"As jewels are polished bright by diamond dust, so minds are polished bright by other minds." Friends who love books gathered one day last week to talk about the novel, "The Reivers", and to watch the 1969 movie. Dialogue as written by Faulkner
was part of the screenplay, one of the best ever conversions of a book to a movie.
An intellectually stimulating day!
Monday, November 24, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Kitchen Table Visits
Sitting around the kitchen table in Knoxville, Tennessee drinking coffee and visiting with my aunt and cousins. . . Once I told my 91 year old aunt that she was my favorite aunt and she laughed, "I am the only aunt you have left!" It's true; there were other aunts of whom I was quite fond. We try to get to Tennessee once a year to keep up because this one is special.
We were telling her of a friend who continues to work at age 80.
"So, what is 80?" she said. Conversations flow easily between the generations and
we love to visit with their family.
Aunt Jo is treated with great respect and kindness by her daughters and sons-in-law.
If only more older people could have the quality of life that she enjoys. Thank you, God, for families.
We were telling her of a friend who continues to work at age 80.
"So, what is 80?" she said. Conversations flow easily between the generations and
we love to visit with their family.
Aunt Jo is treated with great respect and kindness by her daughters and sons-in-law.
If only more older people could have the quality of life that she enjoys. Thank you, God, for families.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Election 2008
I voted for Barack Obama because he seems to be a statesman. I was impressed with his ability to express complex ideas, his unflappable calmness and his listening skills. I believe he has an open-ness to different ways of thinking and that he can see the “big picture”. He may lack experience, but I believe he will create a team which will work together for the good of the nation.
Race counted for little for me in this situation. In the aftermath of
the election, I was taken back by the rejoicing of the media in the historical
moment of an African-American president and by the rejoicing of the international community. (See my blog - London newspapers, July 22)
Looking back, I remember the “second table” for the hired man, and the hired girl who always sat in the back seat even when my mother was the only person in front. It is hard to imagine that teen-agers found it necessary to ride a bus 30 miles to go to the black high school. Our African-American neighbors sat in the balcony of the church at my wedding. Looking back at the photographs, my children accused me of being “racist.” I try to tell them that it was all we knew. Fish cannot look at the water in which they swim.
In the morass of bad news about the economy, crime, et cetera, our election process is a beacon of light. America can truly re-invent itself. I am proud!
Race counted for little for me in this situation. In the aftermath of
the election, I was taken back by the rejoicing of the media in the historical
moment of an African-American president and by the rejoicing of the international community. (See my blog - London newspapers, July 22)
Looking back, I remember the “second table” for the hired man, and the hired girl who always sat in the back seat even when my mother was the only person in front. It is hard to imagine that teen-agers found it necessary to ride a bus 30 miles to go to the black high school. Our African-American neighbors sat in the balcony of the church at my wedding. Looking back at the photographs, my children accused me of being “racist.” I try to tell them that it was all we knew. Fish cannot look at the water in which they swim.
In the morass of bad news about the economy, crime, et cetera, our election process is a beacon of light. America can truly re-invent itself. I am proud!
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Correction
The e-mail address for ordering "Skip-Come-A-Lou" should be kborgman@iland.net
The book is $18 plus $5 shipping.
The book is $18 plus $5 shipping.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
News Release for "Skip-Come-A-Lou", historic children's book
Friends of Arrow Rock have released a reprint of the popular 1928 children’s book, Skip-Come-A-Lou, “Medora Mehitable Green was eight years old when she rode behind her father on his horse all the way from St. Louis to Arrow Rock. Nathaniel Green arranged with the Sivier family, operators of the Arrow Rock Tavern, to care for Medora while he went west to Santa Fe , New Mexico , to become a trader.
Medora’s mother had died from “the fever”, malaria, in St. Louis . Medora was a spirited, mischievous child whose adventures in the book, "Skip-Come-A-Lou", give a picture of Santa Fe Trail times in Arrow Rock during the early 1800s.
Medora and her experiences are fiction, but Ada Claire Darby, the author, used accurate historical details when she wrote the book in 1928.
As a child at Jester R-9, a country school, I read and loved Skip-Come-a-Lou. When Jester eventually closed, the book went to the Eastwood School library. My children checked it out, and we read it together.
Copies became more and more scarce. The former elementary librarian for Marshall Public Schools said that fourth grade teachers passed the copy around to read the book aloud during the Missouri history unit. Eventually, Skip-Come-A-Lou became too tattered and worn to be used in the classroom.
A retired third grade Marshall Public Schools teacher recalled the book with fondness. “The kids really identified with Medora, and when we went to Arrow Rock on field trips, they remembered details from the book.” Medora is a strong female character; Mrs. Sivier described her as “a piece of thistledown”. . .difficult to keep out of trouble.
Medora tells about a hole in one of the Tavern doors for cats to come and go. For decades, that cat entry really did exist in one of the doors, and children always looked for it. Restoration of the Tavern eventually did away with the cat door, but visitors can still imagine Medora and Jinny, the little slave girl, going about their days in the tavern setting.
Several years ago, I began to pursue ways that the book might be re-published. Friends of Arrow Rock expressed an interest if we could find a publisher. I mailed out dozens of letters to publishing companies, none of whom had interest in an old book. Then one day, we found an ad from Applewood Books saying that they would re-publish historical books if an organization would agree to sell them in their gift shop.
I had researched the copyright and had evidence that we could legally reproduce the book. The publishing process went on for almost three years, and I felt despair that anything would come of our efforts. However, in early October, the promotional book arrived at the Friends of Arrow Rock office. We had located a color-plate from an early edition of Medora sitting on the lap of Washington Irving with her playmate, Jinny, nearby. Applewood Books incorporated the illustration into the cover of the new book.
Skip-Come-A-Lou gives today’s children an interesting and entertaining glimpse into the past. As Ada Claire Darby writes, “Nowadays we never hear of gritting meal (from corn). When everything comes put up in paper sacks or neat little boxes, we are not apt to think of its original form. But in those early days in Missouri , people had to do many things for themselves that are done for us today. They spun their own linen, wove their own woolens, cured their own meat, and all the other things that are done in great factories nowadays.”
Ada Claire Darby was born in Fayette , Missouri , and lived in St. Joseph as an adult. She was described in the 1914 Women’s Who’s Who in America as “interested in church work, club work, and the YWCA. Favors women’s suffrage. Episcopalian, Republican, plays bridge.” Obviously this description was written before Ms. Darby wrote several popular children’s books with historical themes.
"Skip-Come-A-Lou" can be ordered from the Friends of Arrow Rock office, www.friendsar.org The cost is $18.00 plus $5.00 shipping. All profits go to Friends of Arrow Rock.
Medora’s mother had died from “the fever”, malaria, in St. Louis . Medora was a spirited, mischievous child whose adventures in the book, "Skip-Come-A-Lou", give a picture of Santa Fe Trail times in Arrow Rock during the early 1800s.
Medora and her experiences are fiction, but Ada Claire Darby, the author, used accurate historical details when she wrote the book in 1928.
As a child at Jester R-9, a country school, I read and loved Skip-Come-a-Lou. When Jester eventually closed, the book went to the Eastwood School library. My children checked it out, and we read it together.
Copies became more and more scarce. The former elementary librarian for Marshall Public Schools said that fourth grade teachers passed the copy around to read the book aloud during the Missouri history unit. Eventually, Skip-Come-A-Lou became too tattered and worn to be used in the classroom.
A retired third grade Marshall Public Schools teacher recalled the book with fondness. “The kids really identified with Medora, and when we went to Arrow Rock on field trips, they remembered details from the book.” Medora is a strong female character; Mrs. Sivier described her as “a piece of thistledown”. . .difficult to keep out of trouble.
Medora tells about a hole in one of the Tavern doors for cats to come and go. For decades, that cat entry really did exist in one of the doors, and children always looked for it. Restoration of the Tavern eventually did away with the cat door, but visitors can still imagine Medora and Jinny, the little slave girl, going about their days in the tavern setting.
Several years ago, I began to pursue ways that the book might be re-published. Friends of Arrow Rock expressed an interest if we could find a publisher. I mailed out dozens of letters to publishing companies, none of whom had interest in an old book. Then one day, we found an ad from Applewood Books saying that they would re-publish historical books if an organization would agree to sell them in their gift shop.
I had researched the copyright and had evidence that we could legally reproduce the book. The publishing process went on for almost three years, and I felt despair that anything would come of our efforts. However, in early October, the promotional book arrived at the Friends of Arrow Rock office. We had located a color-plate from an early edition of Medora sitting on the lap of Washington Irving with her playmate, Jinny, nearby. Applewood Books incorporated the illustration into the cover of the new book.
Skip-Come-A-Lou gives today’s children an interesting and entertaining glimpse into the past. As Ada Claire Darby writes, “Nowadays we never hear of gritting meal (from corn). When everything comes put up in paper sacks or neat little boxes, we are not apt to think of its original form. But in those early days in Missouri , people had to do many things for themselves that are done for us today. They spun their own linen, wove their own woolens, cured their own meat, and all the other things that are done in great factories nowadays.”
Ada Claire Darby was born in Fayette , Missouri , and lived in St. Joseph as an adult. She was described in the 1914 Women’s Who’s Who in America as “interested in church work, club work, and the YWCA. Favors women’s suffrage. Episcopalian, Republican, plays bridge.” Obviously this description was written before Ms. Darby wrote several popular children’s books with historical themes.
"Skip-Come-A-Lou" can be ordered from the Friends of Arrow Rock office, www.friendsar.org The cost is $18.00 plus $5.00 shipping. All profits go to Friends of Arrow Rock.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
My Father's Notebook
Today while searching for a phone number, I came across a small notebook in which my father had copied thoughts he wanted to remember. Mouse-eaten pages held statements in his own script. The process of handwriting was not his strong suit; a teacher in his early grades forced him to write with his right hand when his left was more natural for him. Then, too, he was not usually given to express serious thinking, though he was a sterling person. Different colors of ink indicate that he wrote at different times. Interspersed with Bible verses were quotes from "The Power of Positive Thinking" by Norman Vincent Peal (1952). A sample:
The man who is self-reliant, positive and optimistic and undertakes his work with the assurance of success, magnetizes his condition. He draws to himself the creative powers of the universe.
If you want a quality, act as if you already had it.
Forget those things which are behind, and reach forward to those things which are before you.
None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm.
My father would have been 100 years old this month; he led a productive life until age 88. I feel as if I have had a visit with him once again.
The man who is self-reliant, positive and optimistic and undertakes his work with the assurance of success, magnetizes his condition. He draws to himself the creative powers of the universe.
If you want a quality, act as if you already had it.
Forget those things which are behind, and reach forward to those things which are before you.
None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm.
My father would have been 100 years old this month; he led a productive life until age 88. I feel as if I have had a visit with him once again.
Monday, October 27, 2008
A Heartwarming Moment
Last week-end we attended my husband's 45th year reunion of his medical school class.
Following the brunch before the football game, the 25 to 30 returning members of his class had an "open mike" for their group. Some told funny stories from med school days, others spoke of their favorite professor or what had inspired them to pursue their specialty. Richard is never one to be serious and he does not like public speaking. I expected him to pass. But he went to the microphone and said, "The most important thing that happened to me in medical school was when Temp (his classmate) and Corrine (a sorority sister) fixed me up with my wife, Carol." I was dumfounded! I will certainly forgive him for not remembering anniversaries and passing over Valentine's Day every year!
Following the brunch before the football game, the 25 to 30 returning members of his class had an "open mike" for their group. Some told funny stories from med school days, others spoke of their favorite professor or what had inspired them to pursue their specialty. Richard is never one to be serious and he does not like public speaking. I expected him to pass. But he went to the microphone and said, "The most important thing that happened to me in medical school was when Temp (his classmate) and Corrine (a sorority sister) fixed me up with my wife, Carol." I was dumfounded! I will certainly forgive him for not remembering anniversaries and passing over Valentine's Day every year!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Harvest
My grandfathers (maternal and paternal), whose land we farm, would be aghast at learning that the corn yield in one of our fields was over 200 bushels per acre in 2008.
A few acres even made as high as 250 bushels! My ancestors drove their workhorses and did cornhusking by hand for a yield of 40 to 50 bushels an acre on this very same ground. Our season of excess rain played a part in the excellent crop.
Jane and I read our books in the pick-up trucks, while Richard and Nelson, my cousin and the farmer who does the row crops, went to check a small section which suffered from chemical drift from the crop-duster spraying a neighbor's field. Richard climbed the steep ladder and joined Nelson in the eye of the great green monster whose teeth gobble up ten rows of corn on each circuit.
Indian summer and a late frost bless us with an abundant crop. A covey of quail has moved into the area carefully prepared to increase their kind. In a world of bad news and insecurities, our corn field is a gift of God's grace.
A few acres even made as high as 250 bushels! My ancestors drove their workhorses and did cornhusking by hand for a yield of 40 to 50 bushels an acre on this very same ground. Our season of excess rain played a part in the excellent crop.
Jane and I read our books in the pick-up trucks, while Richard and Nelson, my cousin and the farmer who does the row crops, went to check a small section which suffered from chemical drift from the crop-duster spraying a neighbor's field. Richard climbed the steep ladder and joined Nelson in the eye of the great green monster whose teeth gobble up ten rows of corn on each circuit.
Indian summer and a late frost bless us with an abundant crop. A covey of quail has moved into the area carefully prepared to increase their kind. In a world of bad news and insecurities, our corn field is a gift of God's grace.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
More than grieving and sadness. . .
Words cannot describe how I was touched recently by the funeral service
of the 96 year old mother of one of my friends. As morning light filtered through the stained glass of the sanctuary, the pews were filled with several generations and many mourners.
But it was more than grieving and sadness. The family remembrances
expressed somehow wove the listeners together with an elusive inner truth, a sense of oneness and unity. For a few hushed moments, we seemed to understand the ultimate purpose of life’s relationships, and we felt our personal connection in the great Circle of Being.
A cloak of God’s grace rested on our shoulders, as all too soon, we walked out into the sunlit autumn day to return to the quandaries and concerns of daily living. In the celebration of a long and fruitful life, we were blessed with a sacred understanding of the value of each life in
the omniscience of the universe. I continue to cherish the experience.
of the 96 year old mother of one of my friends. As morning light filtered through the stained glass of the sanctuary, the pews were filled with several generations and many mourners.
But it was more than grieving and sadness. The family remembrances
expressed somehow wove the listeners together with an elusive inner truth, a sense of oneness and unity. For a few hushed moments, we seemed to understand the ultimate purpose of life’s relationships, and we felt our personal connection in the great Circle of Being.
A cloak of God’s grace rested on our shoulders, as all too soon, we walked out into the sunlit autumn day to return to the quandaries and concerns of daily living. In the celebration of a long and fruitful life, we were blessed with a sacred understanding of the value of each life in
the omniscience of the universe. I continue to cherish the experience.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Camping
Last night we moved our Casita trailer to the back of the farm. As we stopped the pick-up truck, an antlered buck came charging toward us at full speed. Apparently the truck lights blinded him; about 20 feet away, he veered and disappeared into the soybean field. We thought we were going to be assaulted!
Stars came out one by one and a new moon appeared. Coyotes howled nearby. In the cool breeze, we seemed hundreds of miles away from home instead of a couple of miles down the road. A good night to escape Wall Street worries, political campaigns, local courtroom dramas.
We awoke to the sound of cows by the nearby pasture fence curiously observing us. A retreat that renewed the soul.
Stars came out one by one and a new moon appeared. Coyotes howled nearby. In the cool breeze, we seemed hundreds of miles away from home instead of a couple of miles down the road. A good night to escape Wall Street worries, political campaigns, local courtroom dramas.
We awoke to the sound of cows by the nearby pasture fence curiously observing us. A retreat that renewed the soul.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Are we there yet?
Clear Lake
White Cloud
Little Otter Creek
Knife River
Sawtooth Mountain
Two Harbors
Beaver Bay
Timberlane Cabins
Grand Marais
Bluewater Cafe
Grand Portage
Gunflint Trail
Boundary Waters
Thunder Bay
Armstrong Ontario
Caribou Lake
Forrest Lodge
. . .Fishing!
For more than 30 years my husband and friends have canoed and camped up north where the roads end. Last year they discovered a lovely camp with cabins and invited
wives. A new experience for me. So cold I wore everything I brought in my suitcase the first day and kept warm in spite of driving rain while my boat pilot was lost on the lake for more than an hour during a storm. Surprisingly, I got back in the boat again, and I developed a taste for being outdoors all day long in the weather. Nature seeps inside your soul and crowds out all the mental baggage one carries around. I have learned that Canada trips are not about the fish!
White Cloud
Little Otter Creek
Knife River
Sawtooth Mountain
Two Harbors
Beaver Bay
Timberlane Cabins
Grand Marais
Bluewater Cafe
Grand Portage
Gunflint Trail
Boundary Waters
Thunder Bay
Armstrong Ontario
Caribou Lake
Forrest Lodge
. . .Fishing!
For more than 30 years my husband and friends have canoed and camped up north where the roads end. Last year they discovered a lovely camp with cabins and invited
wives. A new experience for me. So cold I wore everything I brought in my suitcase the first day and kept warm in spite of driving rain while my boat pilot was lost on the lake for more than an hour during a storm. Surprisingly, I got back in the boat again, and I developed a taste for being outdoors all day long in the weather. Nature seeps inside your soul and crowds out all the mental baggage one carries around. I have learned that Canada trips are not about the fish!
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Summertime
Between June 1 and September 1, 2008, I was in the presence of grandchildren in one combination or another for 68 days! Time well-spent and a great privilege. . .
From traveling with a 14 year old grandson to listening to a two year old enlarge his vocabulary, it was a great joy. Richard and I have been greatly blessed with family experiences this summer - fishing in the farm pond, riding in the back of the pick-up in the pasture checking the cow herd, chaperoning horse rides, wading in creeks--the fun goes on and on!
From traveling with a 14 year old grandson to listening to a two year old enlarge his vocabulary, it was a great joy. Richard and I have been greatly blessed with family experiences this summer - fishing in the farm pond, riding in the back of the pick-up in the pasture checking the cow herd, chaperoning horse rides, wading in creeks--the fun goes on and on!
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Twinkle Twinkle Little Shoe
Twinkle, twinkle little shoe
How I wonder how you do
Neon sparkles at each step
Pounding energy and pep
Don't you tire of constant shine
Busy children tarnish mine!
In honor of a small tennis shoe, recently through the washing machine cycle,
that flashes relentlessly 24 hours a day regardless of whether occupied by a little foot!
How I wonder how you do
Neon sparkles at each step
Pounding energy and pep
Don't you tire of constant shine
Busy children tarnish mine!
In honor of a small tennis shoe, recently through the washing machine cycle,
that flashes relentlessly 24 hours a day regardless of whether occupied by a little foot!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
More about increased food prices -
I feel vindicated. See entry from London, July 17. The President's Office of Economic Development has made the estimate that about 3% of the 40% rise in food prices world-wide is due to the production of ethanol from corn. The most outrageous statement I heard is when movie theatres in the Southwest raised the price of their super-large boxes of popcorn to $5 because of the biofuel production from corn. Folks--ethanol is not made from popcorn!
The cornfields seem to be thriving on the rain forest climate we have had this summer. Many rural roads are closed from overflowing creeks at present. We have seen seven crop-dusters at work almost daily for a couple of weeks now as it is too wet to get into the fields to spray. Enough planes to make it sound like the Blitz!
The cornfields seem to be thriving on the rain forest climate we have had this summer. Many rural roads are closed from overflowing creeks at present. We have seen seven crop-dusters at work almost daily for a couple of weeks now as it is too wet to get into the fields to spray. Enough planes to make it sound like the Blitz!
Friday, July 25, 2008
Home again. . .
Pardon a little old-fashioned sentimentality. . .
So it's home again, and home again, America for me!
My heart is turning home again and there I long to be,
In the land of youth and freedom, beyond the ocean bars,
Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.
Henry Van Dyke 1909
So it's home again, and home again, America for me!
My heart is turning home again and there I long to be,
In the land of youth and freedom, beyond the ocean bars,
Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.
Henry Van Dyke 1909
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
London Newspapers
Less American news than usual while I have been here, however, I have read articles about several current issues which have clarified for me what is going on, and British reporters have expressed approval of the direction we are moving. Example: the Boeing, Northrup, EAD aircraft contract. As usual, there is overall friendliness to the USA in spite of cynicism. People will cross a crowded room to visit when they hear an American drawl in your voice!
From Gerard Baker in the July 18, 2008 issue of The Times: What people dislike about President Bush is what they think they know about America--its' ignorance, its' arrogance, its' narrow-mindedness--all caricatures fed by the media coverage of the country and its' politics and culture. But there was, it is true, always the other side to the ambivalence of the world's thoughts
about America. The rise of Senator Obama is a reminder of what the rest of the world still admires--sometimes grudgingly--about America: a constant capacity to renew itself.
From Gerard Baker in the July 18, 2008 issue of The Times: What people dislike about President Bush is what they think they know about America--its' ignorance, its' arrogance, its' narrow-mindedness--all caricatures fed by the media coverage of the country and its' politics and culture. But there was, it is true, always the other side to the ambivalence of the world's thoughts
about America. The rise of Senator Obama is a reminder of what the rest of the world still admires--sometimes grudgingly--about America: a constant capacity to renew itself.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Summer Picnic at St. John's Church, Hyde Park
Private gardens behind Susanne's church were opened to the congregation for a huge barbecue today. Jens went early to grill and Richard tagged along. He was pressed into service to serve red or white wine or ginger beer. Not your Midwestern sort of church picnic! Nick met a 12 year old boy from Kuwait who came down to the garden from his grandparent's eighth floor apartment in the tower block to see what was going on in the garden. He is spending the summer here and told us about how week-ends begin on Thursday there because of the Muslem Holy Day on Friday and that they all go out to the desert to camp for the week-end, cooking out of doors and riding ATVs on the sand dunes. He checked his cel phone and reported the temperature there is 122 Fahrenheit today. It was a fun visit.
I always love attending St. John's, a friendly Church of England parish. A baby was christened today and champagne was served at the coffee hour. Weekly study groups meet at a nearby pub. Susanne is on the church board now and thoroughly enjoys the international flavor of the congregation. The event was called a "summer barbecue" because of grilling meat outdoors--not to be confused with the spicy red sauce as we know it. "Meat, wine, and strawberries provided."
I always love attending St. John's, a friendly Church of England parish. A baby was christened today and champagne was served at the coffee hour. Weekly study groups meet at a nearby pub. Susanne is on the church board now and thoroughly enjoys the international flavor of the congregation. The event was called a "summer barbecue" because of grilling meat outdoors--not to be confused with the spicy red sauce as we know it. "Meat, wine, and strawberries provided."
Friday, July 18, 2008
Togetherness in a London Flat
Traveling with our 14 year old Texas grandson has been an adventure. Seven of us (counting the two little London boys) in a two bedroom flat. All Susanne needs, I told her, is a large dog like the ones we see being walked in Hyde Park! Nick usually talks in monosyllables to adults, but he has been charming and sociable. We see a side of London we never noticed before. . .the makes of every car parked on the street. As we saw a Lambragini, the trip was not in vain. The London Dungeon was the highlight of the week. Richard, Grandfather of the Year, went along on this amusement park type event, including a personal experience, the simulated hanging of Jack the Ripper. "Next time, someone else goes. . .,' he said.
The population density of the flat was relieved for several days as Jens went to Abu Dhabi to check on the big airport project.
He returned today, and we try to accommodate so that everyone can get along in the limited space. Susanne is busy launching Kindermusic classes for ages birth to seven years beginning in the fall.
Renewing our acquaintance with King Henry VIII, Shakespeare, Christopher Wren, and World War II history has been stimulating.
Time with families is a great blessing to be enjoyed!
The population density of the flat was relieved for several days as Jens went to Abu Dhabi to check on the big airport project.
He returned today, and we try to accommodate so that everyone can get along in the limited space. Susanne is busy launching Kindermusic classes for ages birth to seven years beginning in the fall.
Renewing our acquaintance with King Henry VIII, Shakespeare, Christopher Wren, and World War II history has been stimulating.
Time with families is a great blessing to be enjoyed!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
The States as seen by British media. . .
The cardinal rule for our visits to London is to spend as little money as possible. We stay with Susanne and Jens in their flat and eat primarily at home. However, I do require a daily newspaper as the perspective on American news is enlightening. Immediately, I was rankled to learn that British food costs are up 40%, and the cause is determined to be production of ethanol from corn by American farmers. Of course, a grain of truth exists (no pun intended!), but I suspect a conspiracy to cover up real facts. Transportation costs have to be a major factor, and the oil industry tries to deflect attention to biofuels. We live in such a fog of misinformation.
The Times and The Guardian fret over the American economy and credit card debt. Lionel Shriver says tersely, `SUVs are petro-pigs. . .they emblemize everything about Americans that the rest of the world detests: greedy, wasteful and oblivious to the future.'
Always eye-opening to see ourselves as others see us.
Sad to see Susanne's neighborhood Woolworth's decimated by shoppers at its' closing. Likewise, Linens and Things and a number of other stores in the Midwest are shutting their doors. "Under a Tenner" has opened in the next block. Americans, read that "Under a Twenty Dollar Bill." Our Dollar Stores would be trampled by desperate bargain hunters in the UK. Travel advertisements for vacations in the States are very reasonable; shopping is a big draw. Our country is the great bargain basement at the moment!
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Night Sounds
No roosters crowing to greet the dawn
No midnight freight train wailing
No chirping crickets or the 'ta-whoo' of owls
Rumble of the night-time underground mail route
Plaintive cry of the sea-gull
Police cars siren. . .'wee-oh', 'wee-oh'
Arabic laughter in the darkness*
LONDON!
*Middle Eastern people gather on the streets to socialize in late evening because
they stay inside during the day in their homelands because of the heat.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Repairs have been made!
Friends near Seattle, Washington, and in San Antonio, Texas, called me when they saw a problem with the blog, and people can once again have access. . . a small error in my settings. Humanity is woven together by electronic means in 2008, a great blessing! Thanks - Mary and Jo!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
National Country Barn Quilt Trail
When our barn was built in 1910, a huge walnut tree stood by the dirt road which passed in front, and gypsy caravans found it a favorite place to camp. My grandfather and his two brothers, immigrants from Germany, worked from dawn to dusk with horse drawn equipment.
Sheep, cows, work-horses, turkeys, ducks and chickens passed through the doors, not to mention legions of barn cats. (Hogs were always kept further back in the pasture because of their odor.)
As a child, I spent hours playing in the colossal loft and riding my horse in and out. I can still imagine myself standing at the open hayloft door (below the left window) full of caution at the dizzy height!
The "Farmer's Daughter" quilt pattern marks our barn as the farm has been passed down through women for three generations. We are proud to be part of the National Country Barn Quilt Trail.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Blog problems
I am aware that no one can read this at present. I have spent hours trying to figure out the problem. Planning to go ahead and write as usual and hope something works out!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
On guns
Today I heard that the Supreme Court upheld the individual's right to carry a gun for self-defense and protection. Yesterday a person in Henderson, Kentucky, shot and killed five people at the Atlantis Plastics plant, then killed himself. The news was so "ho-hum" that our regional news didn't even report it.
In our county, people just get drunk and shoot their television sets. Why can't everyone else be as civilized?
In our county, people just get drunk and shoot their television sets. Why can't everyone else be as civilized?
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Summer Fun
Twelve baby kittens at the farm
Hollyhock dolls
Wading in a sand-bottomed creek
Firefly catching
Goldfish swimming in the water garden
Mud puddle splashing
Bicycling through a walnut grove
Snails, pillbugs, and butterflies
Sandwiches at a playground
Water sprayed from a hose
Following trails in the state park
Fishing at sunset
. . .Summer Fun!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The Great American Desert
Sitting in the intense sunshine of the desert gardens of the University of Texas at El Paso. . .while my family members are at work, I enjoy a concert by Mockingbird. Simulated rain drips on mission bells into a quiet pool. The morning breeze makes the 103 degree heat rather pleasant.
Quite a change in milieu from the rain-drenched Midwest. No hand-wringing here over the delay in planting soybeans or worries of rivers overflowing into homes, farms, and towns. Anxious minds in the Great Pass to the North worry over violence in Juarez, their twin city in Mexico. Over 400 people have been murdered since the first of the year in by warring druglords. Mexican military patrol the streets. Law enforcement officials in Texas and New Mexico have been placed on the "hit list." A chilling reminder of the Wild West.
Yet the American way of life appears to flow smoothly--grocery clerks seamlessly switch from Spanish to English and back again in the customer line. The top priority in border justice does not seem to focus on illegal immigrants.
An actual street here is named "Glory Road," and Coach Don Haskins continues to be a local celebrity. But the civilized life we lead in the U.S.A., held together with gossamer threads, should be regarded with reverence and appreciation.
Quite a change in milieu from the rain-drenched Midwest. No hand-wringing here over the delay in planting soybeans or worries of rivers overflowing into homes, farms, and towns. Anxious minds in the Great Pass to the North worry over violence in Juarez, their twin city in Mexico. Over 400 people have been murdered since the first of the year in by warring druglords. Mexican military patrol the streets. Law enforcement officials in Texas and New Mexico have been placed on the "hit list." A chilling reminder of the Wild West.
Yet the American way of life appears to flow smoothly--grocery clerks seamlessly switch from Spanish to English and back again in the customer line. The top priority in border justice does not seem to focus on illegal immigrants.
An actual street here is named "Glory Road," and Coach Don Haskins continues to be a local celebrity. But the civilized life we lead in the U.S.A., held together with gossamer threads, should be regarded with reverence and appreciation.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Annual United Methodist Conference #3
"Evangelism" is a word that makes me queasy. I picture someone handing out religious literature or trying to convert me to an idea without taking into account the beliefs that I hold dear. Changing people from one denomination to another does not seem to count as "going into the world and making disciples."
I have come to believe that relationships are the primary ingredient involved. Listening is a powerful way to demonstrate love. As St. Francis said so eloquently, "Preach the gospel
everywhere, always. . .when necessary, use words."
However, we are all aware of individuals experiencing stressful life changes, broken relationships and emptiness in their lives. Buying more stuff, exercising longer hours, or starting a new diet
does not fill hollowness of the soul. We believe that the Spirit of Jesus transforms.
With a smile, Doug Anderson, in speaking to the 1800 delegates of our regional United Methodist Conference, estimated that every 38 years, a Methodist invites someone to church. "Too many of us have our light hidden, our salt buried, and our leaven protected in airtight packages."
Certainly, if we are the hands of Christ reaching out to the drowning, we need to extend a firmer grip.*
*A thought from "If You Want to Walk on Water, You've Got to Get Out
of the Boat" by John Ortberg
I have come to believe that relationships are the primary ingredient involved. Listening is a powerful way to demonstrate love. As St. Francis said so eloquently, "Preach the gospel
everywhere, always. . .when necessary, use words."
However, we are all aware of individuals experiencing stressful life changes, broken relationships and emptiness in their lives. Buying more stuff, exercising longer hours, or starting a new diet
does not fill hollowness of the soul. We believe that the Spirit of Jesus transforms.
With a smile, Doug Anderson, in speaking to the 1800 delegates of our regional United Methodist Conference, estimated that every 38 years, a Methodist invites someone to church. "Too many of us have our light hidden, our salt buried, and our leaven protected in airtight packages."
Certainly, if we are the hands of Christ reaching out to the drowning, we need to extend a firmer grip.*
*A thought from "If You Want to Walk on Water, You've Got to Get Out
of the Boat" by John Ortberg
Friday, June 13, 2008
Annual United Methodist Conference
Sitting in the conference hotel dining room, I noticed another delegate who was also eating alone and asked her to join me. Reverend Barbara Lovelace, United Methodist minister, told me that she had been a career foster parent for several years after retiring. We discovered we had much in common as I had once worked as a therapist with a therapeutic foster care program; we had a lively conversation.
Some time after her retirement, the district superintendent in her area called her and asked if she would pick up the ministry again with two small churches and she agreed. We talked about social problems in rural areas and shared thoughts about how churches might be able to meet the needs. She and I both enjoyed the variety of music and worship styles of the conference worship services and discussed how these ideas might fit into our home churches.
One of the pleasures of participating in a large conference gathering is the people whom you meet and from whom you learn. Before we parted, Barbara told me that she is 87 years old.
Some time after her retirement, the district superintendent in her area called her and asked if she would pick up the ministry again with two small churches and she agreed. We talked about social problems in rural areas and shared thoughts about how churches might be able to meet the needs. She and I both enjoyed the variety of music and worship styles of the conference worship services and discussed how these ideas might fit into our home churches.
One of the pleasures of participating in a large conference gathering is the people whom you meet and from whom you learn. Before we parted, Barbara told me that she is 87 years old.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Annual Conference of John Wesley "do-gooders"
Twenty-one million people in the world today crawl because of land mines, cluster bombs, war, and birth defects. The leg handicapped cannot work or carry on daily activities of living. Often they lie in dark back rooms of houses and are left out of the mainstream of life.
In 1994 an idea was conceived. . .Methodist missionaries from Zaire, Larry and Laura Hills, said, “We need hand-cranked, sturdy, affordable wheelchairs with hauling capacity for the many persons we have with leg disabilities. They must travel very rough roads and trails.”
Here in the heartland of the United States, United Methodists designed and built prototypes of these wheelchairs for testing. Personal Energy Transportation (P.E.T.) was launched! Today P.E.T. International sends PETs all over the world and the organization has become inter-denominaltional.
At the 2008 annual conference, personal donations bought 600 PETs
which will be assembled in our region and sent to Africa or South America. John Wesley’s three simple rules included “Do good”,and we strive to do just that.
In 1994 an idea was conceived. . .Methodist missionaries from Zaire, Larry and Laura Hills, said, “We need hand-cranked, sturdy, affordable wheelchairs with hauling capacity for the many persons we have with leg disabilities. They must travel very rough roads and trails.”
Here in the heartland of the United States, United Methodists designed and built prototypes of these wheelchairs for testing. Personal Energy Transportation (P.E.T.) was launched! Today P.E.T. International sends PETs all over the world and the organization has become inter-denominaltional.
At the 2008 annual conference, personal donations bought 600 PETs
which will be assembled in our region and sent to Africa or South America. John Wesley’s three simple rules included “Do good”,and we strive to do just that.
Monday, June 2, 2008
On Sons-in-Law
As Father’s Day approaches, I am thinking of some of the finest fathers
I know: my four sons-in-law. Without exception, they are hard-workers, treat their wives (my daughters) with great respect, share in home and childcare responsibilities. All the adults in our family are child-centered, and my daughters and sons-in-law are committed to bringing up their children with values and integrity, working together as a team.
I have listened to many complaints from my contemporaries about the bums who married their daughters, and I wonder why we should be so fortunate. One from the East Coast, one Danish citizen, and two Middle American first cousins—each uniquely different from the other three, yet holding many common traits. In each, I see some of the sterling qualities that distinguish their father; my daughters must also have recognized these qualities.
They seem to enjoy and appreciate rural life even though they live in cities. One Christmas we gave each of them a farmer’s cap inscribed with “Hired Hand.” They have been undaunted by fence building, cattle round-ups, and working in the hayfield.
God has blessed our family with these gentle men.
I know: my four sons-in-law. Without exception, they are hard-workers, treat their wives (my daughters) with great respect, share in home and childcare responsibilities. All the adults in our family are child-centered, and my daughters and sons-in-law are committed to bringing up their children with values and integrity, working together as a team.
I have listened to many complaints from my contemporaries about the bums who married their daughters, and I wonder why we should be so fortunate. One from the East Coast, one Danish citizen, and two Middle American first cousins—each uniquely different from the other three, yet holding many common traits. In each, I see some of the sterling qualities that distinguish their father; my daughters must also have recognized these qualities.
They seem to enjoy and appreciate rural life even though they live in cities. One Christmas we gave each of them a farmer’s cap inscribed with “Hired Hand.” They have been undaunted by fence building, cattle round-ups, and working in the hayfield.
God has blessed our family with these gentle men.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Landscaping with Manure Spreaders
Landscaping with Manure Spreaders
Friends and relatives who live in metropolitan areas may ask, “What is a manure spreader?” The answer is pretty self-evident. Before chemical fertilizers, farmers cleaned their barns and chicken houses into a wagon with a chain-driven rotary fan on back scattering manure over fields and gardens. Rarely used today, this equipment is sometimes placed in a yard and filled with pots of flowering plants.
Our neighbors have one of these rural treasures which they decorate for the seasons. . .pumpkins at Halloween and Santa Claus at Christmas. Their little farmstead has horses and a variety of poultry. I wake to the joyous sound of roosters crowing. On sunny days, the chickens wander up through the thicket and scratch for bugs in the leaves in front of my house. A recent article in a contemporary gardening magazine suggested that chickens, raised as a hobby, are interesting garden ornaments. Free-range chickens do provide true country ambience.
Using what we find back in back of the barn has become a passion. The spidery silhouette of a horse drawn side-delivery hay rake on a hillside is a connection to the past. The antique walk-behind plow is converted into a mailbox post. An art form has developed from welded gears and broken machinery parts sculpted into animals and human figures. Now and then, you will see a skeletal metal man holding a mailbox at the end of a gravel drive near the road. We are partial, though, to green John Deere mailboxes. Many find it best to go low-key in mailbox décor, however, as jazzy designs attract teen-agers who cruise on Saturday night playing a game of bashing mailboxes with baseball bats.
We love rusted-out wheelbarrows, old washtubs on four legs, leaking tin coffee pots, abandoned hog troughs or aged tractor scoops packed with colorful bedding plants in the spring. Not the clipped green carpet of lawns in suburbia, we possess a distinctive regional style which is uniquely our own in rural America!
Friends and relatives who live in metropolitan areas may ask, “What is a manure spreader?” The answer is pretty self-evident. Before chemical fertilizers, farmers cleaned their barns and chicken houses into a wagon with a chain-driven rotary fan on back scattering manure over fields and gardens. Rarely used today, this equipment is sometimes placed in a yard and filled with pots of flowering plants.
Our neighbors have one of these rural treasures which they decorate for the seasons. . .pumpkins at Halloween and Santa Claus at Christmas. Their little farmstead has horses and a variety of poultry. I wake to the joyous sound of roosters crowing. On sunny days, the chickens wander up through the thicket and scratch for bugs in the leaves in front of my house. A recent article in a contemporary gardening magazine suggested that chickens, raised as a hobby, are interesting garden ornaments. Free-range chickens do provide true country ambience.
Using what we find back in back of the barn has become a passion. The spidery silhouette of a horse drawn side-delivery hay rake on a hillside is a connection to the past. The antique walk-behind plow is converted into a mailbox post. An art form has developed from welded gears and broken machinery parts sculpted into animals and human figures. Now and then, you will see a skeletal metal man holding a mailbox at the end of a gravel drive near the road. We are partial, though, to green John Deere mailboxes. Many find it best to go low-key in mailbox décor, however, as jazzy designs attract teen-agers who cruise on Saturday night playing a game of bashing mailboxes with baseball bats.
We love rusted-out wheelbarrows, old washtubs on four legs, leaking tin coffee pots, abandoned hog troughs or aged tractor scoops packed with colorful bedding plants in the spring. Not the clipped green carpet of lawns in suburbia, we possess a distinctive regional style which is uniquely our own in rural America!
Friday, May 23, 2008
The Phillipians 4:8 Principle
May 23, 2008
I try to adhere to the Phillipians 4:8 principle. But sometimes I find it difficult to focus on the good. In the middle of the night when I have been sick, I have actually worried about my husband's future second wife
and how she will treat my adult children. No doubt he would marry shortly after I am deceased as he is one of the better men around and women would pursue him. This is hardly a reasonable subject for me to mull over. . .
Believing as I do that imagination is one of the greatest gifts God gives us, I have invented a back door in my mind. I sweep unreasonable worrying out the back door into dump trucks which take it away for disposal. With practice, I can get control of my obsessive thinking.
Of course, serious problems require repeated processing, and healing after losing a loved one only comes after going over and over the loss in one's mind. But worrying over things totally out of our control is
fruitless; let God take charge.
Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious--the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Phillipians 4:8 The Message
I try to adhere to the Phillipians 4:8 principle. But sometimes I find it difficult to focus on the good. In the middle of the night when I have been sick, I have actually worried about my husband's future second wife
and how she will treat my adult children. No doubt he would marry shortly after I am deceased as he is one of the better men around and women would pursue him. This is hardly a reasonable subject for me to mull over. . .
Believing as I do that imagination is one of the greatest gifts God gives us, I have invented a back door in my mind. I sweep unreasonable worrying out the back door into dump trucks which take it away for disposal. With practice, I can get control of my obsessive thinking.
Of course, serious problems require repeated processing, and healing after losing a loved one only comes after going over and over the loss in one's mind. But worrying over things totally out of our control is
fruitless; let God take charge.
Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious--the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Phillipians 4:8 The Message
Monday, May 19, 2008
My Profile
May 19, 2008 I have been asked why my profile is blank. Haven't gotten to that yet. My family and friends know who I am. Perhaps I am shy about communicating with people I don't know very well. But, welcome strangers, eventually I will get around to filling it in. (I just figured out how to disable the transliteration of my postings into Hindi!)
Or maybe there is a streak of my dear friend Emily in me.
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us--don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog! (Dickinson)
Or maybe there is a streak of my dear friend Emily in me.
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us--don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog! (Dickinson)
Monday, May 12, 2008
Corrected edition of first blog
I dwell in a dense thicket with wild, tangled undergrowth in a Midwestern lodge, remote but close to small-town life. I watch seasons change, leaves fall and grass grow.
I am from the rich black soil of Saline County
I am from the one-room school and the “church in the wildwood”
I am from “The Lord helps those who help themselves” and
“Pretty is as pretty does”
I am from planting and harvesting and the frustration of broken equipment
I am from the song of the meadowlark and the cry of the killdeer
I am from hedgerows, fragrant backyard lilacs,and hollyhocks
I am from black cows standing in shallow ponds in summer and
frosted with snow sprinkles in winter
I am from droughts and floods and unpredictable Fahrenheits
I am from the scent of leather saddles and sweaty horses
I am from silky summer dust between bare toes and sloppy spring mud that sucks rubber boots from cold feet
I am from the crackle of khaki cornstalks in September and the indescribable perfume of fresh clover hay in June
I am from the voices of chickens and the rumble of grain trucks
I am from colossal haylofts and the pungent smell of cattle barns
I am from “What chew doin’on my road yestiday night?” and
“Call me if you need anything. . .”
I am from the “roo-al rout” (rural route) and the hum of grain dryers in fall
I am from daily talk of weather and crops and warm-hearted gossip in office break rooms and morning coffee groups
I am from stacks of books and carefully kept yearly journals
I am from barely repressed giggling with best-friend-daughters and the rowdy playfulness of children,
I am from friends of the soul who linger over long lunches and shared lives
I am from house calls, late dinners, phones that ring in the night
I am from listening, listening, listening to tales of broken relationships, and searches for repair
I am from friendly nods of greeting from drivers of pick-ups with gun racks behind their seats and border collies riding in the truck bed.
I am from sweet-natured men who work hard and care deeply
I am from love and laughter with a gentle cowboy from the Old West
I am from the hushed benediction of the prairie sunset
I am from answered prayers and God’s grace above, below, and all around my world
I am from the rich black soil of Saline County
I am from the one-room school and the “church in the wildwood”
I am from “The Lord helps those who help themselves” and
“Pretty is as pretty does”
I am from planting and harvesting and the frustration of broken equipment
I am from the song of the meadowlark and the cry of the killdeer
I am from hedgerows, fragrant backyard lilacs,and hollyhocks
I am from black cows standing in shallow ponds in summer and
frosted with snow sprinkles in winter
I am from droughts and floods and unpredictable Fahrenheits
I am from the scent of leather saddles and sweaty horses
I am from silky summer dust between bare toes and sloppy spring mud that sucks rubber boots from cold feet
I am from the crackle of khaki cornstalks in September and the indescribable perfume of fresh clover hay in June
I am from the voices of chickens and the rumble of grain trucks
I am from colossal haylofts and the pungent smell of cattle barns
I am from “What chew doin’on my road yestiday night?” and
“Call me if you need anything. . .”
I am from the “roo-al rout” (rural route) and the hum of grain dryers in fall
I am from daily talk of weather and crops and warm-hearted gossip in office break rooms and morning coffee groups
I am from stacks of books and carefully kept yearly journals
I am from barely repressed giggling with best-friend-daughters and the rowdy playfulness of children,
I am from friends of the soul who linger over long lunches and shared lives
I am from house calls, late dinners, phones that ring in the night
I am from listening, listening, listening to tales of broken relationships, and searches for repair
I am from friendly nods of greeting from drivers of pick-ups with gun racks behind their seats and border collies riding in the truck bed.
I am from sweet-natured men who work hard and care deeply
I am from love and laughter with a gentle cowboy from the Old West
I am from the hushed benediction of the prairie sunset
I am from answered prayers and God’s grace above, below, and all around my world
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