Steve Fernlund and The Long Way Home

  While raising four people from puppyhood to adulthood, the Bohunk and I always had dogs and even a few cats around the house. We considered our pets family members. We still have a few animals in the family, and the similarities to having kids at home are worth noting. Our three pets, the dogs Gypsy and Fiona, and the cat Winthrop, require our attention and care, of course. Feeding and grooming, as well as their emotional needs, including walks outside and companionship. These exchanges become a fundamental aspect of life that feels strikingly similar to the parent-child relationship. Winthrop, almost 10 years old now, is an indoor-only cat. He was a stray kitten that the Bohunk found one morning while walking one of the dogs when we lived in Illinois. He was about the size of a teacup but meowed loud enough to be heard. “A kitty followed me home,” the Bohunk announced when she came in the house that day. She had found (heard) him meowing near a house that bordered a cornfield, a...

Admitting that I once believed I had all the knowledge I needed, I've come to realize that learning is a lifelong journey. For those who may have questioned my wisdom, you were right.  As a self-proclaimed freelance writer, I created a Substack account a couple of years ago. Substack is an online platform that allows writers and content creators to publish and monetize their work. Social media with a more focused purpose. It's primarily known for its email newsletter service. You can find me there as @thelongwayhome1. Try the free email newsletter. Like all things related to the numerous social media sites out there, I’ve struggled to figure it out and establish a presence. Tech isn't my strong suit, nor is self-promotion—a common theme needed to succeed in online services. Now that the Bohunk and I have managed to downsize (see Swedish Death Cleaning) and settled into our urban lifestyle, I’ve restarted my Substack account. I've already spent too much time reading othe...

The difference between a newspaper column and a social media post is that one takes some time to work on a column idea, even when enraged, to make sure the point is valid and the rage is justified. Not so, social media. This column simmered on a back burner for a few weeks now. Still, the issue it addresses, prevarication, is something that sticks in my craw.  Prevarication doesn't necessarily involve outright lying. Instead, it uses ambiguity, misdirection, or half-truths to mislead or conceal the truth. What I call BS. Not a straight-out lie, but a circuitous route around the truth to hide mistakes, carelessness, ignorance, or guilt. Someone who prevaricates is trying to avoid being caught in a lie.  In decades of adulthood I’ve encountered more than my share of prevaricators. The ones who were going to pay me on Friday, deliver something on time, make the repairs when promised, and so many other things. As a part-time county chronicler, I’m used to elected officials and bur...

Our two dogs go out to “do their business” après breakfast every day. We load up on “poop bags,” attach them to leashes, and head out across the street for a peaceful stroll, me with the big dog and the Bohunk with the diminutive Gypsy. We, the humans, not the dogs, use this opportunity to check in on plans for the day and ask each other how we slept, how we’re feeling, and the status of each dog’s waste. On a recent morning, the Bohunk said she’d had two Charley Horses during the night, one on her left leg between her shin and her calf. When that calmed down, she turned over and immediately had one in the same place on her right leg. I sympathized, as I’ve had similar. After my ministrations, I smiled and recalled my childhood experience with those pesky cramps. I remember my dad, bounding off his beloved couch, screaming some swear words I’d never heard before, and bouncing on one leg. “GD Charley Horse,” he said. I didn’t know it was a cramp, but the name struck me as funny, and see...