug a well and installed a pump by the sink in the kitchen similar to what we had seen on the TV series, Lassie. After indoor heating was installed, the next ongoing project was to dig out a basement under the house. First, walls with windows were installed. Then when Larry and his brothers got home from school, their job was to dig out the basement and throw the dirt out of the window. This was a Herculean us task for three young boys.

But at least it was their place, and the TV provided a mental escape to help them endure the transition. There were trees to climb, sticks to turn into guns and plenty of new places to explore.

Ken, the youngest of the three, was often the target for taunting. When it was Ken’s turn to swing from the rope on the tree, Larry, being the chief, would tell him when to jump. Of course, the oldest brother was always right.

Ken would yell, “When should I jump?”

“Not now, screamed Bill and Larry

With their early understanding of physics, they would wait until the distance between Ken and the ground was greatest and then they would yell, “Now”.

As would be expected, they all got wounded regularly just like the real Cowboys and Indians on TV and Dad, the medicine man, was an expert at making butterfly bandages. Going to the hospital was out of the question.

Another time, they ventured into a dairy farm behind them and visited the cows. Bill and Larry talked Ken into grabbing the tail of a Holstein cow to see what would happen, like an experimental science class. When the thrill of seeing their brother fly on the end of a cow’s tail passed, they yelled.

“Leave go.”

But the shock of being dragged by a moving cow, made Ken grab on harder.

“Leave go,” yelled Bill and Larry.

But, Ken continued to grab on even harder as he bounced off stones, sticker bushes and manure patties.

Rainy days were a recipe for disaster for the growing family who lived in the space of a double garage. Mom and Dad were playing cards with friends down the road and the three boys got to rough housing. It wasn’t long before they put a hole in the wall.

“Now, what shall we do?”

“We’re dead meat,” cried Bill

Larry came up with an excellent solution. They would move the refrigerator to cover the hole-------their parents would never notice. With a great deal of pushing and shoving, the hole vanished behind the mayonnaise, mustard and sour cream.

When Mom and Dad came home, they asked who moved the refrigerator.

“Not me,” said Larry

“Not me,” said Ken,

“Not me,” said Bill

That left their little sister, Mary, gurgling in the corner.

Digging out the basement was an on going project. By then real plumbing was installed and Shirley, their mom, decided to have a Tupperware party.

As usual, the boys came home from school and worked in the basement shoveling the dirt out the window. The boring, laborious work cried for adventure. Larry remembered seeing a special episode of Roy Rogers where--------

The memory was crystal clear in Larry’s mind and he diverted his attention from throwing dirt out the window to digging a large hole. He coaxed Bill, the cowboy, into climbing into it. Bill obediently jumped in. The Indians, Ken and Larry, buried their victim up to his neck. All they needed were cowboy hats and feathers-----until Bill’s piercing cry.

“Help! Get me out of here.”

The Tupperware party was in full swing upstairs as the ladies inhaled their Lucky Strike cigarettes, munched on brownies, and practiced burping their new lettuce containers.

But the call persisted, “Help, Help, Get me out of here!”

Shirley politely said, “Excuse me ladies,” It looks like I’m needed below.”

She regretted missing the latest gossip tidbits.

Stomping down the basement stairs, the first thing she saw was Bill buried up to his neck and then Ken and Larry standing in the distance with shovels trying to be innocent bystanders. The spell was now completely broken-----the Indians were on the run with past wallops in memory.

She grabbed a shovel and furiously began to excavate her middle son promising,” I’m going to kill you guys.”

In the next breath she called upstairs in her sweet voice, “I’ll be with you in a minute, ladies.”

She shoveled some more while Larry and Ken flew up the stairs and out the door in ear shot of her impending promise, “I’m going to kill you kids.”

But it wasn’t long before Larry, Bill and Ken, ignoring all the household chores, escaped into the wonderful world of Roy Rogers, Dale Evans and Tonto-----with visions of future exploits dancing in their heads.

An Unusual Fishing Venture

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Fri, 26 Mar 2010 00:56:00 GMT

Life with Larry-“An Unusual Fishing Venture” bySue Schuerr

The crystal clear water of Devil’s Lake is surrounded by high bluffs that are magnets to hikers and rock climbers alike. It’s an unusual hidden jewel in the Midwest. We were very fortunate to get a camp site on such a picture perfect weekend. Luckily we put up our tent in time to watch the birds fly over the breathtaking pink and purple sunset. We looked forward to Lola and Thom’s arrival so that the hiking, biking and most importantly laughing around the campfire could begin.

Then I heard a sound that changed everything, “Bang”. Larry, my husband, shut the door of our 2000 Windstar Ford Van and I heard him gasp in shock.

“Oh rats,” he said, “I thought I was unlocking it, not locking it. I left the keys in the car.”

Sure enough, there they were laid out between the seats to rest like a silver trout between two pond cup holders. Our spare key tucked under the right wheel had long since disappeared.

I thought of less technical days when opening a locked vehicle was so much easier. I once taught ESL classes at a synagogue when a student from India came to class frantic because he had locked his keys in his car. I promptly marched into the synagogue kitchen and retrieved a handy black spatula and proceeded to squeeze it through the rubber between the windows. “Voila,” the car opened.

Another time Larry locked the keys in our Ford station wagon, and a group of foster teenagers Larry invited camping with us opened it with a coat hanger.

“We learned this trick in our juvie days,” they laughed. But with computerization, the days of opening cars with a spatula or coat hanger are long over.

Seeing myself as an adequate problem solver, I walked around the van a couple of times and observed one glimmer of hope. The back vent window was opened about two inches. I also noticed a group of male campers toasting their feet around a cozy campfire after a fruitless day of fishing.

Having given up hope, Larry was already planning on borrowing Lola and Thom’s car when they arrived to drive to our home almost three hours away to retrieve our second set of keys. I grimaced at the thought of a six hour unnecessary trip. What a way to ruin a beautiful weekend!

Boldly walking up to the fishermen, I said, “Do any of you have ideas about how to retrieve our captured keys from a locked van. The back side vent window is open about two inches.”

“Well, we have a fishing pole and lure,” the camper thoughtfully replied. “But the fishing pole is not long enough to reach from the back of the van to the front where yourkeys are located. Scratching his head, he said, “We could attach it to something, but what?”

“We could duct tape the lure to my fiberglass tent pole,” Larry piped in with renewed hope.

The ideas continued to swirl around from one camper to the next as our plan unfolded. We tied a treble hook to a twelve inch long piece of fishing line which we duct taped to the end of Larry’s tent pole. Then we turned the pole to wind the line around the tent pole. Where would mankind be without duct tape? “Move over Rover!” Duct tape is now modern man’s best friend. Larry and the fishermen got more excited by the minute as they continued to pool their ideas together.

“What have we here,”I contemplated. “It’s a near impossible venture, at least a challenge and men with nothing better to do? It’s male bonding at its best. Mc Gyver would be proud of them.”

Larry, our self-appointed fisherman, assigned us our positions as we prepared to go for the keys. Fishing for car keys---- How absurd was that! My job was to stand by the side of the van with a flashlight while Larry blindly and painstakingly fished his way through the back vent window to the front of the vehicle. He manipulated the fishing rod up and down with help from the campers.

Being the only one who could see clearly, I gave the directions about how to move the pole, “Slightly to the right, Honey.” “Now move it to the left, and down a bit.”

We were all very tense and focused as we engaged in our most unusual fishing venture. As the typical fisherman’s wife, I really didn’t have much hope for its success. I’ve heard enough fishing stories in the past. But I watched in wonderment as these men maneuvered the pole until it finally hovered over the steel fish---our keys.

“How far above the keys am I,” Larry asked. “How much line should I unravel?”

I watched the baiting lure make its first downcast attempt about an inch shy of the capture.

“Try again, Lar---this time more to the right,” I nervously stated.

He lowered the hook and unwound the line. After a couple more tries, I watched in disbelief as the magical silver fish flickering in the moonlight was being drawn up into thin air. My heart raced and my stomach did flips as they worked the pole backwards.

The fishermen were delighted at the capture, but they didn’t see what I saw------ the entanglements which included—tossed clothing, camping supplies, and the velour seats that could so easily ensnare our coveted prize.Touch anything and we’re cooked. I continued directing the blind fishermen to move the pole in such a manner as to avoid entrapment. With a sense of empowerment, I was the Siren commanding my ship of male servants who were painstakingly following my directions. I relished in the fleeting moment. In sheer delight, I saw the keys within inches of the vent window. We were all breathless with excitement. Handing the flash light to one of the fishermen,I wedged my tiny fist through the vent window capturing our trophy prize.

We jumped up and down in disbelief--- and our shouts of triumph could be heard throughout the campground. Where was America’s Funniest Home Videos when we needed them? Did we really fish for keys?? Larry, redeeming himself, proved it be an excellent fisherman,but not without his team and sheer luck.

Lola and Thom pulled up and wondered what was causing all the commotion. They were not surprised to hear that Larry had locked the keys in the van. He is known for creating problems that take fleets of fishermen to solve. We all huddled around the inviting campfire keeping Larry far away from the keys. Yes,it was going to be a weekend to remember.

Do I Smell Coffee?

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 22:17:00 GMT

Sunday, October 11, 2009

I woke up this morning to the strong smell of "no" not coffee, but Bruce's Hard Wood Ever Ready Polish. Larry had difficulty sleeping, so he decided to polish the living room floor. I bet there are a lot of wives out there who would love to wake up to the sight of their husbands polishing the living room floor. I am blessed with a 6' 2"-240 lb.husband who is much more domesticated than I am. Larry cleans, cooks, and sews. Did I mention that he built our home? When I woke up at 8 AM Sunday morning, I thought I was smelling shoe polish on some very large shoes. But instead, he decided that our cleaning equipment was old and out of date, so he went over to Menards and purchased a new mop and broom. The house looked pretty good by the time I woke up. Feeling a measure of guilt, I took off to play tennis with a friend while he went to war against spiders and box elder bugs who have made their residence with us. The wood burning stove has been going all day making the house cozy with branches he cut down this summer. The neighbors call on Larry to cut down trees and branches---which means wood for the stove. I sure hope he sleeps tonight, but then again maybe I'll wake up to the smell of fresh paint instead.

Why the subtitle "Band-aids and Screwdrivers"

LIFEWITHLARRY.org — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 18:16:00 GMT

Why did I choose the subtitle "Band-aids and Screwdrivers?" Geoff, our son-in-law, was helping Larry put away his tools after a hard day working on their 118-year old home, and he asked him what he wanted to keep. Larry looked around and said, “Leave just the band-aids and screwdrivers." Geoff announced, "There’s a great subtitle for Sue’s Life with Larry memoir. "

The band-aids have to do with Larry’s many wounds. His grandchildren affectionately call him, Grandpa Owie. Larry will often say, "I do have a name". Not only has he had a bicycle and motorcycle accident, but he has broken five ribs and punctured a lung while skiing. His body, like an old car engine, has gone through a complete overhaul. It includes hernia, nose, back, neck, shoulder,and knee installations. He occasionally sets off the metal detector at O'Hare. However, you wouldn’t know it from looking at him. He still rides in the Hilly Hundred Bicycle Ride in Indiana, tears down a black diamond hill in Montana,and instructs at the Wilmot Ski School in Wisconsin.

The screw-driver reference has to do with his occupations as a builder/contractor and high-school Industrial Art’s teacher. His current passion is to use his talents to serve the needy in organizations like Habitat for Humanity, Bright Hope, Love Thy Neighbor, and Faith in Action.

Check in for future stories and details.

Be sure to read the last Feb. entry.