One of the things I like to do at the first of the year is clean things up...make an effort to get organized so I can start the year with a clue. The problem is there are two places in my world which need to be cleaned up---my work space and my home space. Together they are a pretty big mouthful. but the good news is that I get two shots at them!
November 30 is the first Sunday of the season of Advent in the life of the church and it is sort of considered to be a new year's day of sorts. That means I can spend this week cleaning my office and then wait a month before I tackle my desk here at the house! My office looks sort of like an explosion in a box factory. I have been accumulating boxes in anticipation of the coming move and they sort of got out of control. Then there is my two email boxes and the paper chaos known as my desk...I worked on it some today and at least subdued some of the boxes, but I am not sure tomorrow is going to be enough. I really would like to get it knocked out a bit more.
I suppose I could declare any day to be new year's day, or even better, not let the mess get out of control in the first place, but I have spent my whole life trying to get organized and it hasn't happened yet. There is a great deal of adventure in living in a world where every room is an archaeological dig! And the really good news is that I can throw away the stuff on the bottom of the pile because if it has been that long since I have seen it, I neither need it nor want it!!
So let the boxing, cleaning, and throwing begin...happy new year!
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Reflections on November 22
November 22, 1963, dawned pretty much like any other day. I was in eighth grade, and while I don't have a specific memory about the early morning, I most likely drug my feet as we were getting ready for school. Mom was a teacher so we did not have to worry about catching the bus...but we did know if the bus went by the house and we weren't ready, it was going to be tight. I probably discussed with my mother about how appropriate it might be for me to take my transistor radio to school, and I won that one...the radio went into my pocket where it always was.
About 11:30 or so, my class was in line to get into the cafeteria for lunch, knowing that when we finished lunch we were to go to the gym where we would spend the playground part of lunch hour, for someone from either the seventh or eighth grade had poured glue and thumb tacks all over the seats of the art room, and since no one would talk, both classes were to spend the recess and lunch break time in the gym, in the bleachers, doing nothing. Then mom did something she had never done before...she sought me out and wanted to know if I had my radio. She looked worried, funny, and she had never before gone looking for me during school. Everyone knew who she was and who I was, but she tried to honor my space, and I loved her for that...but on this day she came to me.
The radio was in my locker, so I gave her the combination, wondered briefly why there was not a radio in the teacher's lounge, and then went about my lunch and the subsequent punishment. We were astounded when we arrived in the gym to find the whole school there...there had to be something going on, because the elementary kids had not been involved in the great glue caper. When we were all in our places, the principal told us the news: President Kennedy had been assassinated in Dallas. The little kids did not really know what that meant, but we older ones did. I remember thinking, as school was being dismissed, that there had been a shift in the universe...that somehow things would never be the same...that something more than just the president had died on that day in Dallas. The seventh and eighth grades went ahead and attended the dress rehearsal of the high school play that afternoon, and then we were also sent home. We had just gotten a television, and for three days, we were mesmerized by the events across the country.
Every generation has a moment in its history, where memories stick like glue...December 7, 1941; November 22, 1963; January 28, 1986; September 11, 2001...those days which changed our world and leave memories time can never erase.
About 11:30 or so, my class was in line to get into the cafeteria for lunch, knowing that when we finished lunch we were to go to the gym where we would spend the playground part of lunch hour, for someone from either the seventh or eighth grade had poured glue and thumb tacks all over the seats of the art room, and since no one would talk, both classes were to spend the recess and lunch break time in the gym, in the bleachers, doing nothing. Then mom did something she had never done before...she sought me out and wanted to know if I had my radio. She looked worried, funny, and she had never before gone looking for me during school. Everyone knew who she was and who I was, but she tried to honor my space, and I loved her for that...but on this day she came to me.
The radio was in my locker, so I gave her the combination, wondered briefly why there was not a radio in the teacher's lounge, and then went about my lunch and the subsequent punishment. We were astounded when we arrived in the gym to find the whole school there...there had to be something going on, because the elementary kids had not been involved in the great glue caper. When we were all in our places, the principal told us the news: President Kennedy had been assassinated in Dallas. The little kids did not really know what that meant, but we older ones did. I remember thinking, as school was being dismissed, that there had been a shift in the universe...that somehow things would never be the same...that something more than just the president had died on that day in Dallas. The seventh and eighth grades went ahead and attended the dress rehearsal of the high school play that afternoon, and then we were also sent home. We had just gotten a television, and for three days, we were mesmerized by the events across the country.
Every generation has a moment in its history, where memories stick like glue...December 7, 1941; November 22, 1963; January 28, 1986; September 11, 2001...those days which changed our world and leave memories time can never erase.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
A Very Odd Day
Today has been a very odd day from an emotional standpoint, and it started in a very strange way. We had our annual church conference today, and while it is a business meeting, it is also a time of reflecting on the past while looking to the future. I have been to a lot of these things, and they normally follow a fairly standard routine. About half way through the meeting today, it dawned on my that this was my last one, the last meeting in which I would be the participating pastor. I nearly lost it, especially when my colleague who was conducting the meeting encouraged the people there to share their thoughts about me with me. I have never been good about accepting complements, and it got to be a bit overwhelming. It has been a season of lasts (last Fourth of July here, last county fair, last Thanksgiving celebration...) and they have all carried the requisite feelings, but this one nearly got me.
Then I came home to cook dinner. I am really trying to cook meals and eat in a more healthy manner, so tonight, I decided on scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. I had prepared my eggs and poured them into the skillet and started to put the bowl on the floor before I remembered that Macaiah is no longer with us. Egg bowls were one of her favorite human food snacks, and tonight was the first time I had cooked eggs since we lost her. It was a painful moment....
So it has been a much more emotional day than I expected, but I have learned that there is nothing wrong with emotions...it is all in what I do with them...so I am a little soft tonight. It is a good night to stay home and count blessings, for the blessings are far too numerous to count....
Then I came home to cook dinner. I am really trying to cook meals and eat in a more healthy manner, so tonight, I decided on scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. I had prepared my eggs and poured them into the skillet and started to put the bowl on the floor before I remembered that Macaiah is no longer with us. Egg bowls were one of her favorite human food snacks, and tonight was the first time I had cooked eggs since we lost her. It was a painful moment....
So it has been a much more emotional day than I expected, but I have learned that there is nothing wrong with emotions...it is all in what I do with them...so I am a little soft tonight. It is a good night to stay home and count blessings, for the blessings are far too numerous to count....
Friday, November 21, 2014
It Was a Dark and Stormy Night...
It is indeed a dark and stormy night here on the north coast, and I am grateful I don't have to go out...my original plans were to attend the local theater production of "The Glass Menagerie" but I will save that for tomorrow or Sunday. I don't see well in the dark, and when it is dark and raining, I really am a menace. Besides, I want to stay close to the phone tonight.
The day has been a mixture of good news and not so good news. My brother in law has been undergoing chemo in preparation for a stem cell transplant in January, and everything is on schedule and going well. I am glad. The not so good news is about one of my favorite folks in the congregation who is preparing to leave this world for the next one...the medical folks give him a few days. I went up to the hospital to see him and his wife this afternoon, and while we all knew this day was going to come sooner than later, it is still a tough call and a part of my job which drains me...another reason for staying home tonight.
Days are seldom if ever all good or all bad, and we need all of the parts to make a whole...so tonight I stay in where it is dry and offer up prayers of thanksgiving, peace, and hope....
The day has been a mixture of good news and not so good news. My brother in law has been undergoing chemo in preparation for a stem cell transplant in January, and everything is on schedule and going well. I am glad. The not so good news is about one of my favorite folks in the congregation who is preparing to leave this world for the next one...the medical folks give him a few days. I went up to the hospital to see him and his wife this afternoon, and while we all knew this day was going to come sooner than later, it is still a tough call and a part of my job which drains me...another reason for staying home tonight.
Days are seldom if ever all good or all bad, and we need all of the parts to make a whole...so tonight I stay in where it is dry and offer up prayers of thanksgiving, peace, and hope....
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Thoughts on Time
I was not here yesterday and I have an excellent excuse...I slept in on a work day! I am not a huge fan of sleeping in to begin with. I try to go to bed at the same time every night and I need about the same amount of sleep, so I normally wake up at the same time...around 7:00. For some reason totally unknown to me, my body decided to sleep until 8:00 yesterday which threw the whole day out of whack. Several things did not get done as a result.
I have never been a huge fan of alarm clocks, and for the last twenty years or so, I have not found it necessary to use one except on very rare occasions. As I said before, if I get to bed on time, I will wake up on time. Part of this comes from growing up on a farm where life was not governed by the clock but by the sun and the seasons. My dad used to rage about daylight savings time because it forced us to run the farm on a time schedule different from the world until we could get the cows adjusted to the new time. About the time they got it all figured out, we would have to change again, and cows do not change habits willingly!
Time is all relative....who says that a day must begin at a specific time? Modern culture wants to start the day with morning, but our Jewish brothers and sisters start the day at sundown. I have been know to restart a day at 10:00 in the morning when it has become evident that if I continue to do what I have been doing, I am going to have a very bad day. A bad day is simply a continuation of a bad moment, and if I start a new day, the bad moment has no continuity. I also rather like the circular notion of time rather than making it linear...that means that days don't start or end...they just sort of roll into one another. No one point on the clock is any more valuable than any other, so that means my sleeping time has the same value as work time and play time.
A final thought: many cultures have an attitude about time which can be roughly expressed as "start when you are ready and finish when you are through." I really like that idea, and am so looking forward to retirement when a part of my life can be run in that manner...it really sounds good, the idea of losing the clock for a while!
I have never been a huge fan of alarm clocks, and for the last twenty years or so, I have not found it necessary to use one except on very rare occasions. As I said before, if I get to bed on time, I will wake up on time. Part of this comes from growing up on a farm where life was not governed by the clock but by the sun and the seasons. My dad used to rage about daylight savings time because it forced us to run the farm on a time schedule different from the world until we could get the cows adjusted to the new time. About the time they got it all figured out, we would have to change again, and cows do not change habits willingly!
Time is all relative....who says that a day must begin at a specific time? Modern culture wants to start the day with morning, but our Jewish brothers and sisters start the day at sundown. I have been know to restart a day at 10:00 in the morning when it has become evident that if I continue to do what I have been doing, I am going to have a very bad day. A bad day is simply a continuation of a bad moment, and if I start a new day, the bad moment has no continuity. I also rather like the circular notion of time rather than making it linear...that means that days don't start or end...they just sort of roll into one another. No one point on the clock is any more valuable than any other, so that means my sleeping time has the same value as work time and play time.
A final thought: many cultures have an attitude about time which can be roughly expressed as "start when you are ready and finish when you are through." I really like that idea, and am so looking forward to retirement when a part of my life can be run in that manner...it really sounds good, the idea of losing the clock for a while!
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
One More Road Trip
I am really getting tired of driving and going places! Today I had to go to Eureka for a meeting, and while I have lived here long enough to know that the 85 miles to Eureka really doesn't qualify as going somewhere, it surely felt like it today. I was tired when I left Crescent City, tireder when I arrived in Eureka and tiredest when I got back home...then I had to sit through a meeting, and while the meeting was interesting, it did nothing for the tired part...The saving grace is the beauty of the world through which I get to drive.
So now I am home and in my jammies and thinking about going to bed at the crack of 8:30. Since the first part of October, I have driven to Auburn for a meeting, Sacramento for a meeting, and Anderson for a meeting, as well as two trips to Eureka...my bottom is becoming car shaped! So I am going to use this time to complain a little bit....a mini-rant as it were. I am entitled to do that once and a while, and it is really better for me to complain here that gritch at George!!
Tomorrow will be a better day, even as I give thanks for a job (even though it requires road trips) and a dependable car in which to travel!
So now I am home and in my jammies and thinking about going to bed at the crack of 8:30. Since the first part of October, I have driven to Auburn for a meeting, Sacramento for a meeting, and Anderson for a meeting, as well as two trips to Eureka...my bottom is becoming car shaped! So I am going to use this time to complain a little bit....a mini-rant as it were. I am entitled to do that once and a while, and it is really better for me to complain here that gritch at George!!
Tomorrow will be a better day, even as I give thanks for a job (even though it requires road trips) and a dependable car in which to travel!
Monday, November 17, 2014
Ohio Winter
I was surfing Facebook this evening and found a poem about winter in Ohio...it was an amusing story about the seventy-mile per hour winds when it is thirty below and the like. It ended the a stanza remarking that the author could not leave Ohio because he or she was frozen to the ground, and it reminded me of a story of something that happened when we were living in Ohio.
We moved to Ohio in July and after learning how to live in the land of 90% humidity and 95 degree temperatures, we had to learn about winter. George and I caught on rather quickly to the notion that one needed a coat, hat, gloves, boots to go get the paper, but the dog was a slower learner. The dog at the time was a beagle crossbreed who defined her existence by the length of time it took her to patrol the entire length of the yard fence, a distance of about 100 yards. Every morning, without fail, we would let her out and she would begin at the back door and make a circuit of the yard, ending up at the back door. She walked right next to the fence and during the four years we lived there, she actually wore a path around the perimeter of the yard.
Winter came that first year, and a day arrived when the wind chill was somewhere in the neighborhood of 25 below zero. The dog wanted out and when the door opened, she set out on her circuit. After a while, I realized the dog was still out, and I went to check on her...she was standing at the far corner of the yard and did not look so good, so I got dressed and went and fetched her. Frozen stiff is a bit of a harsh term, but she was, shall we say, a little less flexible than she had been! I set her down in the middle of the kitchen floor, and in a couple of minutes, she thawed out enough become her usual self! I would like to say that she learned something, but sad to say, over the next four years, we made numerous trips to the perimeter to round up the frosty beagle...maybe one can stick to the ground!!
There is another story about the time we had freezing rain on top of snow and the amount of noise a beagle can make when walking on the ice on top of the snow, but that is for another time....I wonder if Snoopy ever had those problems????
We moved to Ohio in July and after learning how to live in the land of 90% humidity and 95 degree temperatures, we had to learn about winter. George and I caught on rather quickly to the notion that one needed a coat, hat, gloves, boots to go get the paper, but the dog was a slower learner. The dog at the time was a beagle crossbreed who defined her existence by the length of time it took her to patrol the entire length of the yard fence, a distance of about 100 yards. Every morning, without fail, we would let her out and she would begin at the back door and make a circuit of the yard, ending up at the back door. She walked right next to the fence and during the four years we lived there, she actually wore a path around the perimeter of the yard.
Winter came that first year, and a day arrived when the wind chill was somewhere in the neighborhood of 25 below zero. The dog wanted out and when the door opened, she set out on her circuit. After a while, I realized the dog was still out, and I went to check on her...she was standing at the far corner of the yard and did not look so good, so I got dressed and went and fetched her. Frozen stiff is a bit of a harsh term, but she was, shall we say, a little less flexible than she had been! I set her down in the middle of the kitchen floor, and in a couple of minutes, she thawed out enough become her usual self! I would like to say that she learned something, but sad to say, over the next four years, we made numerous trips to the perimeter to round up the frosty beagle...maybe one can stick to the ground!!
There is another story about the time we had freezing rain on top of snow and the amount of noise a beagle can make when walking on the ice on top of the snow, but that is for another time....I wonder if Snoopy ever had those problems????
Sunday, November 16, 2014
To Buy a Bicycle
When I was about 8 years old, I decided I wanted a bicycle. I had ridden a friend's bike at school and discovered I could do it, and I really want a bike in the worst kind of way. So my folks told me that if I wanted a bike, I would need to buy one, and a friend of the family had a bike he would sell me for $7. My allowance was only 25 cents a week, and I really did not want to wait 28 weeks to get that bike, so I asked my folks if there were things I could do to increase my income. I made a whole dollar when I mowed the lawn (it was about a quarter acre with a push mower) and I was rewarded for such things as helping with the dishes without complaining. I did not get extra money for doing my chores...those were the things that earned the quarter! I soon earned the $7 and took possession of the bike, and I loved that bike! It was by far the most precious thing I owned and I took very good care of it. Even though I did not completely understand the process, I somehow knew that I had earned that bike and because of the sweat which went into getting it, I cared for it as though it were brand new and expensive...I rode that bike, repaired that bike, and kept that bike until it finally wore completely out. I have since had other bikes, motorcycles, and cars, but none of them have been as valuable or taught me as much as that battered old green bike for which I worked and saved.
I am sure there is a moral to this story somewhere, a moral about how the value of things is all relative or maybe about the innocence of a lost childhood...I don't know. What I do know is I remember with a great deal of fondness the spring and summer I worked as hard as an eight-year-old can work to buy a bicycle!
I am sure there is a moral to this story somewhere, a moral about how the value of things is all relative or maybe about the innocence of a lost childhood...I don't know. What I do know is I remember with a great deal of fondness the spring and summer I worked as hard as an eight-year-old can work to buy a bicycle!
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Football...Mountain West Style
I am a big football fan, and right now I am staying up past my bedtime cheering for San Diego State to beat Boise State. Now in the great scheme of things, this game is not very important, but in the scheme of things surrounding my alma mater winning the Mountain West conference, it is a very important game.
While the professional games are fun, I really enjoy the energy and enthusiasm of college games. George and I went to a bowl game in 1991--- a game in which Colorado State University defeated Oregon in the Freedom Bowl. We went to the pep rally and for just a little while, it was like the old days with one significant difference...CSU was number two in the bottom ten when I was in college and there was not a whole lot of pep in the student section. We actually booed when they won a game and lost their chance at becoming the worst team in the country. They have come a long ways and are now ranked #23 in the country in one of the polls. It is worth my time to encourage their closest pursuer to lose!
I am also celebrating because Del Norte High had a big win, a huge win, last night. High school football is every bit as exciting as the college game, and it is just an added blessing when the team plays well. I am looking forward to being able to attend homecoming at my high school next fall. It doesn't matter whether it is a high school which plays eight-man football or a pro team, football is a game I enjoy watching, and remembering those days long ago when Olathe High School went to the state playoffs as well.
In the time it took me to finish this, Boise State is making their move, so I am off to bed...next week I shall be rooting for Wyoming and Colorado State and Del Norte....
While the professional games are fun, I really enjoy the energy and enthusiasm of college games. George and I went to a bowl game in 1991--- a game in which Colorado State University defeated Oregon in the Freedom Bowl. We went to the pep rally and for just a little while, it was like the old days with one significant difference...CSU was number two in the bottom ten when I was in college and there was not a whole lot of pep in the student section. We actually booed when they won a game and lost their chance at becoming the worst team in the country. They have come a long ways and are now ranked #23 in the country in one of the polls. It is worth my time to encourage their closest pursuer to lose!
I am also celebrating because Del Norte High had a big win, a huge win, last night. High school football is every bit as exciting as the college game, and it is just an added blessing when the team plays well. I am looking forward to being able to attend homecoming at my high school next fall. It doesn't matter whether it is a high school which plays eight-man football or a pro team, football is a game I enjoy watching, and remembering those days long ago when Olathe High School went to the state playoffs as well.
In the time it took me to finish this, Boise State is making their move, so I am off to bed...next week I shall be rooting for Wyoming and Colorado State and Del Norte....
Friday, November 14, 2014
A Day Off As It Should Be
It has been a very pleasant day off around the Layton house today. It is not that I have done nothing today because there are mounds of dirty clothes, but other than that, it has been restful and entertaining. I went to lunch with my best buddy...a real nice soup and bread lunch at Smith River UMC on a soup and bread sort of day. In addition to really good soup, there was some outstanding conversation and an impromptu concert by the Smith River school band.
One thing about doing laundry is that it is not too awfully labor intensive, so there has been time for naps, jigsaw puzzles, computer games, reading and, of course, music. A nice day...a quiet day...a day which restores my soul and body, and I so appreciate these days when they happen...
One thing about doing laundry is that it is not too awfully labor intensive, so there has been time for naps, jigsaw puzzles, computer games, reading and, of course, music. A nice day...a quiet day...a day which restores my soul and body, and I so appreciate these days when they happen...
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Making Plans...Living Life
I had carefully planned my evening. My friend Mary and I were going to take off after work today and head to Arcata where we would enjoy our traditional Chinese buffet before going to a performance at Humboldt State. We have been doing that now and again for several years and these trips, not to mention the food and entertainment, bring us great joy. But then Mary became ill, and she really does need to stay home and take care of herself because illness is no laughing matter, so I am faced with a change in plans.
Now I get to change my plans a lot; in fact, there is a standing joke around our house that if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans! So...what am I going to do? I could go to Arcata by myself, but that is really no fun, and if I did, then I would have another night in a motel because I don't like to drive home from Arcata alone in the dark. I don't see well, and I like another set of eyes in the car watching for elk and other critters. Besides, I REALLY don't like to make a 2 hour drive in the dark beginning at 10:30. Another night in a motel not where I am at right now either, because as I have mentioned before, I already have 34 motel nights out of the last 90 days! I could scramble around and try to find another buddy, but that is really a lot of work and I am tired.
There is the operative word; tired. I have been on the road a lot in the last two weeks and have been working hard and I am tired. In my old age, I have finally figured out that when I am tired I need to rest. So tonight I am living life by staying home and resting...the forfeit of the ticket to the concert is a small price to pay for wellness, and tonight is a good night to be well!
Now I get to change my plans a lot; in fact, there is a standing joke around our house that if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans! So...what am I going to do? I could go to Arcata by myself, but that is really no fun, and if I did, then I would have another night in a motel because I don't like to drive home from Arcata alone in the dark. I don't see well, and I like another set of eyes in the car watching for elk and other critters. Besides, I REALLY don't like to make a 2 hour drive in the dark beginning at 10:30. Another night in a motel not where I am at right now either, because as I have mentioned before, I already have 34 motel nights out of the last 90 days! I could scramble around and try to find another buddy, but that is really a lot of work and I am tired.
There is the operative word; tired. I have been on the road a lot in the last two weeks and have been working hard and I am tired. In my old age, I have finally figured out that when I am tired I need to rest. So tonight I am living life by staying home and resting...the forfeit of the ticket to the concert is a small price to pay for wellness, and tonight is a good night to be well!
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
The Treasure Box
Several years ago, I did something with the children's message at church that I found to be a lot of fun and the kids really enjoyed it. I had a nice wooden box which we called the "treasure box." Every Sunday, I would send the treasure box home with a child, and the child had all week to think about what they would put into the box and bring to church the following Sunday, with the only stipulation being it could not now, nor ever have been alive! I then had about 15 seconds from the time I opened the box until I had to come up with a children's sermon which had to be both relevant and pertaining to whatever was in the box. It was an exciting challenge for me, and I think the adults enjoyed it almost as much as the children; they worked hard to stump me, and were somewhat disappointed when they figured out I could tell a good story about almost anything!
I have spent some time thinking about subjects for this blog to fill out the month, and unfortunately, some of my topics degenerate into rants, and I am not sure I want to use this space to rant about what is wrong with the world, so I am going to reinvent the treasure box now and again. I have a whole bunch of neutral topics about which I can write, so when the well of the reality in which I live dries up, I will pull a topic out of the figurative hat and try to come up with something relevant and pertaining to the topic at hand. It kind of reminds me of the days in high school and college speech classes when extemporaneous was the name of the day.
So you just will never know when I might crack open the mystery box, but not today...after a Wednesday which exhausted itself trying to be a Monday, I am going have a cup of tea, put some music on the player (tonight I am in the mood for Native American flute music), and think about the sleep that is looming on the horizon of my life! But tomorrow....Who knows?
I have spent some time thinking about subjects for this blog to fill out the month, and unfortunately, some of my topics degenerate into rants, and I am not sure I want to use this space to rant about what is wrong with the world, so I am going to reinvent the treasure box now and again. I have a whole bunch of neutral topics about which I can write, so when the well of the reality in which I live dries up, I will pull a topic out of the figurative hat and try to come up with something relevant and pertaining to the topic at hand. It kind of reminds me of the days in high school and college speech classes when extemporaneous was the name of the day.
So you just will never know when I might crack open the mystery box, but not today...after a Wednesday which exhausted itself trying to be a Monday, I am going have a cup of tea, put some music on the player (tonight I am in the mood for Native American flute music), and think about the sleep that is looming on the horizon of my life! But tomorrow....Who knows?
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
To Honor Veterans
On the Friday before Labor Day in 1974, I climbed on a jet plane in Denver, Colorado, and after stops in St. Louis and Charlotte, we landed in Columbia, South Carolina, where a bus was waiting to take us to Fort Jackson and the beginnings of basic training. After killing time over the Labor Day weekend, we received our uniforms and began the transformation from civilians to soldiers. In those days, the 5th Basic Training Brigade was all women, and a part of the brass we wore on our dress uniforms was a circular brass pin containing the profile of Pallas Athena, the Greek goddess of war.
The Women's Army Corps was being phased out, and we were being trained as soldiers, but it was kind of a limbo...we were marching everywhere in boots which were made for show, not go, and the stress fracture of the arch was as common as a cold. We were learning how to shoot, how to read maps, how to do all the things our brothers in the army were learning, but it was still against federal law for women to go into combat zones...even though the Vietnam war had redefined combat zones forever. We marched, learned about tear gas, learned to drive all sorts of vehicles, and soldiered on.
About half way through basic training, we had a uniform change. Pallas Athena was removed from our uniforms and replaced by a second brass pin with the letters US; now our dress uniforms looked just like those of the men...the US on both lapels. to my knowledge, the women who were in basic training in the fall of 1974 were the last to wear the Pallas Athena...the military had entered into a new era. It would take several more years for the army to become fully integrated in terms of jobs, but I like to think that we laid a foundation for the women in the army today, and I am proud of that. I spent ten years in military service, and while it took me a while to really honor that time (see the entry in this tome for Veterans Day 2009) I do honor it. And I honor all the people I know who are serving, have served, and will serve to protect the life we live!
The Women's Army Corps was being phased out, and we were being trained as soldiers, but it was kind of a limbo...we were marching everywhere in boots which were made for show, not go, and the stress fracture of the arch was as common as a cold. We were learning how to shoot, how to read maps, how to do all the things our brothers in the army were learning, but it was still against federal law for women to go into combat zones...even though the Vietnam war had redefined combat zones forever. We marched, learned about tear gas, learned to drive all sorts of vehicles, and soldiered on.
About half way through basic training, we had a uniform change. Pallas Athena was removed from our uniforms and replaced by a second brass pin with the letters US; now our dress uniforms looked just like those of the men...the US on both lapels. to my knowledge, the women who were in basic training in the fall of 1974 were the last to wear the Pallas Athena...the military had entered into a new era. It would take several more years for the army to become fully integrated in terms of jobs, but I like to think that we laid a foundation for the women in the army today, and I am proud of that. I spent ten years in military service, and while it took me a while to really honor that time (see the entry in this tome for Veterans Day 2009) I do honor it. And I honor all the people I know who are serving, have served, and will serve to protect the life we live!
Monday, November 10, 2014
Retirement Thoughts
In a little over seven months, I will be a retired person. I have done many things in my life, but I have never been a retired person before. I have worked since I was seven years old and had certain chores to do on the farm, and while retirement sounds nice, I am not sure if I will know what to do. There are moments of fear when I think about stepping out of the world in which I have spent most of my life and into a world filled with different sorts of things. Don't get me wrong---it is not that I fear not having anything to do; I have a bucket list as long as my arm of things I want to do which I have not had time to do in my working life. But I wonder....what will it be like to do what I want to when I want to? What will it be like to lose the wristwatch for a day or two at a time, and be answerable to whatever catches my fancy? What will it be like to be responsible only for myself and not the myriad problems which seem to wander so easily into the working world?
For me, retirement is the great unknown, and I am remembering those days when I left home to go to college and left home to go into the military. Those days were a lot the same...I was moving on into a world where I had never been before to do things I had never done before with people I had never seen before, and it all worked out just fine. I strongly suspect that retirement will work out the same way! The problem now is to stay centered on what I need to do today in order to get to that retirement day, for there is still much to do. So today I work, knowing (and wondering) what tomorrow will bring....
For me, retirement is the great unknown, and I am remembering those days when I left home to go to college and left home to go into the military. Those days were a lot the same...I was moving on into a world where I had never been before to do things I had never done before with people I had never seen before, and it all worked out just fine. I strongly suspect that retirement will work out the same way! The problem now is to stay centered on what I need to do today in order to get to that retirement day, for there is still much to do. So today I work, knowing (and wondering) what tomorrow will bring....
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Discovering the World
Uncle Ralph was a career military man, and his work took him around the world many times. When I was about ten years old, Uncle Ralph gave me an envelope full of postage stamps from some of the places he had been. It was a wonderful gift, and those brightly colored bits of paper took me to places about which I had only dreamed! Mom bought me a stamp album in which I lovingly placed the snapshots of the world, and a couple of years later, I began to seriously collect stamps on my own. I started to look not only at the world's stamps, but also the stamps issued by my own country, and I eagerly awaited the release of a new one so I could go to the post office and get the "plate block"---the four stamps from the corner of a sheet which contained the number of the run.
While the US stamps were fun, inexpensive, and easily available, I was still captivated by the stamps of the world. They came in different shapes and sizes, and the art work was incredible in its detail. The words on the stamps were in languages other than English, and I began to learn the difference between a British pound and an Italian lire. I learned to recognize certain words in the Cyrillic language used in the Soviet Union, and could recognize the differences between Japanese, Korean, and Chinese characters. I learned geography, because what was the point of having a stamp in the collection if I did not know where its home country was located? As I sorted and mounted stamps, I traveled and received an education and I suspect I was one of a handful of twelve year old kids in my community who knew the names of ever country in Africa in 1962!
I still collect stamps. As I have upgraded the collection, I have accumulated a large number of duplicates, and I have been searching for some youngster who would want to begin the journey into the world as I did so long ago. So far I have had no luck...it seems that stamp collecting is going the way of the dinosaur, and that is sad. I think the reason may be twofold---first of all, electronic communication is replacing mailed letters. Instant messaging and email do not need a stamp. Secondly, kids today have the world at their fingertips. One can literally travel around the world with Google Earth and actually see the countryside as it is. The pictures on the stamps brought the world to me; now the world comes into the home at the stroke of a computer key. So while my pile of duplicate stamps wait for a home, I am thankful I was born in a time when I could discover the world through tiny bits of paper!
While the US stamps were fun, inexpensive, and easily available, I was still captivated by the stamps of the world. They came in different shapes and sizes, and the art work was incredible in its detail. The words on the stamps were in languages other than English, and I began to learn the difference between a British pound and an Italian lire. I learned to recognize certain words in the Cyrillic language used in the Soviet Union, and could recognize the differences between Japanese, Korean, and Chinese characters. I learned geography, because what was the point of having a stamp in the collection if I did not know where its home country was located? As I sorted and mounted stamps, I traveled and received an education and I suspect I was one of a handful of twelve year old kids in my community who knew the names of ever country in Africa in 1962!
I still collect stamps. As I have upgraded the collection, I have accumulated a large number of duplicates, and I have been searching for some youngster who would want to begin the journey into the world as I did so long ago. So far I have had no luck...it seems that stamp collecting is going the way of the dinosaur, and that is sad. I think the reason may be twofold---first of all, electronic communication is replacing mailed letters. Instant messaging and email do not need a stamp. Secondly, kids today have the world at their fingertips. One can literally travel around the world with Google Earth and actually see the countryside as it is. The pictures on the stamps brought the world to me; now the world comes into the home at the stroke of a computer key. So while my pile of duplicate stamps wait for a home, I am thankful I was born in a time when I could discover the world through tiny bits of paper!
Saturday, November 8, 2014
Music, Music, Music
I love music...all kinds of music...one might say that I am a musical omnivore! It doesn't matter what sort of mood I am in, there is music which will fit the bill. From rock to chant, baroque to folk, I am there. Probably my favorite genre is what most folks call "classical"---that collection of music ranging from baroque through classical to romantic and modern--- the "serious" music. Symphonies, concerti, tone poems, and operas fill my spirit with joy.
One of my favorite subsets of this music is from the late 19th and early 20th century, the so-called nationalistic music of the late romantic and early modern period...composers like Dvorak, Sibelius, Smetana, Grieg, and Rimsky-Korsakov, to name a few. These composers described their homelands and the people in them with music not rooted in the forms of the older day but in the folk songs and traditions of the real world.
Back in the days of vinyl records, I purchased a set of the works of Sibelius, a Finnish composer of this time period. His seven symphonies are a delight, and his tone poems a marvel. (His "Finlandia" is well known, and is actually used as a hymn tune in the United Methodist Hymnal is a hymn entitled "This Is My Song.") Anyhow, as record players evolved into CD players and MP3 players, my vinyl records became somewhat of a dinosaur, and I moved on into other things. A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Sibelius crawled back into my memory and I finally looked at Amazon to see what I could do about the problem. Lo and behold, there, for the princely sum of $12 was a four CD set, complete with free MP3 download, of the exact same performance I had owned on vinyl! So as I write this, the sounds of Sibelius' Symphony No. 1 fill my room, and when I add a pine scented candle, I once again tramp the forested hills of Finland in my mind! For me, these musical adventures are better than drugs and a whole lot cheaper.
A final musical thought...on my MP3 player, I have lots of songs ranging from Santana to Handel's Messiah, and one of the things I like to do is set it on "shuffle" and let the listening begin! It is great fun to hear music from Spamalot, followed by a piece from Messiah, followed by Enya followed by the Kingston Trio...sort of like an endless buffet of surprises!!
One of my favorite subsets of this music is from the late 19th and early 20th century, the so-called nationalistic music of the late romantic and early modern period...composers like Dvorak, Sibelius, Smetana, Grieg, and Rimsky-Korsakov, to name a few. These composers described their homelands and the people in them with music not rooted in the forms of the older day but in the folk songs and traditions of the real world.
Back in the days of vinyl records, I purchased a set of the works of Sibelius, a Finnish composer of this time period. His seven symphonies are a delight, and his tone poems a marvel. (His "Finlandia" is well known, and is actually used as a hymn tune in the United Methodist Hymnal is a hymn entitled "This Is My Song.") Anyhow, as record players evolved into CD players and MP3 players, my vinyl records became somewhat of a dinosaur, and I moved on into other things. A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Sibelius crawled back into my memory and I finally looked at Amazon to see what I could do about the problem. Lo and behold, there, for the princely sum of $12 was a four CD set, complete with free MP3 download, of the exact same performance I had owned on vinyl! So as I write this, the sounds of Sibelius' Symphony No. 1 fill my room, and when I add a pine scented candle, I once again tramp the forested hills of Finland in my mind! For me, these musical adventures are better than drugs and a whole lot cheaper.
A final musical thought...on my MP3 player, I have lots of songs ranging from Santana to Handel's Messiah, and one of the things I like to do is set it on "shuffle" and let the listening begin! It is great fun to hear music from Spamalot, followed by a piece from Messiah, followed by Enya followed by the Kingston Trio...sort of like an endless buffet of surprises!!
Friday, November 7, 2014
Numbers and Letters
Apparently, November is supposed to be a month for writing. Some of my friends who have a lot more time than I do, have committed to writing a 50,000 word novel during November, and another friend pointed out this morning on Facebook that November is also the month that those of us with blogs are supposed to write something every day. So thanks to Angela Glore, I am here...a few days late, but here nonetheless, to attempt to finish out the month with whatever I happen to be thinking about!
I just got home from a road trip in which I learned way more than I will ever remember about how my pension plan works and all of the benefits available to me. Because I am horrid at numbers, I am focusing on remembering the phone numbers, web addresses, and email addresses of the people who are going to help me when I get confused...a very common occurrence with I encounter numbers! I do know that we did a lot of the right things, and we will be comfortable in our retirement...some of the stuff was accidentally done right, and other things were intentional, but it all worked out.
While I struggle with numbers, letters are my friends, and I am actually looking forward to reconnecting with my inner self, so here we go!!
Friday, September 12, 2014
Colorado Weather and Mission's End
This morning we woke up to 34 degree temperatures and snow! In the week we have been here, it has gone from sunshine and 90 degrees to this, and it is supposed to be 80 tomorrow. While this may seem unusual to some, it is Colorado weather, and those of us who have lived here joke early and often about about its changeability. It can snow in any month of the year, although it usually snows only in the very high mountains during the summer. The wind can blow until there is no tomorrow, and it often will freeze one day, have summer the next, and then rain with hail the next. Colorado is a place where one dresses in layers and never ranges too far from a raincoat or jacket.
We finished our mission work today. On Monday, we walked into a home with sheet rock walls, untrimmed windows, outdoor plumbing, open doorways, and everything encased in plastic. While it had come a long way from the destruction of the flood, there was a lot of work which needed to be done for this house to become a home. While Michael and Ken worked on the ceilings, Marsha, Kathleen, and I painted walls. Michael plumbed a bathroom and hung doors, while Ken, Michael, and Kathleen trimmed windows and doors. I ran the vacuum and filled in where needed. When we walked out of the house today, the windows were trimmed, there was a working bathroom downstairs, the dust had been cleared away, the painting was done and the plastic was nowhere to be found. There is still much work to do, but much has been done.
The other teams reported similar results. We can leave with a feeling of accomplishment because our labors of the week have helped four different families and businesses have a new chance on life. An elderly grandmother has a new paint job in her home. A historic business did not make it to a weekend opening, but it is very close. A farmer has a new fence so he can once again begin to run stock on his land.
Mission work is different in many ways. It is hard, because there is an urge to try to do more than one can do. It is also physical, because when a mission team goes into a place, it is usually to restore normalcy, and that takes work. There are no weather breaks, because there is just no time for such things. But there is another side to the coin, for the people we help give back to us in ways which are never anticipated. Sure, there are often physical gifts, but there are the things which have no price. So we leave here with a sense of a job well done, and even if this particular team of people never come together again, we are a band of brothers and sisters who have spent a week doing something special.
Vacation begins tomorrow, and I am ready. We have not really stopped moving since we left California on August 31. My sister has already made a massage appointment for me, and Monday will bring some relief.
Let the rest and relaxation begin....
We finished our mission work today. On Monday, we walked into a home with sheet rock walls, untrimmed windows, outdoor plumbing, open doorways, and everything encased in plastic. While it had come a long way from the destruction of the flood, there was a lot of work which needed to be done for this house to become a home. While Michael and Ken worked on the ceilings, Marsha, Kathleen, and I painted walls. Michael plumbed a bathroom and hung doors, while Ken, Michael, and Kathleen trimmed windows and doors. I ran the vacuum and filled in where needed. When we walked out of the house today, the windows were trimmed, there was a working bathroom downstairs, the dust had been cleared away, the painting was done and the plastic was nowhere to be found. There is still much work to do, but much has been done.
Mission work is different in many ways. It is hard, because there is an urge to try to do more than one can do. It is also physical, because when a mission team goes into a place, it is usually to restore normalcy, and that takes work. There are no weather breaks, because there is just no time for such things. But there is another side to the coin, for the people we help give back to us in ways which are never anticipated. Sure, there are often physical gifts, but there are the things which have no price. So we leave here with a sense of a job well done, and even if this particular team of people never come together again, we are a band of brothers and sisters who have spent a week doing something special.
Let the rest and relaxation begin....
Thursday, September 11, 2014
One Flood....and Then Another
As we enter into the last day of work here, one of the groups completed their assignment, my group has just about finished what we have set out to do, and the other two will hand off work to another team of Californians who will arrive on Saturday to continue the work. As an aside, still a third team of Californians will be here the week following, so the work will keep on until the winter snows come. It is supposed to snow a bit tonight, but these are not the winter snows...they are the reminder of more to come and the herald of Indian summer....it is supposed to be 80 on Saturday!
I mentioned before that the home where we have been working was destroyed in a previous flood, the tragic flood of July 1976. What made that flood so tragic was that it came in the middle of the tourist season and 144 lives were lost. There was no warning as a flash flood came ripping down the Big Thompson Canyon, and many of the dead were tourists whose campers and tents fell before the rushing waters. Mrs. Hanson, the homeowner we are helping, said the flood was over and gone in 45 minutes, leaving carnage in its wake. It had rained a great deal up on the mountain, and in classic flash flood fashion, the rain-swollen river destroyed an area which had received no rain.
The flood of 2013 was very different. It began raining on September 9, and it finally stopped on on the 12th. The rains covered a wide area and while the rivers rose rapidly, all of the rivers that drain the northern part of what is known as the Front Range overflowed their banks. Rivers merged together, combining their power, and soon everything was devastated. As I said in my earlier post, the Platte River, the river which received all of this rain, was over two miles wide in some places. Rainfall in a 72 hour period exceeded 24 inches....in an area with a seasonal normal of 15.
Mrs. Hanson told us that while their house sustained damage in the 1976 flood, the recovery was easier, mostly because the speed of the flood kept the water, and its accompanying silt load from standing in the house. The rushing water rearranged the furniture and did some damage, but nothing like the damage of the standing water which filled their house for weeks after the flood. She showed us another picture, a picture of over a foot of mud on the living room floor---that is what did the damage. There was no mud in '76 and they were back in their home in about three months.
I am glad the other teams are on their way out here because they are needed...and will be needed for a long time to come. I pray that through the loving work flowing into this area, that Mr. and Mrs. Hanson can celebrate Thanksgiving with their family in the first floor dining room of their home!
I mentioned before that the home where we have been working was destroyed in a previous flood, the tragic flood of July 1976. What made that flood so tragic was that it came in the middle of the tourist season and 144 lives were lost. There was no warning as a flash flood came ripping down the Big Thompson Canyon, and many of the dead were tourists whose campers and tents fell before the rushing waters. Mrs. Hanson, the homeowner we are helping, said the flood was over and gone in 45 minutes, leaving carnage in its wake. It had rained a great deal up on the mountain, and in classic flash flood fashion, the rain-swollen river destroyed an area which had received no rain.
The flood of 2013 was very different. It began raining on September 9, and it finally stopped on on the 12th. The rains covered a wide area and while the rivers rose rapidly, all of the rivers that drain the northern part of what is known as the Front Range overflowed their banks. Rivers merged together, combining their power, and soon everything was devastated. As I said in my earlier post, the Platte River, the river which received all of this rain, was over two miles wide in some places. Rainfall in a 72 hour period exceeded 24 inches....in an area with a seasonal normal of 15.
Mrs. Hanson told us that while their house sustained damage in the 1976 flood, the recovery was easier, mostly because the speed of the flood kept the water, and its accompanying silt load from standing in the house. The rushing water rearranged the furniture and did some damage, but nothing like the damage of the standing water which filled their house for weeks after the flood. She showed us another picture, a picture of over a foot of mud on the living room floor---that is what did the damage. There was no mud in '76 and they were back in their home in about three months.
I am glad the other teams are on their way out here because they are needed...and will be needed for a long time to come. I pray that through the loving work flowing into this area, that Mr. and Mrs. Hanson can celebrate Thanksgiving with their family in the first floor dining room of their home!
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Out of the Chaos
They say a picture is worth ten thousand words, and this is what an elderly couple saw when they were allowed to return to their home in late September of 2013. The lower floor of the house was in shambles, with the water line at five feet above the floor. Over a foot of silt covered the floor and filled every nook and cranny. Their truck was upside down in a grove of trees about fifty yards from the house, and their yard was also covered with nearly two feet of silt. Boulders from up river were scattered in their yard, and their propane tank was long gone.
They spent several months in an apartment in town before the road was repaired and they could begin to live in the upper story of their home. Because they had no flood insurance, recovery was going to be slow and they were qualified for help from faith based organizations such as United Methodist Committee on Relief and the UM Volunteers in Mission. Throughout the summer, teams of people from all over the United States have come into this place to clean it up and once again make it livable. Today, the painting was complete; all of the masking tape came down, the beams were washed and the dust cleaned away. The downstairs bathroom works and trimming of the windows has begun. There is much to do, but it is beginning to look like a home.People sometimes ask me why I go on mission trips. They want to know why I am willing to pay money to travel halfway across the country to work my tail off. This is why. To sit and listen to the stories of lives turned upside down and then share the joy of them coming back together again. To learn about folks who I have come to help and have them give me more than I ever dreamed. To hear the stories of the other workers, especially those who have never done this before, and see the miracle of giving and receiving come true in their lives...to walk away at the end of the trip having received the unexpected gift and being forever changed...that is why I go on mission trips!
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Restoring History
We awakened this morning to rain, rain on the first anniversary of a lot of rain, but by the time we had finished breakfast and were ready to work, the rain had mostly stopped. There were some rearrangements to the teams, but we dispersed to the same four places. By noon, we had done all we could do at the home on the river, so our team moved a few miles down the road to the Historic River Forks Bed and Breakfast to aid the team already there in their efforts to have the "bed" part of the inn open by Saturday.
The River Forks has a great website which describes the history of the place, and it is special. It is an old log building, first constructed in 1905 which sits at the forks of the Big Thompson and Little Thompson Rivers. It has gone through many changes and survived the 1976 flood (I will also talk about this flood later) relatively intact, but it was not so lucky in 2013. The bar and restaurant were totally destroyed, as was everything else on the ground floor. Three feet of water filled the building as both forks of the river spilled over their banks. History oozed out of the log structure, even as we worked to modernize and clean up the interior. The jury is still out as to whether or not they will be able to partially open on Friday night, but we are doing our best.
The team is beginning to mesh together, to get to know one another and to share our stories, for like the people we are helping, the team members also have stories, and the often these stories come surprisingly close together as relationships form. Some of the most interesting stories are coming from the team of men who are building the fences. Urban people from California don't often have a working relationship with building barbed wire fences as the cows look on, but this group is learning the skill! Their stories are funny and inspiring as they learn and work together.
During evening devotions tonight, George created new words to the song "Somebody Touched Me" when he sang, "While we were working, somebody touched me." I think I can honestly say that each and every one of us has been touched, both by the people with whom we are working and the God who called us to this work....And it is only Tuesday!
The River Forks has a great website which describes the history of the place, and it is special. It is an old log building, first constructed in 1905 which sits at the forks of the Big Thompson and Little Thompson Rivers. It has gone through many changes and survived the 1976 flood (I will also talk about this flood later) relatively intact, but it was not so lucky in 2013. The bar and restaurant were totally destroyed, as was everything else on the ground floor. Three feet of water filled the building as both forks of the river spilled over their banks. History oozed out of the log structure, even as we worked to modernize and clean up the interior. The jury is still out as to whether or not they will be able to partially open on Friday night, but we are doing our best.
The team is beginning to mesh together, to get to know one another and to share our stories, for like the people we are helping, the team members also have stories, and the often these stories come surprisingly close together as relationships form. Some of the most interesting stories are coming from the team of men who are building the fences. Urban people from California don't often have a working relationship with building barbed wire fences as the cows look on, but this group is learning the skill! Their stories are funny and inspiring as they learn and work together.
During evening devotions tonight, George created new words to the song "Somebody Touched Me" when he sang, "While we were working, somebody touched me." I think I can honestly say that each and every one of us has been touched, both by the people with whom we are working and the God who called us to this work....And it is only Tuesday!
Monday, September 8, 2014
Mountains, Floods, and Other Things
As I mentioned last time, we are now on a mission trip to eastern Colorado, and while most of us arrived on Saturday, the work began today. There are some important things to know when you come from the coast of California to work in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. First and foremost, there is no air up here! Even though I was raised in Colorado, I have been gone for 40 years, and the old lungs ain't what they used to be! Many of my teammates are suffering from the same adjustments: shortness of breath, headaches, wobbly knees, exhaustion. To help just a bit, we went sight-seeing yesterday, both to see the area and to get a tiny bit adjusted. While part of the sight-seeing involved looking at the areas of damage, another part was looking at the splendor that is Rocky Mountain National Park.I will talk more about the park sometime in the future, but suffice it to say that at the main visitor center, which is located at 11,700 feet, there is REALLY no air there!
The reason we are here has to do with a weather catastrophe...on September 9, 2013, it began to rain in the foothills, Twenty-four inches of rain fell in three days in a land which sees normally 15-18 inches in a season. The Little Thompson River which normally runs at 30 cubic feet per second hit somewhere around 50,000 cfs before the flow meter washed away! A small creek near Berthoud, Colorado, which has a normal flow of 15 cfs came in at 15,000. Six people were killed, 17,494 homes damaged, 1500 homes destroyed, and 11,700 people evacuated from their homes. There is much work to be done.
This morning, we divided into four teams and headed out to get some of that work done. The first team headed out toward Greeley to do drywall work and painting on a house located so far from the river as to not be considered on the flood plain. Of course, the river was two miles wide (normally 200 yards) at the time of the flood. The second group headed to Berthoud to begin repairs on about a mile of agricultural fence...one of the team members spoke of farm equipment buried in silt and steel fence posts set in concrete which had been yanked out of the ground, concrete and all. A third group went to a small resort in the town of Drake, a small resort which had not brought any income to the family for one year. Electrical work, painting, drywall, and other tasks will hopefully bring the resort partially to life before the winter snows. The final group went to a home between Loveland and Drake to assist an elderly couple who had been living in their second story for a year. Painting and carpentry will help this family possibly be able to return to the first floor of their home soon.
I was working in the fourth group, and it was heartbreaking to hear the 89 year old man fuss at his helplessness. This was the second time in the 40+ years he had lived in this house that there had been a flood. Before, he could help with the repairs, but this time he could not. Even so he was determined when he told us he expected to live at least 10 more years and die in the house he loved. Every one of the twenty-two people on this trip has a story, and I will relate some of them as I go, but in the meantime I have a new appreciation for those who paint houses!!
In the meantime, I think I will spend time giving thanks for the blessings in my life, recognizing once again that all can be lost in the day of a storm.....
The reason we are here has to do with a weather catastrophe...on September 9, 2013, it began to rain in the foothills, Twenty-four inches of rain fell in three days in a land which sees normally 15-18 inches in a season. The Little Thompson River which normally runs at 30 cubic feet per second hit somewhere around 50,000 cfs before the flow meter washed away! A small creek near Berthoud, Colorado, which has a normal flow of 15 cfs came in at 15,000. Six people were killed, 17,494 homes damaged, 1500 homes destroyed, and 11,700 people evacuated from their homes. There is much work to be done.
This morning, we divided into four teams and headed out to get some of that work done. The first team headed out toward Greeley to do drywall work and painting on a house located so far from the river as to not be considered on the flood plain. Of course, the river was two miles wide (normally 200 yards) at the time of the flood. The second group headed to Berthoud to begin repairs on about a mile of agricultural fence...one of the team members spoke of farm equipment buried in silt and steel fence posts set in concrete which had been yanked out of the ground, concrete and all. A third group went to a small resort in the town of Drake, a small resort which had not brought any income to the family for one year. Electrical work, painting, drywall, and other tasks will hopefully bring the resort partially to life before the winter snows. The final group went to a home between Loveland and Drake to assist an elderly couple who had been living in their second story for a year. Painting and carpentry will help this family possibly be able to return to the first floor of their home soon.
I was working in the fourth group, and it was heartbreaking to hear the 89 year old man fuss at his helplessness. This was the second time in the 40+ years he had lived in this house that there had been a flood. Before, he could help with the repairs, but this time he could not. Even so he was determined when he told us he expected to live at least 10 more years and die in the house he loved. Every one of the twenty-two people on this trip has a story, and I will relate some of them as I go, but in the meantime I have a new appreciation for those who paint houses!!
In the meantime, I think I will spend time giving thanks for the blessings in my life, recognizing once again that all can be lost in the day of a storm.....
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
I'm Back!
I had no idea I had been away for so long...much has happened since March 8, 2012. It is really silly to try to recap it all, because most of it was just the stuff of life. There was the small item of a second knee replacement, but it was so much easier than the first that I often forget about it!
What is important for today is that I am 307 days away from retirement, and that is important stuff. I have been working all of my life, starting when I was a kid on the farm and moving through three careers to this day. The thought of retirement is both frightening and exhilarating. I don't know if I really know how to not work, yet the thoughts of being able to work at what I want to do is very appealing. I am ready to give it a shot.
One of the things which comes with knowing when one is going to retire is what I am calling "the long good-bye," the realization that everything I am doing at the church I am doing for the last time in this place. There was the last standing for appointments at Annual Conference (a United Methodist thing), Fourth of July celebration, the last county fair...and there will be the last Christmas celebration, the last Easter, and the last worship service to be done here. I will probably do these things in another place, but it will be different.
The second most important thing is the upcoming vacation and mission trip. If I look back to 2011, these pages record the first mission trip for our congregation, a trip to Louisiana. In a little over a week, a different group of folks will be having their first mission experience as we go to Colorado and participate in flood relief work. It seems odd to be going on a mission trip to the state in which I grew up and the state where I will make my retirement home. Stay turned for reports from the work we do. After the mission work is done, we will be relaxing for a few days at the family home. It is a good time a'comin'.
so I am back, and I am glad...I hope I stay put this time!
Blessings...
What is important for today is that I am 307 days away from retirement, and that is important stuff. I have been working all of my life, starting when I was a kid on the farm and moving through three careers to this day. The thought of retirement is both frightening and exhilarating. I don't know if I really know how to not work, yet the thoughts of being able to work at what I want to do is very appealing. I am ready to give it a shot.
One of the things which comes with knowing when one is going to retire is what I am calling "the long good-bye," the realization that everything I am doing at the church I am doing for the last time in this place. There was the last standing for appointments at Annual Conference (a United Methodist thing), Fourth of July celebration, the last county fair...and there will be the last Christmas celebration, the last Easter, and the last worship service to be done here. I will probably do these things in another place, but it will be different.
The second most important thing is the upcoming vacation and mission trip. If I look back to 2011, these pages record the first mission trip for our congregation, a trip to Louisiana. In a little over a week, a different group of folks will be having their first mission experience as we go to Colorado and participate in flood relief work. It seems odd to be going on a mission trip to the state in which I grew up and the state where I will make my retirement home. Stay turned for reports from the work we do. After the mission work is done, we will be relaxing for a few days at the family home. It is a good time a'comin'.
so I am back, and I am glad...I hope I stay put this time!
Blessings...
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