I know I haven't written for a while. It's not because there hasn't been anything happening. The opposite: too much happening, too little time to write it all up for posterity (as they used to say). May went by like that.

But before the main news, I want to tell you about a recent incident so incredibly cool and cute and wonderful. I told my wife about it that night, and now I'm going to tell you. Get comfy.

I had covered a high school track meet on a Tuesday afternoon, getting photos, had a quick supper in Iron Mountain, and now I was driving home on a two-lane road through the woods. Wisconsin Highway 70, the same road I usually take. (My camera, I should mention, was in its bag in the back seat, all safe and protected and out of reach.) It was cloudy and late in the day, but sunset was still an hour away.

Straight stretch of road, woods on either side. Of course, I was watching for deer. Didn't see any deer. But about 50 to 100 yards ahead of me, I saw something dark moving across the road. Easily identified: a black bear. Not a large one. It was a little larger than a 50-pound sack of potatoes. It was running across the road ahead of me, south to north. I gradually put on the brakes, and the bear had plenty of time to finish crossing the road.

Then I saw something else dark on the edge of the road. It was much smaller. About the size of a chihuahua but in the shape of a little, tiny, itsy, bitsy bear. (Feel free to go "Awwwwwwwwww!) The little, tiny, itsy, bitsy bear was starting to cross the road, but then it must have noticed my car coming to a stop. It stopped and turned back onto the shoulder and then into the roadside weeds.

I pulled ahead to where the little, tiny, itsy, bitsy bear had disappeared, hoping I would see it again. I did. It was going back along an overgrown woods trail--and nearby was another little, tiny, itsy, bitsy bear, also going back to the south. And further back was a much bigger bear. It was running away from me down the trail. Hauling ass, as they say. It seemed that the little, tiny, itsy, bitsy bears were not a big concern of the big bear at that moment.

In a few seconds, they were all gone. That was about the moment I thought to myself, "Self, it would have been nice to have that camera handy. Where is that dash cam when I need it?"

I started to pull away but kept an eye on the scene in the rear-view mirror. Sure enough, within seconds bear No. 1 emnerged from the north side of the road and re-crossed the road to rejoin the two little, tiny, itsy, bitsy bears. And the big chicken.

****

Since I last wrote (early April) plenty of things have happened. We will skip all the reports on snowstorms we had in April and even early May. (We had light snow and temperatures only in the mid 30s at the regional track meet, held on May 15. It was a brutal, nasty day! That's right in keeping with the spring of 2014.)

In early April, my older son Phil sent me a text message, telling me to watch for a package in the mail--but we were not to open it until we were on the phone with them. A big green envelope arrived a few days later, and we played along, waiting until the phone call Sunday evening. The big moment came. We opened it up. Inside was a golden plastic egg. Inside the egg was pair of little tiny socks and a hand-written message: "You're going to be grandparents!"

This will be our first grandchild. The baby is due in early December. Janet is busily planning a baby quilt. We had planned a visit to the Detroit area during June (after my busy spring sports season ends), but that been pushed back to July due to other news. Needless to say, excitement is the order of the day. Janet is looking through her quilt books for the perfect pattern for a baby quilt. She has decided on the colors already.

Phil is our older son. Our younger son, David, went with us to Marquette on a recent Friday, to look at apartments. He was born here in 1982 and has lived here all his life. But for years, he has wanted to live in a bigger city. This is a tiny town, and if there's little for the kids to do (no theater--it closed; no bowling alley--it burned), there's even less for young adults. Unless they like to drink.

Since David is autistic, he has been involved with state agencies all his life. He has lived on his own, in an apartment building here in town, for the last six or so years. He worked about 30 hours per week at a nearby wood products plant (vacuum-packing wood chips and shavings for animal bedding). But he lost his job in January. No fault of his--the company bought a machine at its New York plant that does the work faster and more quickly. He has not been working since then.

No jobs here. Not much to interest young people here, either. No peers--just a few. Time for a change. The agencies have been working on finding a situation for David in Marquette (the U.P.'s biggest city--it has 20,000 people!), and the Friday visit was about meeting with the local housing commission with documentation that shows he qualifies for subsidized housing. During our brief visit, we also met with a young adult group that meets at the city library (about two blocks from the apartment building), and he got along with them very well. Once he moves--early to mid June--they can start work on finding a job for him. The people I spoke with sound pretty positive about that. They know David and like him.

Bottom line: After living with/near us all his life, David will be leaving us in a few weeks. I do not like it. Not at all. For my selfish reasons--I like having him around and doing things with him, taking him places. But it doesn't take a genius to see that this will be very good for David in many ways--more job prospects, more people his age to spend time with, more intersting stuff taking place, more shops (the apartment building is near the downtown area). Marquette has a bus system, too, so he can get around even though he doesn't drive. (Honest to goodness mass transit--a totally foreign concept here!) I know David will grow and be happy there. What more could I want? He's really looking forward to it. One thing he has to do is get a cell phone--we went to Iron Mountain on Tuesday to take care of that.

Before you ask: Marquette is about 90 miles from Iron River. And I checked on Google Maps: It won't be much harder to take David to Detroit with us--going to Detroit by way of Marquette only adds about 20 miles to a 500+ mile trip. With the baby coming, we probably will be driving down there more often, especially as I dial down work and go from full-time to part-time. That may be happening around the end of the year, after I turn 65. Not sure exactly when.

Lots happening. Looks like a busy summer. We will help David with his move early in June. Since the move is in early to mid June, we pushed back the Detroit trip to early July. And I want to get together with Kitty whenever I can. She is working part-time in home health care now, and has flexible hours. We got together for an afternoon recently. Just a few hours together. We talked a lot and went to a local park, where we lay down and cuddled. It was warm enough that we could take off our jackets. I think we were in the mid 50s! (One day later was the snowy track meet I mentioned earlier.)

If I didn't mention it, she and I are NOT going to Freedom Festival in southern Wisconsin over the Fourth of July. She has a family wedding on July 5, and that's impossible to miss. She's sad about that--our trips to Freedom Festival the last two years have been the highlight of our summer, despite dealing with record heat in 2012 and record mosquitoes in 2013. We hope to go camping some time this summer, if schedules and the weather permit. I probably will not go to the event by myself this year, simply because too much is happening already, and it's not fun to sleep in a tent by yourself.

What I did do, however, is get a nice acrylic Mexican-type striped blanket for us to relax on during our hikes and visits to area parks and campgrounds. I also got a canvas backpack, where we can stow things like jackets and water bottles and lunches and discarded articles of clothing during our summer adventures.

The last major piece of news is that I am growing a beard. A playoff beard. The Detroit Red Wings ended their season on April 13, and that's when I put the razor away--not to be used again until after the Red Wings were eliminated from the NHL playoffs. That happened in less than two weeks. But my wife took pity on me and said I can keep it as long as the Chicago Blackhawks are in the playoffs--they have made it to the conference finals.

Kitty loves it. She loves beards and facial hair, so I'm her grizzly bear. (I feel pretty grisly and pretty scratchy, too.) As for Janet, I think she is enjoying it, too. She strokes my furry face and teases me from time to time. The chips are down once the Blackhawks' season is over. What will she say then?

The thing about it ... the last time I grow a beard, it was in the early 1980s, and it was part of a centennial celebration here. The beard came in reddish brown. Thirty years later, it's coming in whitish white. My grandpa (on my dad's side) had white hair late in life, and so did my dad. So will I. The hair on my head is still mostly brown, but I can see more and more white. Comes with the territory, I guess.

Work is ... work. I'm looking forward to cutting back more and more.