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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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!

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!