Unanswered Questions

Howdy, Neighbor. People have been telling Phil he's a good storyteller for a long time... so we are trying something new and pretty-much non-sales Just sharing occasional sweet stories, tall tales, and life lessons learned around these parts.Northwoods Notes are a new, semi-bi-irregular peek into the heart and mind of Phil Frasier… you can read or listen... whichever you prefer... and you are receiving a copy because you're a current customer of Frasier's Plumbing, Heating & Cooling. We think you'll like them, but you can unsubscribe any time by clicking on the link at the bottom. But we hope you give us a chance!

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My grandpa was a phenomenal wood worker. I mean, he was world class. If woodworking was an Olympic sport, my Grandpa Budreau would’ve taken gold, silver, AND bronze.

Grandpa taught me how to cut down my first tree with a McCulloch chainsaw.

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I own a pair of leather gloves with the little red beads because that’s what he wore. I put mink oil on them to break ‘em in just like he used to do.

He loved fishing. Anytime I see someone using a Mepps French spinner, I think of him.

He was big into real estate, too. Buying, developing, investing. I wish I would’ve asked him to teach me about all that stuff. But there wasn’t enough time.

I was only fourteen when Grandpa passed away from cancer. I lived with him and helped care for him during the last year of his life.

As I grew older, I began to think of all the questions I should’ve asked him while he was still alive. There was so much I could’ve learned from him.

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I’d love to have just one more day with my grandpa, so that I could learn more about him. I’d ask about what molded and made him do the things he did, whether good, bad, or indifferent.

I’d ask him about his love of carving. When did he start? What made him want to do it?

My grandpa was intrigued by the woods, logging, and forestry. So why did he choose to open a music store instead going into forestry?

I have so many questions... but many of them will never be answered. I’m left to speculate. I wish I’d known him better.

I don’t want my grandchildren saying the same thing about me. That’s why I’ve started keeping a journal.

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I write every morning and every night. I haven’t missed a day since I started my journal on February 27th... and I don’t plan on missing a day anytime soon.

My hope is that, someday, my grandkids will read it... and maybe their kids, too.

I just hope I’m able to write enough to answer all their questions.

How about you? Maybe this is the year for you to start journaling, too.

It’s worth a few minutes of your day... because someone, somewhere, someday will want to know a little something more about you.

Take care, neighbor. Take good care.

P.S. – Robert William Shields has the longest journal of all time. 37.5 million words, which chronicled every five minutes of his life from 1972 until a stroke disabled him in 1997. I don’t know if I’ll be able to beat that streak, but I’m gonna give it a try.

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