Grandpa Lou, the sex kitten, makes a break for it.

Lately, I've been putting all my eggs into the basket at Midwestern Gentleman. Writing about men who truly embody the gritty nature of those who endure all four seasons. However, with breaking news that my grandfather has once again rebelled against his retirement home. I'm bringing the heat with a daily Steeno family story.

It begins with the one and only sex kitten. Grandpa Lou.

A few months ago, my mother called my brother and I in a stifled state. She brought up that our grandfather had a recurring story of a hunting trip. He was overheard bragging to his retirement home patrons as if it happened this year, and his story was now becoming the talk of the town. As the tale goes, he up and left on a journey to Colorado, Michigan for a wild backcountry bow hunt. Now, for any of you geographical saavy notetakers, that's neither a city in Michigan, nor a reality since his hunting days have been over for nearly a decade.

Grandpa Lou had either lost his mind or was secretly holding out that he's in prime shape. Using his wheelchair as a luxury chauffeur.

I'm gonna pat him on the back on this one though.

The hunt takes place over the course of four days, where he manages to shoot three small mule deer. He tracked each deer and dragged them to his non-existent Chevrolet truck. And, as any celebratory Yooper would do, he proceeds to polish off his victory with a fish fry dinner at a local diner. In Colorado, Michigan. A place no map or GPS has ever heard of.

Keep in mind he's kept the consistency of each detail every time he tells it.

As he later reveals, all three of those does were then stolen. Shit you not, one by a wolf and two by fellow hunters who happened to be following him. The DNR, according to him, didn't do a damn thing to get him back his well deserved fresh venison. Shameful.

What's both a blessing and curse is that this isn't really a true story. He never left his home to go on a hunt. In fact, he most likely had a recurring dream from his long history of 54 years of shooting a buck. That, too, is not a fact-checked theory. But what I love is he's able to still keep a vivid mind that allows him to experience something he's lived for year after year.

As someone who writes often about the men who embody the Midwest, this only reiterates why this place is so special. Even in his dementia, he's living out his annual hunting days with a mind that allows it. Opening day is engrained in his mind so much that he makes an effort to either dream up a hunting trip, or find a way to rebel against the establishment.

That's special.

So now we reach last week. Grandpa got a new scooter. High powered four wheels of freedom. With that freedom, he has now been caught twice trying to break free. One of which rolling down the highway that runs by his home. Oh, the luxury of having automated wheels. Both times he claimed he was headed to camp. Keep in mind this is a 20 mile trip one way, with a scooter that cruises up to speeds of 3mph. His last break away his battery went dead in the parking lot. Dressed in full hunting fatigue. He was seen trolling a suitcase behind him. God only knows what he packed in it. It was later confirmed 3 adult diapers safely tucked away.

Neal "The Paddle" Steeno: Man, Myth, Legend.

Let me start off by saying that writing is not my forte. Be gentle. My name is Neal. I am a proud owner of an olive green Goodwill wind coat that I wear at all times in all weather conditions that I've sweat most of my days into its fibers. I have shoes that I hike, bike, and run in that smell fairly close to a stale vinegar. If you're a girl and are intrigued and still reading... I completely dig that. Over the past few months my mind has been really stretched and full of anxiety due to college, beer, women, sweet thrift store bikes, and figuring out why life has to be so damn difficult. So my solution to cure this problem could only be one thing. After successfully watching every episode of The Office to help mold any type of aspiration my conclusion is A. the show needs a half emotionally handicapped paper delivery boy that I fit the position of perfectly... and B. Life is full of absolutely awful jobs, and if you're blessed with the gift of having to deal with one then you should at least appreciate that you're more sane than the person next to you. I'll lead with an example.



My blessing of a gift came during my high school summers as a lawn mower for the local golf course. Every morning around 5 a.m. I would come into work only to be surrounded by the cast of "One Flew over the Cookoos Nest." No joke, within the group of three packs a day smokers and toothless men at least one of them would show signs of near insanity and it was my job to pick up on these occassions. After drinking a pot of foldgers coffee I would head out for my daily duties and was ready to tackle anything that came my way.

One story that I'll share about the golf course right now is about a guy named Larry. Larry stands at a towering 6'7" tall, lacks in the teeth department, and I am not going to lie, I may have wet myself a little after first meeting him. Larry has lived in our small town of Norway his entire life, drives a chick magnet of a rusted out 94' cadillac missing an exhaust pipe and I'm fairly certain that without him I would have no blog. I love Larry. However, I was also threatened that I would be shot in the back with a rifle by Larry so my feelings are purely a love/hate relationship. My story isn't really a story, its only a few sentences showing that maybe humor and enjoying life are in some ways from realizing life can get better. Whether its a possible stint as an oddball on a t.v. show or working next to the characters you see on t.v. in your everyday job. Is there a difference? I guess being threatened to be shot in the back might make me think twice but maybe not.